#the only appropriate follow up to a jekyll and hyde post

[prettyinaccurate]

im... so lucky lucky

[writing-in-april]

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

[an-army-of-nightmares]

Pinned Post 📍

[My greatest hits]

Main is @darling-dolly-darlene

Zosi sideblog is @zosi-the-church-grim

100+ followers DTIYS <3 ⬇️

I adore asks

Feel free to send in asks and art requests! (Check bio for info on art requests before you send)

DO NOT send requests that aren't about The Glass Scientists! Why does this always happen the is literally a tgs sideblog-

All posts are ask to tag, but I only occasionally actually put the tag "ask to tag" on posts (I do this when I think something should be filtered but I'm not sure whatd it be)

I use tone indicators! Primarily /j (joke) and /lh (light hearted), and sometimes /s (sarcastic). I avoid using genuine because then I'd have to stick that on to every sentence I write bbcjsbbdjks, If you're worried or not sure what I meant in a sentence, you can ask me clarify! ^v^

I like to avoid shipping in my aus, unless the au is centered entirely around a ship, there is no shipping. I do this so people can leave the ships up to their own interpretation, and thus anyone can enjoy the au

I rarely also post general j&h too, you can tell because it'll be given all the appropriate tags, though itll still also be tagged "The Glass Scientists" as tgs is still just a version of j&h

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! Tags or complimenting my art (whether we know each other or not) are highly encouraged!

If a post is tagged "Rest in w.i.p" and has say, 20-30 notes, I'd appreciate if it wasn't reblogged. It's very. Not fun. To see a wip to get twice as many notes as my finished art. You can however, reply! If you really wish to say you like something about it

I have a YouTube, if you wish to see me "draw"

I'm inactive on Discord so I'm like,, constantly afraid someone will impersonate me?? For some reason??? So ye heres my discord info

Block me, friend me, bully me into joining your group (that I'll proceed to never active in) whatever <3

-----

My Aus 🐺 (I make them in a week and never look at them again <3)

You'll see some have a link called [Main au post] the linked post will share most of the important information, its simply there if you dont want to browse the whole tag for that au

-The Wolf Apple Werewolf: Werewolf au, Jekyll accidentally turned himself into a maned wolf werewolf while trying to make his soul splitting potion. Jekyll hides the fact the he's a werewolf but Hyde doesn't [main au post here] I've been meaning to rewrite it, but eh

Hyde is a Falkland Island wolf, and considering that A: That wolf became extinct 1876 and B: he's a werewolf. There'd definitely be a bit more danger for him at blackfog

(made in collaboration with @ angstspawn25 )

There is a one off au of this, The Wolf Apple Puppy

-Feather Fin au: Siren au! Jekyll is a shapeshifting siren called a Feather Fin, one day he decides to leave the ocean and get a doctorate, somehow this works [main au post here]

Admittedly, I like branches and other versions of this au more than what's here

-Zombie Jekyll au: After Jekyll has his panic at the party he walks home alone and Moreau's creatures kill him. Very sad and tragic probably but really I made this so Jekyll and Zosi could be zombie buddies [main au post here] [reference sheet here]

(Important note!: If you're here from iiredgm's fic on ao3, "Rotten On The Inside (And Outside)" that fic actually differs from what's canon in the au!)

This au has a very strong branch! The "Jekyll hides he's dead au" [main au post here]

-Tgs Fantasy Au: Fantasy au, with story? Probably? Its what I call a daydream au because I can never choose a version of it to stick with. Jekyll is a spider monster with anxiety [Main au posts here and here]

-Dr. John Caught: Fusion au! Again another daydream au [main au post here]

-Porcelain Jekyll Au: You're at the Party by Lemon Demon [main au post here] [design reference here]

-Daylight trio: Oh I guess this is technically an au huh? It's the ship of Jekyll × The Couple [main post here]

-Jekyll with a mustache au: I edit mustaches onto panels of Jekyll from the comic [Main posts here and here]

-Princess Tutu au: Based on the "Princess Tutu" anime, due to how the different pt and tgs are there is no set story for this, mostly fun designs and screenshot redraws [design reference here]

(Important note!: [tumblr] really sucks so my original tag for this, "Princess Tutu au" would bother the normal princess tutu tag. SO! Any new posts will be tagged "Tutu au" )

However, old posts will not be retagged so check both "Princess Tutu au" and "Tutu au" for all the content

-Immortal (and upset about it) Jekyll au: An unrealized side effect of HJ7 was immortality. 136 years after the events of tgs, Jekyll's hating every second of it. Also he has a motorcycle [main au post here]

-Tgs Theater Au: Dr. Jekyll gets invited to be the star of a new mad scientist play! Which, funnily enough, is pretty much exactly the j&h m*sical from real life [main au post here]

-Vampire!Jekyll au: exactly what it says on the tin. Ah hm, the only posts that really explain this is the unfinished au reblogging, ah. [main au post here]

-Peppermint Rot: a fic im currently writing! Its essentially a ghost au [Chapter 1 here] [Chapter 2 here]

-Skyrim au: Jekyll owns the college of winterhold. That's it. This au doesn't even have a name and no one is helping me with it TwT

-Glassrune au: The Glass Scientists × Deltarune, in progress

(There are also multiple "branches" of these aus and some one off aus! AUs written here are just the "main" aus)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Surprise Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Acquaintance Collection:  Kiro // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC waiting in a coffee shop for Gavin. They planned to meet so Gavin can provide a professional viewpoint regarding bizarre events in Loveland, which MC plans to do an episode on.

Gavin calls and tells her that an accident cropped up. He tells her to wait in the coffee shop and that he would go over once he’s done.

Soon after, two ladies walk in:

Woman A: That group was too much – several people bullying one small boy!

Woman B: There was that tall and handsome boy who looked like he can fight though… he should be able to protect the boy.

MC asks the women for more information and gets increasingly certain that the “tall and handsome boy” is Gavin.

Following their directions, she walks along a secluded path and hears the sound of fighting.

Borrowing the darkness of the light, I hide in a corner and see a familiar profile cross my vision.

MC: It’s really Gavin!?

Under the faint streetlight, Gavin is clothed in black and standing tall, while seven or eight hooligans are on the ground around him.

In a second, he twists to the side, cleanly ducking the opponent’s fist while at the same time violently kicking another two hooligans to the ground.

Gavin raises his hand and rubs his chin. His eyes are sharp and sweeps across the bodies on the ground scornfully.

Gavin: That’s all you’ve got?

Suddenly, a hooligan rushes towards him from behind!

MC: Gavin, be careful!

The words leave my lips instinctively. Even though my voice isn’t loud, it catches Gavin’s attention.

With a nimble twist of his body, the hooligan is subdued.

Gavin straightens up and hides me from the hooligans’ view.

He narrows his eyes, looking at his surroundings.

Gavin: Scram!

After the hooligans flee, Gavin walks to my side.

Gavin: What are you doing here?

MC: I heard two ladies talking about a fight when I was in the café, and I had a feeling that it was related to you. I should be the one asking you this question though. Was that part of a sudden mission?

Gavin: No.

MC: Then what was that fight about?

Gavin looks at me, then turns his eyes to a streetlamp at a corner.

Gavin: I’ll explain it to you later. I have to go somewhere. Come with me.

While he says this, Gavin has already started walking. I immediately follow after him. When I turn, I suddenly see an abrasion on his arm.

MC: Ah, wait…

I point at the injury on Gavin’s arm and purse my lips.

MC: Do you want to deal with your injury first?

Gavin: It’s just a bruise. It’s no big deal.

Before I can repeat my suggestion, Gavin arches his eyebrows.

Gavin: Actually, it was very dangerous just now. If they…

MC: I’ve practiced the self-defense skills you taught me! If you don’t believe me, watch!

I cut him off. While speaking, I try to make myself look more formidable.

MC: Moreover, you’re here with me, right?

I turn to meet his eyes, which have a slightly complicated look in them. After a moment, Gavin lets out a gentle sigh.

Gavin: Never again.

Hearing the worry in his voice, I nod.

Gavin takes MC to a decrepit house.

He lifts his hand, ready to knock at the door. A gust of wind blows up a corner of the curtain, revealing a small, alert face in the window.

Boy: Grandma! Big brother is here!

While shouting excitedly, the boy rushes to open the door. In a moment, he’s in front of Gavin, wearing a look of utter adoration.

Gavin gently rubs the little boy’s head. At this moment, an elderly woman walks out of the house slowly, beckoning us with a big smile.

Elderly lady: Come in and sit!

Gavin tells the elderly lady not to trouble herself, but she says it’s the least she could do Gavin has protected the boy from bullies on multiple occasions.

Boy: It’s been a long time since I had visitors… big brother, sister, can you play with me for a while?

Seeing the anticipation and pleading look of the boy, Gavin lifts his eyes to mine, as though hesitating. I hurry to respond.

MC: Sure!

The boy explains that he got bullied for selling sugar figurines.

The little boy sees Gavin as his role-model and wants Gavin to teach him how to fight. Gavin offers to teach him self-defence.

The elderly woman returns with a few cups.

Elderly woman: I feel bad that your date was interrupted because of us.

MC: Eh? N-no…

I immediately wave my hands in front of me to explain, but the elderly woman just smiles as she observes us. For some reason, my voice gets softer, and my heart begins to race.

Feeling a little shy, I turn my head to the side, and coincidentally see Gavin’s side profile. His hand is rubbing his neck, and his ears are a faint shade of red.

The bruise is still onto Gavin’s arm, but I’m unable to link the Gavin in front of me to the Gavin who was fighting just now.

A gust of night wind enters from the window, rolling up the the ends of the curtain, and also gently rolling across my thoughts.

Gavin meets my eyes, and I purse my lips into a smile.

The elderly woman offers them sugar figurines. MC takes one on Gavin’s behalf.

After leaving the house, Gavin and I walk along a brightly lit street. His side profile is illuminated by the gentle streetlights, and I can’t help but toss him several glances.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: …ah? Nothing!

Gavin looks at me in suspicion. He suddenly thinks of something and stops in his footsteps.

Gavin: I’m sorry, We agreed to meet tonight to help analyse your materials. It’s gotten delayed for such a long time.

Hearing Gavin’s sudden apology, I widen my eyes and wave my hands in front of him.

MC: Don’t worry about it. I feel like what happened today was much more meaningful. If I were in such a situation, I’d definitely be like you. I wouldn’t just stand idly by. Furthermore, it’s the first time I’m seeing Senior like this!

Hearing my voice take on a playful tone in my voice at the end, Gavin turns to look at me, his eyes revealing warmth and a smile.

Gavin: Really? It’s nothing special. If you’re in a hurry, you can leave first. I’ll send you the report once I’m done with it.

Understanding Gavin’s meaning, I smile and shake my head.

MC: It’s still early, so I’m not in a rush to go home. Before we go home, shouldn’t we finish this first?

While saying this, I gently shake the sugar figurine. Gavin’s eyes trail to it.

Gavin: Yes. It’d melt if it isn’t eaten soon.

MC: So you should hurry up and eat it!

I raise the sugar figurine in front of him. Gavin has no idea how to react, widening his eyes slightly as he stands rooted to the spot.

After regaining his senses, Gavin coughs lightly.

Gavin: No, it’s okay. You can eat it.

