#drawing hairy men make me feel at peace with my body hair

[fruitmenace]

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈✨

[whatwashernameagain]

Mine to protect

After reading this lovely one-shot I was forced to write my own. You know how those are impossible to resist? This fic is based on chapter 23 of Keep him safe, but can easily be read separately.

Ao3 Link

Summary: Former delinquent Virgil Raine’s life has finally gotten back on track under the care of detective Logan Sanders, but after his dark past caught up with him and caused a friend to get injured he is devastated. The urge to simply disappear and protect those morons from the dangers he keeps attracting is hard to resist. Logan knows his little delinquent well though and ensures he feels safe and cared for and helps him realize that they can rely on each other. Holding him is no hardship at all for the man who’s made it his mission to provide protection for his family after all.

Warnings: Hints of past violence and past eating disorder, anxiety, crying (now it sounds bleak, but it’s really frigging cute, I swear!)

Pairing: Platonic analogical (Logan/Virgil)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Snuggles

Words: 1.871

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Mine to protect

Logan sighed as he once again heard a thumping sound from the room that had become Virgil’s own. After they’d finally come home from the hospital, the young man had looked ready to collapse, guilt and fear about their near miss, about the injury of his friend pressing heavily against his mind. Instead of trying to flee their care again, the former delinquent had avoided getting captured by Roman’s well meaning hands trying to gently forestall his escape again and had locked himself into his room.

Fear twisted in Logan’s stomach as he gently taped a band aid over his partner’s large, well manicured hand. The younger detective looked quite crushed, and not only because Virgil had made sure to scratch and kick him properly for trying to hold onto him. Roman had done the right thing though. From the start of their relationship, Virgil had feared for the safety of his voluntary protectors, had feared his dark past catching up to him and hurting them. He was far too selfless to not try to remove himself from their lives. Well. That would not do. He’d have to calm his little delinquent down before he hurt himself or talked himself into leaving again. The keys to Logan’s front door were still hanging from their hooks next to the door after all, tempting him to unlock the door and slip away in the cover of nightfall. Logan’s unadorned ones, Roman’s impractical, colorful Disney ornaments as well as Virgil’s simple and practical purple carabiner hook. Logan had gifted in to him so he could attach his keys to his belt loop when he kept them inside his pocket. The idea of the young man loosing access to the place of safety he had created for him had made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He wanted him to feel secure in his right to come and go as he pleased. To know that this flat wasn’t just Logan’s anymore, but theirs.

After sending Roman to his spot on the couch with the stuffed unicorn Prince Sparkles and the glittering monstrosity of a balloon he’d gotten from the hospital (it rained glitter everywhere), where he put a Pixar movie on for him, he quietly knocked on Virgil’s door.

“What?” The young man growled after a too long pause. The older detective imagined the young man freezing like a deer in the headlight.

“It’s me. May I come in?” He asked softly, making his voice calm and even.

With a grumbling sound following another long pause, the sound of a key turning in the lock indicated his invitation. Entering the room, Logan took in its state, as well as that of his charge. Virgil had apparently gotten busy pulling all of their shared books from the shelve to reorganize them, probably simply to give his nervous hands something to fidget with. His own organization was certainly not the issue! Logan prided himself in his system for very good reasons!

The young man was already looking uncomfortable at dislodging something in his apartment like he had done when the older man had first brought him here to recover. It was a setback the attentive detective observed with growing worry. The fact that his adopted friend one now moved around the kitchen like it had become his to rule over had given them all great comfort. Cooking had become a form of relaxation for him and he’d finally grown unafraid of hitting Roman’s fingers when he tried to steal a bite or of telling them to get out until he was done when he wanted his peace and quiet. The rudeness had warmed Logan for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. There was nothing to do now but once again try to reassure him of his right to be here with them, no matter how awkward he often felt about taking initiative in initiating their affectionate gestures. He had gotten much better with practice though.

“Sit with me, please.” He requested, settling on the bed he had held the then bruised and frightened creature on for the first time. It felt very long ago that Virgil had been brought to his guest room, beaten and defensive and very brave still. He’d been bird-thin under his hands then. The fact that he was slowly starting to gain weight had reassured Logan greatly. As he settled his palm over the bowed back tentatively now, he could still feel too prominent bones, but could not spot the individual ribs through the fabric of the t-shirt. His protecting hoodie had been flung into the corner in an uncharacteristic fit of untidiness. It smelled of disinfectant, Logan guessed.

His little delinquent looked cold in the worn fabric, and far too small with the way he hunched his shoulders. His pale hands were twisting the t-shirt compulsively, no doubt missing the long sleeves.

Wordlessly, Logan allowed his arm to slip around his shoulders, drawing him closer gently. Virgil was small enough to fit under the taller man’s arm perfectly, especially as the tension finally leaked from him after a few long moments. He sagged against his friend’s chest, leaning his cheek against the cool fabric of the dark blue vest.

Fondness welled up in the tired young man. He felt so drained, so beaten by the unfairness that was life. All of those idiots were trying so hard to protect him from his past, not caring if they got hurt. The weight of his failures pressed hard against his mind. Everything felt so heavy.

And yet, here he was, being pulled against the side of a man who was probably still trying to swallow down a complaint about the disruption of his book-sorting-system and who was walking around his own flat with his tie still firmly knotted and not even the buttons on the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt opened. His socks matched the color of his vest. He was such a square. Virgil was hit by how much he loved this painfully tidy nerd. More tension drained from him as Logan’s hand rubbed up and down his arm before pulling the soft blanket over his narrow shoulders and resuming his hold. His go-to move when someone was sad. The fucking nerd.

His little smile of endearment brought mortified, terrified tears to his eyes. He could have lost this fucking moron today, could have lost all of them, because they stupidly demanded to stand between him and the world when it was clearly he who should be hurt! He clasped a hand over his mouth, tasting bile, tasting loss.

His world churned briefly, uncomfortably, as he was manhandled by the secure hands on him. After a brief moment of disorientation, Virgil found himself lying on his bed with Logan holding onto him tightly, squishing him against his broad chest and soothingly running his hands through his perpetually tangled hair. He held on.

Breathing was difficult for a long moment, as if the emotions he’d tried to hold at bay were pressing down on his chest. He trembled.

“It is alright, Virgil. You are safe and so are we. The worst is behind us now. I need you to stay with me now, alright? Listen to my voice and concentrate on nothing else.”

His name was spoken like an endearment.

Wrapping his larger body around the little delinquent, Logan did his best to shield him from the world, from his own mind, and kept whispering to him, letting him feel the vibrations of his deep voice where their chests were pressed together. A sob escaped the young man that shook his whole body.

Logan tucked his tear-stained face into the crook of his neck, his heart breaking. His little one. He’d never thought adopting this infuriating creature that had caused him nothing but trouble in the past would make him feel so much. So much helplessness and fear and protectiveness and love.

He whispered to him for a long time, rubbing his back and allowing him to cry himself out.

Their moment was finally interrupted as the blanket they were lying on was pulled insistently, an angry, chirring/screeching sound accompanying the motion. Unlike Virgil, Cat the raccoon had had no problems gaining weight and was now attempting to haul all of it up the side of the bed.

