#poor background has been through more than the ghouls at this point

[avephelis]

found these things in my basement so i cleaned them up a little bit and now they've started committing medical malpractice

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 3)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 2

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Y/N seem to have woken up with a panic attack and with questions inside her head about on how she would come back to her world. Geralt may have said a solution to it, but it was rather difficult to achieve. Furthermore, it seems as if there was another thing difficult to attain as well which leaves him upset and frustrated with everything. No matter how you were out of place in Geralt's family, you couldn't help but still feel that peculiar warmth you wanted to feel forever.

Warnings: No modern references in this one except for fried chicken. Story title insertion! *wink wink nudge nudge* A lot of Jaskier, Geralt and Ciri banters and a soft but kinda rough Geralt in this one because of certain circumstances. THERE'S TENSION IF Y'ALL BE FEELING IT. AHONHONHON. Mention of Yennefer of Vengerberg in this one. Also explanation of portals and mention of potions used in the game. A lot of talking, less action. You’ll get your action and ANGST on the next chapterSSSSS! 

Words: 6,570+ (LONGGGGGGG AF! I WAS SHOOKTH!)

A/N: Reader is between 5'1 or 5'. You can imagine a 4'11 one if you want to! I JUST REALIZED...HOW...SHE'LL....THEY'LL....ALRIGHT, GET WRECKED, READER! 😅🤣🤣 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @missjenniferb  (I couldn’t tag you bud! A different blog was popping out of the recommendation and it wasn’t your blog. Though, I’ll try again on the next update! Don’t worry!) @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz​ 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well. I’ve taken it from the games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

The sun's rays cascaded on your face. Smell of burned out Oak wood whiffed through the air and filled your senses as faded voices suddenly become apparent for no reason, or probably a reason for you to wake up from your uncomfortable sleeping position.

Was it the TV? You thought to yourself, scrunching your nose from the sun that hit your face and merely from the dust that was flying all over the place. As much as you've remembered, cleaning has been your habit at home and having a dirty apartment was unfamiliar.

The rays of the sun was suddenly hidden from a body who had to lean down to take a good look at your face. You've hardly squinted your eye to blur out the television in the background, shifting your head around and leaning fully on your forehead instead to avoid your cat named Jafar from sniffing your face.

"Princess Cirilla," Geralt deeply groused, his grim seeming to be felt by how brooding he had to put up; inches away from Jaskier and Cirilla who were close to you and around the table, watching you sleep like a baby.

The light blonde princess who had bright ocean blue eyes demanded with a soft kick to the ground, "But, Geralt!" she bellowed with a huff, "I wanna be her friend! You lads aren't fun to be with!"

"She won't stay long, Cirilla. She isn't from our world," Geralt droned and felt the enervation of not having his sleep last night. You were weeping like a toddler all night and his heightened senses weren't helping himself when he could hear those snuffles echoing as he shifted and turned all over on his side of the bed.

It was beyond terrible and utmost irksome.

His initial thought was to help a screaming lady sprinting in the middle of the woods and shoo her off when he's done killing the creature hunting her down. He didn't expect for her to live with them after he did so' just like how Ciri eventually landed on his hands for him to take care of. Amazingly, the adoption he had consist of an explanation, a royal offer from the kingdom of Cintra that involves the Law Of Surprise unlike with you; there was none. Not even a justification as to why you were there with them.

Saving Y/N didn't mean another adoption was up to claim and for him to protect with all his life.

Jaskier sat on the wooden chair in front of you as he deliberated and tried to understand your situation in his own creative wits, "You mean a Teleporter?"

Geralt shook his head, eyes narrowing as he looked at you from the side; assessing your whole ordeal and trying to get a gist of magic in your veins, "No, Jaskier." Howbeit, he'd felt none and it was frustrating the Witcher, "---She doesn't possess magic, I can sense it."

The bard shrugged and disregarded his opinions, giving Geralt a once over before focusing on your hair; momentarily plucking out a small leaf out of your hair which erupted a cock of Geralt's head as he watched Jaskier having no fraught from touching you.

"You know that senses of yours aren't exactly a hundred percent accurate when you've got kicked by a Kikimore and bitten by Ghouls,"

His expression was stoic, glowering before them both and especially from Jaskier's comment. Cirilla had her delicate fingers clasp together and over the side of her face as she admired your sleeping face, "She's so adorable while she sleeps!" she continued to cajole, "---Even a little shorter than me! Maybe she's my age and we can play!"

"She isn't," Geralt ceased her admiration and shook his head, beautiful gold eyes staring at your face that shifted and was now face front as to where he stood from afar, "How certain are you about that? You've only met her last night!"

Jaskier had his fist on his chin, deliberately looking at Geralt with that knowing look.

The Witcher lowly hummed in ponder. Focal point on your sleeping face with a stoic expression, trying to distinguish your length of life from the moment you were born, "Y/N must be in between the age of twenty to twenty-five,"

Cirilla had her eyebrows in a twist as she moved around to take a closer look at you again, a frown from the information that has been said, "But, she looks younger than her age!"

"Not at least in between ninety? or exactly a hundred? Like you, Geralt?" Jaskier added to the dispute. His query making Geralt sigh because he has been repeating the idea like a slow idiot.

"She doesn't possess some sorts of magic nor is she mutated, Bard."

"Maybe she possesses the power of immortality!"

He glared at the bard who gave him a shrug, Jaskier's face still dead beat from how his nap has been ruined prior to the night, but he had more sleep than Geralt did considering he wasn't a Witcher and had senses that not any normal human may possess.

"So her name is Y/N?! Why didn't you wake me up to welcome our visitor?!" The girl in a mint green Kirtle exclaimed, their voices finally coming to your senses and realizing that it wasn't your television nor was it your cat's breath on your face. You whimpered in an attempt to wake yourself up; yawning in the process and languidly bringing your head up for it to be bent at an angle with your arm on the table and fist on your temple.

"You were sleeping," Geralt began, resolving her dismay at the situation at hand, "--and there was a beast, Princess. It was hunting her down,"

"Oh, poor Y/N," Cirilla frowned a tighter one, eyeing you down and peeking from under your arm as she noticed the bruises on your face. She took a second before straightening her back, the braid she'd fixed never turning higgley-piggledy because of how tight and proper it was. A look of interest sent to the Witcher by the princess of Cintra herself and now the future queen ahead, "But, did you kill it, Geralt?"

Their voices seem to be recognizable, the two men of some sort and the kid's voice completely unfamiliar for you. Repetitive blinks full of fatigue before having the energy to sleepily place your chin on your fist, a blurry image of a youthful, lean body and a pretty face of a man sitting in front you coming clearer as you blinked again.

"Isn't it such a sight to wake up to your bruising face early in the morning, small rat."

Your face turned into a tight frown at the image sitting before you. The pillow of your lip jutting out in a pout when you've scanned the whole place and saw Geralt standing with a stern expression on his face, behind a kid who looked taller than you and extremely pretty.

The house even looked more old and primitive in the morning like you're currently living in history which made you groan to yourself because you haven't teleported back to your home as Jaskier said last night.

Great. Just great. You thought in the back of your mind before grumbling, "Can you...stab me with your sword right now?"

The question was sent to the Witcher despite of staring fully on the table. You didn't hear an answer from him as per usual and felt your anxiety rising through your head in agitation like a lighter sparking the gas. It's travelling too fast that you haven't realized the panic shooting wildly.

"I'm still here," you bawled, "I'm still here," and repeated over and over like a dinosaur jumping on rocks whenever google doesn't have internet. The panic was beginning to boil, making your fingers tremble in apprehension as you've struggled to keep in place on your seat, your feet on the ground shaking from the worry. Both hands gripping on your roots as you began to bawl out because you couldn't scream out all your frustrations because that's not how you roll, "I've already slept, I thought I'll be waking up in my apartment already,"

Cirilla took a step back when you've started crying, looking over at Geralt to ask what was happening. Both men together were contemplating as to what was happening as the Bard reluctantly and very slowly stood up as his gaze was fixated on you who kept on mumbling in whispers. He ran behind Geralt like you were a possessed woman and actually thinking you were casting a spell because of how fast you were mumbling your feelings out loud, sounding incomprehensible to the ears of everyone except for Geralt.

Jaskier stood behind Geralt like a kitten shielding behind his mother, "Geralt! I told you! She's a sorceress! One like Yennefer! This is probably why you're fond of her!"

Cirilla examined your state and tried understanding what was happening, her nerves also unsettling about the fact that maybe you were possessed by black magic. Though, she doubt it because you should've attacked everyone already.

Hence, there you were in your own seat. Bawling your eyes out like a toddler who had been left by her parents.

"Geralt? Is she okay?" the pretty child questioned Geralt who stood behind her with a distant look on his face.

His eyes narrowed on you, continuing his perusal. He was trying to fathom what was running inside those mind of yours and when a tear fell and another sniff coming from your side of the cavern, he knew it. A slight turn of his head and his silent thoughts of understanding as he had seen you freaking out and crying like last night; he knew what was happening.

"She's...panicking. Utterly harmless, Jaskier. Just like how humans do unless you aren't actually one," Geralt nonchalantly informed the bard who was hiding behind his towering form. He watched you roughly wipe your tears with the back of your clothed hand; his sweater that was awfully big for you and continued to rant while he narrowed his eyes as your focus was now on the knife set on an empty soiled plate that Jaskier has left.

"I just wanna go home!"

His forehead creased to the extent of trying to figure you out. Shoulders slumping as he breathed out a ragged curse beneath his breath to further his dissatisfaction of your next move.

"Y/N!"

You were fast enough to grab onto the sharpened knife, aiming it to the sensitive portion of your neck. However, not fast enough for the Witcher to even let it happen.

The knife in your hand wasn't even lifted halfway for Geralt to know what you were going to do. He'd seen a lot of bloodshed and known enough people who wanted for their blood to drop out of their hands. It only took two steps for him to construct his onslaught before you've even tried to slit your throat before them.

Your choice of weapon has been sheathed away from you. The tall, brooding, brawny Witcher slightly bending you on the table as he pulled the knife away from your neck with just a grip that didn't even earned him a sweat. It was like taking candy from a baby. Yet, you were pretty much struggling a lot from his strength as you tried wrenching your wrist off his hold with Geralt hunching down before you and never letting go.

Those gold eyes were a charm against the rays of the sun cascading his face. Your faces close from each other and you can see the chagrin and fury swirling in his eyes rather than those plain, apathetic glimmer set in his eyes with a warmth you couldn't express. With that only being seen and stared at, you knew he was furious.

The scary witcher was losing his temper.

"Let me go, Geralt." you firmly stated, voice wavering and sounding small like you were being hunted by a cheetah. Geralt held his scowl better than he had to when he has seen you the first time and it wasn't faltering.

You tried wrenching your wrist away from the Witcher, but he pulled it back with no remorse. Keeping you in place as he seethed; Aurum eyes momentarily taking a glimpse of your dry, chapped lips that were inches apart before settling those peepers on yours again and he wanted to groan out loud for the unsettling emotion he was having, "I would like to see you try, Midget."

Geralt held your wrist tighter around his fingers because you were moving, though; the simple action was enough for you to stop and never even think about doing it again. The strength that he was using was not enough to inflict pain. "I don't need another person's blood on my hands,"

Some of his dirt-ivory colored hair fell on his face as he continued to fume. Expression thoroughly livid as he said those words like it was burnt till dust, a history that should've been left forgotten but was now relived because of your forsaken act.

His warm breath hit your face and you couldn't move at all, like you were powerless and utter putty in his hands. You've heard a grumble vibrated out of his chest before snatching the knife off your fingers and quickly retreating from his position with a frustrated hum, leaving you exhaling out a breath you didn't know you were holding since he has grabbed onto you.

"Wha-what if dying is the only way to bring me back," you've tried to keep yourself in tact despite of the fast beating of your heart and the anomalous heat travelling all over your body. You shook the feeling off with a shake of your head as you continued; looking at Jaskier and Cirilla, avoiding the presence of the man who has been playing with your mind and human heart, "---I've slept, tried everything and still woke up in your house,"

The declaration sounded weak; completely despairing as you've seen Geralt saunter back to where he has been standing before you even tried to slit yourself alive. A tight moue that twisted his features from the act that has happened; filling utter disappointment as the rough crease of his wrinkles wanted to say.

But, he chose to stay silent rather than let out those emotions he was battling with.

You were completely an unorthodox to him. A picture he couldn't see and never wanted to even touch but hoped to imagine.

"I can feel you, I can touch everyone, I can feel sadness, despair, happiness, pain and a lot more," he felt your eyes on him as the first word has been said before reluctantly sharing gazes at the other two who were breathing when you've continued your articulation.

Nevertheless, the act that has happened made Jaskier and Cirilla's breaths hitch because they couldn't believe that it just happened in front of them like it was nothing.

It looked like Geralt has handled the situation well and you were suddenly okay. Just like that. A peculiarity of an event that they couldn't understand.

You've straightened your back and held your hopes high, dubiously taking a trek till you were in front of the people who were nice enough to give you shelter despite of not knowing you from the start; with a goodwill to even save you from an Alghoul that appeared out of nowhere when you should've died already when Geralt wouldn't have jumped into the picture.