MC: How can I do that? I already said that I took this on your behalf. This is your payment for teaching those bad guys a lesson today.

At this moment, I see a bench and walk towards it.

MC: Let’s sit here for a while so Officer Gavin has some time to eat the sugar figurine.

Gavin stands under a tree not far off, and behind him are busy, colourful streets. He stares at me, his gaze gentle, and walks over.

With a resigned smile, he takes the sugar figurine from me.

Gavin: All right, I got it.

Before I take a seat, Gavin suddenly stops me.

Gavin: Hold on.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin doesn’t respond, lowering his head as though searching for something.

I look at him in confusion. Under the streetlamp, I realise that there is a wet spot on the bench.

I rifle through my bag and pockets, looking up to see Gavin’s embarrassed expression. He coughs lightly.

Gavin: You can sit. I’ll stand.

I turn back to the bench. After a moment of hesitation, I open my mouth.

MC: Let’s just sit together…

Saying this, I sit down, then scoot towards the side, leaving some space.

Looking at Gavin who has not moved an inch, I take a breath in preparation to speak again, not daring to look at him.

MC: …I can move over a little more then?

Gavin: …no need. This is fine.

Gavin sits down beside me. The moonlight shrouds Gavin’s profile in an extraordinary glow.

The leaves rustle, the night wind blows gently, and Gavin’s scent travels along with it. My face starts to heat up.

I raise my head.

Dressed in all black with a bruise on his arm, Gavin looks like he’s struggling to figure out what is the most appropriate way to bite the sugar figurine. This scene tickles me.

Gavin: …is this very strange?

Redness appears on Gavin’s ear.

Gavin: Sugar figurines don’t suit me. Anyway, thank you for agreeing with my actions tonight.

Gavin looks at me quietly, the faint streetlights illuminating his face. His eyes are as bright as the stars, and as tender as the night.

Tonight’s events suddenly replay in my eyes…

The ferocious Gavin during the fight, the gentle and respectful Gavin who interacted with the grandmother and the little boy, and the Gavin who is currently “battling” with the sugar figurine…

MC: I feel that you’re different tonight. Let me think about how to best put it… “Jekyll and Hyde”!

Gavin is stunned for a moment, then he smiles.

Gavin: Perhaps.

MC: Also, even though I understand your actions tonight, I don’t approve of this-

I point to his arm.

MC: No matter what, you have to take care of yourself. Don’t get hurt again.

Gavin: Okay.

The corners of Gavin’s lips turn up slightly.

The stars flicker above us, and the cool evening wind blows towards us from the trees and leaves.

This gentle evening has only just begun.

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Yandere!Ateez Reaction to you Trying to Escape

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

Author’s Note: Heya anon! You’re a lucky one, cause your request got answered the quickest lol. I’m on a roll right now, this is the third request I’m answering today. At least as of when I’m writing this, that’s the case. I could stop halfway through and not finish this until two years later lmao. I outline Yandere!Ateez’s personalities in a previous headcanon, so this is based on those personalities. Some of them, like Yeosang and Jongho, have S/O’s that aren’t even aware they’re Yandere, so in those cases, I made it their reaction to when they think you’re trying to escape.

READ THE TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains mentions and discussion of abusive relationships, threats, violence, death, supernatural creatures, depression, self-harm, disturbing sexual descriptions, and mental illness. The behaviors and relationships depicted below are abusive and unhealthy. These are not examples of healthy relationships, it’s actually the opposite. This is meant to imagine the members of Ateez in a popular anime trope and it in no way represents their real-life personalities and characters. It’s fiction, it’s for fun, PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF YOU KNOW YOU WON’T LIKE IT OR THIS KIND OF STUFF DISTURBS YOU!

Genre: angst?? IDK really

Word Count: 2.7K+

You are in: the Asteroid Belt. 

Hongjoong

The Perfect Boyfriend 

Bitch, I’ll pray for you. Hongjoong is an extremely violent boyfriend and trying to escape is NOT advisable unless you know you have a completely foolproof plan.

 He told you to never run. He told you that you won’t have any warnings or three strikes. If you leave he will catch you and he will hurt you.

Hongjoong is a man of his word, but you didn’t listen.

“Aww, baby,” Hongjoong made a mock pout, crouching down to your level. “Does the poor baby’s broken leg hurt?”

You couldn’t even look at it, it was twisted at such a grotesque angle. You’d always heard that broken bones didn’t hurt as much as you would think, and you found that to be true right now. Or maybe you were just in so much in all the other bruised parts of your body that it drowned out the pain in your leg.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me, you stupid bitch.” 

Seonghwa 

The Ice King Everytime I write that, I think of the Ice King from Adventure Time.

The silence was unbearable. He hadn’t said anything since your bodyguards brought you back, kicking, screaming, and terrified.

He just stared at you blankly, nothing in his eyes, nothing on his face, nothing in his body language. Occasionally, he would take a sip of the glass of brandy on the table beside him. Sometimes cross and uncross his arms over his chest.

All the while just staring, not saying anything.

You were too scared to speak, eventually too scared to even look at him, opting just to stare at your clammy hands clasped together in your lap.

What was he thinking?

Would he punish you?

Would he forgive you?

Would he beat you?

Would he . . . kill you?

You waited for what could have been hours, bracing yourself for an even more violent response the longer he sat.

But none of that came.

Without a word, Seonghwa stood and glided from the room. You thought he slammed the door the tiniest bit harder than normal, but you were so scared that you were sure your mind had made it up.

As you shuffled back to your room, you hurried as quick as you could past his door.

Your heart was beating too loud, heart too heavy with despair and disappointment, to hear the very faint sounds of sobbing coming from behind his door.

Yunho 

The Damsel in Distress Next Door 

Theoretically, you could 100% leave Yunho. You could walk out at any time you wanted and he wouldn’t go after you if he knew you were leaving because you wanted to break up and not because you’re hurt or something’s wrong. He wouldn’t hurt you or try and guilt-trip you.

He would say that he wishes you the best and that he won’t try to hurt himself again.

He. Is. Lying.

The minute you walk out that door, he’s closing all the blinds and windows, turning all the lights off, going in his bathroom, and getting the razor blade out of his shaver.

It’s tiny in his huge hands and that makes him even clumsier. He’s shaking, he’s crying, and blood is already spurting everywhere. He’s going to punish himself for everything bad thing he ever did in your relationship that he never got a chance to hurt himself for.

He remembers everything, without even having to write it down, and he’ll give himself the “appropriate” punishment for every bad action, even down to the tiny, most minute things like the time he forgot to put your favorite condiment on the sandwich he made you three months ago, or accidentally pulling your hair when he was running his fingers through it last year.

It might take a while to give himself all those punishments, but he’s going to make sure he stays alive until he gets everything he thinks he deserved.

The time he spends punishing himself is pretty much your only window of opportunity.

Because you know exactly what’s going on. You know what’s happening, you have that same bad feeling from last time, only amplified by ten.

You know he’ll die if you don’t go back.

You could always call the police and send them there, but you honestly doubt their ability to be able to hold him. Yunho’s an adept liar, and he’d get out of hospital treatment, probably in weeks, just to do the same thing. Except there wouldn’t be anyone to call the police then and there was no doubt he’d die then.

At this point, you don’t even believe Yunho can be fixed.

You have the choice between saving his life and being imprisoned in that relationship with him forever or let him die so you can heal and be free.

Yeosang 

The Secret Serial Killer 

Yeosang’s initial reaction is going to be straight-up confusion.

He doesn’t understand how in the world you could have found anything out that would make you leave.

He was so careful, always so cautious. The police don’t even know what he is or the things he’s done, so how would you?

You hadn’t been acting weird lately. Or had you? How would he not notice?

But the truth is you hadn’t noticed anything. Like I said, Yeosang is too careful, too sneaky, too clever.

What really happened is that you were out with a friend yesterday evening and decided to spend the night as no one felt like driving and both of your phones were dead so you couldn’t call Yeosang to pick you up. You got to her house and put the phone on the charge before eating a late dinner, intending to call him when it had charged up a bit, but you fell asleep before you could do so.

And this happened to be on a night where Yeosang had prior commitments so he couldn’t stalk you so see what you were doing. He was so tired that he fell asleep as soon as he got home, only panicking when he woke up the next day to find you still gone.

And now, it was eleven o’clock and Yeosang was pulling up to your friend’s house, calming only slightly when he saw you about to get in your friend’s car, phone in hand, looking worried.

He realized you’d probably been trying to call him but the blood pounding against his ears didn’t allow him to hear the phone he’d thrown haphazardly into the passenger seat.

Yeosang barely even parks before open the car door, anything he was about to say dying on his tongue as an explanation rushed out of your mouth.

Yeosang takes it gracefully, nodding, as he pulls you into his arms.

“I was scared something happened to you,” he says, to which your friend starts cooing over your relationship.

She just doesn't know that he’s already formulating a back-up plan in case you found out about him and tried to leave.

He had no problem killing your friends off one-by-one if it meant you’d stay with him.

San

The Jekyll and Hyde 

No matter how San was feeling previously, your attempted escape would undoubtedly bring out Other San.

You’d seen Other San angry before. You’d seen him throw things, punch gigantic holes in walls, scream till he was hoarse, had him kick you in the stomach so hard he almost ruptured your organs, and even seen break an entire table once.

But none of that, none of it compared to the way you were seeing him now.

His gait was slow and confident, his dark eyes following you like a predator, a terrifying smirk painting his face, the malice of it detracting from every handsome feature he had.

“Baby,” he laughed, shaking his head, crossing to the kitchen and disappearing for a moment. You’d run if you thought you actually had a shot of escaping but you knew you didn’t and San was already angry enough.

“You’re so stupid, baby,” he giggled, voice muffled by distance and the more overpowering sound of metal instruments tinkling and bumping against each other.

You said nothing.

When San emerged, it was with a long meat knife with an incredibly sharp blade. You didn’t even know you had that.

San’s eyes were wild, manic as he advanced toward you, shuddering at the sound of your terrified whimpers.

“If you wanted me to hurt you, all you had to do was ask.”

Mingi

The Clingy Bad Boy 

This is probably going to be pretty short because I don’t see Mingi having a gigantic reaction, shocking as that may seem. It wasn’t short at all, but that’s because I got description crazy.

He would just have a really violent one.

The minute he got you back in the house, he’d look at you for a second.

And then he’d punch the shit out of you.

You blacked out and when you woke up, it was to an aching body and bruises all over your body. Some places were swollen, some cut, and some bleeding, but, thankfully, nothing was broken.

For some reason, breaking bones seemed like a line Mingi wasn’t able to cross when it came to you.

Personally, you’d rather he broke a single bone and left you alone than do all this, but that wasn’t something you’d say out loud.

You looked up when the door opened to reveal Mingi coming in the room carrying a glass of water, a sandwich and chips, and a few pills.

He sat in a chair beside the bed, putting the food on one side of the nightstand and holding the glass of water and the pills out to you. “Take these,” he said, no trace of his previous anger, but no trace of remorse either.

He looked like this was a normal, everyday occurrence.

You complied, recognizing the pills as two painkillers and swallowing them along with a couple large gulps of water.

Mingi brought a first-aid kit from under the bed, cleaning cuts and applying ointments to your wounds, humming in his low, deep voice as he did so.