The creature, another of Logan’s unwillingly adopted strays, was not fond of stress and had hidden under the bed upon feeling Virgil’s restlessness. The useless critter. Now that the young man had almost cried himself out, it climbed over them with pointy feet and claws and tried to squeeze itself into the nonexistent space between the two men with an annoyed gurgling sound. How had Logan managed to find a beast this ill mannered?!

“Verdammtes Mistvieh!” The older detective cursed quietly as he got hissed at for not making room quickly enough. The hairy monster unfortunately liked no one and only barely tolerated anyone close to it. Except for Virgil.

A watery laugh escaped him as the still quite patchy and scruffy creature insistently curled itself into a ball under his chin, making their embrace a little awkward but far more amusing. His neck got licked. Hiccuping slight, Virgil curved his body to accommodate his friend. It was always so defensive, having it seek his contact was all the more precious for how rare the occasion was. Logan was less amused though.

With an annoyed huff, he freed himself from the unsanitary creature. Tears on his clothes he could easily handle, but the striped fur of this monster got everywhere. It gurgled at him, snapping its jaws.

Feeling his little delinquent tense upon feeling abandoned, Logan made sure to quickly situate himself behind the young man, curling around him like a large and warm blanket. A sigh escaped Virgil that seemed to make him even smaller in his arms.

“I know your day has been very difficult, but trust me, with time and distance after traumatic events your constitution should improve rapidly. You have so far proven to be remarkably resilient and I believe that we can overcome this obstacle together.” He promised, soothingly brushing back too long bangs out of Virgil’s pale face. The purple was growing out, showing raven strands at the roots.

“Not worried ‘bout myself.” The other mumbled into gray fur.

“I am aware. But it is alright. We are all safe and the danger has passed. You are feeling responsible, but it would benefit you to remember that we are relying on you as much as you are on us. We trust you because we know you would do the same for us.”

Virgil stayed silent. It would take a long time to truly help him get over his guilt, but Logan had time. He stilled as his calloused hand was captured. Nimble, cool fingers undid the small buttons on his sleeve, helping to make him more comfortable. Virgil watched over them as much as Logan watched over his little delinquent, he just didn’t notice it yet. But he would with enough patience. Pressing an inconspicuous kiss to the now smoothed out locks, Logan held onto the young man under his protection until his fingers got bitten by the gottverdammter, dreckinger Waschbär...

Why was he keeping this unpleasant, ill-mannered raccoon again?

Right. Virgil was laughing.

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Friendly reminder: Comments are love and make needy writers happy! Though any kind of love is awesome! *hugs you all*

Next Chapter

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - All That Matters

Summary: How far will Jackieboy go to protect one of his own? Would he take a life for a life?

When it came down to it, Jackieboy had three rules he would teach any citizen if he had the chance. First: Don’t be a victim. Second: Don’t be a perpetrator. Third: Don’t be a bystander.

Today, the first and the third were essentially forfeit—and the second? He was dangerously close.

The group of robbers holding the restaurant hostage honestly had no idea who they were threatening. He had gone out in plainclothes today; Chase had insisted on it.

“We should get a chance to eat in peace before somebody recognizes you and tackles you for an autograph,” he pointed out, only half-teasing, and Jackieboy had relented. Chase deserved that much for all of his hard work lately. He was getting a better sum than usual; ever since his suicide attempt, it seemed as if he had been working from the ground up to regain his followers’ trust and support. After months, it was finally paying off. Chase had come to him today with a smile of all things and he’d asked if he could treat him to brunch.

“Marvin’s getting ready for his next show and Schneep’s taking the midmorning shift at the hospital…It’s rare that we get a chance to hang out just the two of us.”

Jackie couldn’t have argued with that either, but his casual gray hoodie and torn blue jeans did nothing to disguise his naturally heightened sense for danger. As soon as he noticed the trio of shifty men slink into the restaurant with a suspiciously large duffel bag in tow, he’d straightened, gripping his fork with more force. He wasn’t in his vibrant jumpsuit and mask, he’d reminded himself. He didn’t have the authority to confront them like this.

How could he have let that be an excuse? His duties as a hero didn’t stop with his attire! As soon as he saw the outline of the gun tucked neatly into the band of the shortest one’s pants, he flagged down the manager, but the minute it had taken was a minute too long. The next thing he knew, one of the men was barring the doors, swinging a shotgun out in front of him as the others hollered over the panicked patrons, ordering them to gather on the other side of the room.

Chase was one of a few that went too slow, letting out a sharp, stuttered cry that tore at Jackie’s chest as the tallest gunman dragged him back by a fistful of his mussed green hair. Even as he spat curses and thrashed and strained, flailing his limbs in a desperate attempt to fight back, the enemy had him in a stranglehold in seconds—and as soon as the gun was pressed against his temple, he went dead silent. Jackieboy’s heart skipped a few solid beats at how sudden the shutdown was, as if he was a lamp that had its cord ripped out of the wall.

Don’t be a perpetrator.

Translation: Don’t fight out of rage or spite. Don’t try to take revenge. Don’t fight with the one motivation of pounding your enemies into the ground.

In this case, Jackieboy knew he had the right to. He knew it would be all too easy, but for now he held still, acting like just another member of the alarmed crowd, keeping his lifted hands steady and watching the gunman’s every move, his jaw working tightly as he risked a glance at Chase. The raw emotion in the younger Ego’s eyes made his stomach twist like taffy.

“Stay calm,” Jackieboy mouthed slowly, firmly, hoping that his own eyes didn’t reveal the fear pounding in his gut. Perhaps they did, as Chase promptly began trembling—the opposite of what he wanted. “Stay calm, stay calm—”

Clutching at the thick, hairy, unyielding arm of the robber drawn across his neck, Chase shook his head just a fraction, whispering soundlessly. “Help me…” Jackieboy had never imagined two simple words could break his heart more.

“It’s going to be okay,” was all he could think to say. As he registered the message, Chase swallowed hard, shaking his head a little, and the gunman noticed.

“You tryin’ to say something to him, kid?” he growled, retightening his hold on Chase’s throat by pulling his arm in and up, until the toes of the vlogger’s boots were scuffing against the floor for the lack of air.

“Stop! Stop,” Jackie burst out, drawing sharp breaths from the other hostages and a sneer from his enemy.

“You want me to stop, you set yourself down on the ground and look pretty next to the others! You’re not gonna slip anything past me, so you better just stay still and quiet or I’m gonna make your little pal a redhead,” he warned, prodding the barrel of his gun further into Chase’s hair.

All color draining from his face, Chase went limp in his hands, his eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he visibly tried not to shudder from the familiar sensation, and it took everything Jackie had in him not to lunge and tear off the gunman’s arm for making Chase ever feel that cold, unforgiving metal on his skin again. As he slowly sank down next to the other quivering hostages, the undercover hero’s mind was awash with a thousand thoughts at once.