But, no. You were still alive and you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing as the protection came with a fair trade to be living in the world that they were in. A world where you still believed was in earth because of how human they appeared and felt. The only fragment that could keep you in doubt was the monsters that emerges out of nowhere and the magic that these people have been saying. A magic that can't be seen with the naked eye because you haven't seen a supernatural phenomenon yet.

Geralt gave a gravelly hum once you've settled your short self before him, the height differences apparent to the perspective of people. Geralt had his Herculean body in an assertive stance, broad-shoulders poised as you peered up at him with forlorn, the upset frown etched upon your face and he couldn't help but breath through his nose to compose himself.

"I need to go back, I gotta go back. Aren't you a witcher? Can't you cast a spell and help me?"

Jaskier and Cirilla had their forehead creased as they stared at the two. The beautiful child completely unaware of where you originated. She was deep in thought, thinking you came from any of the kingdom or if you were mutated as well just like Geralt because as been said by the witcher, you didn't belong in their world.

The man with glowing Aurum eyes sighed, "Witchers..don't work that way," he claimed with a slant of his head, eyeing you with gall and a slight pacified demeanor after losing his patience a while ago, "---I slaughter beasts, not brew the Fillet of a fenny snake with an eye of a newt nor cast a spell while mixing tons of shit in a cauldron like you thought I was,"

His disclosure was enough to make your heart fail from having faith again. It seems like every darn time he opens those luscious damn lips of him leaves you in a crestfallen shape or he just seems like the type to not give you hope with positive things like this which is why he was failing no matter if he wanted to give comfort.

You've washed your face with your hands in frustration, the fear rising for the second time this day and felt Geralt's heated stare on you, eyes shining in baffling fascination no matter how phlegmatic he wanted to appear. You can just see it in his eyes and it was odd because you've remembered how you couldn't read him like a book the night before, yet here you were; understanding how he tries to interact with you.  

"Then, who can help me? Is there a portal or some sort?"

His eyes looked away for a moment; deeply dwelling a thought inside his head. "Sorcerers create portals of natural phenomena and places that actually exist," the Witcher began roughly, voice utmost in the lowest timbre he could ever do and it almost made your body vibrate from his pitch, "---However, most sorcerers can only link portals to the world they're familiar with and that occurs in having the same witchcraft that a certain world creates," Geralt landed his bright eyes on you as he continued to ponder. An inevitable glower stamping his face as he went on with more information and a tight grimace, "---we aren't exactly certain about your world. But, the contingencies of casting a portal that should've been left untouched can cause upheaval or chaos not just to both worlds, but to the natural habitat and the future as well,"

Your frown was cut short, changing into an ample amount of confusion because of his explanation. Simply to say, the chances of creating a portal will jeopardize not just their world, but also earth as well. If you'll be wanting to cast a portal, there was a great amount of risk ahead.

Geralt continued his vouch, still engrossed at looking you in the eye like he wanted you to melt into a puddle. Your traitor of a heart skipping a beat as you've avoided his eyes and looked elsewhere, "---Which definitely leaves insignificance as to why you're lost in our world when there was no witchery encompassing that earth you call your kingdom,"

"So, there's no hope then?" you pointed out, sapless.

"It takes risks, Midget." Geralt lowly enunciated, the gravel in his voice seeming coherent as he mentioned the nickname he calls you. He looked to the ground, mind wandering off Wonderland as a scowl began to form again, like the next thing he wanted to say should've been kept and not mentioned ever again, "---And a very powerful sorcerer,"

Jaskier's ears perked at that, speculating and trying to involve himself with the topic at hand, his tongue waiting to be moved and for words to be told for reiteration, "Or sorceress," the bard boasted with a tone that made the witcher hiss back at him with contempt.

"Yennefer of Vengerberg could do the job well or some of her associates," the bard jested with a soft push of his elbow to Geralt's ribs, though it didn't even made him flinch. His nose flared back at him, giving him the stink eye before cussing him beneath his breath.

"Fuck off, Bard."

Cirilla ignored their laser eyes and tried to join in the conversation, "Who is Yennefer? I've been asking this since the last two last years!" she pondered, hesitantly raising her hand as if asking the teacher if it was time for her to spit out questions.

"Someone you shouldn't know, Cirilla,"

So, there was really hope. Even only a fourty-five percent of that aspiration you needed for your heart to be filled with faith. You nodded to yourself in understanding, leaving those other questions inside your head and asked straight to the point, "Who is Yennefer?"

Jaskier stepped a foot close, officially involving himself in the conversation with a smug grin on his face. His hands on his hips as he revealed with no shame, "Geralt's long lost love,"

Geralt had to close his eyes to calm himself down from the bard who kept on interjecting in the talk with you.

The princess of Cintra huffed, stomping a foot on the ground as she fixated her gaze at the huge trunk of a man who seemed to be having a moment of meditation, "You didn't tell me you had a lover!"

"Not anymore," Geralt grumbled more so to himself as the crowd asked questions after questions and served their opinions on a buffet plate; open for everyone to hear.

You innocently cast a look to his face. He could also feel your eyes on him and when he'd fluttered them open; it was completely pure for his irksome heart to fall in tranquil, "She's the one of the most powerful sorceress I know," he subtly breathed in your scent, masking himself with it as he tries to remember it in the back of his mind. Becoming familiar to the strong scent that makes his thoughts go in a haywire. A sharp, palpable and fresh scent that he ought and needed to ingurgitate straightaway. Lemon with a hint of peony; definitely different from the scent that Yennefer had, Lilac and Gooseberries. "---Maybe the only one who could create an enigma of a portal," the witcher more so than grumbled, face twisting in a way that made you look up at him in question because he seemed to be in pain, "Then? What are we waiting for? We should find her!"

The mere mention of a person who could help you leave their world quickly placed a warm beam lifting your lips, a sight that Geralt has been struggling to forget since last night. His eyes wandered off elsewhere, missing the catch of your bright filled ones as his nose scrunched from how overwhelming it was to be close to you.

"That's the problem," he gurgled before taking a step back, hissing beneath his breath because of how he was starting to become frustrated again, "---she's nowhere to be found," before turning his back away from you with a grumble.

You watched him walk away from you, embracing all his negativity and feeling your heart plummet because he was acting far from the welcoming man last night. It was like it has never been him that was offering to cover your wounds as he knelt in front of you, all the more; giving you a small smile despite of it not being his forte in doing so.

He was unconventional to you. A book you've definitely wanted to read, yet difficult to understand because the words were such a complex for the naked eye. Geralt was rare and a kind you've never encountered. Literally.

Nonetheless, his presence was intriguing and definitely inveigling.

"I have no hope then," you've thought to yourself, hearing Cirilla and Jaskier banter over something about the sorceress that ignited Geralt's change of heart.

"I'm hungry," Cirilla stressed towards the Bard who was now holding his Lute and plucking with the strings like he was forming another one of his epics inside his head. The bard ignored her and gave Geralt a once over who was on the other end of the cavern, opening wooden cabinets which had all different kinds of concoctions that certainly a normal human cannot take because of how toxic it was and how it was only forbidden and restricted for Witchers.

Cirilla threw a hissy fit, blowing out a breath of agitation and hunger because she was famished. You studied the child and noticed she was a little taller than you no matter how she should've been small. As you've tried to eye-ball her height, she seems to be in between five foot four or five foot three. "What's your name, kid?"

She narrowed her eyes on Jaskier who began to tread to where the Witcher is, "Cirilla," the princess honestly voiced out, palm on her stomach as it grumbled a sound that says she was starving so much.

Cirilla turned her heel to look at you, better than having Geralt stand before you because he was giving you stiff neck from being a tall, brooding man. She eyed you in question and you gave her a sincere smile, waggling your brows at the princess, "I can make food if you want?"

Princess Cirilla jumped on her feet like a child being given candy, clapping her hands in excitement, "Great! A mother figure other than a pair of boys! Geralt and Jaskier make the nastiest food they can ever cook," she jeered with a puff of her breath. Her eyes twinkled in felicity.

She gave you a big wide grin when you've pondered in thought as to what was easy to make in  medieval age; questions numbered inside your head and asking no one in particular if their world had chicken? flour? or bread flour, if they didn't have one? Condiments or any kind of spices for taste. Their time had to have chickens and so, you wanted a modern kind of dish to help yourself as well despite of living like in the past, "I can make you fried chicken, if you want? That is, if you can get me chicken,"

"What is a fried chicken?" she'll definitely love it, you thought because she was a child. Seeing her smile go bright just from hearing it made you heart coo; or it was simply a new image rather than those scowls you have been seeing since the morning has started so the kid had a soft spot in your heart. "An unhealthy dish, but definitely scrumptious,"

You turned your head towards the men who were a little bit far from where you both stood, they were talking in silence and that was completely pristine than the banters you've heard non-stop last night, "---And also a healthy viand for these boys you have,"

Jaskier continued plucking on his Lute, strumming random notes as he hummed inside his head, he gave you and Cirilla a glimpse as the bard watched you both interact with each other like you were both long lost friends, like a natural bond slowly being created, "Maybe this cuckoo of a maiden isn't actually bad to have around," he decreed with a look of sympathy. Turning his head to look at Geralt who seemed to have a furious staring contest with his potions.

"---You should help her, Geralt."

The Witcher languidly blinked, partially shutting the wooden cabinet closed and noting that he was deficient of Cat elixir, a concoction to help him grant sight in total darkness, some Black Blood and Fiend concoction that helps him increases the amount of weight that he can carry without being overburdened. Geralt sighed at Jaskier's confession.

"Do I have a choice?" he gurgled back at the bard.

"Won't a djinn help?"

Geralt gave Jaskier a once over before taking a glimpse of you and Ciri who were now sitting on the table, chatting about certain things that can entertain the princess. Jaskier finally had the tune he wanted, a simple catchy tune but different from his song about Witchers. It just had the same style, "I've already took it down into consideration," the bard hummed, completely intrigued and gave him a look, "We can take risks,"

Jaskier ceased himself from humming, the voices of women giggling in the background coming along in their conversation. The ambiance changing into a lighter tone from the moment you came into their cavern. A thorough spin of the world like it was changing in the different kind of path; it was like seeing a new color for the rainbow that has been added to complete the beauty of it all.

You just had that specific effect that could create allurement to the world wherever you're in. Hence, that was probably your magic.

"But, are you willing to take it, Witcher?"

He was taken aback by the question, a question even asked as a question inside his head. Was he really willing to take the risk in helping this midget? another person on his hand to protect and help? Will it not slip apart due to unfortunate circumstances? Geralt calmly breathed through his nose, his facial features slackening when he'd seen Cirilla's eyes twinkling again despite of what she has been through. "I've been through hell and maybe even deeper than that. Probably already met the devil with it,"

Geralt slanted his head in a way to adore the image right in front of him; though with a face that seemed to be lackadaisical, "---This woman hasn't experienced what I have, not even the slightest and I don't want her to," he suddenly admitted, "---I have no thought as to what curse has this woman been cast upon,"

Jaskier nodded in comprehension and ruth for you; pretty blue eyes admiring the sight before him and Geralt, "Seems quite an unfortunate path,"

"Evil is evil," The Witcher added as a matter of fact, "---Lesser, greater or even stronger," a subtle pause to catch his breath as he eyed you beaming back at what Cirilla has said before he continued, "---She hasn't shielded herself from it, nor does she have an amulet with her; like she was sent here for a reason. She's bound for ill-fate because we're in a world full of animosity and mayhem," Geralt trailed off when you've rummaged for the things in the pocket of your short that was neatly folded on the side of the table.

You've shown Cirilla a small beautiful transparent ball that had rainbow color stars inside. It was a lucky charm for you and it has been given as a gift from your mother back in earth.  

"Do you know Jacks and Stones, Cirilla?"

Cirilla's ears perk at that, a perplexed expression written on her face. "The game doesn't ring a bell, Y/N."

Once Cirilla has seen you grabbed onto the small stones on the space below their window and tried to play on your own, her forehead creasing seemed to relax and a look of elation and familiarity run through her face, "I think I actually know it! Isn't it Knucklebones?"

You've caught the ball and the small stone in one hand with no sweat. She eyed the ball and the stones scattered around the table, her eyes gleaming a lot more than she ever did. "I think so! But, here's the catch! Loser gets a slap on the forehead with a finger and the Winner gets two drumsticks of my special fried chicken,"

"---Oh, you're on, Y/N! I'm great at Knucklebones!" she challenged as she abruptly stood on the table, looking right back at Geralt and Jaskier who were already looking in fascination.

Cirilla demanded in blithe. A big, bright smile shining her face, "Geralt, we need chicken! Catch us one!"

At the mention of that, Geralt couldn't help but repeatedly blink at the wishes from the princess; catching him off-guard. Jaskier couldn't help but send a shit-eating grin to the Witcher who had his brows in another kind of twist, his face wanting to wince but he ceased to.

"I'm a Witcher, not a farmer," he deeply mumbled with a sigh. Cirilla blew a breath, her hands on her hips as she sassed, "Aren't you a butcher of Blaviken? Or do they just call you that?"

The Witcher's forehead creased at the mention of one of his monikers. He didn't want anymore retorts because the princess would drop down more comments for the argument that will last for hours till end just for her demands to be taken into account. Thus, which is why; Geralt was shrewd enough to end her pleading with submission.