And even though he was the one who did this to you, the human mind is an absolute bitch and you relaxed as you heard him sing the familiar melody. He was humming the song he always sang when you were sad.

When he finished treating you, he gave you the food and let you eat before helping you to the bathroom, giving you a hot bath and helping you brush your teeth, do your skincare routine, and dress you for bed.

Your body hurt, but the painkillers helped and Mingi carried you and did everything for you so you didn’t have to move around as much.

He sang you to sleep as well, something he rarely did.

As you drifted, halfway between sleep and consciousness, you felt him lean down to your ear and say, “I already told you not to leave me. I meant it. Don’t make me do this again.” 

Wooyoung

The Incubus 

I really don’t see a way for you to even attempt to escape from Wooyoung. He has demons guarding you and he uses his powers to keep track of you at all times. Not to mention, you can’t navigate Hell, only a demon can. This is a fact that both you and Wooyoung are well aware of.

If you managed an escape attempt, it would only be because Wooyoung was bored and he allowed it to happen. He might actually like you more if you did this. It’d give him something fun to do and an excuse to punish you and his punishments were his favorite thing in the world.

He’d tell his guards to let you slip past and watch you, amused, as you ran out of the house and past the gates. You didn’t last long, eventually too incredibly confused by the twists and turns of hell, too scared of the glowing eyes of unknown creatures that you could see lurking hungrily at you through the dense shrubbery.

Wooyoung was slightly impressed, though. It was longer than any human’s ever lasted and certainly longer than he expected of you.

But still, he waited. You had to know no one else was coming for you. You had to know that without his help, you’d die here. And it’d be a slow and painful death, much more so than any death on earth could be.

You had nowhere else to turn . . .

“Wooyoung!”

There it was.

Wooyoung grinned as he appeared before you in a flurry of black smoke, even more amused at the sight of you sobbing on your knees, hating the fact that you had to return to him but having no other choice.

He tsked disapprovingly, crouching down so he was eye-level with you, his finger slipping under your chin to bring your head up to look at him.

“Bad baby. Now I have to punish you.”

Wooyoung grunted as he thrust quickly into the demon, her loud screams of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

Her smirk was smug as she looked at you, chained in the corner and forced to watch him fuck her.

It was your usual punishment, except Wooyoung normally makes you watch him fuck three or four women (demon stamina was a hell of a thing). But he seemed to be more taken with this girl; they were on their third round and he hadn’t shown any sign of tiring out yet.

You didn’t know what that meant. Had they met before? Did he already like her? Was he . . . was he thinking about replacing you?

You tried to tell yourself that that didn’t matter, that it was something you would be happy about, but you couldn’t deny the lurch your stomach gave at the thought.

If Wooyoung found someone else, what would he do to you?

Would he throw you out? As much as you hated him and this horrible fucking place, you couldn’t ignore the fact that it was much safer here than out there with the other things that lurk in this realm.

And he definitely wouldn’t be nice enough to take you back home.

Would he kill you? There’s a chance it would be quickly but, knowing him, it would be long and drawn out.

Maybe it would be in your best interest not to piss him off, after all.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “So tight!”

His head was thrown back as the woman climbed on top of him, riding him quickly, his hands kneading her ass.

Through his haze of pleasure, he grinned as he read your thoughts. You were starting to question yourself, starting to wonder what was actually in your best interest, just as he wanted.

He became more vocal, making sure not to glance your way as he thrust into the woman and kissed her passionately, both of them groaning loudly as he came.

He could hear how their noises made you feel.

For now, you’d comply because it was best for your safety. But eventually, you’d actually believe you loved him.

“This could be you if you weren’t so mean, love,” he said, placing the woman on her back and thrusting into her once more, going back to ignoring you as he pounded into her, moaning as her legs locked around his waist and her nails dug into his back.

His ego was bigger than ever as he felt your fear amplify, scared he would replace and throw you away, terrified of what lurked outside these walls.

Yes, his plan was going lovely.

Jongho

The Overprotective Guard Dog 

We need more Jongho GIFS

OK, I know this is going to be hella short because Jongho would not have a big reaction at all. If you simply wanted to break up, he would ask why. He’d ask what he could change for you two to stay together. He’d change accordingly. If you still wanted to break up, he would reluctantly let it happen and you two would continue to be friends.

If it was because you found out about him, then he would disappear, stalking you quietly from the sidelines without your knowledge.

In all scenarios, Jongho will continue stalking you, taking out threats and people that bother you from afar.

You think you’re rid of him, but you’re his god/ess and he’ll always be around to serve you, whether you know it or not. 

The Asteroid Belt 

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Disney+ What To Watch: My Top 10 Favourite Modern Day Disney Classics

#8. Moana

Once again I experienced this movie later than it's original release but i had heard a lot of good things about it leading up to when i finally got to watch it.

I have to say the fact they went with a Polynisian princess and even went so far A I believe to cast regionally appropriate just shows how "with the times" Disney Animation is trying to be as it rides it's new wave of Disney greats.

But aside from the regional appropriateness of the cast and characters, the main thing that takes my breath away in this movie is the scenery. The island that Moana and her tribe live on is stunning, the ocean is beautiful. Every either abandoned or desolate island we see looks either creepy or like a shipwrecked island. This is 3D animation ramped up from Tangled.

The animation on the characters also warms my heart as they can't be considered originally caucasian characters that Disney changed the ethnicity of to appeal to a new audience, Moana, Maui and the tribe are clearly of Samoan/Polynesian ethnicities and it's really great to see.

As I said, even the actors regionally appropriate, Auli'i Cravalho, Dwayne Johnson, Nicole Scherzinger, everyone, including Jemaine Clement who voiced Tamatoa have at least heritage from the Samoan/Polynesian region.

I also really enjoyed the continuation in trend of the almost self-meta references to how the Disney Princess formula has worked for decades. We saw it first in Frozen which looks at the romantic angle but here you have Maui pointing out how every Disney Princess has a cute animal sidekick.

It was, I believe, a mislead in the continuous promotion of Pua the Pig because while he is cute and clearly Moana's pet, however it is Heihei the apparent retarded chicken that becomes her sidekick for the movie.

On that note. I do not approve of the very tasteless trope of retardiness being used as comic relief. Now yes, Heihei is funny and there were moments that got me in hysterics but I still find it unfair to not only make a chicken brain dead but then constantly make him the comedic foil of the movie.

That being said, Mosna and Maui's buddy comedy schtick was very funny in places and I found characters to be not only original for Disney but they both taught and learned from each other

That's what makes great buddy movies, both have flaws to start out with but through a series of events and working or travelling together they both become better people by learning from the other and almost adopting traits of theirs. Think the Jump Street movies or even Detective Pikachu, there's something about the great buddy movies that bring out the best in both/all main characters.

But Moana isn't just a buddy movie, or even your run of the mill Disney Princess movie, it's adventure, it's action, it's fantasy and it's coming-of-age. Disney has not had a great coming-of-age story since Tarzan almost ten years prior.

I also enjoy the development with Moana. She starts of the movie as a "princess" being the daughter of the tribe chieftain. However, unlike every other Disney princess, Moana has a tribal working girl physique, the teenager has muscles and she has a notable muscular frame.

I really also enjoy the tornness in her soul of debating whether or not she does what the tribe expect of her and become chieftain, or do what her heart wants her to do and be a sailor and explorer.

On a side note, I do appreciate how non chalant this movie is in the prospect of having a female chieftain. She's never discouraged or beaten down because she's female, she beats herself up because to begin with it's not what she wants.

The conclusion she comes to in being the chieftain and deciding to take her tribe back to their origins of being sailors is truly the best of both worlds and, I feel, a very earned conclusion.

Maui being a demigod is very obnoxious and believes he is literally God's gift. However, he isn't and fortunately for the movie Moana is the type of girl to call him out on it.

I'm also very appreciative that this is simply a buddy comedy rather than a romcom. Moana never has any hero worship or fan girl moments for Maui but instead decides to call Maui's bluff on everything that he promises and is ready to scold him when he can't.

It's also an original take on a superpower of such, the fact he's a demigod with I'm sure some enhanced physical attributes but needs a hook to shape shift...it's also followed through when it's damaged and we learn it's Maui's crutch for his bravado.

As for the villains, it's clear that the main villain in this movie was Te Kā who was the demon of earth and fire and effectively a living volcano. But, because of the twist revealed that she is in fact Te Fiti the goddess of life but turned into Te Kā when Maui stole the Heart of Te Fiti, it's somewhat arguable that the real main antagonist of the movie should have been Tamatoa who, for me, made a much bigger impact than Te Kā.

The reason I do say this is as awesome as Te Kā is and the twist was surprising, when you connect the dots, Te Kā's villainous motivation is that of a scorned woman rather than Tamatoa's simple greed. Greed is a very effective motivator than whatever the reasoning for Te Fiti becoming Te Kā was because it's never actually explained, did she become a fire demon because she had no heart because if so that is a better Jekyll/Hyde situation than Bruce Banner/Hulk.

Musically, this is a nice soundtrack. This was my introduction to Lin Minuel Miranda's body of work and, I have to say it, he's a better composer than he is an actor because "How Far I'll Go" and "Shiny" are instant classics, as is "You're Welcome" but that is way too much of an earworm.

So yes, I do believe Moana to be a solid Disney movie with some great leaps forward for diversity, animation and storytelling. My chieftain complaint is the villain situation but to be honest seeing Te Fiti at the end not being "reborn" but also just simply lying down and becoming an island's foliage was worth it.

So what do you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney+ What to Watch Top 10s as well as more Top 10 Lists and other posts.

[thattarotgirl]

Explaining The Death: Jonathan Tucker's Major Craddock in Westworld

I had had many reasons to intensely dislike TV series Westworld – which I still absolutely do – and only one reason to watch its second season. And so, I started the show again – for Jonathan Tucker. At this point, I’m fairly sure the only thing starring this wonderful man I wouldn’t watch would be a snuff film.

Somewhat morbid humor? Appropriate, given the fact that this post isn’t about how I got my imaginary degree in Tuckerology.

It’s about HOW TUCKER’S WESTWORLD CHARACTER, MAJOR CRADDOCK, REPRESENTS ONE OF THE MAJOR ARCANA ARCHETYPES – THE DEATH.

Interestingly, it’s the second time Tucker plays the Death. The first one was not too long ago, it was on Justified, and the name of the masterfully played (do I really have to add this bit, though?) character was Boon. Check it out, check the whole series, thank me later.

First of all, I have to warn you that I’m going to take my own, admittedly narrow perspective on the archetype. But I highly encourage you to familiarize yourself with other interpretations of this and other archetypes of the Major Arcana. Ultimate raison d’être of this blog is to inspire discussion about the archetypes we are influenced by, because by understanding them we can better understand our own inner mechanics.

So, what is the Death?

Let me start this by stating that the mainstream is full of examples of the Death. Here is just a handful off the top of my head: The Joker, Ramsay Bolton and Joffrey Baratheon from Game of Thrones, the Comedian from Watchmen, Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Mr. Blonde from Reservoir Dogs, Mason Verger from Hannibal, Simon Adebisi from Oz, Moriarty from Sherlock, Negan from the Walking Dead comics, Pavi Largo from Repo! The Genetic Opera, as well as Bart Curlish from Dirk Gently, Gazelle from Kingsmen, Mindy from Kick Ass, Elle Bishop from Heroes, and many others.

