#maybe I could make some changes to the narration to make it simpler

[ane-doodles]

Your lil maid guys should hug your repair mission eclipse :3 they can be friends!!!

I think it would be an adorable idea! but there could be some problems...

The mini boys would probably be scared to see a version of themselves so deteriorated and in disrepair (maybe it would bring back bad memories?) so it would be difficult to get them closer. Furthermore, the difference in size and proportions is... notable

If it were me I would be scared to see a bigger, broken, bigger-headed "me" out of nowhere. (technically they're chibi proportions, but you get the idea)

On the other hand, in a world where everything is possible:

[quin-ns]

Eventually (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Coriolanus could appreciate irony, but the one person he desires more than anything wanting nothing to do with him pushes him to new territory

Tags: (18+), cw: noncon, dark!coriolanus, deeply implied stalker!coriolanus, unreliable narrator coriolanus (boy is delusional tbh, no one is doing more mental gymnastics than him), pre-mentor era, obsession, unprotected sex, choking (only for like a second), virginity status undisclosed but as I was writing I began to imagine this being the first time for both of them—it’s not even implied tho, so do with that what you will

A/N: a character as evil as him I couldn’t conceive writing fluff for. he’s bad and guess what I’m not gonna fix him, but I also can’t make him not-hot so… hehe. please read the tags and proceed with caution <3

hunger games masterlist

You wanted nothing to do with him, and that made him crazy.

No, if anything, you were the crazy one. Coriolanus hadn’t done anything but try to be your friend, but you snubbed him without reason.

Coriolanus did a good job at keeping the financial situation of his family a secret. No one knew, and he doubted you were an exception. Yet, it was as if you looked down upon him.

Although, you’d grown fond of Sejanus, so even if you did know, status wasn’t a concern of yours. It was something he admired, yet questioned all at once. There had to be a reason for your dismissal. A reason you couldn’t bring yourself to even offer a smile back. It’s not like he was asking a lot.

It’s not like he wasn’t trying, either. He’d gotten used to trying to make people like him, to see him as better than he was, but it was never this hard. It would’ve been so much simpler if you just told him to his face what your problem was, but whenever he came around, mostly when you were talking to Sejanus—they were friends, it was the perfect excuse—you just went quiet. You’d greet him, make no effort to continue the conversation, then excuse yourself.

All Coriolanus wanted to know was why.

“You’re watching her again,” Clemensia whispered to him, eyes flicking between him and the paper in front of her.

They were class partners, but Coriolanus was beginning to think he spent too much time with her.

“Who?”

Clemensia let out a small chuckle, mocking him. The professor at the front of the class looked up, and Coriolanus quickly looked down at his paper, taking his eyes off of you.

“You’re too obvious,” she muttered, a smirk in her voice. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you. Because you stare at her too much.”

She didn’t get a response—it didn’t deserve one. Coriolanus questioned why he ever told her anything. She made him sound like some sort of stalker. Which, for the record, he was not.

His eyes managing to find you frequently wasn’t a crime, and neither was crossing your path. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence most of the time, but it’s not as if he was harming you by watching you. He doubted you noticed anyway.

Seeing you nearly everyday had been enough to keep him sated, but then Sejanus started talking about you. Through no fault of his own, Coriolanus learned things about you. What he came to know made him curious to discover more. Even if you did not seem keen to let him.

Being content with what he had didn’t keep its appeal for long. Not when you were right there, your presence taunting him. Making him want what you would not let him have.

“You just need to talk to her, Coryo,” Tigris told him one evening, when he revealed everything to her. “Not in class and not with Sejanus. Just you. Let her know the real you and I promise she’ll like what she sees.”

Coriolanus took his cousin’s advice to heart. She was much more empathetic than him, she had to be onto something, right?

Everything changed when Coriolanus sat across from you at a study table in the library.

As beautiful as you were from a distance, being up close was something else entirely. He could admire you for hours and never get tired.

You looked up at him, he smiled and said hello just like Tigris advised. The smile you returned seemed forced, and you ignored that he had spoken.

It upset him, but not as much as when you got up and walked out. It was the last straw. Coriolanus was following you into the hall before he could think better of it.

He caught up to you, dropping his hand to your shoulder to make you turn around and face him. When you did, you looked surprised. That wasn’t what made Coriolanus hesitate, but the realization that he had never been this close to you before. Not even sitting across from you compared to touching you.

His heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” you questioned, a level of annoyance he thought to be unearned in your voice.

His heart started again.

“Have I done something to you?” Coriolanus confronted you, feeling a familiar sense of agitation creep over him. He had to know. “To make you feel such distaste for me?”

“I don’t dislike you, Coriolanus,” you replied, calmly after recovering from your initial shock. “I’m just… indifferent to you.”

The answer confused him more than it did enrage him. He smothered the latter feeling as he observed you.

“You’re… indifferent,” he stated, not asking. His feet shifted beneath him. It hurt, for some reason. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying him. It was the same way you’d look at your books when you were struggling with a subject, lingering behind in class or the library until a triumphant smile crossed your face.

Only, that smile never came. Your expression just faded back to normal.

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on what other people think of you,” you advised, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his chest. You smelled sweet, like flowers. “Especially not someone you don’t even know.”

It was then, he realized, you hadn’t moved closer to him with purpose. You’d been on your way moving past him. His eyes focused on your back as you walked away, figuring out what to say.

“I’d like to know you,” he announced earnestly, verbally trying to pull you back. “If you’d only give me a chance.”

You slowed to a stop, looking over your shoulder. Coriolanus felt as if he was on display as your eyes raked over him, determining for yourself his sincerity.

“You’re friends with Sejanus, aren’t you?” you wondered. It wasn’t what he expected, but Coriolanus nodded. You sighed, which irked him to think it was pity. “If you’d like to join us for lunch I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, but you were already turning away. He kept to himself that he had already tried in the past.

His friend was nice. Too nice for his own good, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Sejanus completely abandoned him the moment he befriended you. It was more like he split his time, attending to both friendships. The only thing Coriolanus held against him was that he never tried to reintroduce the two of you. Maybe even put in a good word.

At lunch Coriolanus found you and Sejanus quickly, he knew where you liked to sit.

“Hey, Coryo,” Sejanus greeted, smiling. “About time you decided to join us.”

Coriolanus put on a smile as he sat down. “Well, I would’ve sooner, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome before.”

The comment made you smirk, in on the joke as Coriolanus looked at you.

“Who’s to say you are now?” you sarcastically replied, as if you hadn’t been the one to invite him.

Well, “invite” was being generous, but he still seized the opportunity nonetheless.

“Ignore her, she can’t help herself,” Sejanus said with a chuckle, used to your humor.

This time, when he tried to talk to you, you engaged. In between discussions of classes and assignments, Coriolanus had to dodge your quick wit.

He liked the challenge, and the next day, he went back for more. Even walked right past Clemanisa and Arachne, who tried to invite him to their table with Festus. You were waiting for him.

He noticed you and Sejanus already talking.

When he sat across from you, you raised your brows. “Seeking refuge?”

Before he could ask what you meant, you nodded your head towards the girls he’d left behind.

You knew about his friends?

“You could call it that,” he replied, a smile starting to appear.

You nodded and hummed.

“Well, what are your qualifications?”

“Excuse me?”

“You joke too much, Y/N,” Sejanus lightly scolded you, interrupting whatever path you were going down, which made you laugh. “He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

“He knows I don’t mean anything by it,” you assured, looking at Coriolanus. “I’m just trying to figure him out.”

Your tone was filled with confidence, but your face… Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to place your underlying expression. You had a shield up, he knew that much, but what did that have to do with him? Were you trying to figure out if you could let it down for him? Or something else?

“Of course,” Coriolanus answered, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m an open book.”

“Are you, now?” You folded your arms on the table. “Your friends love to gossip, and I don’t think I’ve heard that about you.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t know how to read,” Coriolanus quipped, proud of himself for being so quick.

None of his friends had wronged him, but the joke at their expense was worth it for what followed after.

He made you laugh. Not just smile, but truly laugh. It was exactly what he wanted, and it actually worked. Awe didn't begin to describe how it felt.

Joining your table for lunch became the best part of his day. Sometimes he forgot Sejanus was even there, far too eager to see you. He saw you all the time, of course. Watching you was a habit he had yet to break, but this was different. You were aware of his presence, and he was able to speak to you. It didn’t matter that you still seemed weary, it was enough.

Even if you didn’t like him, you still had conversations with him, so that was something.

Sometimes, if you were deep in a discussion, debating ethics—your favorite topic—it would continue beyond just the table. He’d walk you to class, wanting to hear your voice just a second longer.

“I want to meet this girl,” His grandmother declared one night, after Coriolanus drifted to the topic of you over dinner. He’d been doing it more recently.

Tigris gave him a look, a light frown. There was no way to do that without you coming to his home, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let Coryo decide that, Grandma‘am,” Tigris insisted, patting the older woman’s shoulder.

“Well, he has feelings for Y/N,” she argued, looking at Coriolanus. He used your name enough that she remembered it. “And she likes him too—doesn’t she?”

Coriolanus gave a tight smile. “Yes, she does.”

Keeping up appearances.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Grandma‘am decided.

“I think it’s time you get to bed,” Tigris intervened, getting their grandmother up from her chair.

Later, when they were alone, Tigris asked him, “Does she even know how you feel about her?” She knew him too well. He took too long to answer. “You should tell her. From what you’ve told us, you two should be together. But it won’t happen unless you make it known how you feel.”

Coriolanus’s dreams were filled with you, as they usually were, but something was different the morning he woke up after the conversation with Tigris.

All he had to do was prove himself to you, and he knew that now.

Coriolanus found you in the library a lot, often pretending to stumble upon you. This time, he didn’t put on a facade.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he acknowledged, sitting down beside you. Often he’d sit across, but he was testing the waters. Seeing if you were put off by the proximity. “Studying for Featherly’s class?”

“I’m terrified for his test,�� you confided, rubbing your temples as you hunched down at your book. “I feel like my mind has no room for anything else. I’ve memorized nothing.”

With a sigh, you sat up and pushed the book away.

“I can help you,” Coriolanus insisted, reaching for the book. He read over the page you were on, knowing he’d already perfected the subject. “You should’ve asked for me sooner.”

Maybe it was a little spiteful, but he hadn’t purposely meant it to come out that way. You still noticed it, taking your book back.

“I’m not asking for your help now, Coriolanus,” you muttered, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You were the last of his friends to still call him that. Most everyone else called him ‘Coryo’. Not you. But you were stubborn in many ways. This too, apparently.

“I didn’t mean anything against you,” he said lightly, even chuckling a little. It was forced, but he wanted to show he wasn’t being that serious.

Using your own words on you did not have the desired effect.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed.

Coriolanus tilted his head down, trying to get you to meet his gaze. You gave in, facing him, looking unamused.

He wanted to wipe that look away, but didn’t know how. If he could just make you like him—

Suddenly, your watch began to beep.

“Test time,” you grumbled, taking back your book and getting up.

Coriolanus followed you down the hall and into class. The tests were already on the desks, waiting. You two were early—he noticed that because of the clock on the wall.

He walked you to your seat and wished you good luck. To his surprise, you offered the same in return. Then, he went to his own. Other students filed in quickly after, professor Featherly being the last to enter the room.

The professor declared, “Begin,” then sat at his desk in the middle of the room and began to read.

The test wasn’t easy, but Coriolanus knew what he was doing. One look around the classroom and he saw that wasn’t the case for most other students. He felt a sense of pride, until his gaze landed on you. You were one row down and four seats to the left. He’d counted before. You were fiddling with your pencil, struggling to come up with what to write down.

While he could’ve been the first to finish, Coriolanus let other students turn their tests in before him. An hour passed by, but it moved quickly.

There were only a few students left when you finally got up. You radiated an anxious energy, much like the others, but Coriolanus didn’t care about the others.

Clemensia stuck her hand up in the air, waiting for the professor to notice her, distracting Coriolanus briefly. When the professor looked up and noticed her, Clemansia got her wish.

Coriolanus considered himself lucky, convincing himself with his own mantra frequently. As he watched you leave your test on Featherly’s desk and rush from the room, he realized how he could help you.

He quickly marked down the rest of his answers, having stalled so he could leave when you did. The professor was making his way away from the desk, while Coriolanus got up and went in the opposite direction.

With a swift, hard kick to the leg, the professor's desk wobbled and papers spilled off on the other side. It looked like an accident.

Featherly looked over his shoulder at the noise.

“Sorry,” Coriolanus apologized, kneeling down behind the desk to collect the papers.

Without anyone watching, he found your test. He had no time to change the written questions, but he made quick work of erasing and re-doing the multiple choice, with his own test and knowledge as reference.

He had to give you credit for getting a decent amount correct, but not enough for a passing grade.

When Coriolanus fixed that, he stacked together the papers and placed them back on the desk and exited.

Everyone was waiting in the hall. Against tradition, the professor graded tests directly after and would call students in to give the results. It was time consuming, and kept everyone on campus after hours, which was against the rules, but perhaps he’d gotten some kind of exception.

You were leaning against the wall opposite of the classroom, talking to some girl from the class—Coriolanus didn’t bother to learn her name. He wanted to go to you, but Sejanus got to him first instead.

“How do you think you did?”

Coriolanus shrugged, looking down at his friend. “Fine, I think.” That was the humble answer, right? “How about you?”

“Not perfect, but I passed.”

Clemensia trotted out then, a confident look on her face.

“What was so important you had to ask during the test?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder. She’d unknowingly helped him, after all.

“Just clarity on a question, wanted to make sure I got it right,” she answered with ease.

“And did you?”

She gave Sejanus a look.

“Yes, of course.”

The last person exited the class, and professor Featherly closed the door. And so the grading began.

One by one, the professor called people in. There was no method to the order, it seemed likely he shuffled the papers or chose which one to grade next at random.

Time passed, Coriolanus didn’t know how much exactly, but it was beginning to get dark outside. Tigris would be worried until he got home, but she’d understand. His studies came first.

Eventually, Coriolanus realized it was dwindling down to be just you and him left. He was lucky today.

The third to last student was in the classroom, leaving you across the hall from one another.

You pressed your lips together before speaking.

“Do you think you did alright?”

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip twitched up at the sound of your voice.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered humbly. “What about you?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh. “When I said I was terrified, I wasn’t being dramatic.” You sighed, accepting your fate. “I’ll have to do perfect on the next one, I guess.”

“I can help you with that,” Coriolanus offered.

The smile he gave you spawned a mirror reaction. He knew he was charming, he had to be, and this time you actually seemed receptive to it.

“Maybe you can.”

The sound of a door opening made Coriolanus turn. Arachne was leaving, a smug look on her face as she thanked the professor.

Then the door closed, and the professor graded another test. There were only two left.

“I wish he wouldn’t do it like this,” you filled the silence. “The others don’t make us wait like this.”

“It builds suspense, I suppose,” Coriolanus mused. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“That’s not something I need right now.”

“At least you have good company,” he noted flirtatiously. He couldn’t help but grin at his own words, especially when you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

“Could be worse, I supposed,” you retorted.

More time passed. The door opened again.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the professor addressed him next. “Your turn.”

As expected, Coriolanus did close to perfect. One answer off. Best in the class.

Back in the hallway, when he was done, Coriolanus waited with you. He didn’t announce he was staying, he just returned to his spot against the wall.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting. How did you do?” you asked, departing from the wall.