My identity—

If I act here, everyone will see—They’ll know—

Try to make it into the kitchen to change—

Who knows who’s back there to see me? Could be more accomplices—

Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase—All that matters is Chase—Gotta save Chase—

Time slowed without warning and all at once, Jackieboy was keenly, infinitely aware of everything around him. He could hear the heavy beat of his own heart against his ribcage, the shaky breaths of the hostages just beside him, the garbled cries of panic from the manager and the shuffling of bills as one of the other robbers forced him to withdraw the money…

Yet all that mattered was Chase.

He wasn’t about to stand by and let this happen.

The fire in his blood awoke with a roar in his ears, giving him a burst of adrenaline that his body could never supply naturally. Within a second he had thrown himself across the dirty linoleum and into the air, his fist narrowly grazing the top of Chase’s head as it cracked the gunman’s jaw.

The gun jolted with the impact and went off but Jackieboy ignored it; he was single-minded, already skirting past the fallen gunman and targeting the second one at the doors. He panicked, reacting too late to lift his shotgun before the hero had seized the barrel and wrenched it out of his grasp. His free hand smashed the shotgunner’s head back into the door pane, leaving a web of cracks in the glass from the force.

Two down, one left—the one with the manager. Hefting the shotgun up into his hands, he turned and trained it on the last man, who froze as the manager escaped through the kitchen doors a few feet away.

“You should probably drop the gun and the duffel bag,” Jackieboy warned, grim and cold.

Don’t be a perpetrator. This rule was constantly in his mind, but apparently it had decided to take a leave of absence from his memory. Even as he registered the disbelief, the panic, the helplessness in the robber’s eyes, there was no trace of sympathy or mercy in Jackieboy’s.

The hostages on the other side of the room murmured apprehensively as they looked on; Jackie could sense their tension even from this distance. He did his best not to let it distract him and instead focused on the robber’s train of thought. It was predictable: Where did it all go so wrong? How can I get out of it? I can’t go back to prison! Should I explain why I’m doing this? Should I risk lifting my gun? Should I run? Should I beg?

Jackieboy decided to make it easier on him, cocking the shotgun with a heavy, decisive clank. “Drop them or…what was it your friend there said? I make you a redhead?”

“Jackie…” Chase’s breathed word caught his attention, but it wasn’t needed; the last gunman was muttering nervous surrender, tossing the gun into the duffel and throwing it aside. Clenching his teeth, Jackie did the same with the shotgun, crossing the distance in three strides and snatching his new captive by the back of the neck, steering him toward the door.

It wasn’t long before the police arrived to take the criminals off Jackie’s hands and aside from a few odd looks, none of them seemed to question who he may or may not be. The other hostages, to Jackie’s surprise, didn’t breathe a word about his inhuman speed in taking out the perpetrators. They simply said that everything had happened so fast.

Chase, however, didn’t seem as relieved as Jackie would have expected. Instead he stood in the corner of the restaurant, staring at the bullet hole in the wall. Jackie moved up behind him, following his gaze and exhaling bitterly.

“That bullet was meant for you…” he growled, to which Chase nodded numbly and glanced up at him.

“Jackie—” He hesitated, measuring his words for a few moments before seeking his courage to venture softly, “You wouldn’t have shot him, would you?”

“Of course not,” Jackie retorted—perhaps a beat too quickly, if Chase’s expression was any indication. The vlogger shifted away so he could face him more easily, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Jackie,” he repeated, slow and incredulous, “would you have shot him?”

The older Ego blinked, let his shoulders slump and jammed his hands in his pockets, accepting the other’s judgmental stare as he took a moment to actually mull it over.

“…I don’t know,” he allowed at last, cautiously. That was the honest truth. To protect Chase, to protect any of them, who knew what lengths he would go to? He was confident without the shadow of a doubt that he would die for them. No hesitation necessary on that point—but to kill someone else for them?

Maybe.

“Well, don’t. Don’t go anywhere near there, Jackie,” Chase broke through his thoughts, his voice low and terse as he retrained narrowed eyes on the bullet hole. “I’ve shot someone before. We both know it didn’t exactly turn out like I hoped it would.”

Jackieboy wasn’t so quick to answer that time.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 14

Part 13      Masterlist

Word count: 2662

Gameday.

My favorite kind of day, the energy is different-it's hopeful, positive and full of adrenaline with all the guys preparing for the game going through the rituals and exercises. The music-heavy bass and beat and extremely loud, someone the guys getting riled and moving was other are in the zone.

Auston Matthews is one of those 'in the zone' guys, quiet and visualizing. When he has his headphones on during his private stretch session after the Morning skate, is where he really gets zoned it. I accidentally witnessed this routine when I was helping set up the therapy rooms with Toad this morning.

Auston was the only player left in the dressing room, in his under armor and loose shorts, practically doing the splits stretching over both legs one by one, testing his mobility for each side. To no Surprise, he has more flexible going left, his shooting side, over his right.

I didn't stay long because it felt like I was invading a very private moment, his eyes closed hands twitching like he's stuck handling like he was in a play. It looked like he was at peace, this was his happy time. With that in mind, I high-tailed it out of there before he could see me.

As expected could be William is moving hype kind of guy, he's always moving and twitching on game day and only increases as the day progresses but as soon as his skate blade hits the ice he's in the zone and calm like Auston. Mitch is quiet on game days, he limits his talking to Auston and his words limited as he goes through his routine which, I don't even know because he does it privately like Auston than got playful during the warm-up.

I have become sorta involved in a couple rituals now if it's a pre-game massage or even just have too high five me, the guys are weird. Morgan is funny with his, he insisted that he plays better if he gets a shoulder massage right after his pre-game name, last night after he got the game-winning goal, I started to believe his ritual wasn't as crazy as I thought.

"I told you so Amelia, you doubted but look what happened last night! Game-winning GOOOOAL," Morgan has cheered with his hand on my shoulders shaking me as we laughed, Stephanie rolling her eyes but still laughed at us have been witness to a majority of the Pre-game massages in my living room.

Now that 2 and half hours until game time, Toad and another athletic trainer are trying to convince Frederick Anderson to let them assess his shoulder and neck have been the spot of concern recently after a game against Buffalo.

"I am fine," the Dutch goalie ground out visibly and audibly annoyed with the concerned staff. Both men unconvinced and about to continue before I swoop in.

"I think we should let him decide, the team doctor said he was fine, It's his body he knows best," I said carefully to my relief the trainers nodded and retreated to medical staff offices.

"Hopefully they'll leave you alone, but if it does bother you please say something," I pleaded to the way tall and wide Dutchmen who face is unreadable, but his eyes aren't as narrower and lighter.

"I just know I am ready! and It just felt like my word wasn't enough for them, I know they are looking out for my Health but man I need space," I was shocked at the usually tight-lipped man I front of me who just laid his problems out. Frederick must have realized he'd said more in the last 5 minutes than the past few weeks, a red hue blossomed on his pale face as an awkward crook smile appeared.

"Wow, been holding that for a while now," He breathed, running his hands through his short ginger locks, his shoulders not as tensed now too.

"Well, I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to say it, if you need anything let me know," I squeezed his shoulder as he nodded.

"Goodluck," I said quickly over my shoulder with a wave before I followed to where the trainer and Toad was working on someone's thigh, someone being William Nylander in only tight athletic shorts, unfazed is how I look but dying is how I am on the inside because he's a professional athlete with the body to match, a dumb grin graced his face before he winced again with a groan.