Can you already tell what do all these characters have in common?

“Murderers”? “Psychopaths”? True and true.

The Death is the embodiment of aggression, a creature that almost entirely consists of spontaneously directed destructive force. These power and aggression replace almost all the movement of the Death’s soul, all its values and feelings, just as acts of aggression become the Death’s responses to all possible life situations.

The very term ultraviolence was introduced to us by one of the Deaths.

And don’t get me wrong: The Devil, for example, can scuffle-torture-murder left and right, too, but it does it for self-assertion or self-expression, for fame, for money, in a fit of rage; killing without thinking about any gain is a prerogative of the Death. It tortures and murders not only to protect itself, to avenge or to earn reputation – the Death primarily does it to alleviate the boredom of being, so to speak. This is why the Death usually makes violence the basis of its professional activities, meaning that most of the Deaths are criminals, soldiers, assassins and so on.  

And, as any sadist, the Death always attaches great importance to the process of torturing/raping or killing. Snapping somebody’s neck, for instance, the Death would enjoy every part of it – the grabbing, the snapping, the crack, the limpness of the dead body in its hands etc. – all the different stages, the materiality of taking a life.

The Mage in low development, on the other hand, would appreciate the fact of its victim’s suffering as a result, but not the process of inflicting this suffering. The Deaths are fundamentally different from all other archetypes in that respect and others.

And where do these vicious creatures come from?

Usually, the Deaths do not choose to be the way they are – and this is one of the traits that help to distinguish them from, for instance, the Chariots – in most cases, the Death is a result of transformation of the Devil, the Justice, the Moon or the Star after being thoroughly frayed by fate. The damage and abuse it suffers frequently takes physical form – it’s not uncommon for the Deaths to even be symbolically or not so symbolically murdered (the Joker and his fall into the vat of chemicals is a classic example) and resurrected (and I’ll have to get to that again later).

Sometimes the Deaths are simply born under a bad sign, but then it’s usually due to some kind of medical/genetic experimentation or something in the same vein.

And it is true for our Major Craddock, too. He was created and programmed into being who he is.

And who is Major Craddock again?..

An android, or a host, as they call it in the universe of Westworld – essentially, an artificial creation designed to mimic a human being. They are used in the Westworld park as part of storylines, or narratives. They are there for the guests’ entertainment. So, Craddock plays the part of a military officer working for the Confederados. He is a first-generation host created in the Argos Initiative by Arnold Weber and Dr. Robert Ford, making him one of the eldest hosts in Westworld, maybe even outdating the park itself.

The first time you see him actually doing something is when the gang of Dolores Abernathy approaches him and his men because they want to join forces with their troupe against an unclear human force.

From the scene of their interaction you can probably remember some of the following details:

— Major Craddock’s stare of a mad dog, which you probably were as unprepared to see in  Tucker’s eyes as I was.

— How unmoved, almost entirely unimpressed Major Craddock is by the death and the rebirth of buried Lieutenant Dunleavy, as he coldly describes “three ounces of Mexican lead in his belly” and accepts the idea that his Lieutenant has been brought back to life with a simple “indeed”, which you can interpret not only as a lack of curiosity but perhaps also as weak emotional attachment to his soldiers, who absolutely deserve it for the lack of any individuality. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

— Something you could probably call hostile hospitality on Major’s part – I mean his eerie, almost theatrical politeness, which wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking that the man isn’t disrespectful and provocative.

— Maybe a couple of other things, such as Craddock’s sharp tongue, macabre humour, fluid movements, or how appetizingly he ate.

— Finally, the fact that Craddock refuses to accept the deal and states the only partnership that would happen would be the rape Dolores and Angela by him and his unit:

Craddock: “My final decision is which of you to keep for myself and which of you to throw out there for my men.”

In other words, demonstration of the dominant position by means of threats of violence.

Here you have it, ladies and gentlemen: the Death bingo.

Oh, and then Teddy shoots Craddock after his statement, but Craddock is brought back to life by a captured Technician. Spoiler alert, I guess?

I’m going to broach everything mentioned, but for now, I want to concentrate on the “eerie politeness”, because the Deaths in high development are almost always characterized by this insincere courtesy, and that for a reason I can explain to you.

In short: the elements Jung calls shadow and persona aspects of the psyche are swapped over in the Death.

Every other character than the Death, including very aggressive specimen, even the Devils, have socially acceptable Dr Jekyll (the Persona) and a repressed, socially unacceptable Mr Hyde (the Shadow) in them. For the Death, the Shadow is its normal, default state, because the archetype doesn’t have the same social needs as other archetypes. It simply doesn’t need to hide its feelings and desires in order to look “normal” – it doesn’t tolerate social conventions.

So, typically, the Death is a 24/7 Mr Hyde. It does have a thin coating of the Persona, but it only uses it on very special occasions, to deceive or to – paradoxically – appear even more intimidating than it already is. This is why Craddock’s attempts to be silver-tongued may cause you discomfort – in these moments, he is a crocodile smiling at you.

Importantly, all of this doesn’t mean that the Death is always a cutthroat that only thinks about torturing animals, burning buildings down, raping women and murdering men. Not at all.

Almost all of the Deaths are able to control themselves to some extent, but this control is carried out by the Animus, not by the Persona. How is this different? The Animus isn’t a social suit, meaning that it isn’t used to appear to others, it’s a personal moral fiber, something close to a codex that prevents the Death, who sees itself as a warrior, from turning into a butcher raping and killing everyone around.

Does this mean that the Devil’s transformation into the Death happens after its acceptance of the Shadow as the terminal state of its personality and almost full rejection of its Persona? Yes, it absolutely does.

By the way, the Persona of the Empress is the Anima, and that’s why the Death inevitably gets into conflict with the Empress as soon as they get in contact. Would you like to guess who Dolores is (confess, she reminds you of Cersei Lannister)?

So, yes, the fact that Craddock joins Dolores’s group as they arrive at Fort Forlorn Hope, where Craddock’s commanding officer agrees to help Dolores in the morning to defeat the incoming security force, shows us another aspect of the Death.

Even though, the archetype is mostly independent, it usually is guided or influenced – sometimes directly, by the Emperors and the Empresses, the Mages and the Hierophants, but more often by the mediators, like the Hanged, the Justices, the Devils or the Towers. (Left to itself, the Death either indulges in debauchery or spends whole days planning ideal crimes/operations and perfecting its murder skills, waiting for someone who will suggest a proper victim to appear.)

And in that respect, the Deaths, generally speaking, fall into two categories – those who end up aligned with the forces of order and those who are, as the Joker puts it, “agents of chaos”, respectively.

How are they different?

The Deaths on the side of order are ideal warriors and guardians of law, because they channel their destructive energy into annihilation of all those who they are told to kill. And the Deaths execute these orders for a two-fold reason:

First, their leaders symbolically embody their parents, since they take responsibility for their actions, which the Deaths greatly appreciate (I’ll get to it in a moment).

And second, the system they serve provides them with the concept of an enemy/victim, thereby relieving them of the need to choose their victims on their own. The Deaths are generally infantile, and many of them can’t or don’t want to – sometimes without realising it – make their own decisions. This makes them ideal objects of manipulation – they are loyal and sufficiently stupid.

The Deaths that are taking the side of the chaos usually become leaders/subleaders themselves, because it is much easier to destroy the world together with your henchmen than to try doing it in splendid solitude. Very interestingly, the henchmen of the Deaths are often marked by them (uniforms, masks, obligatory scarifications etc.), like zombies are marked by signs of decomposition, and thereby represent the extension of the Death’s physical influence.

(And the Deaths from the second category are usually smarter, there are even geniuses among them e.g. Moriarty from Sherlock or the Joker. These Deaths also tend to be more popular due to the disturbing combination of sadism, intelligence and cheerful attitude (we’ll get to that, too) – Negan from the Walking Dead would also be an example of the Death that is a loved strategist).

Is this true for Major Craddock? It is.

His troupe is shown as a splinter group, a gang with him as its leader. They do not appear to be motivated by any ideology, murdering, raping, marauding – in short, embracing outrage as normality. They’re just having what they hold for fun, like a pack of hungry wolves or perhaps rather mad dogs.

Dolores sums up this important characteristic of the Death in the following quote:

Teddy: “These men are animals.” Dolores: “These men are just children. They don't know any better. They need to be led. We don't stand a chance against the men coming for us if we're fighting alone.”

She uses a key-word I’d like you to remember. “Children.”

Mental age of the Death is always approximately ten-twelve years, which explains not just their easy relationship to violence but also a number of other of their typical characteristics – above all their inability - and usually unwillingness - to build a family or sustain a partnership (which is perfectly fine when you are talking about a reflective individual, but here we certainly aren’t).

Moreover, the Deaths are sexual deviants – paedophilia, bestiality, incest, you name it – everything that can certify perversity and lack of understanding of the concept of intimacy can be found here.

Roughly speaking, the Death is a preceding evolutionary stage of the Devil and the Mage – whereas the Mage is an adult with adult emotions, adult social standing and overall adult psychology, and the Devil is a typical teenager, the Death is a cruel and merry child.

And this easily explains why two possible negative transformations of the Devils are the Emperor and the Death – both of these archetypes are violent, but whereas the Emperor is a superhuman, the Death is an animal. To become one of them, the Devil has to get rid of everything humane in it and learn to see in people either ants below its feet or food. This evolution is a direct consequence of the resolved conflict of “the awkward age”: either you become an adult, or you regress into a child stage; either you reflect on your power and use it consciously or turn it into the defining element of your behavior. And like a naïve child it is, the Death hates to be tricked by heartless adults. At Fort Forlorn Hope, the Confederados are soon revealed to be mere pawns, as Dolores only needed them to distract the security force: once they are no longer useful, she has Wyatt’s followers brutally murder them. Craddock angrily vows revenge, so Dolores orders Teddy to execute him and his men: however, after Craddock taunts Teddy for simply following Dolores’s orders, Teddy lets them escape.

Just look at what he says:  

Craddock: “I been watchin' you. We ain't so different. You and I are both triggermen to tyrants. Except me, I know what I want. But you ain't even sure about that termagant you take your orders from. I look at you, and what I see is pathetic.”

Isn’t it the kind of devaluation a child would use? You may be pointing this gun at me, but you’re still a chicken! Na-na, na-na, boo-boo, we get it, Major. Alas, Teddy doesn’t. Most likely, he doesn’t understand whom he is dealing with here.

And right now you might be wondering whether you can identify the Death by looking at it.

There is no such thing as "prototypical appearance" when it comes to the Deaths, but many of them look racy, wear extravagant or simply expensive clothes (“Westwood!”), have prosthetics, bear scars etc., or can be vaguely attractive.

There are many characters of very specific appearance among the Deaths: they can have physical abnormalities (both innate and acquired) and various types of biomodifications or simply eccentrically approach their image. As a rule, this specificity is connected to their becoming of the Death – it can be both the reason of the transformation into the Death (e.g. a catastrophe leads to irreversible physical and psychological changes of the character) and the direct consequence of it (i.e. the Death changes its appearances as it enters the new phase of its life). I would say that it could be partially true for Major with his uniform, too, if we assume that it was the war which had made him what he is.

And right now you might be wondering whether this bit was an excuse to insert here a gif with Craddock shaking down his coat… I shall let you be the judge.