Coriolanus wondered where you were going, but then, you stood next to him, leaning back against the wall. There was still an arms length between the two of you, but it was something. You’d gone to him for once.

“You’ll think I’m full of myself if I tell you,” he teased lightly, which made you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I already think that, so just tell me,” you insisted.

The comment made him falter.

“Best in the class,” he divulged.

You almost looked impressed. “Good for you.”

The door opened.

“Y/N L/N, you’re up.”

“Wish me luck,” you said under your breath before following Featherly in.

“Good luck.”

Coriolanus waited for you, just like before. He tapped his foot. The professor didn’t actually go over the answers, he just told you the grade. You’d have no way of knowing what he did for you, but he’d be there to share in your excitement when you discovered how well you’d done.

Or, how well he’d done for you.

Not long later, you and the professor exited the class together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” Featherly addressed Coriolanus. “You should get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Then, he left you and Coriolanus alone in the hall, presumably leaving the building.

“So,” Coriolanus began with a smile. “How did you do?”

“He asked if I’d been studying with you. Apparently we had all the same answers,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Except when I asked him to show me my exam—which I did great on, apparently—I saw answers circled that weren’t mine.”

Coriolanus hadn’t expected you to find out so quickly, but a part of him was relieved you did. It meant he got to take credit, and he could show you that he really did want the best for you.

Or, he could always lie.

“You weren scared of failing,” he finally admitted. He offered a sympathetic smile. “So I helped.”

“No, you cheated!” you accused, causing his eyes to go wide. “You’ve implicated us both. If anyone finds out…”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hissed out in a whisper, stepping closer to you. The professor could still be in the building. He doubted anyone else would be. “I just wanted to help you, okay? You needed it, so I—“

“You helped, I get it. But I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Coriolanus. I have never asked you to do anything for me,” you sneered, somewhere between offended and betrayed.

He saw the way you scanned his face—his eyes. The pleading was beginning to seep through.

A wave of realization washed over you before he even opened his mouth.

“You didn’t have to ask me to,” Coriolanus said meaningfully, stepping closer to you. “I wanted to. I wanted to help you.”

You back hit the wall. The hallway was so empty it seemed as if the subtle sound still echoed.

“I’d do anything for you, don’t you get that?”

The sound of a large door closing carried from a distance.

Coriolanus reached for your face, wishing he could take away the concern that riddled your expression. Instead, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face.

You swallowed. Why did you look so nervous around him? You were friends now, weren’t you? You never looked scared around anyone else. Why him? Why now? His own questions frustrated him.

“We’re not supposed to be on campus after hours,” you said calmly. It was the same tone you used when you first described your indifference to him. Coriolanus thought about that moment a lot. “Featherly already left. We should leave before we get caught.”

The corners of his lips twitched down.

“We’re still talking, though, aren’t we?”

You let out a shallow breath. You had no reason to look as scared as you did.

“I think we’re done.”

Coriolanus thought back to his cousin’s advice. He could’ve followed it better if she’d written it down, perchance.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Coriolanus pondered, smiling to himself at the sight of you. “You caught my eye from the beginning and I—I couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with me.” You watched him carefully. He wondered if you could sense the dejectedness brewing. “Did you see something in me? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted under your breath. “People like you, and you’ve been making an effort to be my friend, so I don’t know what told me to stay away from you, but something did. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I still…” you swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The confession should’ve been a relief. That’s what he imagined it would be. That you would admit the truth, and he could fix whatever misconceptions you had.

Coriolanus did not know what to do with “I don’t know”.

Staring down at you, Coriolanus noticed your back was against the wall. Literally. He hadn’t meant to put you there, but he had.

It got you to listen, didn’t it? He’d gotten an answer?

“Can we start over?” Coriolanus suggested, even throwing in a smile that would charm most anyone. It worked on you before. “We can forget all this mess.”

You blinked. You didn’t believe him.

For most people, he wouldn’t simply let numerous slights go, but for you, if it would fix whatever this was, if it meant the two of you could have a real chance, then he’d overcome his instincts—old and new.

“I’m afraid my memory is too good for that,” you finally said, looking up at him with defiance.

Defying what, was the question. It wasn’t as if you were enemies.

The thought made his jaw clench. He let out a laugh that was sharp. It lacked any sense of humor.

“Why can’t you just accept my apology?”

Your brows arched up, questioning him.

“That was supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But it’s not as if I owe you one.”

“I never said you did. I never said anything. You took it upon yourself to insert yourself into my life and now you are not happy with your place in it. You’ve overstepped, and you need to let me leave.”

Coriolanus frowned.

“You act like I’m keeping you here by force.”

You look up at him, silently telling him you believed he was.

That frustrated him further.

In an act that jarred even him, Coriolanus pressed his palms against your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall when you tried to move away.

“This is force,” he declared sternly, leaning down, making you maintain his gaze.

Everyone liked control, but he hadn’t used it in such a physical way before. It thrilled him in an odd way.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why should I? You already think so poorly of me, why not let you be right?”

You moved again then, trying to catch him off guard and squirm away. But Coriolanus was quick to shove you back against the wall.

“We can still start over. If you would give me a chance, I think we can be good together.”

He let one hand rise to rest on your cheek. Your skin was so smooth. He inhaled deeply, resolve slipping further as his eyes fell to your lips.

If Coriolanus could just prove it to you, he was sure you’d understand what he meant.

He leaned in cautiously, gauging your reaction. You didn’t flinch away. You tilted your chin up, even. That familiar skip of his heart returned.

Coriolanus’s lips only just brushed against yours before you reacted. He had a second of relief before you brought your knee up, jabbing him in the lower stomach, although he doubted that was where you were aiming. It was still enough of a shock to throw him off his game. He stumbled back, and in a flash, you were gone. You were running down the hall—trying to get away from him, like usual.

Only this time, he didn’t feel like letting you go.

Something he had slowly come to learn was when he wanted something, it wasn’t just going to be handed to him. Vying for the Plinth Prize highlighted that, alongside his childhood.

He caught you easily, hand snapping out like a snake to grip your arm and yank you back to him. You collided with his chest. It was like you weren’t even trying. Not really. Just toying with him.

“Am I a game to you?” Coriolanus hissed into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. “Something for you to play?”

“I haven’t done anything to you! I hardly even know you!” you defended, but it just made him hold you tighter.

“I know you,” he implored, fighting against your squirming. He lost balance and when you fell to the ground, you took him with you. Coriolanus got you onto your back, sitting on your thighs, gripping your wrists in his hands to keep you from swinging at him. You let out panicked breaths, staring up at him. “I know more than you think.”

Something about the position made the front of his pants begin to feel constricting.

“Coriolanus, you’re frightening me,” you enunciated, as if trying to reason with him.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Coriolanus grit out, working to maintain his composure.

“What?” you questioned, brows pinching together, a deep frown on your face. Confused and scared. Coriolanus used to feel that way. “Just let me go.”

“And then what? You go back to ignoring me? No I can’t… I can’t go back to that. If you just give me a chance I can show you.”

Coriolanus didn’t know what happened next.

Tigris told him it was like he left his own head, sometimes. She said he’d get so caught up, he wouldn’t notice things. At the time he had laughed. If anyone stayed aware, it was him.

It wasn’t that he left his head, but got lost in it. Lost in his own inner monologue to realize what he was doing.

In this case, what he’d done.

Far too busy thinking of ways to convey everything he wanted to say to you, how to make you understand, visualizing your reaction, he’d already acted.

Maybe there were two people living in his mind. One with a conscience, one without. Or perhaps that was just something he used to justify his less than decent actions. An excuse. He’d never let himself know the truth. Not really. Not yet.

What he did know was what he could see. You, beneath him, clothes torn from your body. The only thing left was a shirt. Too much effort, apparently. Your wrists were snatched together in one of his hands.

The power stirred something within him.

One might say he was out of excuses when he reached for the zipper of his pants, but no one else was here, were they?

Your mouth was moving. Speaking. Maybe even yelling. Looking at him, looking around the room. He couldn’t hear a sound but his own heart thumping in his ears paired with his own eager breaths. Was that normal?

He moved, wedging himself between your legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself.

“It’s just us,” Coriolanus spoke, loud enough to hear himself. You flinched. “No one’s here.”

He gripped himself, stroking his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. His patience was running incredibly thin.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You stopped struggling at his words, accepting it for what it was. Good.

“Why are you doing this?”

He heard your voice clearly, that time, despite the strain in your tone.

Coriolanus observed you carefully, squeezing your wrists together in one hand and lovingly caressing your hip with the other.

He finally understood the answer you’d given before. He found it fitting now.

“I don’t know.”

To him, it was the truth.

The moment Coriolanus pressed himself inside of you, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. After so long of wanting you in every way, shape, or form, this was long overdue.

“You’re perfect for me,” he breathed out. Coriolanus gave a shove of his hips, his gaze falling to your mouth as an unwilling yelp slipped out. “I knew you would be.”

You were tight, too tight, even. Unwelcoming. Yet still, you felt like home.

His hand—the one that was on your hip—drifted between your legs. He found your clit, running his thumb in small circles, trying to ease the pressure you must’ve been feeling.

Coriolanus did not want to hurt you.

He looked into unfocused eyes. Where were you? Were you trying to be somewhere else?

He let your hands go. You didn’t move to slap him or shove him or anything. You were learning.

He leaned over you more, reaching for you face with his now free hand, and ran his thumb over your cheek, encouraging your gaze to actually meet his. He smiled softly when you did. You got more beautiful every second he looked at you. It was even better when he could see you were present.

Coriolanus found himself unable to resist it, so he gave into the urge to press his lips to yours. A real kiss, this time.

Your lips were softer than he’d imagined. You made a noise when his tongue tasted your mouth. His kiss was hungry—aggressive, even. But he’d waited so long he didn’t know how to contain himself.

Your body reacted to his touch. Your bent knees inched up his hips to accommodate him, and your walls were becoming slick, accepting the invasion.

A deep moan escaped him, cock throbbing inside you at the feel. The sound was muffled by his lips pressed to yours, but he still felt vulnerable, giving himself to you in this way.

Coriolanus pulled back from the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours and breathe out a small puff of air from his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. Not even the Plinth Prize,” he confessed in a whisper.

“What’s the difference?” You finally spoke, voice wavering. “You have to earn the prize?” The accusing tone felt like a slap.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Coriolanus muttered, eyes boring into yours. “You’ll see.”

He gave you one more searing kiss before moving his hips.

A gasp that morphed into a moan clawed its way up your throat. The sound was like music to his ears. He wanted to hear it again.

He began to move more consistently, finding a pace that suited him. Rough enough to keep you present, but not so harsh as to hurt you. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, even if you were trying to avoid it.

Still figuring you out, Coriolanus found your sweet spot with a hard thrust, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tried to push him away, just like you had before, not wanting to surrender.

You stilled when you felt his hand. He hardly realized how he’d reacted until he felt your throat bob beneath his palm.

Coriolanus retracted his hand, like your skin and shot a volt through him. His movements slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized earnestly, brushing the hand through your hair gently. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your chest heaved as you breathed shaky breaths through your nose. Your lips pressed together in a line.

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. In a way, he understood.

Coriolanus locked his arms under your body and in a surge of strength, pulled you from the ground and into his lap. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Forgive me,” he requested softly.

You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself to find comfort in the new position. You did not speak.

He slammed his hips up, forcing a gasp from your lips. That was something, wasn’t it?

You pulled back, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You fell against him, jarred by the change in his movements as he thrust into you. He liked it, feeling you in his lap, your chest against his, leaving you no choice but to hold onto him.

His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he moved, barring his teeth and nipping the skin. You reacted as if he were venomous, straining away from him, but he’d left his mark.

You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t like him, but Coriolanus could feel your body reacting to his. He could feel the way your walls squeezed around him, drawing him in, and how your body quivered as he pushed you closer to your edge.

“Just let go,” Coriolanus whispered, holding you tighter. He cradled the back of your head against him as he moved inside of you. Soothing and rough at the same time. “It’s okay, I know you want to.”

“Shut up,” you hissed into his neck, hands finding his chest.

Were you really going to try and get away from him? It was a bit late for that.

Coriolanus moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb, speeding along the process.

“What was that?” he taunted, feeling your legs start to shake.

A moan tore from your throat as you came around him, body slumping against his as he shoved himself deeper inside you. He wanted to feel your body tensed around him.

“That’s it,” he drawled, pressing his face to the side of your head. He inhaled, letting your scent flood him. Every sense was overwhelmed by you and if anything, it made him hunger for even more.

You became more pliable in your daze, going easily when Coriolanus laid you back down on the cold ground. He planted one hand on the ground near your head, where he held most of his weight, while the other rested on the base of your neck. Not squeezing, just resting. Reminding you of before.

Now that he’d taken care of you, made you realize the pleasure he could inflict upon you, it was his turn. Coriolanus was relentless with the thrust of his cock inside you, stretching you around him, groaning with nearly every movement. You felt so good, he never wanted to leave the warmth of your body.

You shifted beneath him, squirming as the intense feeling. Coriolanus was tempted to drag it out, to watch your face as the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

If it wasn’t for the desire to fill you, to claim you, he would’ve. There would be more times after this, he’d ensure it. He didn’t own a lot, but he treasured the things that he did.

“I can’t let you go, not now.” He meant to keep it inside his head, but the words spilled out. “You’re the only thing I want.”

At that moment, it was true.

Coriolanus gave one final shove of his hips before spilling inside of you. It crashed over him in an unexpected wave. His whole body shivered with pleasure at the feel of your body milking him. You wanted him. Your denial would eventually fade. He was sure of it.

Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh of your name as he watched your face. You’d turned your head, wincing as he filled you to the brim.

“Hey,” Coriolanus said when he finished, voice low. He ran a delicate hand over your face, persuading you to open your eyes. “We’re okay.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Coriolanus withdrew from you. You’d given up fighting against him, so he took the opportunity to help you redress. You were so pliant, it was like dressing a doll.

You rested your arms on your knees when he made you sit up. He wasn’t keeping you from moving from the floor, you chose not to.

Coriolanus watched you cautiously, searching for the same fire in you before, trying to figure out if he’d somehow snuffed it out.

There was a nagging in his gut. It was only for a brief second, but his confidence wavered.

“Can you talk to me?” he pressed, laying a hand on your shoulder and he knelt across from you, pants readjusted.

It was as if nothing happened, but you both knew that was untrue.

“Why should I?” You wrinkled your nose as you focused on the ground.

“Because, I care about you,” Coriolanus replied without thought, gaze softening. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t think you care for me,” you said in a tone so hushed, Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you even meant for him to hear. Then, you met his eyes. The fire had only been dulled, not put out. “I think you’re a liar, Coriolanus Snow.”

His hands fell to clasp yours. He brought one to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of your palm. You eyed him as if he were some sort of predator, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Let me prove it to you, and you’ll come to learn you’ve been wrong about me all along.”