"Fine,"

He thought that would be the end of everybody's demand when you've suddenly stood up on your seat and waved a hand to get his attention. Geralt gave you a look of query and with a little bit of tenderness in his eyes that you could undeniably feel no matter how stoic his expressions were. You cleared your throat, grinning back at him like a Cheshire cat.

"Can I come with you? Please?"

"No, midget." He strained, the lackadaisical tone lacing at the end of his tongue. His answer was fast and prudent, entirely against the idea.

You just wanted to be familiar with their world when you'll be staying in it for days, maybe even months or badly for years because of how you didn't know the portal they were saying. All you knew on how to transport was cars, airplanes, boats, bikes and even walking would do the job. But, not with magic and scientific luck.

You pouted back at The Witcher, heart falling from the rejection. Sending him the most pitiful look in your eyes and hoping you weren't looking like a waggling goose before them, "Pleaseee, Geralt? I wanna wander in the woods! Be familiar with the place especially that I've probably going to take time before I go back home," pause. "After Cirilla and I play and know who wins and loses,"

Geralt huffed to himself, an incoherent one as he deeply sighed. Jaskier could hear him from where he stood as he adjusted the leather hoop of his Loot across his shoulder, his witcher of a friend's jaw clenching like he was thinking about it deeply. Before granting permission in the end because of how you were giving him those Hirikka eyes; as said by his inner thoughts out in the back.

"Fine,"

The bard wanted anything but to cough out loud from that submission. Jaskier gave him a double-take. An evident look of surprise in his eyes as he turned his soles to point a finger at the Witcher. Geralt was quick enough to shake his head and slap his finger away with the back of his hand.

"Don't...even start, Bard."

"It's been a day and this small rat already has you wrapped around her finger!" he whisper-yelled at his friend, excitement and jest sparking his nerves which got him grinning like the devil.

Geralt glared at the mischievous bard grinning back at him with the knowing look that they can only both understand, "When will you bloody shut up?"

"When I don't have the voice to poetically sing my wonderful epics," Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms on top of his Lute with that mocking glint in his eyes. The Witcher smirked back at Jaskier, spitting out a particular jest that could get him back-paddling, "Guess I'll need a travel companion in finding another Djinn,” 

Jaskier blinked in surprise, taking a step back as he shook his head and had a hand on his hip while the other was wiggling in the air to express his negations, "Oh no no no, Witcher! Keep me out of your heroic attempts of gathering some kind of genie! I am done!" the bard ridiculed as he took hesitant steps back, slowly and slyly taking off before Geralt carries him on his shoulders to purposefully tag him along in finding another Djinn, "I figured playing this jacks and stones with Cirilla and Y/N will be much better instead,"

Jaskier halted from his silent, sneaky egress. Giving both women a glimpse who were playing behind him, "A BARD WISHES TO JOIN YOUR WONDERFUL ADVENTURE, LASSIES!"

He snapped his head back at Geralt who simple wore a crooked smile and a look of mockery filling his perfectly chiseled face, "Off you go, Witcher of the night," the rascal waved him off, a gloaty banter being thrown back to the smug witcher, "I have also yet to create another knightly epic for an intriguing love story that is bound to unfold in the far north of Kaedwan,"

Thusly, Geralt's crooked smile was rapid to fall. His face masking in condemnation when Jaskier began to strum his lute and with a tune that would probably haunt his friend as he tried to sleep through the night.

"Doeful eyes like a dear~ Seems like a Witcher who couldn't bear~,"

Jaskier's singing has made history through different places in the continent and he was never wrong with the epics he'd been orally singing out around which is why this new song he was forming to create would either be a complete disaster, a mere tell-tale or a myth that was bound to end up in the vast veracity of the epic told.

IT’S ALL FUN AND HAPPY NOW. BUT, Y’ALL WILL SEE THE WRATH OF ANGST WHEN THE CHAPTER GOES FURTHER!

[very-grownup]

THE YEAR IS 2020 AND I WATCHED NEON GENESIS EVANGELION FOR THE FIRST TIME, PART 11

Episode 23.

Misato is going to be haunted by fuckin' Kaji forever and so am I. Fuckin' Kaji.

This appears to be the episode where I have to assume budget and deadlines were becoming intractable foes for Anno because there doesn't seem to be any easy way to paper over gaps and I spent the entire time feeling faintly like the experience was dissolving.

My grappling for understanding behind the cut.

Here's what I do know: Misato is so absorbed in listening to fuckin' Kaji's message in her office that Shinji and Penpen are left to their own devices, which are just being concerned about Misato.

Ritsuko talks to her grandmother about a dead cat.

Ritsuko's desktop background is an old photo of her, her mother, and Gendo Ikari, where her mother left room for Jesus between her and her daughter instead of her and Gendo (you'd need at least five Jesuses for protection from the hollow-eyed ghoul of insecurity and misery). I hate it.

Overcome with her sense of failure, Asuka's just broken into the class rep's home and has imposed the world's longest and worst sleepover on this poor normie girl. Asuka's just playing videogames, crying, and sleeping which ... yeah, fair. At night Asuka shares a bed with Hikari and curls on her side, far away and miserable, her face hidden, whispering about her failures and her hatred and her hatred of self. Hikari stares at the ceiling and can say nothing of substance because she is also a child.

The Obelisk Committee is back, interrogating Gendo to absolutely no end because you have to ask questions AND get answers to them for an interrogation to work and also when he gets notice that there's an Angel sighted he just nopes right out of there. Your interrogation is not going to be successful if the guy you are trying to pin to the wall can just go 'sorry I have to take this call' and flush the phone down the toilet while you watch.

This week's Angel is a giant hula hoop made out of light and x's which I feel probably puts it right in the middle of the cuteness scale. It's not horrifying to look at but it also doesn't have a cute little face. I miss the ones in the early episodes that had cute little faces.

The obelisks are determined to crush Gendo and suspect he isn't loyal to them which ... again, the obelisks make some good points.

The plan is for Rei to sniper the Angel with Asuka providing backup. Asuka feels terrible, miserable, and pointless about the whole thing because seriously it seems like no one has talked to her since last week when she was psychologically tortured by the Angel? I'm surprised Asuka's even there, in the robot, but I suppose habit is powerful.

Once the EVAs are deployed, the Angel turns into a long sticky laser snake which Rei tries to shoot with her giant robot sniper rifle. This is not effective and the Angel begins to burrow under the EVA's armour to the fleshy bits underneath and shit gets veiny.

In the NERV command centre someone talks about the Angel trying to make first psychological contact and you can't keep saying that, this is the fourth time AT LEAST we've seen an Angel try to do weird brain reading with one of the kids so this is at least fourth contact. We are all operating on the assumption the Angels are ... some kind of unified force or being or ... something, right? Like, they're all on the same ... side? Part of the same force? If they're all independent and unrelated monsters of the week, NERV makes even less sense.

So, so, so Rei's EVA gets veiny and Rei gets veiny and Asuka is given orders to provide backup and then when her EVA is on the surface she and it just ... stand. Asuka tries to make it move but nothing happens. Finally, NERV lowers the EVA elevator again.

Gendo remembers he has a son and Shinji is deployed in Asuka's place to rescue Rei from the veins and not only does Asuka have to deal with her failure to pilot the robot in this moment, but she's filled with sad jealousy that Shinji wasn't sent to help her last week. Oh, honey.

So the light tentacle snake is making the veins and probing Rei and her memories and the EVA and like with the other kids, Rei confronts herself. One Rei is waist deep in the orange tang of the sub sub sub basement ocean while the other Rei floats above the surface. Rei is lonely? Or, one Rei is lonely, while the other Rei tries to express that Rei is lonely because unlike Rei, who is surrounded by others, Rei is by herself. One Rei knows more than the other, one Rei emotes more than the other. I am confused. None of the Reis seem as distressed as Shinji or Asuka did when they were getting psychoanalyzed by an Angel, at least. There's a weird shot that's just on one of the Rei's mouths, smiling and getting distended and wavey and also a Rei has a vision of smiling, glasses-free Gendo. Rei in the EVA comes back to herself when she realizes she's crying but the Angel is still doing its vein attack and all that pulsating Akira flesh starts happening and the light snake shoots out to Shinji, which is bad. There's more pulsating Akira flesh, just overflowing masses of veins bursting up and above the EVA, trying to shape something, the torso of Rei's EVA bulges out into, like, an armoured pocketed dome ball, which seems bad.

Then the light snake attacking Shinji turns into a giant naked Rei with a strange nightmare face who tries to make out with the EVA even though thankfully we at least have been spared horrible human lips to go with the horrible human teeth and fingers we know are in it.

Rei is like, do I want to become one with Shinji so I'm not lonely anymore? Is that what laser snake is trying to tell me and I just don't even know where to begin with all of this, where are you even getting this stuff Rei?

Rei realizes that letting the Angel snake made of light that looks like a giant her make out with Shinji's EVA is not the answer to her existential crisis and exerts her will over it or ... something? I don't know, she makes it like a rubber band that's suddenly reached its end. SNAP goes the light tether between giant naked Rei and Rei's EVA and it whips away from Shinji and the nightmare Rei's light face looks upset by these developments before it's like SCHWOOM back into the EVA ... ... and all the pulsating flesh becomes unpulsating and the dome stomach bits get popped like each segment of the dome is a bubble wrap bubble and then Rei blows herself and the EVA and I guess also the Angel up and I guess it's more effective than guns.

The obelisks want to interrogate someone, Gendo and Number 2 are already dealing with the fact that Rei is dead and just have some really weird conversation in front of machinery about how Rei is all of Number 2's sins and all of Gendo's hopes or ... or something? The obelisks go through a powerpoint of all the Angels defeated so far and I GUESS the kids have been fighting Angels that are all listed in the Dead Sea Scrolls and according to the Dead Sea Scrolls there's only one Angel left which, sure, we're on episode 23 of 26.

Shinji's lying on his bed not listening to music (music is playing but he doesn't have the headphones in) and Misato comes in to try and talk to him about how Rei killed herself to save Shinji. Shinji talks about sadness that's so intense even when tears can't come ... There's no time in this episode to dwell on this honest, awkward little pebble of grief, though. Misato tries to take Shinji's hand to comfort him but that isn't what he needs, he just wants to be alone and rejects Misato's overture.

Misato wonders about whether Shinji has a fear of women (what?) or intimacy (huh?) but when even Penpen refuses to be company for her, she realizes maybe she was projecting her own issues onto Shinji which hey, good catch, Misato! You and Shinji are similar but not the same.

ANYWAY NO TIME FOR THAT BECAUSE REI IS DEFINITELY MIRACULOUSLY ALIVE AND NOT DEAD even though Ritsuko and a bunch of dudes in HAZMAT suits were going over the spot where the EVA blew up and Ritsuko found something that had her going WELL THIS IS SOME X-FILES SHIT.

Shinji goes to see Rei at the hospital where she is bandaged all to hell and staring vaguely at nothing in the hall and he tries to thank her for her exploding sacrifice on his behalf. Rei basically says you're welcome but I have no idea what you're talking about. Shinji doesn't make much headway in expressing his gratitude further because Rei just straight up says I probably don't know what you're talking about because I'm the third Rei. Just straight up 'oh if I seem weird it's probably because I'm clones'.

It's not that Rei is clones that is surprising, it's just the total nonchalance with which Rei drops 'I guess I'm clones' on Shinji.

SO ANYWAY THE OBELISKS ARE INTERROGATING A NAKED RITSUKO BECAUSE GENDO WON'T LET THEM INTERROGATE REI AND HE'S JUST LIKE HEY THIS SCIENTIST WILL SPEAK ON HER BEHALF AND ALSO SHE'S NAKED but who knows who had the bright idea of naked interrogation. Maybe it was Ritsuko. Say a brief, silent prayer of thanks that there's no naked Gendo interrogation because if there is one thing I have learned so far in Evangelion, it's that the more of Gendo I can see, the more distressed I am.

I DON'T EVEN ENTIRELY KNOW WHAT THE OBELISKS ARE ASKING RITSUKO ABOUT.

Rei goes to her apartment and removes all her bandages and she's fine because she's clones so sure, all the bandages were for show. This Rei sees Gendo's old glasses and picks them up and starts to try and crush them in her hands but also she's crying? Reis is conflicted?

Misato's found a datachip that fuckin' Kaji hid in a pill and she's listening to another recording which is maybe all the stuff he learned while spying on NERV I don't know I don't know I don't know anything at this point.

Ritsuko calls Shinji and tells him he's temporarily not being monitored so he ... look, narrative cohesion and scene transitions are a thing of the past, we don't even have glue between disconnected bits anymore. RITSUKO TALKS TO SHINJI ON THE PHONE.