Next time we see Craddock, he takes the Man in Black and Lawrence hostage when they come to Las Mudas. He brings them to the church where the townspeople are being kept, and the Man in Black tells him where the town weapons are stored. But not before Major kills the town representative, because he – Craddock – isn’t doing any deals.

Craddock: Now, me and my men here have a long journey ahead of us. We need food, whiskey, and ammunition. You people have some village elder who can speak for you? Make some kind of a deal? (GUNSHOT) (ALL MURMURING) I ain't interested in makin' fuckin' deals. You understand?

Probably inefficient?.. Not for the Death, who operates on intimidation. I bet, Major Craddock could threaten and kill these poor townspeople all day. Because, you see:

Craddock: We know you motherfuckers are rebels. So you’re gonna tell me where the fuck you hid your weapons, or you’re gonna die. Lawrence: The second we tell him he's gonna kill us all anyway. But you know what? It is very likely that Lawrence is right, but it isn’t necessarily so. Despite what you might be thinking now, the Deaths aren’t complete strangers to nobleness. Don’t raise your eyebrows, let me explain: they like to challenge and to accept challenges, to find worthy opponents – a victory over an equal or even a superior opponent results in ecstasy of the usually unemotional Death. And this is why sometimes the Death is able to respect an interesting opponent suggesting a one-on-one combat, which, however, probably wouldn’t prevent it from hurting the relatives of the said opponent... Because the Death has its own way of assessing such things. For instance, it can find the murder of a waiter for a spilled tea understandable and condemn a genocide. I’m going to talk about the reasoning behind it later.

Now I’d like to turn to the two defining attributes of the Death apart from sadism – in every sense of the word, including sexual sadism.

First one is its amorality. Even if the Death develops its own moral system, the core at the center of that system becomes the mirror image of the public morals. Many of the Deaths do, indeed, understand the concept of “forbidden”, but this knowledge in the end only tempts them to violate the prohibitions. Most of them, though, aren’t interested in comprehending the concept of moral at all. Take, for instance, Bart from Dirk Gently: she is a holistic murderer, who kills because the universe compels her to. It’s not a part of her job to question why she has to do what she has to do.

Importantly, this factor defines not only the Death’s behavior but its whole way of life – the choices the Deaths make and what these lead them to.

The second defining attribute is gaiety of the Death. That gaiety shouldn’t be mistaken for optimism – the Deaths are rather pessimistic, but at the same time they find evil funny; not to mention the fact that, in many cases, typical manifestations of gaiety, such as smiles and laughter, can express almost any emotion when it comes to the Death. That perverse gaiety also often becomes an important attribute of the Death’s exterior – the Comedian and the Joker probably are the most striking examples for that, – and in combination with vigor and vitality (children are usually very energetic), which are also quite characteristic for the most Deaths, it gives us the archetype that by murdering, raping, torturing, and committing acts of terrorism for its own amusement brings about irreversible changes in the cosmographic picture of its world.

In other words, even though the Death per se is a weak occult figure, it compensates for it with its physical influence on the environment, often becoming one of the most important figures of its fictional universe in the process.

Also, many of the Death are approaching the position of a trickster in their worlds, but due to their primitivism they rarely realize the potential of this possible cosmographic role.

In many ways, it resembles the modus operandi of The Wheel of Fortune – another very physically influential archetype.

And another archetype once played by Tucker, hm. Matthew Brown was the most memorable cameo of the second season of Hannibal, I guarantee you. And it makes sense to give these physical characters to a very physical actor (and person), when you think about it: the way the man moves on camera, almost aggressively at home in his own body, all the tiny nuances of his intimate interactions with the props that are basically creating an additional layer of dialog and of the characters themselves… Isn’t it the best way to breathe life into physical archetypes and simply a wonderful approach to acting? I know, I know, you aren’t here because of my degree in Tuckerology. It’s just hard to talk about the man without professing love.

The next thing Major Craddock does is shooting a bartender balancing a glass of nitroglycerine on the back of his hand after the man successfully does for him what he has been told to. Irony or sadism? It’s the same for the Death. You are recalling Ramsay Bolton torturing Theon Greyjoy, aren’t you?

It is worth noting that since the act of murder is perceived by the Deaths as the act of domination over the world, and basically is their biggest source of pleasure, many authors like to stage the battles between the Deaths and the Hermits, who endure great moral suffering even when committing violence in self-defense.

The fact that the Death doesn’t find it shameful to find pleasure in evil and laugh at the absurd and unbearable lightness of being (yes, it sort of is this existential, we’re getting there) may make you think that there isn’t anything holy to the Death at all, but – and the Death has this in common with the Mage – usually something is. It’s just insanely difficult to find, since even the Death doesn’t actually realize it sometimes. Again, think about a very cruel child, who despite everything still is a child and loves, for instance, some TV character or other figure.

And since we are talking about what the Death might like or love, the Deaths usually have a narrow circle of interests, which predictably includes drugs, weapons (Remember the impressed look on Craddock's face after that demonstration of a blaster? Even if you don't, here I have it for you:

), explosives, violence, sex (rape), terrorism, but also – and this is where it gets interesting – quite often it likes dancing and music, which seems to appease their inner predator; it frequently likes childish activities or things associated with childhood (Simon Adebisi blowing soap bubbles!), animals, with which the Deaths subconsciously feel a certain kinship, games, competitions, fights, sports, food, and clothes.

Also, it usually is quite indifferent to money - again, like a child, who doesn’t understand the value of it; this is one of the traits that help you distinguish the Death from the Wheel of Fortune, who is an avid fan of making profit in all sorts of manners.

But of course there isn’t a thing that the Death generally enjoys more than tormenting people and putting them into uncomfortable situations, which Major Craddock demonstrates by forcefully dancing with Lawrence’s wife in front of him.

Yes, you'll have to believe me that in this particular instance dancing with Jonathan Tucker is actually intended as torture.

Maybe an interesting connection to a deeper meaning of the card of the archetype is that the Death doesn’t discern between age, race or sex, just as actual terrible misfortunes can potentially happen to everyone. However, being an expert sadist, the Death can and usually will make use of those characteristics of its victim that make them especially vulnerable, be it physical or psychological vulnerability.

For all the reasons discussed above, the Deaths are usually lonesome. The primitiveness of their life philosophy, together with aggressiveness that gives them a dangerous reputation, eventually isolate the Death from the normal people almost completely. Sometimes leaders or quasi-leaders, such as the Mages and the Devils in high stages of their development, the Hanged and the Justices, seek their assistance, but even then they tend to distance themselves from the Deaths in personal interactions.

The young Deaths – usually in their lower stages of development – do not pay attention to this zone of estrangement around them or even like it, seeing it as a confirmation of their value and uniqueness as a source of danger for everyone, including potential allies.

But the older Deaths often suffer from loneliness and try to build a circle of friends but fail almost always.

This loneliness, which is usually a symptom of entering the phase of high development (in which the Death realizes its emotional and social inferiority), can change the Death very much. This is, for example, what the Comedian was going through when he found out about the plan of Ozymandias and realized that he can’t understand a mass murder of those who aren’t his enemies or prey (“We know you motherfuckers are rebels!”). This is when murder becomes barbarity in his eyes, and instead of perceiving it as a joke, he asks: “I mean, what’s funny? What’s so goddamn funny? I don't get it. Somebody explain... somebody explain it to me.”

The Comedian’s isolation indicates the same thing Jake Gallo’s search for life reference points, the tragic nihilism of Ares or Grievous’ perfectionism do – the Death only suffers from its inadequacy.

In other words, golem wants to become a human, but it can’t, because it isn’t designed to play that role. Even if the Death is capable of loving or feeling anything at all, it still looks at the world from a perspective of a blunt metal object: here is me (or mine) and there are them, the enemies, who I/we have to kill. Not to kill to save a world or get something, simply because they are the enemies.

And speaking about what else can hurt the Death: Physical world is very important to it, it craves for contact with it, so, blindness, paralysis or amputation would be enough to destroy the Death’s personality.

But what leads to the actual downfall of the Death? One could assume that it is stupidity or excessive cruelty that leaves the Death without any companion-in-arms in a difficult situation. But no, actually.

What exactly killed Major Craddock?

Remember the “I know what I what” bit? It was this assumption. Because it’s the incipient ambition that usually kills the Death.

We cannot force ourselves to be kin to what is unlike us, and since the Death is a blind branch of the archetypical personal evolution, it is confined to itself. (The Deaths usually do not evolve, but can acquire some resemblance to the Mages with age and certain intellectual growth.) The Death can’t be anything better than an assassin (serving order) or a bandit (serving chaos). The Joker understands it: “You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it! I just do things.”

Major Craddock, on the other hand, doesn’t (didn’t...) seem to realize that the aspirations he connected with an unknown place called Glory, which he was hellbent on making his way to, resulted from the desire to become more than he is – a thug on the side of the losers (the Confederados), an artificial being, a mad dog, lost without someone holding its leash. Someone who never had the free will to decide what he wants to be but was forcefully put into being. I told you it’ll get existential!

Instead, Major thinks that he is the active subject that chooses his fate and was chosen by death, becoming its herald and champion:

Craddock: “Death is an old amigo of mine. I died just recently, in fact. But death can't bear to lay claim on me. So it sent me back here to do its bidding. Because I do it with such goddamn style. I've served death well. And in turn, it'll be watching over us as we cross these lands.” Right after that The Man in Black explains to him: The Man in Black: “You think you know death but you don't.”

Given the fact that Craddock is the Death and decided to identify with death after years and years of inflicting violence, you could argue that The Man in Black is basically saying here: “You don’t know yourself, boy”.

And what about what happens then? Well.

The Death has the tendency to escape death for quite some time. Yet when it does die, it’s usually a very horrible way to go: being eaten alive by your own dogs, falling from a great height. And now we can add a nitroglycerin cocktail to this list as well.

And honestly, thank goddess. As much as I love Jonathan Tucker and his characters, the series was painful to watch for me personally. And now I can't wait for City on a Hill, wondering who Tucker’s next archetype is going to be, because the man certainly has an intuitive grasp of these things.

So, this is it. Thank you for you attention and let me know what other Tarot archetype you'd like to learn more about!

[ekniemisba2a]

BA2a Narrative Strategies - Reflective Essay (Plan & 1st Draft)

INTRODUCTION

In this essay, I will be reflecting on my short story inspired by the themes of dreams and the uncanny in our set text The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1885) by Robert Louis Stevenson. I will explore Magic Realism and the depiction of the ‘little people’ in both Stevenson’s essay A Chapter on Dreams (1892) and Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 (2010). Finally, I will be discussing how I would animate the short story with references to my inspirations in animation, as well as my research into the Victorian Era.

FIRST PARAGRAPH

Dreams and Uncanny by Freud *and Jentsch (definitions and about)

Stevenson's A Chapter on Dreams & the link to the book, symbolism to do with sleep in the book, dreams and uncanny in book

Magic realism (definition, Stevenson’s and Murakami’s book)

Little People inserts in both essay and 1Q84

SECOND PARAGRAPH

Why I choose to write about the little people – I thought of Murakami, one of my favourite writers, love uncanny things, images of the story came to me quite easily

Writing process – little bored by Jekyll and Hyde due to old-fashioned writing, intrigued by little people, excited to explore it in both Stevenson and Murakami, when writing had difficulty with tenses and writing without describing too fully, leaving it for the reader to come up with their own images in their imagination, enjoyed creating how I would interpret the little people to look, show don’t tell

Talk about Murakami writing style inspiration?