[oakantony]

here's what I think I need to do to Blood Atlas to make it work:

limit the POV to JUST Jack. rn there are 4 POV characters and it's too many. it's fun writing inside Atlas' head but I think taking him out of the narration would make the story a little more mysterious and spooky

remove Gifts from the narrative except for a VERY select few and explain, from the get-go, why some people have them. (Gifts are for people who are direct descendants of the gods)

change the time period and/or change the world so it takes place somewhere entirely new. i could honestly plop the whole story into the TAOS universe, i think, and make it work. but it'd probably be simpler to keep it earth-based and make it take place in a different era. the 80s could work. maybe the 20s. hell maybe victorian times?

obviously these are all big enough changes to warrant starting the story over from scratch. but i have 33,000 words written and starting over would suck. unfortunately for me i'm deep enough into the narrative now to recognize that something's not working. it's too complex and too disjointed right now imho. even i'm having a hard time following it and i'm the fuckin author LMAO

[rplayford02]

Tim, Sean, Mira and Mars: Sound Design

I was much happier with my sound design for this project but maybe just because it was simpler. We had known that the test shoot scene for KEEPER was going to be one of the hardest scenes of the film. Comparatively, the scene we were shooting for TSM&M didn’t involve any action at all, just people talking so I could really focus on the basics and make it a lot more polished in a lot less time.

I spent a day and a half total on the sound design. After helping give some feedback on the edit, Jake handed the AAF over the Monday and I had finished by Tuesday night.

The boom recordings in the projection room were quite noisy, some taps and the aforementioned engineering work in the background. Luckily the LAV sound was perfect so for Tim and Sean’s conversation I relied completely on this. For the auditorium scene, I used the boom with some noise reduction rendered in, and layered the LAV mic underneath to give him slightly more presence.

As I had planned (explained in the pitch), I focused on finding the unique reverb of each setting. Using the ‘Space’ plug-in, I found presets that were a similar match to the look and feel of the space on-screen and then tweaked them myself, saving them into my session folder for recall later. I also added EQ to the voices to make them sound more like they had been recorded from where the camera was stood. For example, Xander’s voice, coming from behind the window, has lost some of the high end frequencies to artificially construct this window/wall in the sound we are receiving. Aux tracks proved very useful throughout the session, allowing me to send multiple tracks to the same reverb plug-ins.

Once the dialogue was sorted, I moved on to creating a projector sound effect which would change depending on which room we were in. (Louder in the projection room, and panned to the left, quieter with less high and low frequencies in the auditorium.) I decided the sound should stay in stereo as it felt like a component of the atmos.

Then I needed to construct something to play from the cinema screen. I made an aux, routed dialogue to it so I had a temporary output to monitor and then added EQ and Space plug-ins to the track. I messed around with both plug-ins until I had a sound that mimicked the output of cinema speakers and I was pretty pleased with the outcome. The plug in settings are seen here.

I took to Freesound to find some ominous sounds and choral singing to recreate my own version of the Star Gate sequence soundtrack. The finished thing is primarily made up of creepy strings and wind, manipulated with Pitch Shift. I then routed this through the Cinema Speakers Aux and it worked!! The effect was more obvious with dialogue but I still like the result.

I automated the Star Gate sounds to drop in volume and pan to the left as we move to the projection room. I also automated an EQ plug on the routing folder they were in, so the higher frequencies were lost as they ‘passed through the walls’ into this secondary space.

Earlier in the trimester I had planned that I wanted to make it sound like an old movie so I watched a video about ‘how to create a tape effect on digital sound’. The main takeaways: compress the hell out of it to emulate the reduced dynamic range, reduce the attack of the transients, EQ it to favour the mid frequencies and at some kind of saturation. This guy’s video was talking about music, but I assumed similar principles would apply. I had already read about the reduced dynamic range in old films so this seemed about right. I decided to apply these effects to The Narrator’s dialogue - mid frequency EQ, heavy compression, some fiddling with the Enhancer plug-in. I briefly tried to experiment with side chain compression to make the Star Gate sounds dip under his dialogue but it wasn’t working and I couldn’t figure out where I was going wrong. I thought this would have added to the vintage sound. It’ll have to be something I figure out in the new year.

Robbie then came in to take a look at the sound edit. His main note was that the Star Gate sounds were creating the wrong tone. Upon listening again, I agreed.

We had this idea a lot earlier in the trimester to use a piece of music in the sound design. It was a simple guitar piece that Robbie had written and recorded on his phone; he’d used it in a sizzle reel for the project. It was definitely lighter in tone, a little bittersweet sounding perhaps, so I imported it and added it under the dialogue exchange and it kind of worked.

I wanted to make it sound somewhat diegetic at first so I added EQ to make it sound like it was coming from a old radio (above) and panned it to the right (other side from projector sound to balance it out). I then automated the EQ to get it back to normal, automated the pan to center and the volume to increase as the scene transitioned and The Narrator’s dialogue came back in. The song remains this way until the end of the film.

I think the result is maybe a little too sentimental but it definitely changed the tone for the better. The end result now much better represents the tone of the film I think we were aiming for. And I like how rough the song recording is. In fact I just really like the song. Music is such a manipulator! I kind of feel like I’ve cheated. Like I’ve brought emotions out of the audience that I haven’t earned.

[owlf45]

This may be presumptuous, but what do you find helps best with writer's block? I'm working on a demon slayer fanfic and am struggling to get them moving to my next plot point, and I feel like I've made their motivators too complex to continue building on. Your writing in Imaginary was just so exquisite and defined, I thought you might have some advice for newer writers

it's not presumptuous at all!

ultimately, the characters should seem to choose the plot. even if you have a plot point and you have to force the characters into it, it should seem it's of the characters' free will/choice that they make the decisions they do.

if you've built a well-rounded character with complex motivations and it's still not clicking with the plot, there's a much simpler way to manage it rather than build their motivations further:

Manipulate it, Break it, Conflict it

Manipulate it! Have a character prioritize certain parts of their motivators. Maybe, for the time being, an unforgiving hero will have to give in and work with a villain to save innocent bystanders from a worse threat. Sometimes, the lovesick bird will choose to protect his family before his long-lost over, because he prioritizes the truth over saving his own emotions.

Break it! Destroy your character's motivations! Let them have an eye-opening experience! shake them to their core! Make them see something new! Betrayed by someone they thought they knew! reveal new information that throws all their progress into question! Make them change!

Conflict it! Dont have everyone just joining ur narrator willy nilly just cause it's convenient! If you have a range of characters, even those with conflicting opinions, force their motivations to collide, if their separation would help develop the plot. Or, force their motivations to come into conflict, and force them to cooperate; to give and to help each other, even at the cost of some of their own beliefs. (this is why imaginary works in a lot of ways: if the plot were to develop and there were only one holder in all of imaginary, each plot would develop in a drastically different manner depending on which holder was summoned. because all of them are there, their motivations on each slightest thing get to constantly come into question. it's their collective that makes them a unifying force. Their cooperation in spite of their differing ideals drives the plot forward. Fourth's an outlier because he, too, drives the plot forward, but instead it is because he is in constant resistance to the surrounding characters. his desire to control izuku is important to the plot.)

if this doesn't help you in the slightest, then I suggest u look to a different character to lead your direction of development. make sure every single one of your characters are showing agency.

if your characters are "stuck", it might be because youre trying to force them into a situation where they're not really acting. look at each character and ask: "if they could do anything. with their personality and their goals and drive and experience and environmental factors, what would they do right now?" and if the answer isn't what your plot is saying, then you might have to make some changes. Make each character's thought processes relevant, even if that means we dont get to see it "on camera" (or in writing). maybe we only get to see the effects of their agency. maybe a character was originally in a plot point where they helped the narrator defeat a slime boss to learn teamwork. instead, they go off on their own a short time before to help a loved one involved with a dangerous criminal, only to get hurt and have to be saved.. by the same loved one they wanted to help. their experience is humbling, and they throw themselves into hardcore training. they become stronger than the narrator wouldve ever predicted, because before this happened they used to be more bark than bite.

if this doesn't work: throw humor at it.

whenever i cant write a chapter in imaginary, it's because i'm taking it too seriously. write some funny shit, even if it's not the tone you originally wanted. once the chapter's written, go back, and if you really want the tone of That One Scene to be more somber/serious/intense, edit it to be that way. Humor always helps with the writer's block though.

if this doesn't work: timeskips!

cut it midway through a scene when shit has already hit the fan/the next plot point is well in development, and begin backtracking! maybe, there's simply not enough substance to develop in a way that is natural chronologically. trying to force development where there simply can't be any is more harmful than helpful. mix it up a bit!

if ur still struggling with writer's block: put on the arcane soundtrack and Fucking Vibe(tm)

[five-rivers]

I really loved your last prompt fill, Reflection. I can't even describe what emotions it made me feel. Now I'm really curious about a twin au, something set on the other side of the mirror so to speak. I'd love to see your take on something like that.

If you told the Fenton twins they enabled each other, Danny would tell you that's what twins were for, and Andy would say at least they weren't as bad as their parents.

Although the veracity of the first statement was questionable, the second was certainly true. This is why space and astronomy related paraphernalia was limited to the twins' room and pranks only happened a few times a year, while the elder Fentons' ghost hunting gear infested the entire building and spilled out into the yard and a few select public places around town and ghost hunting was a year-round endeavor.

The Fenton children usually responded by doing their best to ignore everything related to ghosts. Usually. Today, that had been a little bit difficult. Today was the day of their parents' greatest triumph!

Except it wasn't. The portal-

"Andy, are you narrating this?"

"So what if I am?" He adjusted the camera to zoom in on his brother's disgruntled face. "You want to go to space, I want to make movies about space. And you've got to admit, the lab does look like the set of a cool SF show."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Sure, except the fake science projects on a set aren't going to come explode on you-"

"Well, actually-"

"That's the exception, not the rule-"

"But it still happened!"

"Ugh, you're impossible. What time is it?"

"According to the camera clock... one fourty-six in the morning."

Danny laughed. "Are you ever going to switch it so it's right?"

"Signs point to no. Hey, I have an idea. I dare you to go in and check it out~"

"Um. No. I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm not dying for your home movie. I'm going to go wait for Sam and Tucker upstairs."

"Come on!" called Andy after Danny. "I'll go with you if you're scared!"

The lab door shut.

"Tch," grumbled Andy. "Whatever." He thumbed the power switch.

.

"And here's the boring lab full of stuff that doesn't work!" said Danny loudly, spreading his hands in presentation. "Can we go back upstairs now?"

"Boring? Just look at all this tech! This would make a great set for a TV show," said Tucker.

"See? See?" said Andy, excitedly. "That's what I said, too. We really are true friends."

"Think your parents would let us use it for an amateur film?" asked Tucker.

"Maybe if they ever 'gave up the ghost,'" said Danny, with air quotes. "Which they aren't. Ever."

"I don't know, Danny, they seemed pretty down after the portal didn't work."

They turned towards the dark, empty hole in the wall.

"Yeah..." said Danny. "They did look kind of sad..."

"Maybe you guys can do something with it," said Sam, adjusting her camera settings to take a picture.

"Sam," complained Andy fiddling with his camera, "stop it, you're messing with my camera brightness..."

Sam stuck out her tongue.

"What do you think we could do?"

"I don't know," said Sam. "Didn't you guys find some wiring issue with that other thing they made? Something silly they overlooked or something?"

"Yeah, that was ages ago and way simpler than this," said Danny.

"I don't know, I think she has a point," said Andy.

"Dare you two to go in," said Sam.

"True frien- Wait, two?"

"Yeah, two heads are better than one. And make for a cooler picture. We could make, like, movie poster mockups or something. Plus, Danny, haven't you ever wondered if there really is another world over there? You could be like an astronaut."

"Ooh, yeah, good point," said Andy. "Do you think we should wear the hazmat?"

"Do I think we should wear protective gear while messing with dangerous lab equipment?"

"Good point, but I was talking about for the picture," said Andy, walking over to the cabinet. "Which one of these is yours and which is mine?"

"Doesn't matter, they're identical," said Danny, leaning over his shoulder and pulling one out. He let it unfold. "I changed my mind, you can have the one with Dad's face."

"It's just a sticker, weirdo." Andy pulled it off. "Ugh, one second... Do you ever wish you had another set of arms...?" He put the camera down.

.

Andy turned the camera back on. "Okay, here we go! Into the portal! To the stars!"

"Or the Ghost Zone, according to Mom and Dad."

"Yep, yep, go on, explore the supposed doorway to the afterlife," said Sam.

"That isn't very sci-fi of you, Sam," said Tucker. He was promptly elbowed.

"Give me some poses!" she said, snapping pictures.

"I thought we were supposed to be looking for what's wrong with the portal," said Danny.

"Come on, it isn't as if you believe in ghosts anyway," said Andy, nudging Danny.

Danny, scowling, took a step away from him and tripped on a wire. He caught himself on the wall and-

Click.

.

"The rest of the video is completely fried," said Tucker. "Should we keep it, or...?"

"Delete it," said Danny.

"Keep it," said Andy.

"I'm getting some mixed messages here," said Tucker.

"I think," said Andy, "that it would be a good idea to have a way to prove we are who we say we are."

"And it has nothing to do with wanting to preserve your camera work?"

"I wouldn't say nothing."

[booksellergothic]

31 Days of Halloween Reading

I had planned on doing a full months worth of book recommendations for October, but of course I missed the 1st.  

Sigh.

So we are starting off with two on the 2nd, with two brilliant novels by T. Kingfisher - The Twisted Ones and The Hollow Places - each of which could be considered horror fanfiction -

The Twisted Ones, which functions as a sort of sequel to Arthur Machen’s  weird fiction classic The White People, pulls off one of the hardest jumps possible in a horror novel  by being written in first person and letting us know off from the start that the main character (and her sweet, charmingly dimwitted dog, Bongo) has already survived the horror to tell the tale.

The narrator, Mouse, in need of money and change of venue, agrees to cleaning out the isolated home of terrible, recently deceased, hoarder grandmother so it can be sold.  Once in the North Carolina woods, things go wrong.  

At first its the isolation, the strange, unsettling things that are hiding in piles of junk in the house (not just the expected creepy dolls and ominous diaries, thought they are there, too), and the sounds of animals near the house at night that start to get to Mouse.  

Then things get weird.  Really weird. Let’s just say that you will never listen to an NPR pledge drive the same way again.  Or think deer are quite so innocently pretty.

Friendly, mildly outlaw neighbors, Mouses’s dry humor, and Bongo’s utter adorableness actually make the book more frightening, since it is so easy to care about everyone and fear for their sanity and their lives.  

Because that’s what real horror is about.   Stakes.  Good, relatable, even loveable characters mean that as a reader we have skin in the game.  Or in the case of The Twisted Ones, maybe bones in the game is a better way to put it.

Kingfisher pulls some the same tricks with The Hollow Places - first person narrator taking care of something for an aging relative, creepy surroundings, friendly neighbor, animal companion, set in North Carolina, based on a genre classic, in this case The Willows by Algernon Blackwood - and yet other than a certain similar wit, it doesn’t feel like you are reading the same book.

Kara, newly divorced and living with her beloved, ailing uncle Earl, has to take over running his roadside attraction The Glory to God Museum of Natural Wonders, Curiosity, & Taxidermy when he is hospitalized.  (BTW, if you are not the sort of person who would immediately  go to a place called  The Glory to God Museum of Natural Wonders, Curiosity, & Taxidermy, my recommendations probably aren’t for you)

In a lot of ways this is a simpler book than The Twisted Ones, getting to the weird earlier on, it is also more horrific.

While Kara and her barista friend Simon are trying to make some repairs to a mysteriously damaged display they discover a door where no door should be.  And hallways, where no hallways can be, and more doors.  So many more doors.