"Beaner, be nice to me, man" William teased the older massage therapist who only rolled his eyes before digging his fingers into the probably knotted muscles of Williams' thigh.

"Well if you stretched a little more after working out you wouldn't need this," Toad scolded with a smirk, as Will sat making faces at the back of Toads face, I had to hold my hand over my face and cough to hide my laugh.

"Be nice you two," I have pretended to scold the pair, I flicked the bottom of Williams' foot- the one not attached to the leg Toad working on, his leg coming up on reflex because I purposely hit a pressure spot, earning a glare from William.

"I help you yesterday and this how you repay me," William mocked a godfather voice, referring to car shopping yesterday.

"Actually it Was Kasperi who helped me," I corrected gently working my fingers on his calf.

"Well, you wouldn't have had dear Kappy if I wasn't with him," William chirp childishly sticking out his tongue but regretting when I dug my fingers into the sensitive flesh behind his knee, earning a yelp as he bit his tongue.

"Hey, now it's not my fault I don't have his number or I would text him too," I defend ignoring the glare I earned from Will for cause him a sore tongue.

"Whatever" He whined as Toad was finished up with his treatment on the thigh before whipping of the lotions and oils, meaning William was getting his leg taped- his hairy leg. I stifle a laugh when William realized the fate of Physio tape in his future.

"That shit hurts, I don't want it," William groaned as Toad laughed evilly whipping his thigh with rubbing alcohol to completely remove the oils.

"Well, sucks to suck," I said patting his shoulder before grabbing a roll of beige Physio tape and handing it over to the trainer coming into taking over for Toad, leaving William to the hands of said trainer not missing the glare from the blonde hockey player.

You could definitely hear the crowd in the hall but once you're in the change room you could only hear Mike Babcock as he talks to his team preparing them for this game, hyping them up to play. I sat in the medical staff room on massage stool, the trainers are all rushing around cleaning up the leftover tape and whatever was used on the players and whisper with the lead trainer very rapidly, something was up.

"Why is half of the staff running around like they lost their heads?" I asked Toad when he enters the room with a leafs windbreak in his hand and a shy smile.

"That's why I'm here, one the trainers broke his hand this morning and now they're short-staffed, and I may have already said you could fill in," My jaw dropped but was shut because the coat in his hand was tossed into my face before he continued. "You'll be paid double, as you'd be doing two jobs, all you have to do is follow instructions you'll just be standing in the tunnel," Todd smiled well patting my back with force to move my now grumpy ass toward the door as I pull the jacket on, an older short guy came over with a first aid fanny pack in hand.

"Thank you, It's league rule to have a certain amount of medical staff on duty and Bean over here doesn't have the certifications like yourself, Have you done anything like this before? Oh dear, I am Paul Ayotte by the way," The graying man said all in a single breath before sticking out his hand that I shook.

"Well, I was the athletic trainer for my brothers Lacrosse team if that counts," I said hesitantly as we walked towards where the players are getting ready, now 15 minutes until they have to go on the ice.

"Hmmm...what league? Because lacrosse is quite similar in pace and some equipment," Paul noted with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Junior A in Brampton and A.L.L in Toronto during the winter," I racked my brain to make sure this is correct, a shocked look crossed his face.

"Oh big boys, you'll fit in here just fine then!" The small man cheered entering the room of the players and drawing the attention of Mike Babcock and point at me with a thumbs up but he also drew the attention of all the guys into the room, my face and neck going red instantly.

"OF COURSE IT'S AMELIA TO THE RESCUE!" Mitch chirps coming up to ruffle my hair with his gloved hand, I do nothing to stop him just fake pouted well-making eye contact with Auston who's shaking out his shoulders before sending the smallest of smiles that if I had of blinked I would've missed it.

"Let's go, guys!" Calls out a hyped up Matt Martin leading the way out to the sliding doors of the Leafs dressing room.

"Goodluck!" I fist bumped Mitch simply as Morgan passes fist bump him up, down and blow it up to bring it back and dap, something we did a bit ago to make fun of Mitch.

"HA! We have a handshake, official besties," Mo booped my nose as I rolled my eyes pushing him towards where the guys were going out the door in their usual order, some moving faster and louder than others.

 When all the players were out the medical staff followed, it was weird going out towards the loud arena, chills run up my spine, it was a great feeling.

"You should stand here, oh crap put this in your ear," A nameless person said to stick the earpiece in my eye and putting the walkie on my belt as she guildes me to be right behind Curtis before disappearing down the hall.

"Amelia Channel 1 during the game, 2 if a leaf goes down, 3 for the other team," Paul said as he was passing me to his spot behind the bench giving me a thumbs up and I him. Adjusting the earpiece and turn on the walkie I can hear nothing until Paul's voice rings through going over what to do during the game, I nod along as I adjust everything on my hip, I now have the first aid kit and Gatorade towel on my left hip, the walkie on my right but the earpiece in my left ear.

"-Amelia if you see something off about a player heath that they are hiding radio it, not just the leafs either, we're part of concussion spotters protocol, it's jersey color and number," I turned to make eye contact with Paul before nodding,"

I got into the routine easy if a player needed help I helped, very simple. It was middle of the 3rd period and a Tampa player got hit cleanly in the corner but he tripped as Polak as finishing a hit and the player continued to the opposite end of the ice, I watched him skate it was staggered and the slightest bit wobbly.

"White. 21. Hit to the head," I called now looking away from #21 bolts as he made it to the bench wobbling, the call worked its way through both benches and the Lightning's head trainer was huddled with the assistant coach watching the hit before they made it to the head coach who instantly nodded, all well the assistant trainer and player were talking before they head to the locker rooms.

"Good call," Paul looked sparing a brief smile before his eyes were back on the ice.

They lost 4-1, Todd and I were busy massaging out the muscles of players before shooing them to an ice bath or just out of the room. The mood after a loss is definitely a lot different than the pre-game, the hope is gone and spirits gone. Guys get their shit and leave or some linger around for each other, some already watching game tapes.

I was working on a moping Mitch's shoulder to avoid cramping and soreness because his dumbass blocked a shot, as a player goo but as a human dumb. I massaged the muscles with enough pressure to release's the knots and prompting unpleasant groans from the boy.

"I hate you right now," Mitch deadpanned his face down in the table, I only could muster a tired nose exhale as I continued the assault of his shoulder muscles my fingers slightly aching as I worked on half the team on the bench as well as after the game. Paul used my massage skills to the team's advantage as I could massage cramps out right there on the bench making the recovering time faster for the guys.

"Did you drive here?" Mitch asked once he was sitting up stretching out his joints, a lot easier now.

"Yeah," I sighed out starting the clean my station up around Mitch as he did his thing.

"Good, can you give me a ride? I told Stephanie I come over but I spaced before and came with Aus," Mitch admitted shyly I shrugged nodding too tired to talk. Mitch smiled going back into the other room as i busied myself with cleaning and Texting Steph about what happened on the ice and that I'll be delivering her boytoy.