Present tense (why I use and reserach)

Most fictional stories and day to day texts, such as News and Media, are written in the past tense, so it is no surprise that we feel a sense of unfamiliarity when consuming writing in a present tense. Despite the fact that I found it difficult to keep to writing in the present tense, I exploited this foreignness to create a sense of disquiet within my story. The winding sentences phrased in this tense also work to make the reader slightly uneasy, which I felt appropriately reflected my magical realist narrative.

THIRD PARAGRAPH

How I would animate story

- stop motion (night scene – more dreamlike) and live action (day/morning scene)

- jittery animation (skip some in-betweens) for little people, make them seem extra uncanny, compared to stop motion of Stevenson, much smoother movements

- puppet ideas, inspiration: James and giant peach and Robert Morgan

- set and costume: Victorian four-poster bed in modest room and long nightshirt (research) with inspiration from Brothers Quay (aesthetic)

- cold grade for night scene, blues and beige, lots of shadows, light only from moon through thin blinds

- warmer grade for early morning scene, oranges and yellows, light only from sun through thin blinds

- soundtrack: very little, just ambient noise with tick of clock and Stevenson moves

- adult audience

- issues with sizing, would have to make Stevenson puppet bigger than usual and little people quite a bit smaller than usual, puppet’s bleached skin appearance done with silicone or latex then painted

- when little people come out of Stevenson’s mouth, show close up shot of face with arm coming out then cut to shot at back of head so that I don’t have to show them coming fully out the mouth, have the head cover up what I don’t want viewer to see, illusion of them morphing but having odd movements and covering them in dark so see mainly the shape of them at first, then reveal their complexation as the walk across the bedchamber

- Said in short story text that the little people don’t cast shadows, so I would take them out in post, just need to make sure to take several shots of the set before filming them in it to remove them

If I were to adapt my short story into an animated film, I would use a combination of stop motion animation and live action. The first sequence in Stevenson’s bedroom during the night would be in stop motion animation to make use of its innate uncanny qualities and create a dream-like atmosphere. This would be contrasted by the, undoubtedly real, live action sequence that follows the next morning. This technique is used in James and the Giant Peach (1996) directed by Henry Selick and The Cat with Hands (2001) directed by Robert Morgan, both to symbolise passage into a new world. However, I would have my sections reversed in comparison to these films, as I would choose to begin with animation and end with live action. To further exploit the uncanny sense provided by stop motion animation, I would animate the movement of the little people puppets with missing in-between frames to make their movement more jittery and unnatural. However, Stevenson’s puppet will be animated with smooth and consequently realistic movements.

All puppets would be made from scratch with wire armatures and animatable with pins. However, the little people at roughly 6” puppets, would be considerably smaller than the Stevenson puppet at 12”. The little people’s ill-fitting skin would be made using silicone or latex to achieve the fleshy quality. Whereas the Stevenson puppet would be put together with old second-hand doll parts, and his bedroom set would be dressed with equally used and old-fashioned objects. All of these materials would be collected from vintage and antique fairs to be in line with the Victorian aesthetic. This is the process of filmmakers the Brothers Quay, who start both their stop motion projects in this way, working around the details of the chosen objects. However, some props will be difficult to find in the right size to compliment my large puppet, for example, his nightshirt and bed, which I would have to instead make myself. Another issue with sizing is in the sequence when the little people emerge from Stevenson’s mouth, to get past this I would have a close up shot of the mouth with a little person prop arm moving out of it, then cut to a behind the head shot of Stevenson so I that I don’t have to show the whole bodies of the puppets coming out of his mouth.

CONCLUSION

what I’ve learnt: writing in present tense, writing the short story, Victorian Era, Stevenson

what do differently: start essay research and essay earlier, could have had draft marked by tutor if done earlier, manage time better!

project on whole: learnt a lot about dream theories and uncanny as well as Victorians, enjoyed fascinating lectures, didn’t enjoy the book so much but appreciate the writing, beautifully written and classic, enjoyed writing, quite excited about the concept of animating my own story, may animate it in the future

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Thoughts on OUaT?

OUAT is a show that had a lot of potential, but that unfortunately just fell flat for me. I have to admit I never really fell in love with OUAT and by looking at my blog you’d think I’m a much bigger fan of it than I actually am. In reality, I posted about it so much because it was an active fandom that made a lot of great edits which were always showing up on my dash and because I loved Emma.

I started watching it because I’m a fan of fantasy shows and grew up reading, watching and loving Disney and fairy tales, so I gave it a shot. I enjoyed season 1, but I remember thinking very quickly that it was getting repetitive and I mean, ridiculously repetitive. Every season seemed to follow the same pattern of some curse taking over Storybrooke resulting in everyone losing their memories and it got really tiresome. The plots were never particularly inventive or interesting and failed to keep my attention, so the characters are the only reason I carried on watching.

In the early seasons I lived for Rumple and Regina centric episodes because I found them both so appealing and interesting as villains, but unfortunately the writers aren’t the best at effectively portraying the conflict between light and dark. Even though I adore Regina and always have, the writers are guilty of white washing Regina’s evil tendencies and I’m not really a big fan of the idea that Regina and the Evil Queen are two separate identities, which the Jekyll and Hyde storyline really emphasised. I think that doing that it just erases canon and ignores the fact that Regina as a person does have naturally dark tendencies that she acted upon without restraint for a very long time. A person doesn’t just magically go from that to being wholly good over night, which was portrayed with Regina at times. As for Rumple, I just don’t think the writers had the same love or devotion to his character as they did Regina’s and they completely ruined his character. I think because unlike Regina, Rumple was truly irredeemable and a villain through to his core in a way Regina wasn’t, the writers just didn’t know what to do with him. They didn’t know how to write a villain that was just a villain. It’s almost like they had to try and redeem him, but that just wasn’t fitting with his character and so they’d always go back on it or it’d just feel incredibly forced. With Regina, Henry was very much the driving force for her fighting to be good and most of the time that was enough for her, but Rumple was always different. Although he loved Belle and his sons, neither of them were ever enough for him to give up the darkness for good because it was who he was.

The problem with this is that when a show is focused so heavily on the characters and a lot of the audience (such as myself) were watching specifically because they’re invested in the characters, you can’t afford to be writing them poorly. But unfortunately, this didn’t happen with just Rumple and Regina. My honest opinion is that the show had too many seasons (and why they’re bringing out a new season I have no idea, the show is dead and has been for a while) and so it got to a point where the writers had already taken the characters on their complete journey’s, but had to keep writing beyond that and so were just writing filler. This happened with Snow, Charming and Emma in season 6. For Snow and Charming, their development has always been well established. In the pilot they were established as the couple of the show - they’re Snow White and Prince Charming, they’re soulmates, in love, they’re heroes, they’re naturally good - and across the 6 seasons the writers never really strayed from that. Their main journey was to defeat the Evil Queen (which let’s face it, happened very early on since Regina essentially became one of them) and their other journey was one to find Emma and build a relationship with her, which again was probably achieved around season 3-4. With Emma, her journey was a lot more complex as she had to find her parents, build a bond with them, learn how to be a mother and establish a bond with Henry, embrace her role as saviour, battle her darkness and learn to let her walls drop and be more vulnerable. But once again, her journey was pretty much complete by the end of season 5 because she had found her family and built a strong bond with all of them, she’d conquered her darkness, was contented and comfortable with her role as the saviour and had allowed herself to be vulnerable in love with her family and Hook. So by the time we got to season 6 what was there left to tell of any of these characters?

Another issue with characters on OUAT is that there is just too many of them. I’ll never understand why the hell the writers thought it was appropriate or relevant to just drag every single fairytale character they could think of onto the show and give them some irrelevant sub-plot that spanned across a few episodes. What was the purpose of Jasmine and Aladdin in season 6? Does anybody know? Because I don’t. All it did was steal focus from characters we actually cared about. Ruby and Dorothy is another classic example. A cute episode, yes, but I can’t help but feel it was only thrown in so the writers could shout from the rooftops “LOOK AT US AND HOW MODERN WE ARE WITH OUR LGBTQ REPRESENTATION AND GAY FAIRYTALE COUPLE”. Of course it’s okay for characters to come and go, that happens on every show, but in my opinion, if they don’t have some impact upon the overall plot or a long-lasting affect on the main characters that drives their arc forwards, it’s a waste of time. Another example of this would be Elsa and Anna. What purpose did they achieve? When they went back home they were completely forgotten and didn’t have even a tiny influence over the course of the show.

However, for all the bad there is also good points of OUAT otherwise I wouldn’t have sat through 6 seasons of it. The main aspect I love about it is the emphasis on family, which is a theme I love on any show. The relationships with Emma, Charming, Snow and Henry are some of the best things to come out of the show and watching those relationships develop over time was beautiful (Emma breaking the curse at the end of season 1 with true love’s kiss is still to this day one of the most emotional and pivotal scenes across the entire show imo). Similarly, Regina’s relationship with Henry was beautiful and I will always respect the show for portraying an adoptive mother/son relationship that is so strong and loving and of equal importance to Henry’s relationship with Emma.

I also enjoyed the fantasy elements of the show, which as I said, is what drew me to it in the first place. I grew up reading fairytales over and over again, watching them on TV and as cliche and problematic most of them are, I personally see them as being part of a heritage and history. I love that OUAT took those stories and characters nearly all of us are familiar with and put their own modern twist on them - and honestly a lot of the time I preferred what they did. Take Snow and Charming for example. The original animated version was one of the most shallow and ridiculous love stories I’ve ever seen. Snow sings, Charming hears her, she runs away and then is somehow in love with him despite seeing him once and never having had a conversation with him. They never speak or meet again until she’s in a coma and he’s conveniently the love of her life and wakes her with true love’s kiss. Then he carries her off on his horse to his castle and they lived happily ever after. It’s probably one of the worst love stories I’ve ever seen. Yet, Snow and Charming on OUAT is one of the best love stories I’ve ever seen. They took two characters that were essentially bland, with no personality, characterisation or even a real relationship and created something amazing. Admittedly, they didn’t always get it right when they introduced new characters, but for the most part I enjoyed the modern twists they put on the different stories and characters.

And of course, as I said, though in some ways the characters were written poorly they are by far the best thing about the show. Emma Swan will always have a piece of my heart and I adore what they achieved with her character. I’ve watched a lot of shows and imo, Emma is probably the only female I’ve seen portrayed as being a strong, capable hero alongside Buffy. Sure, there are strong female leads in other shows, but none that quite fit that same role Emma and Buffy did of being “the chosen one”, if that makes sense. Emma is a complex and very real character that I relate to a lot, and although I don’t necessarily like the direction they took her character in at certain points I still love that the writers never held back with her. I often see posts about how female characters are always placed into a box and can only be one thing - pretty or ugly, strong or weak, good or evil etc. - but Emma was never written like that. She was independent but also admitted she needed others, she was a fantastic mother that didn’t choose or even want to be a mother (at the beginning), she was a skeptic that was full of hope, she was a hero that battled against darkness and an ex-convict that worked in law enforcement. There are so many contradictions to Emma’s character that it’s impossible to name all of them, but guess what? That’s exactly what makes her real and relatable. Similarly I loved all of the other main characters (Snow, Charming, Regina, Belle, Rumple, Henry) but most of them just didn’t get the same level of commitment and focus as Emma did which meant there was so much wasted potential with all of them. 