Then Ritsuko is ... somewhere ... work ... I DON'T KNOW MISATO IS BEHIND HER WITH A GUN AND THEN RITSUKO'S LIKE OKAY I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING BUT SHINJI IS HERE SO WE HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO HIM TOO and it's like just flip on the lights in this one spot and bam there's Shinji NO TIME. ELEVATOR. DOWN DOWN DOWN. DOWN DOWN DOWN. THIS SUBBASEMENT LOOKS LIKE REI'S APARTMENT. BECAUSE IT IS REI'S APARTMENT. WATER MEMORIES. LOOK THIS ISN'T WHAT MISATO IS HERE FOR, MISATO IS HERE FOR THE GIANT SEPHIROTH AND KABALLAH AND CROSS HOLLOWS FULL OF GIANT BONES. EVA skulls and bones and Ritsuko's just like yeah those are all the prototypes from ten years ago that didn't become murder robots piloted by teens we just keep them in these religious pattern caves to form the basis for some real gothy jigsaw puzzles. Oh PS Shinji if you find it familiar it's because you've been here before even if you don't remember it this is where the experiments that kill disappeared your mother went down. NO TIME FOR ANYONE TO REACT TO THIS.

LOOK I'M SURE IF YOU'RE FOLLOWING THIS AND YOU KNOW THE SERIES YOU ARE LIKE RITSUKO AND ARE LIKE GET ON WITH IT JUST GET US TO THE CHAMBER WHICH RITSUKO SAYS IS WHERE THE DUMMY PLUGS ARE MADE AND THEN SHE TURNS ON THE LIGHTS AND WELCOME TO THE NIGHTMARE AQUARIUM. THE ONLY EXHIBIT IN THE NIGHTMARE AQUARIUM ARE REI CLONES SMILING AND GIGGLING AT YOU FROM THEIR ORANGE TANG HABITAT. Ritsuko says the captive Reis have no souls, they're just vacant flesh in the shape of a human, there's only one Rei /personality/ which is the first Rei and I guess when she dies they take another one out of the tank and she becomes the Rei with the soul I DON'T KNOW. Ritsuko hates the Reis not because they are the result of some human science meddling in things they cannot understand or control but because somehow the existence of the Reis mean ... Gendo doesn't need her?

BECAUSE RITSUKO, LIKE HER MOTHER BEFORE HER, ALSO WANTS TO BONE DOWN ON THE MAN WHO IS HATE'S SKELETON, WITH MARROW OF PARENTAL NEGLIGENCE, AND A BLACKHOLE SUCKING HIS FLESH ILLUSION EVER INWARDS TO DARKNESS.

NOW IT IS TIME FOR RITSUKO TO TURN OFF THE TANG AQUARIUM LIFE SUPPORT AND ALL THE GIGGLING REIS BEGIN TO BREAK APART, GIGGLING AS THEIR LIMBS SEPARATE AND THEIR ENTRAILS SPILL OUT AND ALL IS DARKNESS BUT THEY'RE STILL GIGGLING AND HOW ARE ANY OF US SUPPOSED TO RESPOND TO THIS?! Oh, and the obelisks' plan for the destruction of Tokyo-3 is proceeding on schedule WHAT WAIT WHAT I THOUGHT WE WERE TRYING TO PROTECT TOKYO-3 no wonder Misato drinks. No wonder /you/ drink. This concludes my report on Episode 23 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Edit: the obelisks talk about having lost the spear of Longinus. It's on the moon, obelisks. You're welcome.

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, mentioned logan patton virgil and thomas Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Background Logic | Logan Sanders and Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Being Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Explicit Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Blood and Injury, Brief suicidal thoughts, Imprisonment, Temporary Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Inspired by Art, I Tried, i've had creativitwin brainrot for weeks, something had to be done, Time Skips, Haunting, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Brother, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Has Issues, They need hugs, Minor Original Character(s), they're just unnamed antagonists Summary:

Remus wished there were more stimulating things down here. Or that he wasn’t down here in the first place. Or that he was dead.

so @fangirltothefullest is an absolute sweetheart and allowed me to mess with some story concepts from her #halloween au, so cheers. i hope you don’t regret it.

5k word story below the cut :)

A modern-day architect would rather have called the castle a mansion, as it may have remained for that long but certainly not in its prime. By then, it would be overgrown and unkempt, with the rock stained dark and wood rotting, and one of the wings would be half-collapsed. By then, it wouldn’t be considered a castle, much less be considered livable. By then, the lonely halls would be acquainted with grief and heartbreak and a sense of ambition strong enough to feel stifling. By then, the mansion’s story would be long irrelevant and forgotten, save for two important variables.

After all, for a castle, it didn’t have a dungeon.

The cellar, for as large as it was, had not initially been very entertaining. It certainly was at least a little interesting now that anything within Remus’ reach had been torn apart and strewn across the floor. The shackles around his ankles and wrists were thin and flimsy but damned hard to break. He hadn’t even got a crack through the links.

Remus hadn’t gotten any ideas until one asshole ventured down into the cellar, gave Remus a smug smirk from where he was tethered in the corner, and snagged a handful of bottles from the far wall.

After she’d left, sauntering up the stairs like they owed her a personal favour, Remus had stretched his leg as far out as he could and kicked the shelf hard enough that it tipped. The sound of crashing glass and the inevitable distress from future intruders, stumbling down for a bottle of shitty whisky or rum, was enough to satisfy Remus.

Only for a small while.

When they’d found out what he’d done, a few brave pricks had tried to make him pay for it, but he’d got one of them in the groin and the other in the eye. They’d quickly decided the gashes in his legs from the littered glass was enough of a lesson.

It wasn’t.

Taking away their small pleasures wasn’t enough. Making them mildly irked at their lack of celebration drinks only fuelled Remus further.

The next thing in his reach were the barrels. The food didn’t matter all that much; potatoes, apples, a few boxes of nuts. He tipped them over, kicked them open, tried to make the ground as gross as possible and the food as uneatable as he could, all the while trying not to wince at the waste.

The only things that seemed to love it were the rats. Remus wasn’t sure how they got in, because as far as he was concerned the only animals that got into the castle were the ones he had occasionally brought in (at the expense of a poor few maids and their sense of sanitation and Roman’s patience) but they ate at the mess he’d created on the floor. He wished he could have said it was one of the best days of his life when they found the fermented grapes. They also ate the spiders in the darker shadows of the room, which he appreciated. It was a bit of a pain when his body defied him long enough to shut down and linger on the edges of unconsciousness only to wake up and find vibrating spiders itching up his face.

Sometimes, Remus’ acts of vandalization were less petty acts of revenge and desperate attempts to escape his own head because everything hurt and he couldn’t stop thinking and every time he closed his eyes, he was crimson soaked and he hated it and it was too much he just wanted it all to STOP—

Those were the times when the old portraits and unfinished artworks were kicked to the ground, dragged around, torn and ripped and cracked and destroyed. The canvases soaked with the floor and strengthened the damp, musky smell which anyone else would have hated but Remus was used to because he always returned home from trekking through rivers or swamps and Roman would wrinkle his nose at him and shoo him away to get cleaned while Remus just laughed in his face—

The noise made as Remus curled in on himself and pressed his clammy forehead to the ground was nearly inhuman.

He didn’t feel much like a human now anyway. Perhaps more accurately a feral werewolf, or a mutant cannibal with a mouthful of fangs, or maybe even a malevolent spirit scratching and clawing at chains wrapped along his body, if spirits exist, which Remus was loath to admit he had yet to be proved so.

(He’d always said that if he ever found a ghoul, he’d drag it into Roman’s room and set it on him for the pure joy of proving his brother wrong and god fucking damnit could his mind stop thinking for TWO SECONDS?)

Remus wished there were more stimulating things down here. Or that he wasn’t down here in the first place. Or that he was dead.

No one came down here, not after he’d attacked the food and drink and then any face that wasn’t familiar. Which included all of them, now. They had all probably figured that he had enough in the cellar to sustain him for however long they were going to leave him down here. Or they were going to let him die of malnourishment. He didn’t have much of a preference.

(He did, but it wasn’t the “right” preference.)

Once, he wasn’t sure how long ago now — hours, days? — a timid, shy looking servant had plucked up enough courage to venture into the cellar with him. They’d offered some clean food and a cheap chalice of water. He’d been mildly surprised when they’d gone so far as to placing it easily within his reach and not expecting him to pop a shoulder from its socket trying to get it.

Remus remembered thinking, for a moment, that they probably shouldn’t have been down in the cellar, and that food and water was probably not supposed to be for him, and they were probably risking something by doing this, and that they certainly hadn’t been part of the initial takeover.

But then he’d taken one look at what he’d been brought; the cruel reminder that he was stuck in a basement, chained and alive and he would rather just—  just—

He didn’t remember knocking the tray aside or lunging for the servant despite the chains painfully biting and tearing his skin. He could vaguely picture their terrified expression as they whirled and scrambled back up the steps, and the way the light dimmed with the slamming of the door.

He never saw or heard from that servant again. He hoped it was merely because they were scared of him now, and not something more sinister.

Remus shifted, his legs scraping across the ground. He wished the sharp sting coming from where the embedded glass pieces were enough to distract him from the bone deep throb echoing through his whole body.

He twisted his hands, a habit that had gotten him wrists rubbed raw and nails chipped and bleeding. It made his shoulder ache, too. He’d dislocated it at some point. Before or after being thrown into the cellar, he wasn’t certain.

It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if Remus found out he was already dying. Injuries he’d been dealt previously had yet to be treated, and he was willing to bet any chance of freedom that the open, festering wounds were now infected.

Breathing was painful, too. Whether that was the result of broken ribs or something else, Remus had yet to decide.

It didn’t really matter all that much to him, anyway.

Remus closed his eyes and wished for sunlight.

  The bush had clearly been munched. Remus leaned down to squint at it, eyeing the berries and the half-eaten leaves. The muddy banks of the creek proved Remus’ suspicions with a small, almost indistinct trail of hoofprints.

Remus grinned. He shook off the persistent black beetle, which had been trying to crawl onto his boot and turned.

“Alright Moonshine,” he announced. “We’re on the right track.”

The Appaloosa nickered in reply as he swung back onto her back.

“Yeah, I know I can’t call you that in public,” he said, “but there’s no one else around here, is there?”

Moonshine snorted in agreement. Remus nudged her sides and she started forward, delicately clopping over the riverbed. She was much more tranquil than Remus’ old horse, who had been an absolute delight to go on adventures with. Too bad Roman let the stupid advisors boss him into getting rid of her, since she was such a menace. Admittedly, she had been a menace, and admittedly, Remus had loved her very much.

Roman had given him Moonshine and told him to call her Moon in front of anyone else. Remus had decided it wasn’t an all-bad apology. This horse didn’t kick him when he approached her, which he supposed was a bonus.

Given Moonshine’s naturally mild attitude, he was understandably perturbed when she stopped in her tracks and began to back up. Remus frowned and scanned the surrounding trees.

“Nothing’s there, girl. Go on.”

Moonshine snorted anxiously. Her ears swivelled. Remus followed them, glancing back the way he’d come. They weren’t that far from home. What was going through her head?

The horse’s hooves skidded across the ground. Remus narrowed his eyes.

“You smell something?” he asked. Moonshine waved her head from side to side, her eyes rolling. Remus glanced up. Past the treetops, there was a trail of smoke curling up towards the clouds. He couldn’t see where it was coming from, but the unsettled feeling in his gut told him he was quite sure he already knew.

Despite her protests, Remus twisted Moonshine to face the direction of the castle and dug his heels into her sides.

 The slamming of the cellar door flung Remus’ eyes open, accompanied by the rapid thumping of his alarmed heart.

He scowled at the thudding of heavy boots on creaky stairs and wondered where Moonshine had gotten to. He hadn’t seen her since he’d reached the castle doors. He hoped she was still intact. Perhaps she had run away the moment he’d dismounted. Perhaps he was more of an unrealistic optimist than he knew himself to be.

Three pale faces bobbed down the stairwell and approached Remus. Remus greeted them with a snarl and feint, to which they all reacted wonderfully with varying degrees of fear. It satisfied Remus enough to remain passive while the guards gripped his arms and detached the chains from the wall. They dragged along the ground with a painful scrapping ring as they heaved Remus up the stairs.

He waited until they’d kicked the cellar door closed behind them to punch the first guard in the face.

He got a kick to his knee for it, and it collapsed under his weight, but they only had to put more effort into keeping him upright, so was it really much of a loss?

Remus didn’t know for certain where he was being taken — dragged, really — but he had a vague inkling that made something in his stomach uncurl ever so slightly.

Twenty minutes later, the first guard with a soured mood, the second with a bruised cheek and the asshole at the back with a broken nose, Remus considered it a win by the time he was flung to the ground at a pair of pretentiously shined stolen boots that glinted maliciously up at him.

“Providing my guards with a hard time, were you?”

Remus bared his teeth skywards. The asshat snorted, like he was amused at the display, and anger curled in Remus’ gut. He shot up, his chained hands reaching, grasping, clutching mere inches from that smug dickface’s gob.

“Go piss into a wolf den, asswipe,” Remus told him. He got another laugh in reply, so he jerked forward and smashed his head to the man’s jaw.

The dickweed staggered back with an agonised cry, and once more Remus felt something in him curling and clenching and biting because really, he couldn’t handle a little bit of a chipped tooth?

“Fucking pussy,” Remus scoffed under his breath.

The man, who was no more a leader than he was a sack of shit sitting in the middle of a grandly polished entrance room, waved to the balcony. “Get him out there.”

The balcony, Remus quickly found, was the centre of attention for a goddamn amphitheatre-esque performing stage.