And what may be jail cells, or refuges.

And bodies.

And a swamp.

And warnings.  They Can Hear You Thinking, which is bad enough, and Pray They Are Hungry, which is much, much worse...

Ok, let us see if I can actually do a full month of these!

Let me know if you are interested in being tagged on book recs or reviews.

@plastic-heart​ @joyfullymassivewhispers​ @caffiend-queen​ @sylviefromneptune​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @myoxisbroken​ 

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Fallout 4: the case for Father being a damn liar telling Damn Lies who is NOT who he claims to be

Oddly, I find that people seem very keen to take the Director of the freaking Institute at his word that he’s actually Shaun for some reason.

This is a man with all the motive and opportunity to lie about that in the world.

At no point does he actually offer any sort of hard evidence, and his attempts at “affection” are cold, distant, and unconvincing. While his remarks about “until today, I have had no love to share” could plausibly explain that, his interactions with the Sole Survivor are overwhelmingly manipulative and he definitely sees you more as an asset (and possible successor) than as family; his behavior in general is detached and similar to a high functioning sociopath, which also as a bonus explains why he treats Synths the way he does. To some extent, genuine humans are no different to him than Synths: everything and everyone is merely an asset to secure the Institute’s future dominance in the Commonwealth. He says what he needs to say to provoke the reaction he wants out of people and doesn’t necessarily stand behind a word of it.

So, I don’t think Father is actually Shaun. Of course he can claim this all he wants, but the Sole Survivor has no way of independently verifying this: Father has a vested interest in remaining an unreliable narrator, and also literally controls all paths to the truth that don’t involve going to the Brotherhood of Steel (who likewise can’t be trusted to give an honest answer if that honestly has potential to interfere with their mission).

From what we see of the Commonwealth, paternity tests are VERY DIFFICULT to pull off. Likely, the Brotherhood could do one. The Institute sure as hell could do one, but Father’s goal is manipulating the Sole Survivor into replacing Kellogg, and eventually, himself. It’d be like asking Stalin to conduct an ethics investigation on himself. OF COURSE HE’S GONNA SAY WHAT HE’S GONNA SAY.

But consider the actual evidence. What happens in this lead up to meeting Father at all?

Why, quite a lot, and if Father’s “plan” as described was actually a plan, he’d have to be a goddamn prophet.

He’d have to know that you wouldn’t get mauled to death by Yao Guais and Deathclaws, eaten by Feral Ghouls, killed by raiders, or any of the other fun and exciting means of death that the Wasteland has on offer, and then meet EXACTLY the right people who point you in EXACTLY the right direction about a half dozen times, that you’d somehow kill Kellogg (who has a well earned reputation as a One Man Army the mere mention of which makes some of the most hardened mercs in the Commonwealth shit themselves with fear) and THEN have access to the tech to use his brain as a film reel to poke through his memories to find out that the Institute uses teleportation to get in and out.

He also has absolutely no guarantee that you wouldn’t just mini-nuke Kelogg in the fight and that there’d be anything left to salvage.

Then he has to be able to predict that you can track down Virgil, kill a Courser, DECRYPT THE COURSER’S BRAINCHIP SOMEHOW, build a fucking teleporter INTERCEPTOR out of scraps, and come meet him in the first place.

How could ANYONE have reasonably predicted all that in advance?

There are simply way WAY too many points of not even possible but MOST GODDAMN LIKELY catastrophic failure in that plan. Had even a single thing happened slightly differently, had the Sole Survivor been 0.001% less lucky, the whole thing would have been shot to hell just like America was about two minutes after the bombs fell.

Maybe the Sole Survivor takes one too many bullets. Maybe Kellog’s Hippocampus doesn’t survive his death. Maybe Skinny Malone decides to finally trash Nick Valentine once and for all instead of locking him up. Maybe Dogmeat gets killed by literally ANYTHING in the Commonwealth that could kill a German Shepard (which realistically means everything – the place is somehow more hostile than all of Australia’s wildlife put together). Maybe Glory errs on the side of pragmatism and blows you away with her minigun when you first meet the Railroad.

Tons of stuff could have gone wrong that nobody could have predicted, but Father acts as though you followed his plans to the letter. That all that was meant to engineer a meeting with you. There would have been a ton of ways to do that in a simpler manner with a much lower risk of failure, starting by beaming a Courser right outside Vault 111 to say “Looking for your son? Come with me. We have a bit of explaining to do, but you can see him right now if you like.”

So either Father is either a future-seeing prophet with a magic mirror or something, or he’s actually even more shocked than you are that you actually made it to the Institute and is just trying to cover it up by saying “Sure yeah I’m your son and psssht yeah of course I totally meant to do all that.”

The alternative to that particular Occam’s Razor is that he’s simply so addicted to complexity that he’d get dizzy if you asked him to walk in a straight line.

He’s (probably) not Shaun.

It’s just a lie he told that grew bigger and bigger with each telling as he grew convinced that the Sole Survivor was so dangerous that they had to be harnessed by the Institute instead of someone else (or worse, being allowed to remain a free agent), and, preferably, molded into his replacement.

At least, that’s my read on the situation.

If he is Shaun, the game does a TERRIBLE job of convincing me, since we know that Father is a man of “rather flexible morality” depending on how he can justify things, meaning he can reasonably break any of his own rules and claim he didn’t actually break those rules.

Added to that, Doctors Sun and Crocker (independent medical authorities with no known ties to any faction) both confirm that surgery can change eye color, skin color, skeletal construction and musculature in the Fallout universe and is therefore not just a gameplay feature, meaning Father’s physical resemblance to the Sole Survivor means less than nothing in and of itself as the Institute is likely to have even more advanced capacities for surgery (they literally BUILD wholesale human beings on a factory floor, I mean c’mon). Deacon also supports the notion that surgery can change literally everything about a person’s appearance, but, admittedly, he’s…. Deacon and his word isn’t worth much unless it’s confirmed by independent authorities in the field… like Crocker and Sun would have already done by the time you meet Deacon.

Everything Father sets up can actually be knocked down by something else you’ve encountered in the lore of the game, so this leaves his ultimate parentage ambiguous at best. He might be Shaun. He might not be. It’s up to the player, ultimately, to decide (at least unless Fallout 5 somehow addresses it, which would cement things in canon) whether he is or not.

And I remain unconvinced that he is.

[mellowmoonn]

Writing Help - Genres

As a writer, you really need to know what age group you intend to write for. Depending on the age, you may need to censor yourself or glaze over some heavier topics. Think of ATLA and how they never actually stated Jet died but instead insinuated it. Or, in YA novels when characters get close and the narrator skips over the most NSFW parts of the sex scene. 

Disclaimer: Keep in mind I’m writing from my knowledge and what I remember reading at a certain age. Some research has been done for accuracy. I also don’t enjoy adult novels, particularly because they tend to be too much for me (...there tends to be lots of NSFW). With that said, forgive me if the examples aren’t amazing.

Who Do You Want to Write For?

Understanding who you want to write for makes the process much easier. If you want to write horror books for children because there aren’t enough of them, great. You can then proceed to write down your ideas and focus on the scare factor as well as how detailed you want your descriptions to be. Less is more, especially for younger kids. A single sentence in middle-grade horror can disturb even me. And trust me, most things don’t bother me.

Once you know what to write for, you can study your demographic more. By that, I simply mean what people your age are interested in. This isn’t saying you cannot write what you want to for who you want to write it for, but looking at the demographics will get your book(s) out there. For example, children might not enjoy or understand romance but gravitate more to adventure, comedy, slice of life, or superhero stuff. 

What Do These Genres Entail?

You need to know what you’re getting yourself into when you write, so I’m going to give you a shortlist of genres and the content that is appropriate for each. Assuming most aren’t writing for children younger than 5, I won’t include those genres.

Remember to do your own research.

Children (5-8)

Due to childhood development, this genre varies quite a bit. I’ll generalize for simplicity.

Children between the ages of five and eight typically begin to independently read. Development varies, but using simpler language and including pictures aids them in taking in the content and understanding it.

From younger to older children: picture books, comics, short chapter books. It depends on their development and interests as well. 

Even in picture books, these are usually longer than for younger children. They never exceed 100 pages and often have larger fonts.

Characters are usually animals or younger children (some with their parents).

Book examples: Pete the Cat, Poppleton, The Magic Tree House, Fantastic Mr. Fox

Middle Grade (8-12)

Pictures are still relevant sometimes, but it depends on the book. Most kids this age can visualize and don’t need much unless it’s something like fantasy or horror (Coraline has an edition with pictures as well as a disturbing graphic novel).

Slang begins to be included at this age and more mature language. Depending on the book, simple swears like “crap” or “damn” may be used. Insults begin to pop up as jokes and body humor are more appropriate at this age.

Sometimes romance makes its way into these books, but kids these ages still gravitate to things that aren’t so “gross.” 

Middle-Grade books begin to exceed that 100-page mark and chapter book series with a logical plot and/or order comes about. 

Characters are typically human, but supernatural creatures are popular in novels in this age group.

Book examples: Coraline, Ramona’s World, Because of Winn Dixie, Charlotte’s Web, Goosebumps

Young Adult (12-18)

You (typically) won’t catch pictures in a YA book, rather vivid descriptions. The only time pictures are in books is when maps are included. Pictures are an author’s choice.

YA is also a very large genre with varying developmental stages. Some books gravitate more to middle grade, others new adult.

The genres of books boom in YA because so much more can be done. You will catch books that are strictly romance, others crime, and even mystery. 

Swearing is no longer avoided in YA novels. Characters will openly say fuck a thousand times and no one looks twice. 

YA books tend to have deeper conversations than books for younger audiences. Killing off main characters isn’t looked down upon. These books also tend to speak about and represent sex, but never in grave detail. Characters will never get past removing clothing. The issue of sex in YA is also a controversial topic that is pretty interesting when looked into.

The themes of YA books are ones that teenagers typically experience. This could be gender, sexuality, self-worth, etc.

YA books are usually between 200 and 500 pages. It depends on whether it is a novella, stand-alone, or series.

Characters are in middle or high school, to which the readers can relate to. The home and parents are also relevant. Lots of talk about family life and such.

Book Examples: The Fault in Our Stars, The Book Thief, Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Catcher in the Rye

New Adult (18-25)

Once again, pictures are usually maps and such.

NA does everything a YA does in more detail. It’s the genre for people who like YA but want a bit more or don’t want to be held back as much. When your target audience doesn’t involve children, your creative freedom can run (nearly) wild.

Sex scenes are explicit. No one questions a sex scene in a NA, nor censors them in the way YA does. The narrator doesn’t have to glaze over this, rather describing the emotional and physical aspects of it as they would with anything else.

In comparison to YA, NA books tackle different themes. A NA book might not focus on growing up, rather the independence or struggle of having grown up. More adult things such as struggles for housing and finance might arise differently than it would to someone younger watching their parents struggle and going down along with them.

NA books tend to fall in the same page range as YA books. Again, very similar, but not the same. Think of YA as the bridge between YA and Adult. A little more, but not too much.

Characters are typically between the age range of the readers, but they don’t have to be. 

Book Examples: A Court of Thorns and Roses, Lily and the Octopus, Red White and Royal Blue, Code Name: Verity, The Good Girl

Adult (25+)

Keep in mind that I do not read adult books...

I’ve never heard of photos in adult novels. Correct me if I am wrong.

Nothing is really off-limits in adult books. Anything you could ever want to write about can fit in this genre. Period pieces, historical fiction, horror, and autobiographies are often found as adult books.

Pieces are much more complex than those meant for younger audiences such as a YA or NA. They also tackle more difficult topics such as racism and abuse in more mature ways. It’s much easier to cover something like that in a book for older audiences than younger ones because you don’t necessarily have to simplify things. Focusing on the experiences of the character as if it were of coming of age isn’t as important.

The detail in adult books also changes in comparison to books for younger audiences. Whereas violence maybe something quick and easy, an adult book will drag it with vivid details. In Cirque du Freak, a middle-grade novel, the tearing of a person’s arm was described in two sentences in a way that made the reader imagine what an arm tearing would be like. In an adult book, you best be sure you’ll be reading about anatomy and immense amounts of gore.

Adult books can be short or extremely long. It depends on the genre once you hit adult books, as attention span isn’t much of a big deal anymore.

The characters in an adult book can be any age. It’s the content at this point and not who’s reading. An adult book can follow a tween/teen, an adult, or an elderly person. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you handle what is happening to certain characters. For example, if your character is a minor, you shouldn’t be writing graphic sex scenes. 

Book Examples: The Help, The Girl on the Train, The Handmaid’s Tale, The Kite Runner, The Shining

Conclusions

I feel like I could write more in this post, but I won’t. It will be much too long if I say anymore. It’s really up to what you like and the way you want to execute it. As a newer reader, I find that I like YA novels but gravitate to the grittier or mature ones. I dislike sex scenes, so the intimacy in YA is just enough for me. 

For my writing, I want to write a NA that can achieve what I like and in the way I enjoy it. In my reading endeavors, these past eight months, the Feverwake duology (my ever mentioned series...) has hit what I enjoy. While it is categorized as YA, the second book leans more toward NA and I love that. The way the author writes is also similar to the way I do, which is cool.

In the end, do what you love. Keep your audience in mind and remember that you don’t have to fit yourself into one genre. James Patterson wrote books for children and adults. Have I read any of his works? No, but I have family and friends who do enjoy or have enjoyed his work. You wanna write a book for your younger sibling? Do it. You want to write a book you need or want? Do it. You want to write a book that will make adults feel like children again? Do it. 

You’re the writer and write for a reason. Keep writing a passion, not a chore.

[Gif from Ouran High School Host Club]

[whichtammy]

Sent from Ithaca Ⅰ

Summary:

After "the Blip" and getting back to his daily life, Sam Wilson gets attracted by an email shown in his mailbox repeatedly and starts continuous correspondence with the sender named Ithaca. During their correspondence, Sam fills the lost memory of his lost home and starts to rebuild new life in the so-called post-bilp era. With the more letters he sends to and receives from Ithaca, however, the more strange connections does Sam find showing up between his real life and the words written down by that Ithaca who loves to tell stories and poems in his letters. Sam can't help but feeling that maybe there was not only an anonymous pen pal who loves literal fantasy behind the name of Ithaca, but a sign with an intention to lead him to get across the boundary between stories and the real life.

—————————————————————

Hi，

I was in your support group for veterans four years ago, are you still work there now? I'm wondering if I could be a member of your group again, or could you please recommend some other groups like that for me?

PS. I'd like to ask that can we talk if it is possible? The group work under your guidance had helped me a lot in the past, I wishthere could be a chance for me to say thank you in person.

Please contact me.

Yours

Ithaca

Sam Wilson finds the mail in his mailbox much of puzzling, the sender'sidentity is ambiguity, as well as the intention. He did work in a support group for veterans for a while, not a short time in fact, it was a regular and steady job after his retirement from the army. However, everybody could know it if one ever had any interest in Sam Wilson, nearly everything of him is on the internet after his real identity was made public, and his work experiences is just a small part of this massive archive of Sam Wilson, open source, 7/24 online. So, even the sender said he (maybe a she, Sam thinks) had been in his support group, there is nothing provable that he or she had really been there, nor if he is really a veteran who is searching for information. It seems like that the only real and clear intention is to get contact with Sam, and for some reasons, the contacts on the other side chose to make himself vague, hiding behind the name of Ithaca, which is no doubt an alias, left nothing of contact details, no phone number, no address. Of this Ithaca, the only information Sam receives is the request of "please contact me"at the end of an email and a traceless virtual mail address.