[writing-in-april]

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (2/?)

Part two: Caught

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After reader’s first introduction to Spencer she can’t wait for the next meeting and tries to look for him.

Part One, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys!!! This is my final fic for my 1250 follower celebration!!! Plus this is part two to my new series 🥰 I’m like so excited for this guys I’ve got so much planned for this one!! Thanks again to @spencers-dria who came up with the way I started out this story 😘 and @andiebeaword who gave me the prompt that spiraled into a series!!! Let me know how y’all like this series so far 🥰 also I will be mass accepting the rest of the requests for my 30 fics in 30 days tomorrow so be warned for a bunch for posts lol and I’ll be making a Masterlist for this series as well- maybe with a cute moodboard?? Thanks for reading guys!!!

Warnings: 18+, Speculation on how dark Spencer can be, mentions of kidnapping, Dom Spencer, Public sex (of course), Fingering, Use of the nickname Doctor, Slight size kink, Muffling, Spencer gives Reader a nickname at the end (I won’t spoil it 😉)

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.6k

Ever since the last meeting you had been itching to lay your eyes on Dr. Reid. Even though you could have waited until next month when there’s another book meeting happening, with a new theme, your impatience was not having it.

The library that housed the book club and apparently now any of your interactions with the mystery man had never been frequented as much by you- until now.

Everyday after work now you stopped by to try and find him. You did other stuff there for sure, making your way through a full fantasy series while you kept your eyes peeled for his fluffy hair. Sometimes you did walk through the shelves that were stacked high with every book you thought imaginable just to maybe get a peak at him, or maybe speak to him if you were lucky.

You felt like you were both dancing around each other, never touching or even getting close enough to speak. But, a little look of his curls, a spot of his mesmerizing eyes, or a glimpse of his cardigan assured you that he was there.

You were sure he had to have seen you just as you had seen him at some point. Maybe he only wanted to see you during your book club or maybe he was done with you after that one time in the empty room.

Seeing him without half of his face covered seemed to make the shroud of mystery surrounding him get pulled back further. That however didn’t change the fact that you barely knew the man that danced between the shelves. You had called him by his earned prefix more than his real name and even then it was only his last name with the earned prefix attached that had slipped between your lips.

It was not like you did not know his first name, you had heard his full name with his title attached when he had first introduced himself to you, albeit behind that mask of mystery. And, even with his physical mask removed even with one look it would be obvious to anyone that there was an invisible mask still covering most of him.

There was this strange pull towards him that you could not explain. You felt like Christine being entranced by the phantom, his twisted face or in this case his soul behind the mask not shocking me away. You still hoped I was not dealt with a man that was as demented as Christine’s phantom. You could take a damaged man, not a kidnapper along with whatever other things the phantom of the opera had done to Christine. With one look at his face he hooked you in, perhaps unintentionally. But, if it was intentional and his bad didn’t squash the good in the end you didn’t mind at all.

Your feelings teetered on a precarious edge, you’d willingly take the plunge off if he’d just give you a peak at what was underneath. It all hinged on whether or not he’d let you take a look. He’d given you a taste of his Dr. Jekyll plus a little of his Mr. Hyde, but it left you nowhere in determining who Spencer was underneath.

Spencer- that was the first time you had even thought of his first name by itself without a prefix attached. You wondered how good it would sound if you let it stop dancing on the edge of your lips and let it slip out.

The ghost of his name danced on your lips precariously at the edge just like you were, so close to being whispered out. Only the pages of old books would hear you, there was no harm in saying his name. It was only a name after all.

Even though it was just a name made up of two syllables it was stuck on your tongue like it was one of the hardest words to pronounce. Your lips did finally speak in the softest whisper when you finally managed to stomp out your hesitation, “Spencer-“

“You called?” A gasp left you, way too loud to be appropriate in the library, but then again you had already bucked many of this library’s rules. You whipped around to face the voice that you recognized instantly as you had been closing your eyes tight every night trying to remember his voice and picture what he had done to you.

Seeing him without the mask up close, not through quick glances when you caught his fugue from afar was somehow more intriguing to you than when he wore the mask two weeks ago. When you did not come up with a response for at least a minute, he cut through the somewhat awkward silence, “What book are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.” That was an honest answer from you, you had other motives for hiding between these shelves.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline clearly spotting your skittish behavior. You thought you were a good liar too, you wondered how it was so easy for him to read you. It made you feel vulnerable considering you couldn’t get a read on anything about him, besides the basics. Maybe you were just a bad liar and he was a master at it. “So you were just browsing? In the nonfiction section- specifically in the ancient and medieval philosophy section?”

His questions flustered you even more. It was like he knew that you had spotted him once in this very spot speeding through a stack of books a mile high while sitting cross legged on the floor. You would admit you stood there in awe for a moment to admire the way his fingers slipped down the page to track what sentence that he was on at an inhuman pace. You had been too shy to approach him that day, even though it was a perfect opportunity to do so, mostly because you were intimidated by how fast he seemed to be reading. Though later you thought maybe he had just been skimming to find what interested him, you wish you were brave enough to ask. That was why you had been loitering in the last spot you had your last chance to speak with him. It was possible he had already spotted you from your staring. Your voice shook a little as denied, having no suitable white lie to say, “No…”

“Not interested in philosophy then, no Plato for you??” He knew you were here before, watching him, his tone made it obvious.You shook your head from side to side slowly with your breath held tightly in his chest. He looked away from you for a moment to glaze over the spines of the books ordered by the Dewey Decimal System, maybe looking for something that sparked his own interest. It was only a small moment that his gaze wasn’t fixated at you, but you still felt like whining at him to get his attention back onto you. Luckily, you did not have to make such a sound as his pupils fixated back onto yours before he spoke again, “I thought so, you seem more like a fiction lover.”

“You’d be correct.” You confirmed, still barely breathing.

Your breathing wavered when he moved a little closer, if you hadn’t been paying such close attention to every minute moment he made, you might have missed it. The warmth of him was closer than it had been since the last time he had touched you, the desire for him was urging you to pull him in to touch him. Last time he had initiated every touch. his hands were closest to you, with nimble fingers that could work you over the edge skillfully and you knew that from experience. His head cocked to the side with eyebrows in question pulling you away from your daydream about pulling him in with your touch. He cleared his throat, then questioned you, his voice dropping down a bit, “So, if you weren’t looking for a specific book and you weren’t just browsing for a new one- what are you doing here in this section?”

“N-nothing…” A stutter still escaped you despite your best efforts.

It seemed like he was circling you like a hawk over head, though you wanted to be caught up in his claws. A little yelp of surprise escaped you when he suddenly grabbed your wrist rather tightly and yanked you forward towards him. You stumbled slightly into his chest, but you were quickly stabilized by him pushing you back into the shelves.

You were getting whiplashed again from his transition from delicate to sharp when he carefully put both wrists into one hand, then pinning them above your head. Your jaw was dropped down in shock and you almost stammered out another reply when he hit the nail on the head as to what your intentions were, “Were you looking for me?” At first you gave no response, but he pulled one out of you by sharply commanding you, “Answer me!”

“Yes!”

His lips were on you in a familiar fashion, harsh, almost enough to where your lips might bruise a little. When he bit your lip rather hard, you thought that there was definitely a chance that the bruise would form or at least it would be swollen. You loved it though, letting him guide the kiss to make it as rough as he wanted. When he separated his lips from you, you went to open your mouth to protest, but was cut off by a harsh shush from him that would make the librarian proud.

Each of the shelves you were pressed into pinched painfully, not that you cared all that much. You were more focused on the man who was now unbuttoning the front of the jeans you wore. On the inside you were cursing yourself for not wearing a skirt so he could’ve had easier access, it’s not like he could have stripped you down out of them- even if you wanted him to.

You’d both have to settle with your pants being pulled down to the tops of your thighs, he did leave the panties pulled up though, for the moment at least.

His other hand still held your wrists firmly while he started to tease by rubbing slow circles to your clit through your panties. When you tried to buck your hips into his hand you were punished by putting one of his thighs between your own and pushing what felt like his full weight onto you. There was no way you could move underneath him, even if you tried squirming he had you pinned to the too firmly shelves like a piece of art hanging on the walls.

All you could do was try to beg for what you wanted, “Please, pull them down.”

“But, I like seeing you in them.” He looked down at you with his eyes that looked like black pools because of the mood lighting in the library. You whimpered again, but cut you off by saying. “If you want me to oblige you, maybe you should ask me nicely and use the name you know you’re supposed to use.”

You knew exactly what title he was referring to, it had been ingrained in your mind after the last time. Part of you wanted to use a similar comeback of last time and call him Mister instead, or maybe even dare speak his first name again. On the other hand, your legs were shaking from being just simply teased a little. You had been looking forward to having him touch you like this again, and if you did not comply there was a chance his punishment for you would be taking away all touch.

“Please- Doctor, please pull them down.” Your volume was undoubtedly much too loud for the normally dead silent library. You were confident that you would not be caught just like last time, this was a scarcely traveled area, plus the librarian was farthest away from here. There had been another motive for picking this area to try to spot the morally gray doctor.

Instead of pulling your panties down, he ripped them off of you. The tearing of the seam echoed off the shelves along with your gasp. Even if you had really liked the pair, it was too hot to really be angry for him ripping them apart. And- when he stuffed them in his pocket a sharp spike of arousal ripples through your core. You could even still see the wet spot you had created on them despite the rip before he had shoved them into his pocket.

When his hand returned to your core you mewled desperately. He returned his nimble fingers to rubbing circles into your clit, this time a little bit faster than before and with a bit more pressure. You had to bite down onto your lip when he started alternating the circles with pinching your clit, knowing that the sharp cries that wanted to escape would be too loud for the librarian to miss, despite being far away from her.

“Do you want my fingers inside you?” He asked gruffly- as if I’d refuse having his long fingers crooked inside me, dragging across my g spot.

You didn’t need him to prompt you to say “Yes, please Doctor!” You were becoming easy for him to bend to his will, just to get another taste of his touch on your body. Maybe next time, if there was one like you hoped, perhaps if you were not so desperate for him to bring you to your peak, you’d smart off to him again. After all, from what little that you had experienced as a punishment from him like last time, you knew you’d enjoy it.

The smirk on his face told you that he was pleased with your eager submission to him. He pushed your head to the side slightly with his own to suck a hickey at the underside of your ear then nibbling slightly up the shell of it, “Good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back farther than you thought possible when he spoke, plus the added sensation of him plunging his fingers into your dripping hole added to that as well. The thrusts of his fingers were slower than you expected, as if he did not care that time may be of the essence, that anybody could walk by soon. Curling them upwards on one swift motion helped him easily find that perfect spot inside you which made your body try to squirm underneath his grip again. As you squirmed you could feel his hard bulge pressing into you making your mouth water and you drip down your thighs even more. Despite wanting to grind into it more he reaffirmed his grip and started to plunge his fingers into you faster. Your eyes shut tight at the onslaught of pleasure.