“Putting me on my knees?” Remus asked as he was shoved to the ground a second time. Whale Penis sneered down at him, still rubbing his swollen jaw. “It’s not the most romantic setting I’ve ever seen. And you haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet.”

“One more word out of your mouth, and I’ll cut out your tongue before your head.”

“Sorry, you skunk-smelling scumbag-of-puke-smelling plaything for a dog,” Remus spat. “I’m into that.”

Cocksucker curled his lip distastefully. He waved his hand, and Remus was bent over a slab of wood that bit into his throat.

“Personally, I’m a bit of top, myself,” Remus said despite the glint of metal now shining ominously above his head. He had to shout over the noise of the people below. “But whatever. If you’re into doggy style—”

“Enough!” Son of a Screaming Banshee Bitch yelled. Silence fell. Remus squinted down at the crowd, but he couldn’t discern any familiar faces. Either they were hiding themselves from him, or… “I thought you would be far more amusing, yet unfortunately, you’ve proven me wrong. I have had enough of this,  and you.” He shoved a finger at Remus’ face. He’d bite it if he could. (Given his head was trapped between wood, waiting to be severed from his shoulders, he very clearly couldn’t. The urge was still there, though.)

Murderous Bastard turned to the man standing above Remus and said, “Execute him.”

The blade swung down. Remus grinned.

Finally.

 When Remus strutted out into the room, wearing before multiple servants, council members and advisors a frilly green dress blown out around his feet and shrinking down his chest so much it was a relief he did not possess the ideal female body, Roman’s headache returned tenfold.

It didn’t help matters that Remus was continuing a rant from the night prior — one that involved his very open, very shameless, very dangerous thoughts about some poor attractive sod he had seen the week he had ventured into town.

“Remus,” Roman said placatingly.

“You should’ve seen it; he was just looking for trouble dressing like that!”

“I can imagine,” Roman said, not unkindly. Normally, he would indulge Remus for longer, but he could tell that the others in the room were beginning to grow agitated and uncomfortable.

“And I don’t even know why I like him. He’s not even that interesting!”

“It’s all about looks,” Roman assured him blandly, moving his attention to the scrolls before him. One advisor leaned down to murmur their input to him.

“Ah, right!” Remus said, bonking himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Dick size! How could I forget? I must be ill.”

“Remus,” Roman said with a sigh, and his brother finally, finally fell quiet. “I would like to hear more of this, truly, but… Perhaps at a different time?”

Remus wrinkled his nose.

“When I’m not in the middle of a meeting?”

Remus’ scowl deepened.

“That you should be a part of as well?”

Remus’ sour expression dropped. He glanced away, wearing the face of someone who knew they were caught red-handed doing something they should not have been doing. Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus whirled. His dress swiveled around his ankles. “I’m going hunting.”

“Wearing that?” Roman asked after him. Remus flipped his brother off on his way out the door. Roman squelched his smile when he spotted the disdain on the advisors’ faces. He continued to discuss with the others in the room, quietly wondering how many more seconds in Remus’ presence they were from all having simultaneous strokes.

Luckily (or not) that didn’t happen when Remus poked his head back into the room, his dress swapped for his hunting attire and announced, “I’ll be back by sunset, probably.”

Roman hid his smile and told him, “Bring back dinner.” Remus grinned brightly and Roman was sure one of the counsellors almost squawked in outrage.

Roman was loath to admit it in front of anyone, but going about his day as he was required was a duty nothing short of exhaustingly mundane without Remus. His brother always provided some level of amusement, even if it became distracting at times. Roman supposed that burying oneself into one of the empty armour suits used purely for  décor  and prancing around to ambush unassuming servants was not an agreeable practice. Remus never enjoyed being cooped up in the castle, though. He got restless, and Roman knew he wasn’t simply “acting out” when crammed into small spaces, no matter how large the castle.

By the time Roman emerged and escaped to the balcony, his headache had spiked to a near-migraine. He tried not to slump but leaning against the railing felt pitifully relaxing after sitting rigidly straight for the entire day.

He was so busy massaging his temples that at first, he hadn’t registered the sudden disturbance down the corridor from him.

Don’t groan, Roman told himself as he stifled a heavy sigh and turned, venturing towards the noise. What was he going to have to deal with now? With any luck, Remus was back and causing mayhem. Roman could do with his brother’s carefree nature at the moment.

He didn’t expect the Great Hall’s polished floor to be splattered with blood and all exists guarded at weapon-point.

“I’ll ask once more,” a voice called. Roman traced it to one of the strangers, who was now looking down at a councillor. “The lord of the mansion is… where?”

The advisor’s gaze caught Roman’s, and he pointed without a moment’s hesitation. Disappointing, Roman supposed, but he didn’t have it in him to be surprised. The intruder turned, a wide smile plastered to his lips when he spotted Roman standing in the hallway entrance. The look in the stranger’s eyes was full of confidence, but one that Roman couldn’t see in a leader.

“It’s prince, actually,” Roman said, briskly walking to the centre of the room before one of the lingering members included in the odd style of takeover could take a swipe at him. “Given our parents were connected to the royal family.”

The man tilted his head. “Interesting. Do you always talk so highly of yourself?”

Roman tried not to scoff indignantly. “Do you always invade people’s homes to mock them?”

“It’s a profession.” The man stalked forward, strides long and slow and not unlike a hunting predator. Roman didn’t miss the sabre at his side.

Still, he only barely managed to repress the flinch when the blade was brought inches from his neck. “Are you aware of how many people your parents fucked over?”

Roman gave him a raised eyebrow. “Were you among them?” he asked, his voice pitched innocently.

The man’s expression darkened, but then dropped to be startled when he found his sabre being obstructed by the blade of a golden-handled rapier. Roman gave him a considering look and a smirk that bordered between sly and puzzled.

“This is not how I remember duels beginning,” Roman said. The man frowned, but the way he immediately tried to kick Roman’s knees told the prince pretty much all he needed to know.

“You’re not very experienced, are you?” Roman asked, easily sidestepping a slash for his shoulder. “Did you think you could just storm a random place with force and some scary blades?” He twisted away from a swipe at his ankles.

“I have help,” his opponent assured him. “If I wanted it, you’d be dead already.”

“You should meet my brother,” Roman said. Blood sprayed to the ground when his rapier left a line along the man’s cheek. “If you weren’t trying to invade our home right now, I believe you two would make a great pair for collective destruction and carnage.”

“I’m sure.”

Roman just barely managed to escape the severing of the tendons of his wrist with the next attack. He skipped a step backwards and used the change of weight and positions to darted around the challenger (a mild and rather polite label for the gang who had already taken several lives unauthorised and attacked without the laws of a proper duel in mind). The man’s legs buckled beneath him with one kick, and Roman leapt away before his own legs could be caught by the edge of a blade.

“What is this all about, then?” Roman asked, frowning at the man as he struggled up from the ground. His sword was lowered, if only in consideration for not attacking a felled objector, but his senses were still running on hyperdrive; the servant at the back of the room was still alive, just barely, despite the blood projecting from their throat. The two intruders near the hallway that lead to the armoury looked like they were discussing bets. To the left, a gang member was inspecting the rings on the hand of a dead councilman. “Surely you could have robbed this place by now.”

“I’m not going to monologue and give you a chance to hatch some grand escape plan,” Roman’s combatant snapped, rising to his full height. “I’m not that dull.”

“Oh, no,” Roman said, because that hadn’t actually crossed his mind, “I’m genuinely wondering what you’re thinking.” He was levelled with a doubtful look, so he continued; “This all seems either incredibly planned out or a spur-of-the-moment decision that carried you here with a number of men and weapons. So what do you want? Money? Is it a ransom? The actual lord and lady of the house died months ago. You can’t get revenge on them.”

“No,” the man agreed. “But I can with you.”

Blazing hot pain sliced along the back of Roman’s leg. It was so sudden and intense that he couldn’t bite back the scream that tore his throat. His knee buckled but he regained his balance by twisting away from his attacker from behind and waving his sword.

“I have help,” the man reminded him with a smug smile. Roman’s lip curled in distaste.

“No honour among thieves, I suppose,” Roman mused, grinding his teeth and forcing himself to stand straight. He wrinkled his nose after a moment. “What the hell are you burning?”

“The gardens.”

Roman rolled away from an attack from someone at his flank and whirled to glower at their leader. “Why?”

The brute dared to look Roman in the eye, shrug, and say, “Felt like it.”

Roman growled and left an open gash along his assailant’s dominant arm. The man shouted and teetered back. Roman swiped another wound down his calf. He dodged a hit from behind and ignored the shriek from the attacker behind him as they clutched at their eye.

Two other guards dropped the more their leader was pushed back to the point of the stairs at the back of the Great Hall, where he was tripped and pinned by a blade to his throat.

Roman glowered down at him. “I was already in a foul mood today,” he said informatively, “and I am less than impressed at your vandalization as well as the murder of the people who live here.” His eyes darkened dangerously. The tip of his rapier brushed the bob of the man’s throat. “Letting you go to live the rest of your life in a prison cell seems like a generous offer to me.”

The entrance doors burst open with a thundering crack and Roman jolted, his grip tightening on his hilt in fear of dropping it. He wasn’t expecting his brother to explode into the room in a furious whirlwind and start swinging his morning star.

“Remus!” Roman barked, almost involuntarily. What the hell was he doing here? “What are you doing?”

His brother glanced up, looked Roman in the eye, and smashed the head of one of his attackers beneath his boots. Roman grimaced. More blood spilled onto the floor.

The leader of the foolish escapade launched himself from the ground while Roman was distracted, and the two of them rolled down the steps. Roman flung his arm out to deflect a dagger stabbing for his face, but his sword flew from his grasp, spinning across the floor with a singing screech. He got another punch in on the leader before one of the moron’s backups dove to pin his arms down.

Remus shouted his name, and he twisted his head in time to watch his brother get kneed in the stomach and thrown to the ground.

He couldn't get up; the leader’s dagger was positioned to just barely be touching the edge of his eye in silent threat. He was going on about something to do with revenge and blah blah I’m a villain.  Roman pressed his knees to their chest, gifted him a winning smile, and kicked.

The moment that the man went flying Roman clambered away from the other guard, making for Remus at the same time as his brother smashed heads with his attacker, sending them slumping to the ground.

Relief made Roman’s muscles go weak for half a second, but it was all the leader needed to pounce on him a second time.

“Consider this a generous offer,” the man snarled and buried the dagger to Roman’s chest. Roman scrambled backwards, still looking around for his sword. If he could just—

He cursed as his arms dropped his weight.

“YOU SON OF A BLOOD-SUCKING PIG FUCKER,” Remus roared.

Roman kept his breathing even. He glared up at the criminal. “You’re a coward.”

“And you’re dead,” the man replied. Remus careened forward, missed the leader when he dodged, and paid him no more attention in favour of skidding over to his brother. Behind him, a guard raised a crossbow, but he was waved away. The leader watched the pair before him, something akin to sadistic interest lighting his eyes.

A few moments later, though, he’d wave a hand, and a group of his followers would pin the one with the angrily twitching moustache to the ground and drag him somewhere to be contained. There were more exciting things to deal with, and an emotionally repressed brother going through grieving was not one of them.

Remus was snarling like some wild thing, and when he stopped shaking his brother he whirled around, teeth bared and fists clenched and eyes unfocused.

He was knocked to the ground before he could attack. The leader got a fat blob of spit on his shoes and a disgustingly unfavourable insult hurled at his person shortly before a sword hilt connected with the back of his skull and he went as limp as his brother.

 Remus was having a Very Bad Day.

He wasn’t sure when he decided, exactly. It had probably been on its way for quite some time, but Remus was always bad at calculating emotional responses and realising when Bad Days were on their way, so perhaps this was not completely unexpected. It did not make anything any easier.

The smallest noises around the mansion had him jumping. Earlier, he’d snarled at the door that always creaked in the kitchen. He’d given Thomas a bad scare, too, when he’d looked at the werewolf and lunged for him with his own bared teeth.

Remus hadn’t realised it was so bad until Patton had walked into the room, screamed, and Remus had spun to see all the furniture levitating off the ground.

Growling, he shuddered from head to toe, trying to dispel the jittery energy tingling in his limbs. Which was stupid, he was being stupid. He wasn’t even physical anymore, he shouldn’t be feeling bugs crawling beneath his skin.

He regarded the jagged shards grouped on the ground and wondered if Logan was sick of him breaking his vases. Several vases, multiple lights, any painting he came across and a variety of decorative plates and bowls had already been destroyed in his trail.

He wanted to kick at one of the pieces, but only the wisp of his body misted around the ground uselessly. The chains strapped to his body scraped across the floor. Remus blinked down at them for a moment, and they began to morph into a pair of blood-splattered weapons and a soaked uniform.

Vehement fury boiled out of him in the form of a low snarl.

The furniture in the room lifted again, now shaking like Remus had dumped the bugs on them instead. Something behind him shattered with his clenched fists.

Movement caught his eye and he whirled, claws elongated and teeth sharpened.

Roman regarded him mildly, calmly taking in the destruction of the room. Remus shifted, still bristling, but now silent as he watched Roman move past him and try to push a flowerpot back onto the desk from where it was dangerously tilting forward. It didn’t move, even with his effort. Remus swallowed needlessly and joined him, successfully pushing the pot to a safer position.