Mitch fell asleep in the car and I was jealous, we had hit some weird traffic on the Gardiner Expressway which was kind of weird because it was almost midnight, I could feel an episode of road rage wash over me, I just wanted to go home. My knuckles were white with how hard I was gripping the stirring wheel, all the times I should have had a nap today go over in my head but I don't dwell because it only makes me more tired. When we finally get off the highway on to lakeshore and I could see my building I let out a cheer that sounded dreadful and woke Mitch up from his 40-minute nap.

"AH, I could've sworn you lived closer? Why did it take so long?" He yawned as I finally pulled into my complex and making my way to the underground.

"Traffic," I grunted putting my car into park, not waiting for Mitch I got my things and was halfway to the elevator before he was even out of the car and silently falling me up the rest of the way to the apartment.

Both walking like the dead we entered the Apartment to an energetic Steph a glass of red wine in hand and a takeout box of food outstretched towards us, Mitch goes for the food but she pulls back and shakes her head with a laugh.

"Yours is on the table, this here is for Hawkeye over here," The smaller girl teased placing the warm Italian food from the bistro just downstairs, but also the Wine. Instantly I chugged the alcoholic beverage as if it was regular grape juice.

"Ah, thank you. I am taking this with me" I said referring to the food, "and please don't disturb me unless someone dies," I grumbled dragging myself and belongs past the cuddly couple who migrated to the couch well I was drinking the wine, grabbing a water I was up to the stairs after brief goodnights.

I ate, showered and fell asleep naked.   

The best way to sleep in fresh sheets.

NEXT

[jakiphyr]

Jak (re)plays FE2  [Part 01]

Awright!  It’s been a good four years since I’ve last touched Gaiden fully (late Dec 2013 - Feb 2014), so I’ll be doing a challenge this time around.

This LP is brought here today by HistoryoftheEmblem’s Gaiden event Kickstarter. So feel free to join the ride, or follow along!  Now, without further ado...

Introduction

I will be doing a Gaiden Novels Canon Playthrough challenge.  I will explain what this is, then lay out the rules that are styled similar to a draft now that I look at this back over.

My Motives (a.k.a. why am I doing this) 

This run is based on Fire Emblem: Gaiden’s two-parter novels that were released back in 1993.  Scans of illustrations can be found starting here, the rest are linked from there for those interested.

After @azebraslife ‘s discovery posts about the craziness that is Silque+Kliff subplot being half-siblings, Kamui dying to a necrodragon, possessed!Delthea killing Luthier and snapping out from that…

I meant to record my in-depth findings/summaries from what I read so far off my twitter live log in June but forgot to write them down as more than just quick blurbs.  This liveplay event will help me on being continuously motivated to read these books, from start to finish.  So I’ll be using my posts to record these summary translations, so expect those inserted throughout my LP entries.

Which is OK, the novels are easy enough to read as a beginner for the most part and makes for a fun experience.

It’s time to dig whatever hidden gems there are (and there’s plenty, I’m sure).

Rules, to keep myself organized and for followers to know what I’m doing:

(1)  Whoever dies in the novels dies, and stays dead.  No exceptions.  If you know exactly who dies from the scan posts I’ve made... a~yup, those will be dying at the same story/battle points whenever possible.

(2)  To branch off from 1, if revival springs are used, I will use them for that character to be revived from the dead.  AFAIK, the author didn’t use any, but I’m hoping for a pleasant surprise.

(3)  I’m allowing myself the old-fashion method of the Mila Turnwheel — save states.  Someone dies when they aren’t supposed to?  Reset.  There’re likely other scenarios I’ll keep a mind for when replicating novel events in my play.

(4)  Whatever the novel does — give certain classes to villagers, equip certain items to units, kill a boss with a certain strategy, choice recruitments, lionhead statboost uses — I must replicate those events and actions in my run, thus making it a challenge.  If something’s almost or actually impossible, well... I’ll figure a way around it by having the next closest thing to it.  If nothing’s specified, I’ll use my own discretion (and hope it doesn’t conflict later).

That’s the basis, for now.  I don’t want to restrict myself too tightly so I’ll be a little more flexible — unless, of course, the novels dictates otherwise

The Game

Okay!  Now with that out of the way, let’s begin.

I’ll be going Easy Mode for the ease of training female mages to level 20 to not be hellish again like on my first blind run.

And now... we get to Act 1.

But wait!  The novels have a couple of things to say before I can truly start.

It has a backstory and some pre-game exposition with our favourite Deliverance gang—their own Rise of the Deliverance DLC in novel form.  Let’s have a look.

—

[Novel]

Prologue:

Greek mythology-esque poetic literature that dragons are gods and how their actions affect weather/nature.  A roar brings the rain and lightning storms, humanity questioning why the heavens are always angry.  As the two dragons have always fought as if they were born to, and birthed Valencia to be a reflection of their souls (North vs South fighting mirrors the Duma vs Mila conflict).

It gives a history lesson of how Rigel and Zofia came to be, describing Duma and Mila like oil and water put in a single vase, eventually growing murky and bad as it mixes from being stabilized prior. And now Valencia faces the worst war in its history.

—

Chapter 1 - Liberation Army Part 1-1: 6 Fake Death Pills

[ This entire part is pre-game, contains graphic depictions of events. Warnings for characters contemplating suicide, gritty themes, blood, and graphic descriptions of murders. ]

Starts off with a visible blood splatter on the polished stone floors of Zofia Castle, the military fill the halls leading to the throne room.  An old man with pale skin, has long, hairy legs, and a long white beard, sits on the tall golden throne with a sword lodged in his bleeding chest.  King Lima IV stabbed by none other than Desaix.

Lima IV still draws breath, barely living as he’s groaning painfully and flailing an arm searching for support (but gets none).  His last words condemn Desaix for being ambitious, having stolen the sword of the royal family which he had taken out at the scene as his second sword.  (The royal sword is apparently forged with steel.)  Desaix mocks the king, and his army begins to chant as he takes the next course of action.

The royal sword was then swung to behead Lima IV, the bloodied head rolls to the stone floor, his half-opened eyes looking up at Desaix with resentment.  The usurper declares the rest of the living royal family to be thrown into dungeons or killed.  The defense rebellion broke out immediately after and utterly failed, their numbers whittled down brutally.  Desaix’s reformed royal army heed all responsibility on throwing rebels and other captives in the dungeon (which hasn’t been used for many years in the peaceful kingdom of Zofia).

The anti-Desaix faction’s numbers continue to decline until six (named) knights remained with very few others who were still fighting vigorously.  It is revealed that the six are Clive, Mathilda, Clair, Lukas, Python, and Forsyth.  Eventually, they were captured and got locked up in the cold dungeons.  Frustrated by their circumstances, Clive grieves that death is preferable for the sake of their knightly pride over being tortured by the usurpers.  An old(ish) soldier with graying hair starts talking to Clive (he is the generic looking man in the first illustration).

The six really want to die, as they’re depressed, but the generic soldier makes a deal with them: drink the 6 “death” medicine pills he had made (and calls them lucky he has that many), which will put them in heavy sleep for four hours.  He’ll disguise himself in the enemy’s uniform, cart their “dead” bodies to the graveyard catacombs full of Terrors (the Deliverance Hideout), and buy them time to rebuild forces to liberate Zofia.