“No- look at me while I’m doing this to you.” Wrenching your eyes open with effort you followed his command, locking his eyes with yours. His eyes entranced you, you could almost feel the dark hooks pulling you in impossibly closer. Those hooks were pushing you towards the edge of your orgasm as well.

“Can I cum pleassse-“ You gasped almost too late as you were having trouble staving off your release, you didn’t know if you could handle him holding it off at all, “Doctor?!”

“Come on, cum for me- only for me, you’ve been really good for me.” A man being possessive towards you would normally have your orgasm fall away quickly- but when he said it your orgasm snapped through you on command. Your hands fell limp at your sides as he released his steel grip on them to clasp his hand around your mouth to quiet the noise that you tried, and failed, to stifle.

He had you still almost fully pinned down as you rode the waves of your orgasm out. You gripped the shelves with your free hands tightly, trying to hold onto something. You’d touch him, but there was the unspoken rule to not touch him without permission hanging in the air.

He let you come up for air once you had finished by removing his hand from your mouth, along with the one from your pants. He also tried to move you off of his thigh so you could stand, but your shaky legs would not allow you to do so, still weak from the force of your orgasm.

He only pulled away from you when a small thud was heard that judging by the source of the sound, was somewhat close to where you both were. He helped you button your pants back up, it felt kind of weird to wear them without your panties. The reminder of him stuffing them into his pockets still outweighed the discomfort.

Your whole being was probably much more disheveled than he was, there was only a slight cock to the right with his tie, that he quickly fixed. He then leaned, capturing you in a kiss that was much softer than any others he had given you. It did not feel like a goodbye kiss, more like see you soon.

“Until next time, Shelley.” His words that were whispered like a ghost on your lips, it was the quietest thing he had said throughout today’s dalliance. He almost seemed afraid. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the nickname, knowing it came from the time that you first had encountered him. It made him seem even closer to you than you had thought, him giving you the nickname made you feel somewhat claimed by him. Hopefully this was not all in your head.

“Until next time- Spencer.” You hesitated a little before saying his given name. You already had a nickname for him, one that seemed less intimate than the one he gave to you. Calling him by his first name seemed like a way that you could express similar thoughts without spilling all your guts to him.

Once the butterflies had faded a little you realized that he had not let you reciprocate any pleasure. You wanted to chase him back down through the library, get down on your knees and take his cock into your mouth until you swallowed his cum. There must have been a reason though, why he did not let you reciprocate. You hoped he was just busy and that at the next meeting in two weeks time, he’d let you take him into your mouth.

You yearned to touch him rather than to have him touch you. The thought of running your hands through his hair slowly enough to appreciate every wave and curl sent butterflies a flight in your stomach. Would he ever let you get that close? Close enough to study every curve of him in earnest instead of being pinned against something in a way where you could only appreciate a part of him. However much you felt desire being stoked whenever he took control over you, pinned you like he did, the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of exploring him with your own hands was too much to ignore. You just wanted to explore every inch of him with no semblance of time, no rush to be somewhere else, just to examine every part good or bad.

You’d have to tiptoe close, dance around him like he did with you until he let you see truly what both sides of him were behind the mask.

You still hardly knew the man before you, the one that was retreating away from you, sadly. Today had felt like your first glimpse into something more, mostly his good side. Dr. Jekyll was the one that you had seen the most of, but you could deny your desire to see every part of him, that thought had not wavered. There was that dark part of him that remainder hidden under the mask, if he showed it to you would you know him? Or would it just deepen the mystery of which is his dominant side- Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde? And even though you were undoubtedly curious to see every facet of what made the morally gray doctor you could help but fear whether or not you’d like everything that you’d see.

Part One , Part Three| Series Masterlist

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

Dr. Jekyll or Mr.Hyde: @rainsong01

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom!Spencer: @rainsong01

[ekniemisba2a]

BA2a Narrative Strategies - Reflective Essay (2nd Draft)

In this essay, I will be reflecting on my short story inspired by the themes of dreams and the uncanny in our set text Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886) by Robert Louis Stevenson. I will explore Magic Realism and the depiction of the ‘little people’ in both Stevenson and Japanese author Haruki Murakami’s work. Finally, I will be discussing how I would animate the short story with references to my inspirations in animation, as well as my research into the Victorian Era.

One of the key themes in and surrounding Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is dreams. In the book, this mystery of Mr Hyde is unveiled through the character of Gabriel Utterson, whose ‘imagination was engaged or rather enslaved’ by this man, ‘even in his dreams it had no face, or one that baffled him and melted before his eyes’ (Stevenson, 2002, p.13). Similarly, writer Robert Louis Stevenson was plagued by images of Mr Hyde and changing powders in his dreams, supplying him with his desired plot for this story (Stevenson, 1892). Freud described dreams as ‘the royal road to the unconscious’ often revealing repressed desires (White, 2018), which has a clear connection to Henry Jekyll’s inability to suppress his dark cravings, resulting in the creation of Edward Hyde. I was first introduced to Sigmund Freud in A Level Psychology, and although he has quite questionable ideas and theories, I always found them to be fascinating in their madness. Which leads me to the next theme I took an interest in within this tale, the Uncanny. This is also evoked by the presence of Hyde, who gives ‘an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation’ (Stevenson, 2002, p.16). This Ernst Jentsch would describe as uncanny from his essay On the Psychology of the Uncanny (1906) for its prolonged state of uncertainty (White, 2018).

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is a Magic Realist narrative which is the ‘inclusion of fantastic or mythical elements into seemingly realistic fiction’ (The Editors of Encyclopædia Britannica, 2014). This concept has always enticed me, I love to think that there are unknown elements in our lives that may one day reveal itself to you. So I thought this would be a good place to start when it came to brainstorming an idea for my short story. Initially, I struggled to think of a narrative based on or inspired by our set text because I found the language difficult to read, taking me out of the story and lacking to stir any ideas. However, in one of our lectures, the mention of Stevenson’s Little People, the ‘substantive inventors and performers’ (Stevenson, 1892,) of his imagination, instantly caught my attention. The author that I had instead been turning to for inspiration was Haruki Murakami, one of my favourite writers, who funnily enough also wrote about creatures by the name of Little People. In Murakami’s books 1Q84 (2009-2010), ‘no one knows for sure who these Little People are’ (Murakami, 2009, p.604), they are neither good nor evil, they are something ‘that surpasses our understanding and our definitions’ (Murakami, 2009, pg. 631). There are a lot of similarities between Stevenson and Murakami in both their writing and their personalities, both famous for their magical realism and with avid imaginations that Murakami described as ‘a kind of animal’ keeping it alive through writing (Bausells, 2014). Dreams are also a focal point in Murakami’s writing, acting as a gateway to an unknown world and allowing the Little People from that world into ours.

I combined Stevenson’s dream fabricators and Murakami’s dimension walkers with my own imagination and came up with this short story about these Little People. My depiction of the Little People are particularly uncanny according to Freud, they are both familiar and unfamiliar in their appearance and made visible to Stevenson when they ought to be a secret (White, 2018). Like Murakami, I didn’t plan my story extensively, I just ran with my exciting idea and started. I enjoyed writing about these strange creatures, I am always drawn to the macabre in my work but trying to show and not tell with words was a welcomed challenge. It did take several re-drafts to finalise my text, with most of my struggles deriving from my introductory paragraph, I just couldn’t find the right words for without describing too much. I was also conscious of being historically accurate with my portrayal of Stevenson and his life, a lot of this came from the project’s lectures and my tutor’s knowledge of the writer. However, Back In My Time: A Writer's Guide to the 19th Century’s article on the Victorian Bedroom (Huls, 2016) was extremely helpful in creating a clear picture in my head of what Stevenson’s chief place of living might be like.

Most fictional stories and day to day texts today, such as News and Media, are written in the past tense, so it is no surprise that we feel a sense of unfamiliarity when consuming writing in a present tense. Despite the fact that I found it difficult to keep to writing in the present tense, I exploited this foreignness to create a sense of disquiet within my story. The winding sentences phrased in this way also work to make the reader slightly uneasy, which I felt appropriately reflected my magical realist narrative. It was also important for me to have the little people coming into our world through Stevenson’s mouth as this is a clear opening for them to escape his mind, but also it is how the Little People do it in Murakami’s 1Q84 too, specifically through the mouth of a dead goat in one instance. I also wanted them to be in a group because of their namesake and Murakami’s own words which states ‘there is never just one’ (Murakami, 2009, p.624).

If I were to adapt my short story into an adult animated film, I would use a combination of stop motion animation and live action. The first sequence in Stevenson’s bedroom during the night would be in stop motion animation to make use of its innate uncanny qualities and create a dream-like atmosphere. This would be contrasted with the, undoubtedly real, live action sequence that follows the next morning. This technique is used in James and the Giant Peach (1996) directed by Henry Selick and The Cat with Hands (2001) directed by Robert Morgan, both to symbolise passage into a new world. However, I would have my sections reversed in comparison to these films, as I would choose to begin with animation and end with live action. To further exploit the uncanny sense provided by stop motion animation, I would animate the movement of the little people puppets with missing in-between frames to make their movement more jittery and unnatural. However, Stevenson’s puppet will be animated with smooth and consequently realistic movements. Because I can’t physically have the little people puppets climb out from Stevenson’s mouth, I would need to maliciously plan my shots in the storyboard phase and explore my puppet’s limitations, so that I am fully prepared to retain believability in the shoot.

All puppets would be made from scratch with wire armatures and animatable with pins. However, the little people at roughly 6” puppets, would be considerably smaller than the Stevenson puppet at 12”. The little people’s ill-fitting skin would be made using silicone or latex to achieve the fleshy quality, taking inspiration from the puppets used in the animated short film La Ballena Escarlata (Figure 2). Whereas the Stevenson puppet would be put together with old second-hand doll parts, and his bedroom set would be dressed with equally used and old-fashioned objects. All these materials would be collected from vintage and antique fairs to be in line with the Victorian aesthetic. This is the process of filmmakers the Brothers Quay (Figure 3), who start both their stop motion projects in this way, working around the details of the chosen objects. However, some props will be difficult to find in the right size to compliment my large puppet, for instance, Stevenson’s nightshirt and four-poster bed, which I would have to instead make myself.

The night scene will have a cold grade to bring out the blues and beiges in the set, contrasted by the morning scene that would have a warm grade to emphasise the now new world full of oranges and yellows. The main light source in both scenes would be from the moon or sun through the window, using minimal dim lights only where it is necessary but otherwise I would want to create as much shadow as I can. Yet, the little people I created will lack shadows, so to get around this issue without it implementing the lighting of the set, I would mask out the shadows in post-production using Adobe After Effects. Finally, the soundtrack would consist of mostly ambience Foley sounds, for example, the ticking of the clock, which is very prominent in my story, to add to the sensation of unease.

Through this process, I have learnt that creative writing isn’t as scary as I thought and can be a really satisfying way of bringing my ideas to life. Although the set text wasn’t a hit with me, I have found it to have very interesting narrative themes that I enjoyed exploring in my writing and research. What I would do differently is start my research and essay earlier, I am someone who comes to writing last in a workload as I really struggle to formulate my thoughts into words, it never gets easier but I am determined to improve my attitude in order to complete these tasks to the best to my ability. On a whole, this project has been insightful, giving me the confidence to start writing more short fiction and encouraging me to pick up reading on a regular basis again, allowing me to grow not just as an animator but a storyteller too.