Another information Sam has is that the sending time of the mail is three years after when it was first sent. He checked through the inbox, there are actually more than one single letter with the same content, that Ithaca keeps sending the same mail to him every three months all the time and today is the day of another third month, so his mailbox received the exactly same words again. He must be doubting, if notthe detail time of "I was in your support group for veterans___ago" keeps changing, that maybe the sender had set a repeating schedule sending and forget it all afterwards, only to leave him an alarmed-like mailbox to remind him that "it'stime"with a virtual Ding.

However, the sender never forgot his letter, nor did Sam ever receive the reminder. He didn'tget any reminds of his mailbox at all during the past three years, in fact, he was even not reminded of himself either for such a long time. He feels like the life of his is a movie with the audience left midway, when the one was back to watch, it is already the "three years later". He also thinks himself as the movie lost audience and the audience missed the movie at the same time, as the movie, he continues without being conscious of, as the moviegoer, he watches with a lack of awareness of what has happened. There is a gap in his memory, something interrupted there, he knows it is there, but he can'tknow what it is that he missed exactly——he just keeps playing and watching, for he has settle down in now, he would have no time to chase the missing part in the past at the same time.

Is the mail a plot supplement of the movie? Sam clicks the reply, forIthaca’s mail, not the other mails alike in his inbox. His mail address got public too after the publicity, people keeps sendingmails in, they are just having a try, it'ssort of a free inviting after all. Many senders write true and false stories about themselves with fictional names and identities, some of them even make up stories of Sam and them to make themselves look like a real person who had real connection with him. Now, Sam has learned to distinguish these big and small lies from his experience of being a celebrity, he doesn'treply any of them now, but he picks up some long mails of them to read with an interest at some time and gets amazed by the imagination and details all the time. He admits to himself more than one time that he would really believe those stories they write about Sam Wilson if he is not Sam Wilson himself. Sometimes he would wonder, did he really in fact play a role in others'life in such a strange and detailed way? Is he really someone to others? Can he indeed have such strange and detailed meaning to strangers'life?

So he replys.

Hi Ithaca,

I'm not working in that group now, if you are looking for something like that, I think that the official website of SRV(Supporting and Rebuilding with Veteran) may provide the information you need about similar activities and groups we had before.

It would be my pleasure if i had helped, I'm so grateful for your supports, too.

Best wishes

Sam Wilson

He reads his brief reply again with a mixed feeling of curiosity and suspiciousness. He wants to see the sender behind the mask, while he is afraid of the fact that what he reveals would only be another face of a hater, a stalker. The mailbox is fulled with mails of stalking, fever, curses and hatred, and they are only a small part of the massive archive of the cult of Sam Wilson. Maybe that is what it takes be to a celebrity, Sam thinks, being a celebrity means exposing yourself to everyone, there is a chance that anyone could come for you, holding a comprehensive information of you and somehow your life truns to be a waiting for the ambush from maybe a friend or foe. He used to believe that he would leave the habit of distinguish people as friend and foe behind when he left the army, he knew he needed time to adopt a new regular life, he would take time to tame his battle life into a tamed daily life, that's why he joint the support group for veterans, as a group member first, sooner a group leader. Sam had expectations of it, he was hoping to build a loose but continuous connection between his two lives and land himself in the soft daily life without enemy in the end.The smooth landing he hoped for would not erase his old friends who had gone with his old foes away in a cold way, he was trying to make it a soft goodbye. Sam truly believe it a realistically ideal plan, he was planing to share this realistic idealism to more people like him. He failed, he thinks later, his vision of life was much simpler that what it is. Life was not going to say a soft hello in return, Sam soon realized the group was in fact the beginning of a new war. He had planned to meet with different people and experience, even complex adventures, the exciting potential was as another a great reason why he choose to keep contact with veterans, but he didn't see the whole vision, he didn't know how strange the man he would meet, nor did he predict the adventures coming along with him. He had no idea about the honor he would fight for, for he was clueless about bad things coming along with it as well.

He recalls that he had regarded the veteran group as a farewell to sacrifice, no more sacrifice he would see, what's waiting for would only be stories of sacrifice to be heard, they would not be alive but are only memories, living in the past and reliving only in the room crowded with lively narrators. That was what Sam expected for, he was prepared for heavy stories and sharing the burden of those who could take their stories alone no more. He would be obligatory to help if the owner wanted to share her or his story. Tell the untold, remember the forgotten, make nameless sacrifice heard and rest in a rectified name, he said this to himself. Now he sees the imprudence of his prediction, the future has given him stories as wish, telling him that his life would be totally changed by a stranger, who carries so many stories that he himself is like a fictional being in the end, every story he had dreamed for would come true because of the stranger, in a wilder way though, just like a fictional fantasy.

For this reason Sam feels he has a empathy for people who write him long letters, how couldn't he show up in someone's "normal life" when the living legend Captain America could ran into his house and asked for help when he was a normal nobody. Sam is immersing in those thoughts and writes his polite reply with a intention of keeping distance from Ithaca. On the one side, the last thing he wants to do is to arouse the interest of a potential stalker, on the other, he would blame himself if he intended to ignore someone with a honest and stubborn heart, even though he knows that the line between a insisting fan and insisting hater is always dim. Sam would like to believe maybe the sender really have some stories to tell, the name of Ithaca implies it, too. The name is another reason made him write his reply, he is home now, spending his time getting familiar with the small town he used to know very well. It occurs to him that the sender, if is telling the truth and did attend his group activities, could possibly be the young man who said wanted to be a poet in a theme activity of "getting a job". Sam remembers his talk, he said he was reading Homer then and recited some verses from the epic. He can't remember the verses by words, but he has a clear picture of the scene, it was some poetic sentences about the desire of going home and the failed of it. The young man said that everyone in the room would share the same feeling when they heard Ithaca calling Odysseus. A long silence fell down to the room after his speech, the young man sensed it too, he said "sorry" as a conclusion. There was no "it's OK" responded, perhaps people in the room had no clue of whether should she or he accept that apology, they may didn't know should they take it as something offensive but forgivable, people were just sad. Sam was short of words for a while, he hadn't read the book then, but the poem did hurt him down in a direct way. He thought at that time that maybe that was the gift of being a poet, look at the reckless young man, he could lift and drown people's hearts only by a verse.

Sam opens the browser to search what exactly the verses are, unfortunately, his vague memory leads him to nothing precisely relevant, which makes him want a reply mail from Ithaca more eagerly, he wants him to contact him back, as long as he is the young man in his memory. Sam opens his mailbox, writes and sends another mail to Ithaca, he thinks himself kind of reckless as soon as he clicked the button of "send", what if he is not him? What if the man on the other side has a dark plan? Would he use his letter as an inspiration of gossips and rumors? Things like that happen all the time. Sam is so tired of get misunderstood because of his own words being twisted, he always gets hurt of those made-up stories, he is tired of making explanations of his stories which are not belong to him at all, he is tired of feeling hurt. He sends it anyway.

Hi Ithaca,

I can't remember if it goes like

"they talk about the days of going home"

Sam

To Be Continued…

[catflowerqueen]

Okay, so I finished the post-game (or at least, the parts of it I actually care about i.e plot and talking to characters to see their reactions), and am ready to give my final thoughts on the experience.

It was very fun, over all, and I liked it a lot. I didn’t feel as much of a personal connection as I did with Explorers, but that didn’t really take anything away from the experience. The overall plot I think was…. simpler, in some ways? Less complex, at least, despite the heavy topics. And I think it was shorter over all? I didn’t do a dungeon count comparison, but it seemed like it was shorter. Well, the “fugitive arc” seemed longer, I suppose, but that’s probably because it was slightly more complex in what was actually happening. Like—there was a bit of lead up to in where you technically weren’t a fugitive, but the circumstances surrounding the whole thing made it seem like you were away from home longer as far as gameplay went.

…I mean, I think that the original fugitive arc from Rescue Team was probably longer in terms of dungeons visited during it and implications given via the narration, but unlike other games in the series I’m pretty sure that was the only period where you didn’t have access to the hub for a major stretch of time, whereas other games had more times where you would have to be solely focused on your deposit box/Kangskhan statues and picking up stuff in the dungeons. …And, okay, you could cheat a little in Gates with Companion Mode, but in a way that just added to the feeling of how long the hero was gone, since it takes pains to make it clear this is a side-story type deal—that this is what everyone was up to back home while the main plot was happening. Which could then either add to or shorten the duration of the gameplay, depending on how much time you spent there.

Overall characterization I think was better here, although I don’t think that the partner, specifically, went through as much character growth as in other games? Like… they very clearly pointed out in Explorers at different points how much the partner had grown and changed, and there were also points like that in PSMD, but in Gates it wasn’t entirely clear? Like, there were some points where the partner talked about what their life used to be like… but it isn’t as though you actually saw that in-game. While it was clear to see friendships growing over time, and the growth in terms of acceptance of the hero eventually having to leave was clear… their attitude as far as the hero was concerned kind of seemed more static from day one? Like—the closeness was evident, it’s just that it basically went from zero to a hundred upon first meeting them and then just stayed there. I think there was more growth from the player’s end of things in regards to the partner.

And the Rescue Team partner was just very, very bland in general. There was a little growth during the fugitive arc—sort of—but… honestly, they didn’t add that much beyond being a way to provide exposition. Especially with how much they didn’t matter come post-game.

And I still feel like there was something weird with how Paradise and Post Town were treated. At some points it felt like your Paradise supporters were the closest to you and should have mattered more… but at other times there was a lot of focus on the Post Town inhabitants, and Paradise didn’t come into the equation. Which was especially jarring in the ending, where I think it was only the Timburrs who came to the party—and aren’t really treated as Paradise inhabitants, for the most part, though they would occasionally show up there—and yet Gurdurr’s response to the hero’s return was to break down in tears and need the screen to fade to black for a bit (which was actually extremely sweet). I think that the “travelers” to Post Town actually had more characterization than the people who were really inhabitants—bar the shopkeepers, who, as always, had reactions and some of them actually had little subplots of their own—which was… strange, considering how important they all supposedly were when it came to fighting the Bittercold. (And, like, I don’t really get why they chose Scraggy to be the move tutor. Considering Azumarill was just pulled randomly out of nowhere, I don’t see why they couldn’t have done the same thing with him. Or, hey—just made Quagsire the move tutor and let Azumarill do both the request board and party editing. Or leave the party editing up to you doing it yourself right before entering a dungeon—as when you were taking the magnagate paths—or having you go around Paradise and talking to individual pokemon, similar to how you did it in Rescue Team. …Though that admittedly probably would have gotten very annoying very quickly).

It was very cool, however, that you actually had to work to get the hero back. That it wasn’t just given to you like in Rescue Team or Explorers, and that everyone made a genuine effort and tried to think about what was best for hero, too. … And also that it was something I actually cared about, whereas in PSMD I felt like it was… half desperation for their own circumstances, rather than necessarily because they genuinely missed the partner? I mean—yeah, that’s kind of harsh, because it was clear that they were genuinely good friends, but… well, as in the tone of my other complaints about how the player got screwed over in that game, the partner was really their only tie to their actual past, and even then it was a tenuous one. So… I just didn’t care as much, I guess. …Also probably the fact that it was a lot simpler/more linear process and took less time to get the hero back in Gates. So… yeah, you had to work for it, and the work was satisfying, but it was also a short enough process that you wouldn’t get bored or frustrated during the duration.

The choice of what to make a cutscene and what to just keep as narration during specific plot points was also a little odd at times—I would have enjoyed to actually get to see a bit of the welcome back party after the initial glacier exploration, for example, and maybe even seeing you help building your house. (On that note—it was a cool little detail to see grass starting to grow around your house as the game went on.)

I think the gameplay mechanics were overall an improvement in Gates—though I do miss the IQ abilities just because of how rare it was to actually find team skills. It seemed more luck-based than anything, which does provide a challenge and leads to replay ability since it would lead to a different experience each time, but…. I don’t know, I just liked the other method better. It was nice to actually be able to utilize my recruits and see their growth, as well as getting to actually play as them and utilize different strategies in Companion Mode… but that also highlighted just how bad the AI and certain choices they made as far as attacking/not getting separated from the group were in comparison to how I remember the other games going.

I think as far as total experience with gameplay, mechanics, and story goes that I still like Explorers more—because it does feel like more of a challenge, after all, and that each new accomplishment, shop, or special episode that gets unlocked was due to your general efforts and hard work. Like it is a genuine reward, rather than something that just got handed to you. And the progression was clearer to see and made more sense than in Rescue Team.

So I guess my new order for favorite games in the series is: Explorers, Gates, Rescue Team, PSMD.

…I think I hit all the highlights, but I’m sure that I’ll probably think of some other stuff later, too.

Oh, also—I still think that the Timburr who speaks more formally has a crush on the hero (I mean—they actually cried, just like their boss, when the hero returned, whereas the other one was just happy. Which—yeah, people react to joy in different ways, and tears—or lack thereof—aren’t necessarily “proof,” but… I still think I’m on to something). Actually, I think a lot of the travelers also have/could easily develop a crush on the hero. Like… some of them, like Trubbish and Mienfoo, I think are just good friends with them. But I really don’t think Dwebble would have gone to all that trouble or felt that bad about things if there wasn’t a little crush or something going on. And, sure, maybe that just goes along with his overall personality—like he gets embarrassed easily or is a little vain or something, but… he addressed those letters to the player, not anyone else. Not even the partner. And, like, no one really noticed they were gone aside from the player/partner until right before Crustle made an appearance? But they expected that the player most definitely would notice. So… yeah. And they also cried when the hero returned.

[dragonkeeper19600]

BATIM Lore from Dreams Come to Life

I ordered that Dreams Come to Life Bendy novel from Amazon. I’m a fast reader, and the book is clearly intended for a younger audience, so I was able to finished it in less than a day. I don’t see a lot of BATIM fans talking about this book, and it doesn’t come up all that often when people are formulating theories. This in spite of the fact that the book actually answers a lot of the mysteries surrounding the Ink Machine, the studio, the characters, etc. The novel is basically a prequel set in 1946 that tells the story of a recent hire to the studio and what he experiences there.

So, I’ve decided to make a quick compilation of what the book reveals about the game’s setting and characters. 

Obviously spoilers below:

Thomas Connor and Allison Pendle are strongly implied to be a couple. Thomas shows up to a party with Allison on his arm, and the two are very intimate with each other in general.

Wally is the only janitor working in the whole building.

There are several women working in the studio - more than the young male protagonist expected - and a few are even in higher management positions. The then current head of the art department is a woman named Abby Lambert. Dot, a female writing intern, explains that many women were hired in the studio during WWII while the men were overseas. When the war ended, rather than fire the women and give the men their jobs back, Joey kept the women on staff. Some of the male employees were so irritated by this they walked.

That said, there are a few moments where Joey expresses sexist ideals, saying that “women don’t really understand business” when Abby Lambert objects to wasting art supplies and showing favoritism to Buddy, the protagonist, because he “reminds him of himself” (in other words, he’s a young, white-passing man).