“Sorry,” said Remus, sounding like dragging chalk and screeching metal.

Roman glanced at him. He didn’t ask what he was apologising for. He never did. Remus wondered if he feared the answer. “You’re a poltergeist. Isn’t this behaviour standard?”

Remus worked his jaw, but nothing came out. Roman’s gaze swept back over the room. “Logan will be grateful you spared his photo frames.”

Remus cracked a cheek-to-cheek smile full of teeth. “Only for when Patton’s not in the mood.” 

Roman visually sighed, though no sound accompanied the gesture. Remus tried scratching at his arms, but they only phased harmlessly through. He growled to himself. Roman squinted at him. “Your neck is bleeding again.”

Remus took the opportunity to tilt his head exaggeratedly and unnaturally to the side. Roman’s face twitched, a hint of a wince.

“Remus,” he admonished quietly.

Remus shrugged and shifted away. He frowned at the far wall. Roman did not reach for him. He never did. Remus never asked; he had a solid idea why. If he were in his brother’s position, he wouldn’t care much for being affectionate with him, either.

“Virgil and Thomas were making warm drinks when I last left them. Would you like to join them?”

“We can’t drink that shit,” Remus spat.

Roman didn’t react. “It’s not about the drinks.” Remus curled his lip. “I know you don’t like to interact with them, but perhaps it will be good for you.”

Remus gnashed his teeth. The chains curling heavier around his body. He glanced down the hallway. If he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine Thomas’ joyful laughter and Patton’s giggles. It made him angry, how they could be so carefree. How they got away with being monsters and could still smile.

“Come on.” Roman brushed past him, their shoulders just barely touching for a mere moment. “If you hate it still after a little while, I won’t bother you again.”

Remus huffed. He trailed after his brother, shoulders slumped. Roman glanced back at him and he scowled back, making his point evidently clear without whining further.

Then, Roman gifted him a small, genuine smile. Something in Remus’ chest leaped, but it couldn’t have been his heart because that thing didn’t work anymore.

He grinned back, but by the sad look in Roman’s eyes, he could tell his brother knew it wasn’t genuine.

“Only a little while,” Roman reminded him. Remus sighed, low and grating and painful. The blood around his throat lessened, only slightly.

“A little while,” he echoed, and followed his brother.

[365days365movies]

March 11, 2021: The Seventh Seal (1957) (Part One)

Well, I did Cocteau this month already, so...time for another big boi director, I guess.

I’m sorry for me, too, because this one scares me a little more than Cocteau.

Ingmar Bergman. One of the greatest directors of all time, and the only prominent Swedish director that I’ve ever heard of. Also someone whom I’m DEFINITELY not qualified to judge, but here we are anyway.

Best known for Persona, Fanny and Alexander, and...one more movie, Bergman was an EXTREMELY prolific director, and far more influential on global film than you or I know. Seriously, dude influenced everyone from Martin Scorcese to Terry Jones to Peter Hewitt in one way or another. He’s passed away, as of 2007, at the age of 89. And speaking of Death...

There have been a LOT of incarnations of Death in media. Hell, we literally looked at one two movies ago, in Orpheus. You could argue that Ugetsu also revolved around death, but I’m talking about Death, the physical embodiment of the concept.

Now, the most common incarnation seen is the Grim Reaper (pictured above), but there are MANY other well-known versions. Here, have a few different versions, just for taste.

Yeah, that’s a lot. Kudos if you knew all of them! But that last one...I mentioned Peter Hewitt earlier. He directed Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, and in it, the two meet that films version of Death, a Swedish-accented ghoul. And if you’ve ever wondered about that, or about this joke from the opening song of Muppets: Most Wanted:

...Well, keep reading. Like I said, Bergman was influential, and perhaps NONE of his films was quite as influential as The Seventh Seal or Det sjunde ingelet. Welcome to a show about Death.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

ONCE AGAIN, The Criterion Collection logo brings us in, followed by the opening credits and music from that should accompany a Dark Souls boss, followed by a quote from Revelation 8:1-6, about the opening of the Seventh Seal. Roll credits?

Well, no. Instead, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, we meet a knight, resting there and praying to God, as his horses drink from the salt water. This is Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight who is resting here with his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). As Block takes out his chess set, he is joined by...

ALREADY?

Holy shit, I didn’t expect this scene to happen FOUR MINUTES IN??? Dear Lord, if this is happening now, what the hell is the rest of this movie? I am afraid of that answer now.

Anyway, yes, this is Death (Bengt Ekerot). And yeah, dude is indeed a CREEPY motherfucker. He’s been at Block’s side for a long time, but has now finally come for him, at last.

However, Block, ever clever knight that he is, capitalizes on rumors that he’s heard about the character, and challenges him to a game of chess. They start, with Block playing white and Death playing black.

But as they’re about to begin, we cut to Block and Jöns leaving the beach. Huh. OK then, I guess we’ll get back to that, huh? Jöns speaks of ill omens, and they see a pair of corpses, rotted after a long time dead. As their journey continues, we shift focus from them to a small group of actors in a caravan.

One of these actors - Jof (Nils Poppe) - sees a vision of a woman walking with her infant child, as angelic music plays in the background. He runs back to the caravan, where he wakes the sleeping Mia (Bibi Andersson), his wife. He tells her that this was the Virgin Mary and her baby boy, Jesus. Um...wow. Holy shit, my man.

Mia takes her husband’s vision as his active imagination, while he takes it as pure fact. Apparently, he’s very prone to having these kinds of visions. Mia warns him to tamp those visions down, or people will think him a fool. All of this rouses both fellow actor Jonas Skat (Erik Strandmark), and Jöns and Mia’s infant son Mikael (a cute chubby baby).

The troupe is on their way to Einsmore, performing for a group of priests. They will perform in a play about Death, once again making me think about Beetlejuice the Musical, which is really need to watch.

Block and Jöns arrive at a church, where real-world painter Albertus Pictor (Gunnar Olsson) is painting a Danse Macabre. Jöns asks why paint something so...well, macabre, and Pictor notes that it’s not a bad thing to remind people that they will die. This is especially as the Black Plague sweeps across Europe. YUP. IT’S THAT TIME PERIOD.

The two speak more on the absolute HORROR of the Bubonic Plague, a topic that clearly bothers Jöns. Meanwhile, Block goes to pray in a confessional, where he reveals that he doesn’t truly understand the point of prayer in this world. He’s clearly struggling with his faith, which must be HELL for a knight. And he delivers these confessions to his ever-present companion: Death.

Block wants God to speak to him directly, and questions whether or not God truly exists. He wants to do one last, meaningful thing before he meets his inevitable end. Block hasn’t yet realized that he’s speaking with Death, and openly talks about the chess game they began that morning. Death replies that they will continue their game in a nearby inn. This is how Block intends to prolong his own life.

He goes back out to meet Jöns, who’s still speaking with the painter, and the two leave the church. Directly outside, a woman is in the stocks, and is preparing to be burnt at the stake for learning carnal knowledge of Satan. She’s also being blamed for being the cause of the Black Plague itself. Just gotta say, big if true, goddamn. Black wants to know if she’s met the Devil himself, but she’s not quite all there.

Block and Jöns continue their journey, making their way from farmlands. Jöns goes into one of the barns in a village, where a dead body lies. He then hides as another man enters, and steals jewelry from the woman’s corpse. This is Raval (Bertil Anderberg), and he’s quickly caught in the act by a mute woman (Gunnel Lindblom).

However, before he can do anything to this poor girl, he’s stopped by Jöns, who recognizes him from the seminary, ten years prior. He tells him to shove off, and offers the mute woman a place as his housekeeper. And, uh...yeah, Jöns is kind of a dick, but more of a cad, y’know? He’s not likeable, but he also isn’t hateable.

In town, the actors’ troupe is performing, and the leader of the troupe - Skat - is seduced by a woman during the performance, and they have sex in the bushes behind the stage. As all of this is happening, the performance is interrupted by a group of flagellants, extremist priests that whip themselves and parade through the town, showing their extreme devotion to their faith. Fuckin’ yikes, this is a thing that ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And as these people, devoted in their faith and pain, march through the town, the townspeople are moved to tears by this act. And this act has real blood, sweat, and tears poured into it. The head priest of the parade then gives a fatalist sermon to the townsfolk, noting that death will come for them all with the plague, and berating them for their seeming ignorance of their fate.

And dude is MEAN. He mocks people’s appearance, and screams to all of them that they’re doomed, and will die painful deaths. Watching on is not only the actors’ troupe, but also Block, Jöns, and the mute girl (yeah, she never gets a name, goddamn it). The pain parade moves on, singing their solemn hymns all the way. And I’m not gonna lie...it’s intense. Especially knowing that this shit actually HAPPENED? Damn.

Once they pass, Jöns notes his disbelief at this display, never believing how far people will go, or the stories that they’ll tell. He’s interrupted by blacksmith Plog (Åke Fridell), who’s looking for his wife. Meanwhile, inside, a group of townspeople talk about the spreading plague, and wonder if this is the end times indeed. Plog comes in and asks Jof where his wife is. He also doesn’t know, but it’s revealed that this is the woman that Skat ran off with in the bushes. The conversation is joined by thief Raval, who outs Jof as an actor, and a friend of Skat.

Raval and Plog both threaten him for information on Skat and Lisa’s whereabouts, and humiliate him in front of the entire tavern. It’s actually quite hard to watch as well. This poor, poor guy, who seems like a nice enough dude, is essentally tortured for the transgressions of his asshole friend. But it’s interrupted by Jöns, who stops Raval in his tracks, and slashes his face, which he said he’d do if he ever saw him again.

Excellent spot for Part 2, I think! See you there!

[suca-loca]

the wolf always blames the food chain.

Pairing: Demus, Intruality /kinda, but not really, let me know if I should remove the Intruality one/

Warnings: Gore, murder, death, eating human beings, ghouls, cursing, lewd language, morally gray!Janus, morally gray!Remus

Authors note: Inspired by the anime Tokyo Ghoul. You don’t really need background knowledge of the show to read this, but it would be best to search up “Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul” to get a better understanding of what a kagune is and to see what a ghoul’s form looks like.

Summary: Patton doesn’t mean to kill her as much as he doesn’t mean to get caught.

——

“I’m sorry,” Patton sobs, spit and bits of human liver coming from his mouth more than words do. “I’m so so sorry, Remus.” 

He holds her insides in his hands, but it is he who feels cracked open. The sins he’s worked so hard to keep at bay strewn out and about and on the walls for all the world to see. Because even when there’s a heart throbbing against his palm - not really pulsating at all, but moving so lifelike from how hard he shakes - he always ends up here. Making it about himself. 

Remus inhales, a juxtapose to the very still chest merely a few feet away. “You’re a ghoul.” 

He says it so calmly. Like he expected to walk into this scene after finishing a night shift at the hospital. As if this isn’t the first time he’s realized his roommate isn’t human. 

Patton glances at the broken body sprawled between his legs. At the woman who now looks more like a ragged doll than the neighbor who helped carry his groceries just a day before. And then he stares at his kagune, bright and blue and solid, but with the fluidity of a river, cocooning itself between the split of skin on her stomach, stretching the wound more and more until the sound of blood oozing onto the living room carpet roars like a waterfall. 

He looks up at his roommate, sclera coated in black instead of white and irises a shade lighter than the heavy red dripping from Patton’s chin. “I don’t wanna be.

“I want to be forgiven.” Patton wipes away the snot that drips from his nose, the tears that slide down his cheeks, unaware of the smears of blood he leaves in their place.“I want to be good. So, please, don’t turn me in.” 

Remus grins. Like a monster under the bed would. Like Patton should. “Liar.” 

Patton flinches back, more so from the shock than the accusation. This is not the reaction of a man terrified for his life. This is a man at the dealers’ table, holding the winning cards and knows it. “I’m not a liar! Who would choose this life? Having to constantly look over my shoulder, outcasted by the world, the killings - ”

“The power.” Remus cuts in. 

Something snarls in Patton’s gut. “I don’t care for that.” 

“Liiiiiiiiiaaaaar.” 

“I am not a liar!” The thing inside him raises its hackles, pacing slowly. He releases a sob. “Lying is wrong!” 

Remus laughs. Somehow a more sickening sound than the squelch coming from Patton’s kagune ripping itself free from the girl’s abdomen. “Nice to know the ghoul I caught red-handed - literally red-handed -  has a good sense of morality. What’s next? You’re waiting for marriage? Haven’t even touched yourself yet to preserve some purity bullshit?” 

“It’s because I’m a ghoul I’m so strict on myself about lying!” Patton cries. “The horrible things I’ve done to survive - ”

And like a drunk driver who thinks nothing can go wrong, Patton sees headlights in the shape of familiar amber eyes and there’s no time to step on the brakes before everything falls away. Please, she bawls, barely able to string the vowels together as easily as Patton can string her large intestine along and along and along and along. Please don’t do this. 

Patton avoids looking at the crumpled body he towers over. “Why bother with the little sins when you’re doing the big ones?” 