He calls six names, the novel describes each one as the following: Clive, the young chief knight, Clair, the Pegasus Knight who was rewarded good luck by the gods for riding a temna, Lukas, a hot-blooded soldier whose spear strikes like a lightning bolt, Forsyth, his character is different from Lukas, whose calm judgment is true, Python, a genius archer whose bow technique is clear [and shoots] with anger, and Mathilda, the female knight who has a brave soul, as beautiful as the night sky, and is as good as Clive.

Clive rejects the offer, shouting it won’t fly with them as knights, still insistent on preferring death.  Mathilda and Clair nod in agreement with them.  A tearful Forsyth insists on all of them dying together as was their knightly vow if it came down to it, the gray-haired man calls them foolish.

The soldier persuades Clive and the others a little more, until finally, Clive makes the first move on reaching for the “death” pill, which then the other five immediately follow suit.  The man tells the knights about Mycen, a holy knight who was banished by Desaix ages past and currently living in Ram, a village located at the cape of the southernmost tip of Zofia.  He tells them to form the liberation army together with Mycen and free Zofia from the hands of Desaix.  The six proceed to swallow their pills and “died” on the spot.

The consumed medicine causes a foul odor to fill the prisons, signaling some had died to the unaware.  The guards drag their six bodies out of the dungeons, sending them to the caves on the far coast from the castle. 

Upon waking, they salvage the caves for weapons, arrows, armour, and garments.  They also attempt to cover up the cave’s entrance with rocks and leaves to keep Desaix’s men from finding the location again.  Lukas was chosen as the messenger because he can hide himself the best from being captured, he is given a map of Zofia that was found and the journey would take three nights.  Lukas and Forsyth hug it out before patting each other’s backs with fists, then Lukas departs.  Clair follows Lukas out of the cave and mentions she is going to find her pegasus.

Forsyth and Clive have strategy talks while waiting for Clair for return and talking about accommodating Mycen.  Python’s polishing his arrows.  Mathilda returns with urgent grim news that the royal army has found their hideout, rushing them to go deeper into the thin, narrow caves.  Meanwhile, Clair did not hear the loud distant yells from Desaix’s army descending upon the caves, chasing her fellow soldiers.

—

[Game]

Whew, apologies for the length so far.  It was to set up the atmosphere of how the chaos will unfold in the future.

If Gaiden’s character endings weren’t potentially depressing enough on their own, we get them from the very beginning...  

So I suppose from that cliffhanger, that was how Clair and Mathilda get captured, which is different from Shadows of Valentia’s depiction where Mathilda was taken hostage before Lukas left, and Clair got kidnapped after his departure for Ram.

These fills in the fe2′s story gaps are interesting to note (as well as the author’s portrayals of the RGB trio’s personalities).

Okay, back to the game...

Act 1 will begin in the next post.  (This one is already long enough, and the next part’s 6 pages long.  In comparison, part 1-1′s was ten pages long.)

To be continued...

—

→ Next installment: Yo, Alm! Listen to this guy! (3x)

[aroseandquill]

Adventures in Middle-earth

Part 1 of a series Word Count: 2,136

Contents Page

Scene setter

Synopsis: Being an extreme introvert and stumbling into Middle-earth and joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield 

Enjoy!

GIFS USED ARE NOT MINE

There was something about the forest behind your back garden that had this weird vibe, you could never put your finger on it. You felt a strange tingle in your chest every time you'd go near there. Sometimes, on a starry night, you'd sit in your back yard and listen to the breeze rolling over the trees and relax, it was a nice feeling, not odd, painful or discomforting. It was delicate and pure. Something about how the moon shone through the leaves and left shadows on the floor near your feet made you feel like something magical was in that forest, probably your childish nature. You loved to make believe something interesting would happen to you and you'd be on an adventure, just like they do in the movies. It was kind of an ironic fantasy to have.

You had only lived at this new house for a little over 6 months, not long at all. You hadn't made any new friends and you hardly spoke to any of your old friends at home, you thought they would have at least had the decency to text you to see how moving in was, but no. You only really had one friend, and you didn't really talk to her that often, it was the kind of friendship where you knew you were best friends so you didn't need to talk every day. The best kind of friendship. You knew her since you were 4 years old and she was the only person to call you a week after you had moved in and ask how things were in the new home. Previously, you lived in the suburbs, you hated it. You were more of a nature-lover, you loved climbing trees, finding peace and harmony in your surroundings. The new home was nice, you had a bedroom with a view of the forest behind your garden, you loved to look into the horizon far past the forest and imagine that the trees didn't stop for hundreds of miles. You often found happiness in sitting at the very borders of the forest to your garden and drawing or reading a book. You weren't a lover for technology, although you owned a phone, you didn't use it much, you only really used it to take pictures or listen to music and even then your music taste wasn't very modern, most of the music on your phone were soundtracks from your favourite films or ambient soundtracks of birds singing and the wind whistling. One particular Friday evening, you found yourself completely drained from the college work you had been given, you were given a detention for daydreaming in class and you felt separated from everyone. You spent all of your months in your new town in solitude, but something kept drawing you to the borders of that forest at the foot of your back yard. Your parents always found you sat with your knees bent into your chest either reading a book or drawing away late into the night. But, this particular Friday evening, you had an urge, a desperation to go further into the forest. Sunset was probably an hour off and you thought to yourself, "I won't be late for dinner." You packed your favourite backpack with your drawing pad, pencils and other stationary, your phone, music player and camera just incase any of them died, your favourite woolly hoodie which had gotten you through most winters considering you hadn't changed much in size for a couple of years. You slipped on your trainers and headed out the back door, without saying a word to your parents, it was normal for you to go out and sit outside, they didn't expect anything unusual. So, off you went, into the forest you had been admiring for months from your bedroom window and from the borders of your garden. You felt excited, you had no idea of what you'd find in this forest, perhaps an abandonned house you could explore and take photos of, perhaps a lake with deer and ducks. You just kept walking through the heavily rooted forest with positivity in your step, for the first time since you had moved to this accursed town, you finally felt free. To some extent. You hadn't noticed the lace on your trainers beginning to loosen as you grabbed onto branches and climbed over bulging roots on the ground, you didn't even realise the thorns that were clinging onto your clothes were causing little ladders to form into your tights, you loved climbing through trees and what not so it didn't bother you when you looked down to find a hole in your tights, but what you still hadn't realised was the lace on your shoe slowly unravelling itself until it's fiendish plan to trip you up had taken place. As you climbed over one unnecessarily large root sticking out of the ground, you had accidentally stood on your lace with the opposite foot causing you to swing over the root and faceplant the floor with a painful thud causing a loud shout of pain to escape your mouth. "Damn laces!" you cursed as you fumbled hopelessly on the ground with your shoe in hopes to tie it up tightly, before your eyes were met with a pair of obnoxiously large boots peeking out of what seemed to be a tatty grey dress. Your eyes struggled upwards to find the owner of these feet, you were shocked to find an elderly man stood before you offering his hand, with a cheerful look on his face, "What a tumble!" he laughed as he pulled you to your feet, you looked at the old man in confusion, did he live out here? Where did he come from? You didn't see him a minute ago. The man brushed his fingers through his very very long grey beard as if he was thinking as he looked at the bump that was forming on your head, "quite a bruise you'll have there by nightfall, I should think." "Thank you for helping me up, sir." you politely replied as you gently ran your fingers over the forming bump, "Oh how lovely to be called a 'sir' by one of your kind." he smirked to himself as he gazed menacingly, "My kind?" you asked with confusion all over your face, "Yes.." He spoke eerily, the old man was beginning to frighten you, but somehow his blue eyes that searched yours seemed honest and pure and you had this strange feeling to trust the old man. "Forgive me, my dear. My name is Gandalf, if you will, I should like you to come and meet my friends, one of them is especially qualified in the field of medicine and I would like for him to see to the bump on your head." he was so well-spoken for a man in tatty robes, "Oh no, really it's fine. It's just a bump, it'll be gone in a few days, no problem, really." you sounded almost too enthusiastic to get back on your way before the sun set. But with the reassurance, the old man pulled a stick from behind him which was leaning on a tree, in one quick motion he whacked his staff-looking stick over your arm causing some blood to pour out, you yelped as you saw the blood, you frowned at Gandalf angrily. 