For a long time, Bendy was held behind a locked door in the music department. It’s Buddy who lets him out. Buddy’s narration describes hearing an insistent whining sound, like that a dog that wants to get out would make, before he opens the door.

Susie is no longer working at the studio by 1946. Allison and Norman make a few comments about “poor Susie” but don’t elaborate on what happened to her.

Henry created Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel. However, Alice Angel didn’t make her debut until after Henry left.

Joey is still really sore over Henry walking. He rants to Buddy about how “betrayal” is the biggest enemy to personal success. He also calls Buddy “Henry” as he’s saying this.

Linda is Henry’s wife. Henry quit because the long hours at the studio were too demanding for the relationship. (Henry’s reasoning was hinted at by Joey’s speech at the end of Chapter 5 of the game.)

Joey’s main MO is to hire talented people and then take credit for their accomplishments. He lets people think he created Bendy, obtained the patent from the Ink Machine from Thomas Connor, and got violently angry when Thomas tried to get it back.

Norman mentions that the studio did well for a while after Henry left, but Joey has been putting a strain on finances with frivolous spending on the Bendyland Park, the Ink Machine, throwing huge parties, etc.

Bendy’s heyday has already passed by the time Buddy starts working at the studio. Buddy vaguely recognizes Bendy’s image when he first arrives but can’t quite place him. Buddy partially blames this on his family’s economic status making them unable to afford movie tickets, but Joey seems deeply hurt that Buddy doesn’t know who Bendy is.

I’m gonna tell you how Buddy meets Sammy because it’s one of my favorite scenes. The book tries to play it for horror, but I couldn’t help laughing because it’s just Classic Sammy ™:

So, Buddy was hired by Joey kind of on impulse as a gofer. On his first day, he’s asked to deliver something to the music department. He gets lost and ends up in the recording studio. There’s nobody there except a single, creepy violinist.

All of a sudden, Sammy comes tearing into the room covered head-to-toe in ink. It is everywhere. He’s so slathered in it that Buddy can’t tell that he’s looking at a person at first. He responds to Buddy’s offer for help with “My eyes!” Because the ink is in his eyes.

It’s shortly revealed that one of the ink-filled pipes was running through the closet where they keep sheet music. Sammy apparently went to the closet and got drenched when the pipe burst on him. Sammy also pulls a shard of glass out of his own head, which leads me to think that maybe he banged his head into the pipe hard enough to shatter it.

The book also goes into some detail about what Sammy’s corruption process was like. Buddy mentions in his narration seeing black stains on Sammy’s gums after the burst pipe. It turns out Sammy accidentally swallowed some of the ink. In a very disturbing monologue toward the end of the book, Sammy mentions how he could “feel [the ink drops] moving around inside me.” The ink in his system triggered a craving for it, so he proceeds to slam down bottles of ink like cans of Fanta. I’m totally serious. Buddy actually catches him drinking a bottle while at his music stand. He fucking empties all the bottles in the closet and then begins pestering Thomas and Abby for some of theirs. 

We don’t actually see him transform since he goes missing for several days. It turns out he’s been hiding in the studio all that time. When we run into him again in the climax, he looks like he does in-game. 

The Ink Machine changes ordinary, store-bought ink into what Buddy calls “Bad Ink” that has a number of supernatural properties. Among these:

Pictures drawn with it will move across the page. I don’t mean like a Harry Potter-style moving image, I mean the drawings themselves will slide off the page as though being dragged by a mouse in Photoshop.

The ink will actively seek out people and attempt to flow into their orifices.

As we see with Sammy, getting some into your body will trigger a craving for more.

Sammy is convinced that the ink moves according to Bendy’s will. He believes that the ink sought him out and helped forge some kind of psychic bond with Bendy. However, as we see in the game, Sammy isn’t as good at predicting what Bendy wants as he seems to think.

Joey seems to believe that being submerged in ink long enough will cause a person to lose their soul. Joey only wants “good, real” souls (his own words) to reanimate through the Machine.

Henry isn’t the first person Sammy has tried to sacrifice to Bendy. Sammy grabs a few other employees, ties them up, and coats them in ink, apparently in order connect them to Bendy. Among the kidnapped employees: Norman Polk. 

In addition to its constant production of Bad Ink, the Ink Machine can also reanimate the souls of the recently dead into living toons. 

At the end of the novel, Buddy drowns in the ink, but Joey apparently got to him in time to resurrect him into Boris. It’s heavily implied that Buddy is the Boris Henry befriends at the end of Chapter 2 of the game.

Buddy implies on several occasions that he is now sharing a mind with Boris. When he first wakes up after being reanimated (tee-hee!), he is alarmed at first to find himself existing in three dimensions instead of two. Buddy has a hard time telling if certain basic needs, such as hunger, are coming from him or Boris and mentions that Boris “starts to whine” when Buddy “asks himself too much,” adding: “We don’t like it.”

Buddy’s senses are now enhanced to those of a wolf. He can smell better, hear better, and has better night vision. However, he is also incapable of speech. He can understand himself just fine, but all the human characters can hear is a series of growls and barking noises. 

Buddy is apparently losing his mind to Boris’s. Boris’s mind isn’t in an antagonistic relationship with Buddy’s; he just seems along for the ride. Even so, Buddy finds that his memories are fading and his emotional needs are growing simpler. The book is framed as a memoir he’s writing while living in the studio, and there are a few occasions when he forgets what the book he’s writing is and has to remind himself. This is consist with Sammy’s dementia-like behavior during the Hot Topic Q&A, where he showed signs of memory loss and struggled to stay on-topic, sometimes forgetting what he was talking about mid-sentence.

Finally, appearances:

Allison Pendle is platinum blonde and as gorgeous as a movie star. Buddy can’t understand why she’s into voice work instead of being on camera.

Sammy is described as being bony and angular (like a bird). He also wore those same suspenders before his corruption.

Bertrum Piedmont is described as big and burly.

Norman has bushy eyebrows.

Buddy never really describes Thomas Connor, only mentions that he usually looks elegantly dressed. It is, however, implied that Thomas is POC in the following exchange:

Sammy: “Tom, come on, why would I want your ink?”

Tom: “It’s Mr. Connor.”

Sammy: “Why can’t I call you Tom?”

Tom: “Because we’re not friends. And you will give me the respect I deserve.”

[long pause]

Tom: “What’s wrong, Mr. Lawrence? Not used to giving someone like me respect?”

Sammy: “What’s that mean, ‘someone like you’?”

Tom: “You know what it means.”

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #692 (October 1993)

In this issue: Superman goes to the doctor and finds out why he's not dead anymore! But, before that, he's clearing some of the debris left by his fight with Doomsday when he finds... Clark Kent? Lois Lane is very happy to see Clark again, but Superman himself doesn't look very thrilled in these panels.

Turns out Clark wasn't dead as everyone believed, he was simply trapped in the basement of a collapsed building! The basement happened to equipped with plenty of food and gym equipment (explaining why he's still jacked, like Superman), but unfortunately not a single pair of scissors (explaining why his hair is now long, like Superman's).

Later, Superman bumps into Lex Luthor Jr., who demands to know where Supergirl is, but Superman gives him the runaround. Hmm, where could Superman's good friend who can change shape and pretend to be other people be? Anyway, Superman then meets Lois and Clark and... holy crap! Mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent is secretly Supergirl!

So yeah, Supergirl pretended to be Clark for a while just so he and Superman would be seen together and no one would question why both are suddenly alive again. Then Supergirl leaves and we move on to the second dilemma solved in this issue: How the hell is Superman alive again? To address that question, supernatural DC character (and fellow Jerry Siegel/Joe Shuster creation) Doctor Occult appears out of nowhere and rudely teleports Lois and Clark to a black void, where he replays moments from Superman's life... and death.

Occult explains that Doomsday DID punch Superman's spirit out of his body, but there was still solar energy keeping the body just barely alive. Superman's ghost ended up stuck between the living and the dead, attracting some nasty soul-eating demons. Fortunately, Pa Kent happened to be dying of a heart attack at the same time, so he and Superman teamed up to fight off the demons (as seen in Adventures #500). Superman’s soul returned to his near-corpse, which was taken to the Fortress of Solitude by the Eradicator and lovingly nursed back into health. (Okay, more like “coldly,” but you can’t argue with the results.)

Anyway, the point is that Superman's resurrection happened due to a convoluted series of events that could never be repeated, unless someone's willing to sneak behind Pa Kent and blow an airhorn in his ear or something. As the mystical exposition dump ends, Occult teleports Lois and Clark to Smallville, and the issue ends with the Kents finally reuniting. A tender moment...

...until two seconds later, when Ma smacks Clark in the back of the head for taking two whole issues to come see them (or that’s what I’d do).

Plotline-Watch:

Doctor Occult reveals that the moment when Bibbo shocked Superman’s body with a hyper-charged defibrillator in Adventures #498 actually helped keep him alive. Once again, Bibbo is the real hero of this saga.

Supergirl has a lot of experience posing as Clark, since she was stuck in that form between 1989 and 1992. That was also her in the only other photo of Superman and Clark together, taken in Superman #34.

While Superman is being interviewed by a news crew after rescuing "Clark", that lawyer from Action #689 barges in and demands that they stop calling Superman Superman, since that name is now trademarked by Superboy's manager. Damn, maybe he's gonna have to start calling himself "Supreme" or something?

Aww, Lex is happy to see Superman again. Sure, it's only because he wants to be the one to kill him, but still.

S.T.A.R. Labs is examining the Eradicator's corpse when they realize he's alive! Sort of. Later, Doctor Occult remarks that the Eradicator sacrificed himself "in mind, if not in body". Hmm. The doctors overseeing his condition are Kitty Faulkner, who can turn into an orange She-Hulk called Rampage after a workplace mishap, and a new character called David Connors, the only S.T.A.R. employee without superpowers. So far.

The JLA returns from the little space vacation the Cyborg sent them on, and we get the first instance in all of comics of Guy Gardner admitting he was wrong. Character growth! Don Sparrow says: “Nice to see some follow-up to the characters around the DCU and how they react to Superman’s return. No mention of the fact that they got suckered into a mission into space that went nowhere.”

When Doctor Occult shows up, Superman is like "aw, not this guy again!", referencing that classic tale of Superman's first encounter with the supernatural... which hasn't come out yet. Don: “It’s a neat forward call-back (is that a thing?) when Superman references his first encounter with Doctor Occult, given that we won’t see it happen until 1995, when DC does a line-wide ‘Year One’ series of stories. And wouldn’t you know it, that story is written by none other than Roger Stern (and even involves tentacles, as in the thumbnail image)!” #rogersternplaysthelonggame

Don Sparrow's section, on the other hand, can be read NOW, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We open with the cover, and it’s one of the top ten best of this era, for sure.  Drawn by Kerry Gammill and Butch Guice, DC used this drawing on the “Return of Superman” cards.  I tend to favour simpler, iconic covers, even when they don’t necessarily represent the story within, but in this case, it’s showing exactly what the heart of the story is about: Clark Kent is back. 

Inside, we open with a full page splash of Superman’s shield, through tons of rubble, and it’s a great image, but without the face, it allows us to focus on the title of the story, a callback to the speech introduction of the old Fleischer Cartoons.

I don’t know if it’s from the writing, or the artist, but Action Comics has always seemed the most romantic of the Super-titles, and this one is no exception, as Clark and Lois have their hands all over each other for basically the whole comic. While it is a bit weird to remember that it isn’t Clark that Lois is caressing (more on that in a bit) in the early part of the story, it always feels intimate and romantic more than it feels graphic or titillating.  A tricky balance that this team pulls off well, particularly in their “reunion” on page 3. [Max: Every time I read this issue I think it’s Martian Manhunter posing as Clark and when they start flirting I’m like “ew”. Then I remember who it is and I’m like “nice”.]

I always enjoy seeing Superman flying upside-down, which I consider to be a Byrne innovation—I don’t remember him doing it pre-Crisis. It always seems so joyful and carefree, and it’s nice to see Superman savouring his powers. 

Jackson Guice uses tone very well in the scenes with Lex Luthor II in his aviators, and I quite like the sense of motion to Superman’s pose as he approaches the helicopter—almost like he’s swimming in the sky rather than floating.

It’s a good drawing of the Eradicator getting the post-Hoth Luke Skywalker treatment, with David Connor and Kitty Faulkner getting an eyeful.  My copy has a slight colouring error that makes it look like the Eradicator is awake in the tank, even though he’s supposed to be catatonic. [Max: Still looks like that in the collections. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleep with their eyes open?]

Superman embracing Lois after the ruse of “Clark Kent” is very cutely drawn, as is the Ghost-like backward embrace on the following page.  

The entire sequence replaying Superman’s death and rebirth is drawn well throughout, especially the dreamlike staging, and the darkness as Lois knocks the flashlight away.  It’s also moving that Superman can see the heroic lengths that Bibbo went to try to save him once Superman succumbed to his injuries.  

Lastly, it was wonderful to see Clark reunited physically with Ma and Pa, especially with the nice touch of the poem by DH Lawrence as the only narration.  Stern was always the best at referencing secondary texts in his stories, and it’s well used here.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Is it me, or is Matrix/Supergirl a little too into this Clark Kent act?  I get that making their performances light and funny keep it from seemingly overtly dishonest, but “Clark” is pretty tender in these scenes. Lois does a good job of playing along, but it’s hard for me to fully forget that all this canoodling is actually with Supergirl.  So as a helpful tool, I created these graphics: [Max: Nice.]

It was cool that Lois specifically mentioned that Jimmy got a shot of the returned Clark Kent next to Superman, I always like it when that can happen.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how creepy it is that Luthor has a sexual relationship with Supergirl/Matrix, when she is in so many ways (mainly mentally) a child, and I can’t help but read the scene where Lois chooses Superman over “Clark” this way.  The laughing and clapping has a whole different feel if you think of her as mentally diminished somewhat.  

So it’s not exactly a continuity error that Clark says on page 13 that he has to call Ma and Pa to let them know that “Clark” is alright (even though he already called them in a previous issue).  It could be that they want to tell the Kents the cover story of Clark’s return has now taken place, and they can act like their son is alive again when they go to the corner store, etc. [Max: Yeah, that’s how I took it. It would be awkward if their neighbors saw them all cheerful while their son is still “dead”.]

 I like to imagine that Dr. Occult looks and sounds like Robert Stack. [Max: It’s impossible for me to hear him as anyone other than Humphrey Bogart after Lois calls him “Sam Spade”.]

We’ve mentioned previously Jackson Guice’s tendency to use photo reference for his characters.  In this issue, Superman looks a lot like Jason Patric to me, who would have made a pretty great Superman had there been movies being made in this time.

I also appreciated this issue explaining both the physical and metaphysical reasons Superman was able to return—and that there’s no back door to the story—if Superman ever died again, he would be unable to return.  

[aion-rsa]

“God God – Whose Hand Was I Holding?”: the Scariest Sentences Ever Written, Selected by Top Horror Authors

https://ift.tt/3kHWU1Y

Many people have a very intimate relationship with books. And horror books can get under your skin like no other medium, whether you’re peering at a scary novel under the covers as a youngster or devouring new or classic horror as a grown up. Good horror writing sticks with you. 

For Halloween we’ve attempted to round up some of the scariest sentences ever written – and who better to ask for their recommendations than some of the finest horror writers and editors around? We asked some of our favourite experts to tell us the line that scared them most and why. Any suggestions of your own? Let us know in the comments.