“Sins?” Remus’ eyes flicker to the cross around Patton’s neck. It hits Patton then that Remus’ gaze has been locked in on him this whole time, with the exception of the ten seconds he stared at the corpse when he first walked in. Patton should be glad the attention is gone, so why does he wish for it back? “Even after all this, you believe there’s a God? That you earned your way to the pearly gates despite all the lives you’ve fucked enough times over to make your bitch?” 

Patton can’t help but instinctively clutch the jewelry. “Belief is all I have. I don’t deserve a place in heaven, but the least I can do is try to do better in other ways to make up for the hurt I’ve caused. That has to count for something.” When he lets go he realizes his cross is now covered in blood. “It has to.” 

Remus steps closer, daring to enter the pool of blood that Patton was foolish enough to believe acted as a barrier, a warning. A threat.

“I can’t believe this shit I’m hearing! Do you mean to tell me murder cancels out because you tipped the pizza delivery guy more than twenty percent?!” Remus is shrieking now. He’s a city wire, spitting rogue sparks at Patton’s skin. “You don’t get to repent when you’re just going to do it again! There’s no point! As pointless as the creation made by your God where the left testicle hangs lower than the right one!”

Patton jumps to his feet, but it isn’t solid ground he stands on. The floor is slipping beneath him, with nowhere stable to go to. 

“The point is to be a good person! I don’t get to just stop, Remus! I have to eat! I didn’t even let her in with the intent to kill her! I let her in because she wanted to borrow eggs and I didn’t realize she cut herself on something until I opened the door and smelled the blood!”  

His hunger shrieks at the door because she’s there too. Two creatures as alive as the other. But this is a gladiator fight. The door shuts. He places his bets. 

He didn’t know not to open the door, but he knew better than to close it. 

Patton expects his voice to shake. He nearly flinches when what comes out is a deep rasp from the back of his throat. “I didn’t want to kill her. I… I just get so hungry.” 

A grin slides over Remus’ face, as direct and chilling as a hammer to the skull, and the thought that comes next hits Patton just as hard.

He needs to get out of this mess the same way he got in it.

“The wolf always blames the food chain,” the hammer says, and Patton breaks. 

The thing in Patton’s gut snaps its jaw, then strikes. 

His kagune reacts first, shoving Remus to the wall so hard an audible crack whips through the air. His legs comprehend the danger - the thrill - right after, seemingly gliding over the floor from how fast he moves. By the time the human has opened his eyes his hands are pinned against his head and Patton’s kagune hovers just a centimeter above the center of his chest. 

All done in less than three seconds. A testament to how inhuman Patton is, and yet he’s forced to wear their skin. 

“I’m a good person.” His breath ghosts over Remus’ lips. Is it wrong he wonders if it tickles or stings? 

Remus smirks. 

Patton hopes it’s both. 

“What you are,” Remus says, tilting his head to the right so that his cheek brushes against Patton’s forearm, smiling as if he isn’t the rodent in this mouse and cat game, “is a beast.” 

Color spreads to Patton’s cheeks, sitting there like it has a weight of its own, reminding him of how wrong this is. How wrong he and Remus are, whether separate or together. 

“There’s a wolf in you, pacing for the next chase. The poor thing’s been without a pack for so long,” Remus says softly. If Patton closes his eyes, he can almost feel Remus’ hands trailing up and down his stomach, softly, attentively - dare he say- adoringly, trying to find the lump of the wolf. Nails softly dragging before Remus’ fingers rest in between the curve of fat that ends where his hips start.

Perhaps it’s the thought of someone wanting to touch him willingly, wantingly, outside of those who hit or scratch or slap when he’s trying to fill his stomach for the day, that keeps the memories of why he’s been alone so long at bay. Better to focus on Remus’ half-lidded eyes than the day he was hidden under the floorboards by his parents at nine-years-old moments before ghoul investigators kicked down the door. 

“How much longer do I have to rile you up before I can get you to face me as who you truly are?” Remus asks, slightly purring. 

Kill him. 

Patton should. Should kiss him and shove his tongue through the gap he always considered adorable before tearing out the teeth Remus still has left. Should kiss the scar under his chin that Patton bandaged after a bar fight went wrong and replace it with a newer, deeper, and unhealable one. Should kiss the freckles scattered across his cheeks like a galaxy and use the constellations to find out what order he should rip them out in. 

Kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill -

Remus turns his head slightly to, as if reading Patton’s mind, brush his lips against Patton’s forearms. “Not much longer, it seems,” Remus hums. 

A gasp leaves Patton’s mouth. He steps back immediately, forearm burning. 

But that’s not the only thing that burns. 

“How dare you.” He spits, eyes wild, and kagune flickering like a hungry tongue. “Do not speak as if you know me when you have no idea what it means to be born wrong.” 

At that response, anger flares up in Remus’ eyes. Patton almost sighs in relief when he sees it. It’s both relieving and terrifying to see Remus read him so clearly while Patton has no idea what’s going on in Remus’ playground of a brain. 

And then he realizes he was a fool to think he understood Remus at all because a second later the human pulls off his shirt. 

“Remus!” Patton stutters, face burning such an intense color of pink it makes up for the devoid of color on the corpses’ body at his feet. Before he can embarrass himself further with a failed attempt at a coherent sentence, Remus turns around and Patton’s eyes - curse his dumb eyes - don’t look away. 

An unwelcome jolt of desire shoots through him, but it is instantly squashed when he realizes what he’s really supposed to be looking at. Multiple slashes, old, deep, and that look to be caused at the hands of a wooden ruler, vertically run along Remus’ back. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t born wrong.” Remus looks over his shoulder, voice losing the edge of madness that makes him so him. “But my parents thought differently. So I understand the pain and hurt that comes with it.” 

Remus throws the shirt aside and begins stalking towards him, somehow still talking in the present while Patton is stuck in the six seconds before when he realized Remus also has freckles on his back. “I could tell right away that you were like me. Deceiving others. Deceiving yourself. I just didn’t know why, so I promised myself not to say anything until I had all the facts. For the first fourteen years of my life, I tried to fit in the mold my parents made for me before I realized this isn’t a Cinderella story where the shoe fucking fits in the end. My mother thought the scars on my back were punishment for playing the note of a violin incorrectly. She couldn’t be more wrong. It was a punishment for lying to myself for so long. It came to me then that I can’t be what I’m not. I can’t lie to myself or others anymore.” 

Patton doesn’t move away as Remus stops before him with the confidence of a man who didn’t just step over a dead body, too busy being pulled under by unending tides every time he gets too close to shore. 

For a long time, he told himself lying was not as easy to stomach as mankind. And yet it’s all he’s ever done. All he knows. He rips his roots out from one life to the next. Created new identities whenever the police got too close to the truth. Learned to turn around when someone’s order got called out. He had that name once. He had them all. A coffee mocha for the Dylan that was friends with a boy who had purple hair and skin so pale Dylan thought bleeding would do him good. Four cheese empanadas for Barry, who coincidentally met a man named Logan Berry, who didn’t like him all that much but would punch in a discount for him, so Barry would leave a nice tip because that’s what nice people did and he wanted to be like those people. Not the wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

When he resurfaced from the floorboards that day he was reborn amongst the cheers and applause of his neighbors congratulating the ghoul investigators for freeing the world from two evils. With his parents’ fresh blood squishing underneath his shoes as he made his escape out the back a horrible thought came to him. 

The world thought him better off not being born at all. 

Is that what would happen when death inevitably claimed him? No one to wail or grieve to prove he was loved. Not even a grave. His existence was despised. His death was cause for celebration. 

And what was a nine-year-old to do with that information but change?

He is drowning. He can’t even scream unless he wants to make the death more painful. Maybe he should. Self-destruction is a very human thing. 

Remus’ cups the ghoul’s face in his hands. A life raft Patton instantly clings to. 

“And that’s the difference between you and me,” Remus says, voice the gentlest it can be with the edge of permanent madness laced around his tongue. “This goody two shoes people pleasure you play? It’s not you. It never was. So cut the bullshit. You are so much better than that. You always were. Live for yourself, not for others.” 

Patton holds onto Remus’ hands, afraid once it leaves - because everyone always leaves - he’ll be made much emptier without it. He should not be feeling these things, least of all for this man, this human, when the air around him crackles with such a wrongness that it out wins Patton’s. No, worse. Better. It compliments his. 

If she hadn’t been nice, hadn’t been so her, she wouldn’t have helped Patton carry his groceries. And so she wouldn’t have known he had a batch of plentiful eggs to lend after realizing she had none to make the brownies for her nieces’ upcoming birthday. She’s on the walls, on the carpet, on the couch, on his clothes, because she was what the world took advantage of: kind. 

And that is why creatures like Patton survive. You do not make company with survivors and expect to leave in one piece. 

He’s at the shore now. But he’s not the same man who went into the water. He has been homesick for a person he could never be.

“Why are you telling me this?” Patton asks, while also wondering what could possibly be, in the already long list of things, more wrong with him that he finds the calluses on Remus’ hands make his touch more comforting than it already was. 

Remus presses their foreheads together. “Because I want you to know you don’t need to hide who you are around me. Ghoul or something else. You’re not alone anymore.” 

Patton doesn’t know what it means that his kagune, a literal weapon of destruction, tentatively lingers around Remus’ waist wanting to wrap around it in a mockery of a hug. Or how he feels about his soulless eyes, meant to strike horror and fear into the hearts of his food, soften as it drinks up the dimples on Remus’ face and the crook of his nose. 

He is saved from thinking too much about it when Remus speaks again. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

A beat of silence. At least, Patton thinks there’s one, the only beat he hears is the erratic beating of his heart against his chest. 

“You… you can’t believe that” is what Patton finally says. Eyes wide and the room suddenly too hot and the smell of her is starting to fill up the room which is definitely what’s keeping him from thinking clearly, even though the smell of rotting flesh is not new to him at all. 

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Well, it seems you missed the conversation we just had about not lying for others, so I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning. Ahem, you’re a ghoul - ” 

“You’re insane.” Patton rolls his eyes, unable to stop the totally unnoticeable and not at all loud snort that escapes a second later. He nearly flinches a second later when he realizes how mean it could come across. Patton never said anything mean. Who is he now? Is this another mask or is the real him slowly peeking through?

Remus smiles. “And so are you. Let’s lose our minds together and drive off a cliff like Thelma and Louise.” 

It isn’t a nice smile. Too much red gums and canine teeth, not sharp at all but giving off the impression that they should be. Everything about this human is sharp in the most troubling way. And yet, although it wasn’t the prettiest thing to look at, that doesn’t mean it didn’t make Patton feel something. 

He’s pretty sure it’s the first real thing he’s felt in a long time. 

With the last of his reserve crumbling away, he wraps his kagune around Remus and allows himself to indulge in the moment by closing his eyes. His hands pressed against the edge of his folded legs, pinky outstretched to lightly brush against Remus’ knee. It’s the smallest of contact, still, the pad of that same finger buzzes and sizzles in the most delicious way. 

“All the prettiest flowers have thorns,” Remus speaks, an earnest look in his eyes that almost undoes the chords of chaos that make him up. “Flowers don’t cry when they prick someone’s thumb. So why should you? We are what we do to survive. You can either take accountability for your actions or let the shame eat you as easily as you eat others. The choice is yours, but dammit - ” 

Remus pulls back slightly to get a good look at Patton’s face. There is an intensity and purpose in his body so rigid Patton fears he’ll break apart. 

“I want you to choose to not only survive but to live, Patton.” 

Patton stills, mouth suddenly dry. “... That’s not my name.”

Remus blinks. “Record scratch?” 

“Patton was a name I gave myself not too long ago,” the ghoul forces out. “I’ve had others. As fake as the one I have now. My real name…” He takes a deep breath, feeling the water of the crashing tides lick at his heels, ready to pull him back in. “My real name is Janus.” 

It goes quiet. 

It can’t be an eternity, but that’s what it feels like to Pa - no, to Janus. If it’s weird on his own tongue, then what could it possibly feel like to Remus? Is this where Janus has crossed the line? A fake name somehow more of a deal-breaker than eating mankind? 

His heart lurches at having had a taste of something… something he can’t really put his finger on, but he knows it’s something more, only to have it pulled out from underneath him. Will the pain in his heart stop if he rips it out? If that was what made this horrible emotion, this terrifying and numb feeling of loss to something that he shouldn’t have allowed to be his in the first place, stop he’d gladly do it. 

Then, because Remus is full of surprises, Janus is pulled by the hem of his shirt into a kiss. 

The kiss is anything but quiet. The kind of smooch you hear in some trashy, cheap porn production from a store that would allow a seven-year-old to walk out with. Remus shouldn’t be making out with him like this. Not when the crust of dried blood still lingers on Janus’ lips. Or when the stench of his latest kill sticks to him so thick his own kagune couldn’t pierce through it. 

Yet Remus shows no sign of stopping. 

Remus bites Janus’ lower lip and oh. Stars aren’t normally this close to the earth, right? Because that’s all Janus sees. In an instant his hands are gripping at Remus’ waist, holding on for dear life as Remus moves on to using his tongue for something other than giving Janus a harsh - but much needed - reality check. 

When Remus pulls back, Janus unconsciously brings his hands to his lips, as if the action will somehow replay the moment. How is it that someone so human can unravel a monster such as himself so easily as breathing? 

“Janus,” Remus says in awe, like his name consists of all the most heavenly sounds in a single word. Janus could listen to Remus say his name for eternity. 