"Oh! Goodness, my dear! I must apologise, now you must come, that needs tending to!" he was so eager for you to follow him, but was it wise to follow an old man in the forest? If you did, you had completely disobeyed your fathers every command for you to not follow or talk to strangers. But at the same time, you did want to know what the old man was going on about, the excitement won over your inner battles when you saw a group of small people peering over at you from a distance. You followed the old man through the trees and thorns whilst keeping your eyes on the small people. Well, they weren't particularly small, you were short and they sort of matched your height well but there were some of them that were really only the size of children but bared the appearance of fully grown men. Peculiar.

After the small-ish man with the trumpet hanging out of his ear wiped up the cut on your arm, you were surprised to see that there wasn't a huge gash as though it felt, but a tiny tiny cut, like a kitten scratch. It was all beginning to get a bit strange, these small men, this old man with his pointy hat and this very small man whom didn't wear any shoes. His feet were very hairy for a man of about 3 foot tall. In fact, all of these men had a substantial amount of hair on their face and on their heads this was strange for you as you were used to seeing men with little to no facial hair and well trimmed on top of their heads. "I don't want to be rude, but... Why are you all out here?" you asked with a tone of utter confusion clear in your voice, "Oh, my dear, forgive me I have not explained!" said the old wizard who you now knew as Gandalf. "You see, we aren't quite like your folk-" "-okay, that. What does that mean? My kind? My folk? What are you talking about?" "These are Dwarves and Mr. Bilbo here is a Hobbit of The Shire." You stared at the old man in utter disbelief, you snickered quietly until you caught the gaze of the dwarves who looked confused at you, "Okay... so what are you mister pointy hat? A wizard?" you laughed to yourself, "Indeed." the words seemed so sure and you didn't know what you were thinking, your thoughts trailed into a blur, "Wow, I must've hit my head hard." you muttered to yourself as your rubbed your eyes and kept looking at the company of dwarves and a hobbit and a wizard expecting them to disappear, but... they didn't. "Okay... well, it was lovely to meet you but I have to head home now, the sun's setting." you spoke cheerily, half expecting yourself to wake up from a dream any minute, again, wrong. "Where is your home?" one of the dwarves called, you didn't know his voice but his hair was dark and his beard thick, he had stern eyes and his voice was bassy and rumbled through your body, "Just West of here on the boarders of the forest, in a tow-" "There is nothing West of here, unless you mean to travel a hundred miles to Bree?" he replied, his voice still vibrating through your very being making you feel uneasy but it was also a pleasant feeling, "What? I only live about 15 minutes in this direction?!" You were totally baffled, "My dear, if I may," Gandalf called, you were beginning to grow tired of his ruse so you turned to look at him with a roll of your eyes, "You are no longer in your world, but in ours." your brow creased as you sighed and smiled at the old man who had clearly been smoking something, whatever he had, you'd really like some at this moment. You began to huff and walk off back in your direction of where you assumed your home would be, but then realised you had lost all sense of direction and to be perfectly honest, you were lost. "You'll find nothing in that direction.." the loud voice boomed over you, "I'm going the way I came." you spoke abruptly as you were beginning to grow tiresome of the 'dwarves' company but before you could carry on with your journey back home before sun set, which by the way was looking rather unlikely by now, the elderly man piped up, "He's right, my dear. You'll find yourself in nowhere but trouble if you proceed in that direction." his voice was sincere and you felt guilty for being rude to him, you turned to face him and your expression relaxed, "Then how can I find my way home?" you asked politely and quietly, "Perhaps you could join us on our quest until we can return you safely to your home, nobody would know you're missing!" An eager blonde dwarf spoke through his braided moustache which hung beside his lips with beads clasping onto them. You looked back towards you initial direction in which you thought your home was, still confused and debating whether you really had knocked yourself into a state of illusion from the fall earlier, but you agreed to follow the dwarves, the hobbit and the wizard, after all, you are one for an adventure.

[culturalgutter]

One of the greatest joys in my life is coming across almost ineffable wonder. I take pleasure in the good and the bad, sure, but there are wonders in this world. There is art that transcends our petty categories of “good” and “bad.” Things I find difficult or even impossible to evaluate because they fill me with awe. The merely competent rarely contains wonders. Most merely competent art rarely contains wonders because it often sensibly makes do with what it can accomplish what it can with the resources it has and the ambition or fervor to try anyway. Most art that is widely considered bad contains one or maybe two such wonders. Then there is Wolf Guy: Enraged Lycanthrope (1975).

Wolf Guy is a film adaptation of the two-volume manga, Wolf Guy: The Origin (1971), written by Hirai Kazumasa with art by Hisashi Sakaguchi. The manga is itself an outgrowth of Kazumasa’s 1969 short story, “Vice School.” Kazumasa really felt wolf guy and over the next three decades his short story expanded into young wolf guy and adult wolf guy stories, novellas, manga and two film adaptations, Toho’s Horror of the Wolf (1973) and Toei’s Wolf Guy: Enraged Lycanthrope. Wolf Guy: The Origin concerns an American-Japanese middle school student, Akami Inugami, who is a werewolf. Akami transforms into a very groovy werewolf who reminds me of Wendy Pini’s wolf-riding elves in his personal wolf style. (Elfquest’s Wolfriders didn’t mount up till 1978).

Sakaguchi’s cover art for Wolf Guy: Origins, Vol. 2

ElfQuest art by Wendy Pini.

But rather than fun hijinx as Akami tries to hide his nature from the faculty and his fellow students, the manga is dark. There are stabbings and rape. I have both volumes in Japanese, but I don’t read Japanese. So I’m going with what I can gleam from the volumes, Sakaguchi’s curly, twisty art and Patrick Macias’ introduction to Arrow Video’s blu-ray release of Wolf Guy. Incidentally, I highly recommend all the special features including interviews with Sonny Chiba, director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi, producer Toru Yoshida as well as essays by Patrick Macias on “the resurrection of Wolf Guy” and Jasper Sharp on the context of Wolf Guy in film history. Sharp uses my favorite Japanese aesthetic term, ero guro nansensu–“erotic grotesque nonsense.”