To Serve Man by Damon Knight

Scariest sentence: “It’s a cookbook,” he said.

Is there a better whammy of an end line than this? Ten to one you’ll know the story that precedes it: Seemingly benevolent aliens, the Kanamit, arrive on earth, promising peace and prosperity. The aliens are as good as their word, and start whisking “lucky” humans off to their planet for a “ten year exchange programme”. A U.N translator, who (rightly) thinks this is all too good to be true, sets about translating the aliens’ favourite book, which, from its title, “To Serve Man,” is assumed to be an innocent handbook. It ain’t (see the last line). The story and its funny/bleak ending has haunted me since I first read it as a ten-year-old, way too young to consider that it could be read as an allegory about the horrors of colonialism. Back then all I could think about were the people the Kanamit had lured aboard their ships, unaware that they were destined for the table (or the Kanamit version of Masterchef). It still gives me chills. – Sarah Lotz author of Missing Person out now from Hodder. 

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison

Scariest sentence: “I have no mouth. And I must scream.”

If I tell you the name of this Harlan Ellison story, it’ll give away the last line… “I have no mouth. And I must scream.” I remember when I first read that ending, only to find myself caught in a loop where those two sentences kept echoing through my head. Reading it again right now, it’s still hard not to pinch my lips as tightly together as possible and try giving the ol’ lungs a good bellow. Still sends shivers down my spine. – Clay McLeod Chapman, author of The Remaking, out now from Quirk Books

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Movies

How Hulu’s Books of Blood Movie Taps The Mind of Clive Barker

By Don Kaye

Cabal by Clive Barker

Scariest Sentence: “She knew what men afraid, and afraid of their fear, were capable of.“

According to some criminologists, the root cause of many violent acts isn’t anger but fear. Fear of rejection, of failure, of abandonment, of loss. In this early novel by Barker, the link between fear and violence is only subtly hinted at–which makes it all the more frightening. He alludes to the heroine’s personal history with violent men, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks. – Andrew Schaffer, author of Secret Santa, out 10 November from Quirk Books 

The Sibling by Adam Hall

Scariest sentence: “He’s put the clown in her room,” Lorraine said quietly.

As a species, our goal is to keep clowns out of our bedrooms and living spaces and yet here’s some monster deliberately inserting a clown into someone’s room, ignoring the fact that since at least the dawn of time clowns have been mankind’s natural predator. The resigned tone of that “quietly” really drives home the horror because clearly this is not the first time. – Grady Hendrix.

Squelch, John Halkn

Scariest sentence: “It still doesn’t make sense to me. Moths attack sweaters and fly around light bulbs. They don’t devour humans.”

It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but if moths have stopped attacking our clothing and started attacking our bodies then count me out. I’m done. – Grady Hendrix.

Night of the Crabs by Guy N. Smith

Scariest sentence:“What a beautiful night,” Pat remarked, as they passed alongside the barbed-wire fence which enclosed War Department property. “If only we didn’t have to worry about giant crabs.”

Sometimes you just wish you lived in a simpler world. – Grady Hendrix.

The Farm by Richard Haigh

Scariest sentence: “The pigs,” then her control snapped. “Look, they’re coming out,” she shrieked. “Oh, sweet Christ. The pigs!!”

Every time I leave the safety of New York City I fully expect this to be the last sentence I hear as I am devoured by angry livestock. – Grady Hendrix, author of The Final Girl Support Group out July 2021 from Titan Books

The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum

Scariest sentence: “I’m not going to tell you about this. I refuse to.”

That’s half of chapter 42 from Jack Ketchum’s The Girl Next Door. And The Girl Next Door is a novel that, just as Joe R. Lansdale says at the head of his story “The Night They Missed the Horror Show,” doesn’t flinch. So, if the narrator is looking back to having seen something that even he can’t put on the page, then . . . how bad must it be, right? I’ve talked to other readers of this novel and they’ve told me about chapter 42 as if the narrator actually fleshes it all out for us, and they (myself as well) all flinch as if traumatized from having had to read those words. Except they never did read the words of what actually happened. But that’s Jack Ketchum, for you. He doesn’t need to actually say it on the page to get it into our head. Worse, this is a chapter that never leaves you, either. Worse than that, you kind of become complicit just for reading it. – Stephen Graham Jones author of The Only Good Indians, out now.

In the Hills, the Cities by Clive Barker

Scariest sentence: “In Popolac a kind of peace reigned. Instead of a frenzy of panic there was a numbness, a sheep-like acceptance of the world as it was. Locked in their positions, strapped, roped and harnessed to each other in a living system that allowed for no single voice to be louder than any other, nor any back to labour less than its neighbour’s, they let an insane consensus replace the tranquil voice of reason.” 

As a much younger person, reading this story for the first time, I was overtaken by awe at the imagery; not unlike Mick who chooses to hitch a ride on the impossible doomed giant made of city denizens. Re-reading it now decades later, the story and these lines fill me with bone-deep dread. Like the referee/car thief and Mick’s lover Judd, I cannot bear to view the inevitable fall. – Paul Tremblay, author of Survivor Song, out now from Titan Books. 

Home Burial by Robert Frost

Scariest sentences: ”Don’t – don’t go.  Don’t carry it to someone else this time. Tell me about it if it’s something human.”

The line here that I consider scary is ‘Tell me about it if it’s something human.’ Because of the implication that people may carry within them things that are not human. In this case, I imagine the ‘it’ that may not be human to be something so deeply felt and instinctive that it is pre-language – and so pre-human, almost. Something primordial that requires translation or mediation – and perhaps in that, change or diminishment – in order to be sensible to another sentient being. It is the suggestion that maybe our most fundamental aspects or thoughts – our most important feelings – cannot be properly communicated that is terrifying, to me. It makes me think of each person as a dark pool, with their lived experience and true feelings becoming manifest at the bottom, and the communication of these things to others being only what is visible through the surface of the water, from above.

As much as I do believe that all communication is imperfect, and that it is difficult for people to know each other truly, I take comfort from two things – one is love, which is, I think, a kind of deep, fundamental knowing and acceptance of each other. The other is fiction, which (in my opinion) is often an attempt at translating ideas and feelings that, coming from our deepest places, we don’t otherwise have the language for. – Tom Fletcher, author The Witch Bottle, out 12 November from Jo Fletcher Books.

The Talisman by Stephen King and Peter Straub

Scariest sentence: “You’re the herd now, Jacky.” 

I read King & Straub’s The Talisman when I was 15, at a time in my life when I’d said goodbye to one bunch of friends and hello to another, and the friendship between Jack Sawyer and his werewolf friend Wolf resonated strongly with me. In Wolf’s culture werewolves are farmers and fiercely protective of their herds who they protect by locking themselves away every month. The problem is that Jack and Wolf are on the run and Wolf’s change is coming upon him, and there’s nowhere to shut Wolf away. So when Wolf turns to Jack with blazing eyes and says this, it’s simultaneously a promise of protection (‘I will die for you’) but also a warning (‘I will tear you to pieces’). The chill with which Jack realises that his best friend loves him but will probably kill him anyway has stayed with me ever since. – James Brogden, author of Bone Harvest, out now from Titan Books

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Movies

I Am Legend: Why Can’t Matheson’s Masterpiece be Done Justice on Film?

By Dan Hajducky

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

Scariest sentence: “The watch had stopped”

I think a lot of us can relate to the feeling of getting caught up in our work and letting the hours pass us by without much thought. In the case of Robert Neville, the central figure in Richard Matheson’s seminal I Am Legend, getting lost in the hours is the most horrific thing he could possibly do. The simple four-word-sentence that has scared me more than any other in all my days of reading is “The watch had stopped.” If you’ve read the story, I’m sure you remember how those words burned into you. – Rachel Autumn Deering, editor of Hex Life, out in paperback from Titan Books on November 10 2020

One for the Road by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “And I think she’s still waiting for her good-night kiss.”

I’m not easily scared, but occasionally I get a real chill up my spine. Shirley Jackson did that with the last line of The Haunting of Hill House. But if we’re talking about one line that lingers, that still makes me remember the way it felt the very first time I read it, I have to go with the last line in Stephen King’s short story “One for the Road,” from his collection Night Shift. It’s a vampire story, a sequel to ’Salem’s Lot, about a family whose car is trapped in a blizzard on the outskirts of a town plagued by vampires. That last line is “And I think she’s still waiting for her good-night kiss.” There, I just felt it again. That shiver. All these years later, it still works on me. – Christopher Golden, editor of Hex Life, out in paperback from Titan Books on November 10 2020

The New Mother by Lucy Clifford

Scariest sentence: “Now and then, when the darkness has fallen and the night is still, hand in hand Blue-Eyes and the Turkey creep up near to the home in which they once were so happy, and with beating hearts they watch and listen; sometimes a blinding flash comes through the window, and they know it is the light from the new mother’s glass eyes, or they hear a strange muffled noise, and they know it is the sound of her wooden tail as she drags it along the floor.”

The scariest sentence ever is from The New Mother by Lucy Clifford. The strange tone of the writing, the situation in the story and the fact that the new mother is not in any way human… – David Quantick, author of Night Train, out now from Titan Books 

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson 

Scariest sentence: “God God! Whose hand was I holding?” 

This scene perfectly conjures the feeling of being afraid in the night. Distance, time, sound – all the natural laws of the daylight world grow slippery and loosen. It’s a unique sensation – no other fear has the visceral, unhinged quality of cold terror in the dark. Shirley Jackson puts all of this on the page – she takes Eleanor and the reader into that same heightened, accelerated state, she makes our hearts race, she makes us feel alone, disoriented, lost in the night with only a friend’s hand to cling to. And then she saves us – the lights come on, our heart rate slows, and the rational world seems to settle into its proper channel again. And at last Eleanor sees: the friend whose comforting hand she held in the dark has been on the other side of the room all along. – Catriona Ward is the author of The Last House on Needless Street out 18th March 2021 from Viper Books 

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TV

The Haunting Of Hill House: How the Extraordinary Episode 6 was Made

By Louisa Mellor

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “God god – whose hand was I holding?”

It’s from a scene about two-thirds of the way through the novel. Eleanor and Theodora go to sleep in their adjacent beds in one of the many bedrooms in Hill House. They sleep with the lights on because of previous frightening incidents. But Eleanor wakes in the night to find the room plunged in darkness, and hears an eerie voice muttering from the next room. The darkness and the frightening sounds go on endlessly, and Eleanor is filled with a mounting sense of dread. She reaches out blindly for Theodora’s hand and holds on tight.

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But when the lights finally come back on, Theodora is several feet away, sitting up in her own bed, too far away for Eleanor to have touched her. So the hand she was holding belonged to someone or something else. It’s a brilliantly oblique bit of horror – the realisation that the monster was right alongside you, inside your guard – and every adaptation of the novel references it in some form or other. But I don’t think you can beat Jackson’s chilling, deadpan prose. – Mike Carey author of The Trials of Koli, out now from Orbit Books

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Books

Who Was The Haunting of Hill House Author Shirley Jackson?

By Don Kaye

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson 

Scariest sentence: “No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.” 

I’ll be surprised if no one else has picked these sentences, although maybe not, because I’m blatantly cheating for choosing the entire first paragraph of The Haunting of Hill House. It is a classic of looming dread, and it’s probably generated more commentary and criticism than any other first paragraph in a horror novel. I love it. – Ellen Datlow, editor of the Best Horror of the Year annual series.

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

Scariest sentence: “It was so dark it was like nothing was there in the room but us. Only the nothing was actually something because it filled my eyes and lungs and it sat on my shoulders.”

Paul Tremblay perfectly captures our universal fear of the dark in these two lines from A Head Full of Ghosts. That made the flesh on my skull crawl when I read it. The wording is simple but so effective: in one, two, three increasingly creepy instances Paul transforms what’s simply darkness into the tangible, the intimately dangerous… as darkness tends to do. – Thomas Olde Heuvalt, author Hex and Echo, forthcoming from Nightfire in 2021

Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs

Scariest sentence: The Black Meat is like a tainted cheese, overpoweringly delicious and nauseating so that the eaters eat and vomit and eat again until they fall exhausted.

I read Naked Lunch in high school and it was a mind-destroyer. Thankfully, it is also a mind rebuilder. You can turn to any page and find sentences that bewildered, disoriented, horrified, and excited me. So that’s exactly what I just did: I opened the book randomly to page 55 and found one. Disgusting, delightful decadence! – Daniel Kraus, coauthor with George A. Romero of The Living Dead, out now from Tor Books.

The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe

Scariest sentence: “And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.“

It’s ‘illimitable’ that does it for me, though the capitalisations and the against-the-advice-of-grammarians superfluous first and second usages of ‘and’ add quite a bit.  That first ‘And’ – the one your teacher told you not to start a sentence with – is a pointed touch and does a lot of work, indicating that all the bad stuff in the rest of the sentence is a consequence of what’s gone before in the story … which, this season, seems like the most pointed tale of mystery and imagination ever written. – Kim Newman author Anno Dracula 1999 Daikaiju out now from Titan Books.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “In the unending, crashing second before the car hurled into the tree she thought clearly, Why am I doing this?  Why am I doing this?  Why don’t they stop me?” 

Discussions of the prose of Shirley Jackson’s monumental The Haunting of Hill House tend to focus on its famous opening paragraph.  Certainly the beginnings of both the novel’s first and second chapters offer a wealth of riches for scholarly consideration, rhetorical analysis.  Yet it’s this long sentence from the novel’s second-to-last paragraph that comes to mind if I’m asked to name the most frightening line in the book.  Indeed, it seems to me one of the most frightening sentences of any novel or story I’ve read.  Obviously, there are lines whose immediate impact is greater, which have a more substantial visceral effect (Clive Barker’s fiction is rife with these).  But I’m not sure any echo in quite the same way.  At this moment in Jackson’s narrative, Eleanor Vance is being made to leave Hill House, the dwelling with whose structure her personality has become entangled and confused.  Seemingly unwilling to be separated from the place, she steers her car straight toward an enormous tree at a curve in the driveway and steps on the gas.  “I am really doing it,” she thinks, “I am doing this all by myself, now, at last.”  This would be an awful enough end for Jackson’s protagonist, but with the sentence that follows and finishes the paragraph, she gives the screw a final, diabolical turn.  Eleanor experiences a moment of clarity, which tells us that her thoughts of just a line before were not clear.  She is not accelerating toward the tree of her own volition—or, not only of her own volition.  Something else is at play here, some other factor.  Is it the “whatever” Jackson has described walking in Hill House, the unspecified, (possibly) supernatural force (which might be any one of a number of ghosts, or an aggregate of those ghosts, or the house itself, brought to occult life by the peculiarities of its design)?  Or is it some submerged part of Eleanor—guilt at her role in her mother’s death, or anger at her expulsion from the group brought to Hill House to study it?  She doesn’t know, and she is trapped in her unknowing, as the final instant of her life stretches on and on, “unending.”  Her ultimate motivation obscure to her, all she can do is wonder why no one is stopping her.  With hideous irony, the power, the control Eleanor was celebrating a moment prior turns on her, her freedom becoming the freedom of death.  The line passes as quickly as the crash it describes, and in its speed, it’s easy to miss everything going on it.  To say it’s another example of Jackson’s skill as a writer feels somehow inadequate, as it doesn’t get at the way the sentence braids claustrophobia, terror, and confusion.  It’s the kind of writing that haunts you in quiet moments, long after flashier, louder lines have faded into silence.  It’s the kind of writing that reminds you of the horror story’s particular power, its reach and its resonance. – John Langan, author of The Fisherman, out now.