In the film, our enraged lycanthrope, Akira Inugami, is played by Sonny Chiba. Inugami is the only survivor of a clan of werewolves who were massacred by their human neighbors. Now he lives in Tokyo and his wardrobe and soundtrack are fully 1975. The film opens as a terrified man in an immaculate white suit and gloves stumbles into traffic, screaming, “The tiger is coming!” Inugami  slaps the man trying to get him to calm down. But Inugami is much more compassionate than the street fighters Chiba often played, and slaps him almost delicately. The man is still in no state to explain as he raves about the tiger and how “Miki has cursed us!” Surrounded by stopped cars in all four directions, he flops from hood to hood before his back is slashed open by invisible claws. He turns and we see as his chest and throat are torn open. Inugami covers the dead man with his trench coat. As he looks into the neon, he sees a ghostly tiger panting–but he’s the only one who sees it.

Inugami is questioned by the police, and it seems like he always is. As the detectives grow impatient with Inugami’s answers, they bark at him, “Wherever you go, there’s always an incident!” A werewolf just can’t get along in this human world. But Inugami’s in luck. He’s exonerated by the autopsy report. The blame is placed squarely on a demon.

The detectives argue briefly before releasing Inugami. “It’s the only possibility. I can’t do anything about it,” the chief detective says.

“It’s unbelievable.”

“A human being wouldn’t be able to slash a body like that and not in such a short time, either.”

Miki sings at the strip club.

Yes, that’s the world we’re in. Is it noir? Is it horror? Is it martial arts? Is it science fiction? Is it a yakuza picture? A movie about a cat demon lady? It’s all of them. Inugami is released and begins an investigation into this tiger and the stripper/singer Miki who has cursed these men. And I think it’s more of an enticement than a spoiler to say that he discovers so much including:  amazing 1970s fashion; relentless funk and psychedelic guitar; blood like tomato sauce; a murder romper**; intriguing burlesque; labial butterfly club decorations; a distraction mouse; gangsters playing ring toss using a broken mannequin; threatening chanteusery; a grudge turned into a tiger; a band/ group of heavies called, The Mobs; government conspiracies; and a secret intelligence agency willing to weaponize the paranormal whatever the cost–including gross surgery represented with real surgical footage. There are so many wonders I cannot share them all.

Sweet opening titles

Do you notice anything about this butterfly

Distraction mouse!

The murder romper.

In making Wolf Guy, director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi, writer Fumio Konami and producer Toru Yoshida created a wonder, even if maybe they don’t feel like it now, at least according to the interviews included in the special features. And while there are so many things I could talk about with this movie, I am going to focus on one. Sonny Chiba never transforms. He becomes invulnerable on the full moon, to the point that he can break steel bars and suck his own organs back into his abdomen with a smile. But he never gets hairy.  When I first saw the movie, this disappointed me. Because part of the draw was the idea of Sonny Chiba turning into a werewolf. I wanted to see his transformation. Seeing the film again, with time to ponder, I feel differently. It makes sense to me, not just in terms of the limitations of the resources given to the filmmakers and the time they had to research werewolf movies and read up on European folklore, (i.e., none). It makes sense that Sonny Chiba’s werewolf form is Sonny Chiba. In fact, Sonny Chiba might be the ideal werewolf form.

Lucas Cranach the Elder, “The Werewolf or the Cannibal.” c. 1512

Historically it’s not all that off. While the werewolf now is very much about the transformation, in the past the werewolf had mostly been recognizable for murder and cannibalism, often targeting children. So much so that when French missionaries encountered First Nations accounts of windigo, they understood the stories as about werewolves.*** During the period of the European werewolf trials, the accused didn’t always transform into a wolf. Some acted like wolves. Some just killed and ate people. And when given stories of how someone had transformed into a wolf by means of a salve, belt, robe or skin, there were judges and scholars who would dispute that the werewolf had in reality transformed. Instead, they argued that it was a matter of perception–that the accused believed and perceived themselves as changing into a wolf and that any eyewitnesses’ senses had been deceived.

And Wolf Guy is not alone in its cinematic presentation of a werewolf in human or mostly human form. A few recent movies present werewolves that way. In When Animals Dream (2014), Marie’s nails crack, she grows more body hair in awkward places and eventually her eyes change, but mostly she changes mentally. As her town’s doctor tells her, “You’ll also change emotionally and be short-tempered and aggressive.” Her mother, who goes full werewolf never looks like Lon Chaney Jr. or Benicio Del Toro in their respective transformations. Ginger Snaps (2000) has almost a sliding scale from the vaguely lupine Ginger when she’s having fun to angry, monstrous wolf. As far as I remember Sybil Danning remains constantly Sybil Danning in Howling 2: Your Sister Is A Werewolf (1985).**** And in Claire Denis’ Trouble Every Day (2001), Béatrice Dalle’s Coré has all the signs of being a werewolf without the furry looks. Driven into a frenzy, she bites her lovers to death during sex.

Wolf Guy is much more peaceful than some of those werewolves. He doesn’t bite or eat human beings. Completely human JCIA Agent Katie (Kumi Taguchi) might lick his blood off his hand during sex, but he eats a steak at a fancy restaurant. In fact, he’s such a gentleman, I don’t remember ever seeing him without his pants on. In his most intimate moments he removes only his jacket, tie and shirt. He doesn’t kill in a ravening fury. He only kills to protect himself or others. Akira the last of his kind. As she died, his mother told him that it was his responsibility to avenge the wolf tribe, but he walked away from that. The brutality is reversed. He is a victim of human violence and still compassionate towards humans, even protecting terrible people. He tries to help the man killed in front of him, the last member of The Mobs and Miki (Etsuko Nami), the woman who has been tormented into becoming demonic. He is loved by three of the five women in the film: Kate; Miki, whose grudge is killing men; and, Taka (Yayoi Watanabe), a woman from his old village who loves the werewolves for their kindness. (One of the women was his mother).*****

Sonny Chiba in his werewolf form.

Even when he is driven too far, Akira’s instinct is to retreat from the world, to live peacefully by himself. His lycanthropic tragedy is not  that he is cursed to kill, to reveal the beast controlled and restrained by civilization. Instead his curse is that humans perceive him as an animal to be used or destroyed. And in the modern world, this human cruelty is inescapable.

If Yamaguchi had more resources, he might have made a werewolf movie that was more like a traditional Western werewolf movie, transformation and all. But I think the movie would be worse for it. As it is, Wolf Guy is a work of wonder.

*Horror of the Wolf was based on Kazumasa’s Wolfcrest novels, available in English from Kodansha.

**Inugami, as I note, is not murderous, but I really like the phrase, “murder romper” for his final outfit.

***No, you’ve read too much about werewolves!

****No, your sister is a werewolf!

***** Miki is also named after his mother. And then there’s a very awkward sex scene.

~~~

Wherever Carol Borden goes, there’s always an incident.

Wonder of the Wolf Guy One of the greatest joys in my life is coming across almost ineffable wonder. I take pleasure in the good and the bad, sure, but there are wonders in this world.