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “Sometimes dead is better.”

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Nobody says this line better than that guy in the first Pet Sematary movie who used to play Herman Munster. Although John Lithgow did his best. King struck on an age-old wisdom when he showed us the folly of trying to bring people back once they’re gone. Just as WW. Jacobs did in The Monkey’s Paw and Shelley demonstrated (albeit piecemeal) in Frankenstein. You’ve got to be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, dead really is better, and far less likely to come back and stab you to death with a scalpel. C.S. O’Cinneide is the author of Petra’s Ghost, out now from Titan Books.

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “Darling,” it said

This line has to be read in the context of an entire, brilliant novel that went before. It’s really not something I want to give away, because of spoilers, but if you’ve read this one, even hearing the final line again should send a shiver through you. The writer was at the top of his game – and that’s saying something – and it remains his most terrifying novel.  Here’s the line: “Darling,” it said. – Tim Lebbon, author of Eden, out now from Titan Books 

The post “God God – Whose Hand Was I Holding?”: the Scariest Sentences Ever Written, Selected by Top Horror Authors appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[rigelmejo]

Ok so I’m still reading this fanfic, still on chapter 3. In my defense I am reading DAILY and this fic is well written and also complex ah.

I do think me pushing through the first few chapters helped immensely though. Authors do have a “style/particular word choice preference” and I think I’m through the bulk of it. Now I can pick up a lot more of this author’s usual adjective choices and ways of describing. Like which words are used to express things like sigh, look, gently, weakly, expressionlessly, warm, cold etc. As for the nouns - I think that is a hurdle whenever there’s new exposition, but once that introduction is over the same nouns are repeated again and again because they’re plot relevant. (In this case, the home Zhang Qiling owns and it’s furniture and layout objects, the silk clothing shop and embroidery/tailoring items he interacts with regularly, photography related words, ghost/blood related words). Now that those parts of the world have been established, the narration just keeps repeating those same words in new contexts as the plot progresses. So it’s gotten easier - I’m now recognizing a lot of those words without looking them up. I imagine I’ll keep getting repetition on these words as I read, which is helping me learn them. And there shouldn’t be another huge hurdle until the plot switches to a new ‘arc’ with new main nouns (idk maybe a bank? An isolated river bank? Who knows what will be next).

I do think I’m learning some words, I do think the repetition is helping me learn some words. Thankfully, I am also picking up a bit of new Hanzi recognition too - this part is slower going, but for the very frequent words (and words with very intuitive radicals like 飘 and 瞟) I am starting to easily recognize them.

I do think this read through is benefiting me. This novel is so “hard” to me, so it takes like 40 minutes a chapter. But I have no doubt my reading speed will be way up once I go back to easier material, and my dictionary lookups will be less frequent. Easier stuff being: less intense plot fanfics, stories I’m familiar with (Silent Reading and Guardian might well be easier after this), dmbj might well become easier (dmbj is WAY LESS descriptive than this fic), slice of life novels will Definitely be easier.

So, like usual: I do something too hard for me, and it makes the things actually-my-level suddenly much easier. My current reading method for this novel: reading through and thinking the pronunciation, clicking any new words I need to understand (I’ve just been looking up all new words cause I’m not I’m a rush), and clicking any new words I don’t know the pronunciation of to listen to it. So basically, intensive reading. I normally prefer to do extensive reading and only look up as necessary to follow the main gist, but I am using this fic to drag my vocabulary up more - so more lookups. Also, this fic is really good, I don’t want to skip any details. I noticed with this fic: I’m very good in general with reading dialogue without dictionary help, compared to other parts of a novel.

—-

Other activity I’m doing for study/etc: Listening-Reading Method with Silent Reading by Priest.

Goal is to drag up my listening comprehension, and hopefully learn some new words/phrases by listening. Ideally this method eventually gives you some “natural learning” base ability so that you can hear simpler audio and fully comprehend it afterward (or mostly, to the point you can then pick up new words from context when listening to easier content). And so that you can have better ability to comprehend listening when watching shows/talking etc. I very much want to drag my listening comprehension at least up to my reading level. And I’d LOVE if I picked up new words too - since i am fairly good at recognizing Hanzi in reading, if I had more audio base of words I think I could pick up overall words in reading a bit easier (as in remember their pronunciation faster).

For this, I have been doing Step 1 - reading a chapter in English for context. Then step 3 - listening to chinese audiobook and skimming the English to attach meaning to what I hear and follow along. It’s been working very well.

I skipped step 2 since I already have listened to the audiobook with the chinese text for some chapters before, and I listen pretty decently already. I might do step 2 AFTER I’m done with the book in step 3, in order to attach Hanzi spelling to the audio words I’m picking up in this Step 3 read through. In that way, I can use Step 2 to improve my reading comprehension a little (to try and match both reading and listening levels a bit more).

Step 3 has been very easy. But it is critical that: I read each chapter in English first (otherwise, I try to read the English instead of skimming for meaning when I do step 3). And also that the audio matches the translation content wise! As in the paragraphs roughly are the same! This makes all the difference in if step 3 can even benefit you!!! On if step 3 is even possible as a study method!!! For Silent Reading, a few lines of dialogue are switched or ordered differently, but all of the paragraphs are still there in some form, and all the descriptive paragraphs mostly have the same exact sentence order. (And dialogue being varied is less of an issue for me - unknown words still seem to match the English so I can attach some meaning to them, and I can already understand dialogue pretty well when listening without any text so these changes don’t make me lost). Also, the person reading aloud tends to pause a little after each paragraph, giving me time to realize we’ve moved on (if I somehow did get lost mid paragraph), and giving me a chance to figure out if a paragraph was skipped in the audio (it almost never is, but if so, this pause gives me time to skim and figure out where I am in the text again). The audio being so compatible with the text means step 3 is very easy. I do NOT have to waste some of my concentration to struggle to match audio to text, I can use all of my focus on listening to the audio and glancing for the definition of unknown words. Which is the main goal of Step 3. (I tried L-R Method with a novel with highly mismatched audio, and it was so bad I couldn’t even do a chapter all the way through, and most of my focus was just keeping my place in the text - not even focusing on the audio’s meaning). For Silent Reading I have been able to easily breeze through Step 3, simply following along. The readers voice is also very clear, so I can easily locate the sentence I’m hearing based on the words I know WELL.

I imagine doing this for Guardian, with Avenuex’s audiobook, would be equally “smooth” as an experience. Her audiobook matches the text almost perfectly, her reading voice is clear and a good normal pace (I can follow the gist just listening to the audio on its own twice or so), and she naturally pauses with the flow of the story shifts.

[its-bianca]

Studying/Planner Apps

Essential apps for studying, planning, health, etc. Who says everything has to be analog?

These are all the ones I’ve tried and downloaded (unless said otherwise). The ones with the * next to it are the ones I don’t use or have gotten rid of for personal reasons, but still highly recommend all of them.

I go through apps like a child goes through toys. I try them out, get rid of the ones I don’t like. Apps are toys.

There’s tons more, but these ones are the ones that I recommend to people with similar needs and schedules like mine. The ones I haven’t or don’t use anymore are ones I could definitely see being helpful to others or that I’d maybe use in the future if my needs change. 

Note: these are things from the App Store, but I’m pretty sure most are available on the Play Store too.

Podomoro Time Trackers

Forrest* - Haven’t tried this because you have to pay for it on the App Store, but I’ve seen everyone go bonkers over this app and how they plant trees for studying, etc. etc. 

Plantie - Best and only Podomoro app I still use. Gamified, but not TOO gamified. You just grow fruit, collect, coins, buy more fruit trees. It’s super simple, while still providing really good graphs and charts. Also, it allows you to turn off the feature where it stops your task as soon as you leave the app. Sometimes I need to use my phone for assignments, and I still want to track my time. It’s completely FREE, with GREAT charts as a visual. Other apps need a premium subscription to access the graphs and charts, which is why I love this app because even though the chart is quite simple, it does its job. Although, it doesn’t tell you when to take the longer break and it has to be adjusted manually. That’s fine for me, because I always get disturbed by something before I even get to 4 blocks, and if I waited until I had a big chunk, I’d never get anything done.

Block & Flow: Stay focused* - Podomoro but visualised with stacks of blocks for each day or week. And you can list out what tasks you have for that day and sort out sections for work, reading, school, etc. I didn’t need that feature, which is why I used Plantie instead.

Workflow Timer* - Another good option with options to make multiple tasks lists. One of the simpler and more user-friendly ones. It also looks really good!

Hours Time Tracking* - App for timeblocking, scheduling, and tracking the time while you’re working. It’s not helpful for me, because it’s practically impossible for me to strictly schedule something in my day after school, but could be useful for others. Really easy to makes tasks and separate by color. 

Stay Focused* - Simplest Podomoro timer out there. No distractions, no graphs, no gamification, just pure focus.

Planners/Calendars/Tasks

Wunderlist - Great reminder system, intuitive (type in “essay next mon” and it will schedule the task to be due next Monday), syncs everywhere, attach documents, etc. I used this for my assignment list, books to read list, schedule etc. for a long time, until recently where things got hectic and I wanted to make a daily to do list rather than only a master list. I use a bullet journal for school stuff now, but still keep Wunderlist for that shopping/movies/books/apps/websites to check out list. 

24me* - Personal assistant, lots and lots of features, with scheduling, to-do lists, notes, journaling, etc. Tracks weather and traffic to and from work/school. All in one.

Google Calendar - I don’t schedule on this, but use it to sync my school calendar with personal calendar. Easy scheduling and you can SHARE your calendar with a friend! All Google apps are made for collaboration basically. 

Habitify* - Habit tracker on your phone and tracks progress every day, showing when you skip and reminding you of it. Don’t quite remember why I got rid of it because checking back it seems really good. Might redownload. 

Trello* - Kanban boards, “cards” and lists, great reviews. I’ve heard people use it as a bullet journal sort of and project planner though that wasn’t it’s original purpose. I downloaded it for a club thing, but never really used it personally. 

Notetaking/Planning/Journaling

OneNote - I use this ALL the time, even though I don’t use my Microsoft account much anymore. My notes are organized and have a hierarchy. Very customizable with headers, notebook sections, pages, subpages, etc. Easy to share with group mates and an okay collaboration space if you want to see each other’s progress on research or something during a group project. MUCH better than having tons of Google or Word docs of notes. Completely FREE for the full experience.

Notion* - One in all workspace for journaling, notes, scheduling, planning projects basically a mini-website for your life and work. Great guide for bullet journaling on Notion from studyblr Eintsein here. Another Notion bullet journaling guide on YouTube here and here. I highly recommend it, but don’t use it since I use an analog bujo, prefer OneNote for class notes, and don’t have much use for it other than that currently. You do have to pay for unlimited notes, but there’s a pretty good amount to start out, and if you really don’t want to pay, there are workarounds to it.

Milanote* - Like Notion, but more restrictions on the free version. I don’t use it anymore because I’ve realized I didn’t really have a good purpose for it and it cluttered up my phone. In a way, it’s more ~aesthetic~ than Notion, but there are less things you can do. It does have a better learning curve though.

Evernote - I don’t use it often, but I have it to take quick notes or other stuff. Evernote is like a god in the notetaking world, because it’s user friendly, quick, and syncs up really easily with everything. 

Health

7 Minute Fitness - There’s a lot of these out there. Go find one or two. Don’t be sedentary.

30 Day Fitness Challenge - Same concept as above.

Simple Habit - FULL of free mostly 5 minute guided meditations (though there’s premium access). There’s no excuse now. Also, I used to try 10 minute meditations on Headspace which made me really sleepy. 5 minutes work best, because they’re quick, and if you want more time, just move on to the next part in the series or find another one. Lots of free series for basically any subject (school, women, mothers, grade anxiety, sleep) and SOS mode. Unfortunately, you can’t download any of them in the free version.

AloeBud* - Self-care pocket companion. Make reminders on your phone for every self-care thing you can think of. Schedule notifications multiple times a day with personalized messages. 

TaoMix2 - Mixer for relaxing nature/white noise sounds. It’s pretty restricted in the free, but it’s enough for me.

Cove* - If you’re a music person, this app let’s you make quick music and tunes matching your mood. A sort of an easy music therapy if you’re not good with instruments or composition. 

Reflecty* - Little journal buddy asking you fun/reflective questions about your day and tracking your mood. It’s short and sweet. Each entry is a “story”.

Oak* - Great for breathing and very simple guided meditations. Breathing practices for anxiety, freshening up, and calming nerves before a big performance. It just takes 15 seconds to breathe.

Grid Diary* - Journal prompts in grid fromat. Customizable daily prompts.

DayOne Journal* - Again, RAVING reviews. Everyone loves it. I haven’t used it because I prefer analog journals, but it’s a pretty good for travel journals with pictures, audio, video, etc.

UVLens - Reminds you to put sunscreen on throughout the day depending on your skin, activities that day, and type of sunscreen. 

Flo - Period tracker. Need I say more? 

Tasty - FOOOD (by Buzzfeed). New recipe ideas, includes shopping list, make your own cookbook.

KitchenStories - MORE FOOOOD. Includes Asian and international cuisine since it’s crowd-sourced.

Miscellaneous

Audiobooks - Audiobooks from the Gutenberg Project, but in app form. You can download classics for free, etc. There are some paid audiobooks, but they’re usually for better narrators/text corrections, so absolutely not necessary to get lost in an old book. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brönte, L. Frank Baum, all the good stuff.

Daylio - Tracks mood, activities, with intuitive charts. You can edit moods and activities shown per day. Free version is pretty good, and it replaces the need for making a habit tracker in my journal, because I don’t like making those.

Scannable - Very intuitive scanning app. I’ve used this for many legal/important documents and nobody had a clue it was “scanned” on a phone. It makes regular photos of documents easier to read and look like it came from a scanner. It can share as a PDF or jpg. Granted, you need good lighting for the best quality. 

Google Docs, Spreadsheets, Slides - Everyone’s probably used this before, but to reiterate, this is the best collaboration app/website. Super easy to share with real-time tracking and updates.

BEAKER by THIX* - For chemistry people. Mix compounds/elements together, make new compounds, see their reactions. Don’t have much use for it since my chemistry class is moving at a glacial pace but I could see this being useful for others. 

Chemtriz - Same as above, but gamified. You take elements and put them together in the right configuration to make compounds.

PictureThis - Plant Identifier - Weird addition to list, but it’s a cool app to get back in with nature. Now I know what a boxwood plant looks like.

IFTTT* - Hard to explain, but it enables different apps that don’t usually work together to work together. So if you input something in an email, you can make it go into a Google Spreadsheet(?). Just go check it out. It’s cool. Many shortcuts, track stuff in the Health App, get emails showing cool NASA pictures. 

Canva - AMAZING graphic design app/website for those who can’t use Photoshop (ie. me). It’s better online, but there are hundreds of templates for magazines, book covers, planners, posters, flyers, and basically any graphic design needs. Many free graphics and photos ready to use. Premium version is NOT necessary to get full benefits from this program. I used it to create this calendar for my room.