“Janus, Janus, Janus, Janus. I love it! I've never met someone who has a name with the word anu - ” 

”We’re pronouncing it Ja-nice from now on, ” Janus says, immediately snapped out of daydream mode. 

Remus pouts. ”Fine. You're no fun.” 

”Am I?” Janus blurts out before he can stop himself. 

There is so much he doesn’t know about himself. Where does he even begin to piece together who he really is? 

Remus comfortingly squeezes Janus’ hand.  ”Don't worry. We’ll find out. Together.” 

Janus allows a small smile to slip on his face. He may not know who he is, but he knows what he wants. 

“I’d like that.”

The two get to their feet, now that the moment has passed they are acutely aware of the underlying problem in the room. 

“So, what are you going to do with the rest of the body?” Remus asks, approaching it to poke it with the front of his boot. 

“Eat it, of course. I’m still terribly hungry.” 

Remus whirls around immediately, a glint in his eyes similar to the ones found in kids wandering around Disneyland. “Can I watch?” 

Obviously, Janus should be disgusted. Instead, a small blush coats his cheeks and he finds himself star-struck at the sight of the cute gap in Remus’ lopsided grin.

“Oh,” Janus purrs, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, “please do.” 

[mwolf0epsilon]

Out of curiosity, what are your favorite companions out of all of the Fallout games, and why?

Fallout

The Original Dogmeat (After looking into it, it feels like this ornery dog had a lot more personality than the available human companions, enough so that he made a comeback in FO2.)

Fallout 2

Goris (A sentient and intelligent albino deathclaw scholar that wears a robe to hide his appearence from trigger happy assholes. What's not to like? Goris is an interesting character and I hope there will be another deathclaw companion in a future game!)

K-9 the Cyberdog (Cyberdogs are cool. Talking Cyberdogs with good moral compasses? Even better! Super pissed the NCR ended up destroying him to gather Intel on the Enclave. That's something I'd expect from the BoS instead, and it's left a bitter taste in my mouth. Rest in peace you poor pup.)

Fallout 3

Butch Deloria (He was an asshole and a bully during his and the Lone Wanderer's childhood, but you can't deny he isn't loyal to a fault. He's still a bit of an asshole with an unobtainable greaser teen dream, but honestly he's not that bad considering he was neglected as a child thanks to his mother's alcoholism. If you scratch his back he'll definitly scratch yours, even if he pretends he's not a goody-two-shoes like you. Plus he can give you a haircut, who wouldn't want a personal barber out in the Wastes?)

Charon (His situation is an uncomfortable moral conundrum since he's basically a brainwashed slave by anything but name. Oxhorn put it best in his video on Charon's situation, and I agree that the only good thing you can do for him is buying his contract and doing good out in the Capital Wasteland with him as your companion, as a form of atonement for any past shady/cruel actions his former employers have had him perform.)

Fawkes (A super mutant who may or may not have been a man named Shelton Delacroix, Fawkes is unfortunate in the sense that he was alienated by his fellow vault-tec security officers for having a conscience, and then alienated by his super mutant kin for being uniquely intelligent and kind. To add to these tragedies, Shelton was apparently married so Fawkes has a wife he can't recall who is either dead or a mindless super mutant herself.)

Dogmeat the Second (A loyal heterochromatic cattle dog who would fight to the death if just to avenge his fallen master. Dogmeat is a scruffy scavenger and definitly man's best friend. You have to wonder if he might be a descendant of the Original Dogmeat with just how strong his personality comes off. Some dogs in the wasteland are definitely smarter than others.)

Fallout: New Vegas

Arcade Ganoon (A gay mess of a doctor with social anxiety and a lot of personal demons related to his origins. Arcade is an intelligent and interesting character in the sense that he has a deep-seated desire to help everyone, but knows the consequences of one's ideals outgrowing the needs of others. He's grateful to the Enclave Remnants's loyalty to him and his mother, after his father passed away, and he definitly considers them his family. That in itself is an issue because the Enclave's sins will follow and haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he was just born into that life and not one of the people commiting atrocities.)

Craig Boone (His story is the typical wasteland hardened ex-soldier. He committed atrocities that left him mentally scarred and suffering from PTSD, lost his wife who was the only good thing in his life, his need to avenge her has left him dangling between cold-blooded killer and decent human being, and on top of that he's a bit of a cynical asshole. Still a pretty cool companion to have around, and honestly it feels nice to have him around doing some good for the Mojave wasteland instead of stewing in his depression and self-hatred. His sniping skills could help a lot of people with the Courier's encouragement.)

Lily Bowen (She's a super mutant elite spy soldier. She's also a sweet old granny with schizophrenia and a murderous imaginary friend. Lily is another tragic character who's story pulls at your heartstrings, and the three choices regarding her meds are another moral conundrum. Again I'd recommend Oxhorn's video on her story, since I wholly agree with his assessment on what choice is actually the best for her.)

Rex the Cyberdog (His background before he joined the Kings is shrouded in mystery, with the Legion's faded mark painted on his armour platting. Rex is a loyal pup with a hate for rats, hats and people who wear hats. His greatest ire is probably reserved for rats with hats. His recruitment story arc is also pretty interesting and it definitely affects his personality and endings. If you have Old World Blues and construct Roxie the Cyberdog he even becomes a father of a litter of "Boston terrifiers"!)

ED-E (Honestly it's my love for robots that make this little damaged travel companion so appealing. His mission is interesting, and the cashe of Enclave Intel he holds can be benefitial, but most of his endings point to ED-E continuing his journey eventually so there's a sadness with letting this little guy go if you get attached.)

Fallout 4

Preston Garvey (All Preston has ever wanted to do was help make the Commonwealth a better place for people to live in. He's a selfless man who joined a militia at age 17 to do some good, and it honestly breaks my heart that the Minutemen collapsed as hard as it did. Preston had to watch as the ideals of the Minutemen were crushed underfoot by a bunch of selfish assholes, along with an entire settlement of innocent people. He did everything in his power to keep the only four survivors safe and alive, and he's clearly traumatized, depressed and suicidally throwing himself at danger because he'd rather die fighting the good fight than caring for his own safety. He puts everyone else above himself and it infuriates me that people are so hellbent in painting him off as a bland character or a pest. Oxhorn puts it best in his profile of Preston.)

X8-88 (The Institute's top of the line Courser, the closest the Commonwealth will ever get to the Terminator, and livable despite his cynical remarks and persistence that he's incapable of emotions or attachment. It saddens me that X6 is only obtainable if you follow the Institute. It also pains me that if you do manage to befriend him and destroy the Institute, you're destroying this loyal synth's only home. You're basically stripping away everything he knows and believes in, inherently doing what the Institute has done to the Sole Survivor: Taking their life away from them. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth...)

Nick Valentine (Moral conundrums are painful. Ethical conundrums are just as bad. Nick didn't deserve anything that happened to him, and it's obvious he struggles with his identity and purpose but chooses to follow in the Original Nick's footsteps to do some good, rather than hide away and mope. He's a good person overall, even if he's a bit of a smartass sometimes. He's the perfect robodad for anyone in need of a fatherly figure in the Commonwealth.)

John Hancock (This man has a lot of emotional baggage and has made a LOT of bad choices, but if there's anyone you can trust to be loyal and helpful out in the wastes, it's definitly Hancock! His crude humour and liberal use of drugs and knives to deal with his problems can be a bit off-putting, but Hancock will defend you no matter what. Heck, he would even defend Danse from the BoS and the guy's a racist dickbag to him from the very moment they meet. That says a lot about his character.)

Codsworth (He waited for the Sole Survivor to return. For 200 fucking years. Please be kind to him, he's probably one of the nicest companions and also one of the most lovable too! He is the friend you'd wish you had if you ever found yourself in the same situation as the Sole Survivor. Cherish Codsworth, he's all you have left, and he'll protect you to the best of his ability.)

Dogmeat the Third (A brilliant genius dog that is very likely a synth. Dogmeat, like Codsworth, is a lovable guy and should definitely be cherished. I'd recommend getting the "Everyone's Best Friend" Mod so that you can have him travel with you and another companion. It's almost like FO2!)

Deacon (He's intelligent. He's sneaky. He's a pathological liar with good intentions. Deacon is mysterious and charming, and definitly a little fucked in the head. I'd like to meet his plastic surgeon if they can make him flawlessly look like a woman and a ghoul, no questions asked. Oxhorn has a pretty interesting video that explores Deacon's character and intentions, if you're interested!)

Paladin Danse (I'll admit I wasn't all that impressed with Danse when I got my first impression of him. He's rude, he's impatient, he's condescending, and worst of all he is an asshole to anyone just a bit different from him. Still, the plot-twist left space for this racist Buzz Lightyear knockoff to go through some personal growth. The years of militaristic indoctrination will probably take a while to be resolved, but Danse IS redeemable if given time. He's not inherently evil, just in dire need of a tolerance lesson.)

[morris-magus-merry-miller]

Chapter 5: The Marvelous Manor of Madness

The island was to be a two-hour trip from Port Town. Enough time for me to prepare a special little spell, which if this is not the final draft will likely be on this page if it hasn’t already been expended. Sorry about that, I’ll undo the effects if you weren’t the intended target. Hope you at least have a nice nap.

Anyways, it was a quick and uneventful boat ride, until the last moments. As we approached the island, we found there was an ominous storm brewing. Blood red clouds had gathered in the sky above Gladshire’s manor. I would not blame you, dear reader, if you find this storm very similar to the roiling pink clouds which had gathered when Ulong had frozen Dualwood. Certainly, that is what we feared as we approached the island. But this proved to be a different phenomenon entirely.

We dropped anchor at the shore and made our way inland on foot. As we approached the manor, we came upon four shambling animated corpses and a foreboding looking tree.

Issac, our dear nature expert, informed us that the tree was a very dangerous undead plant called a Hangman Tree. It’s a tree…that does exactly what its name implies. It’s an insidious creature that uses spores to trick your brain into thinking it’s nothing but a normal tree, or even a friendly treant. Then when your guard is down it snags you by the neck with its vines, strangles you to death, and then eats you!

As we formulated a plan of attack, Issac warned that it wasn’t particularly flammable by normal means—but it would likely be set ablaze by a well-placed lightning bolt.

That meant it was John and Vigo’s time to shine. John called upon his goddess’ wrath and bolts of lightning rained from the heavens, striking the tree and the zombies that meandered around it.

Strange that a goddess of death would have an affinity for storms…although I suppose many people are likely killed by lightning strikes, so it’s not utterly uncalled for. It would make more sense I think for a cleric worshipping Nairon’s goddess to strike down foes with lightning. But again, I am no expert on divine magic. If a goddess of death wants to grant her followers control of the weather, who am I to say it makes it seem as though the world we live in has no internal consistency?

With the zombies weakened, Vigo followed up with a wall of lightning that blew them apart. Thus in mere seconds only the tree remained.

I began a reading to focus my companions’ minds to the task at hand, and also sent a spell at the tree to slow its movements to a snail’s pace. Even if it released its spores, I thought, it wouldn’t be able to immediately grab any victims.

Well, I was right, but that didn’t stop it from releasing said spores. As Terrance and Nairon pushed forward, intent to take advantage of the plant’s slowed state, a cloud of spores were released into the air. I saw Candy let out a gasp, breathing in the mind-altering pollen. I couldn’t allow that to happen to my friend, of course. I snapped my book shut, abruptly ending my performance. The remaining magic was channeled to Candy, clearing her lungs of the dangerous substance.

Unfortunately, in doing so I left myself open to breath in the same pollen. Things got a bit fuzzy from there. The tree actually looked quite friendly. I think I was about to run up to it, before John utterly annihilated it with another lightning strike from above. It is quite possible I owe John a life debt for that, and I will repay him in kind.

 Nairon and Terrance had apparently also been taken in by the tree’s mind warping properties. They expressed discomfort with going any further after such a harrowing experience, and decided they would return to the ship and keep watch from there while we cleared out the manor.

So we parted ways, and our band continued onwards. As we approached the manor it was clear all was not well. Many of the once opulent windows had been shattered, and a quite deceased body hung out of one. Not moving, unlike the corpses that had stood vigil around the tree, thankfully.

However as we approached a voice spoke up from the body. At first it appeared a lingering spirit was calling for our aid. What we discovered, however, was that the body had one of those Stones of Farspeech on its person, and Oswald Gladshire was trying to contact us through it. The Wizard of the Stars was being held captive within his own tower by a vile necromancer—who also happened to be his grandfather. Gladshire requested our immediate aid, to clear out the monstrosities that now infested his home, and to free him from the bird cage he’d been locked within at the highest point of the tower.

We needed his guidance to save Dualwood, so we were of course going to do so regardless. Adventurers save nobles in distress because it’s the right thing to do, that is a given. That he offered to let us keep anything we picked up that could help us within his manor was, of course, a secondary concern.

He quickly dropped the call as he heard his captor approaching, but promised to keep in touch as the situation allowed.

 The inside was both as extravagant and as wrecked as the outside had been. Rubble blocked a ruined staircase, necessitating us going the long way around to get to higher ground.

There were a number of rooms down the halls to both sides, many with placards denoting what the room was. Vigo stuck he head into a room labelled “WC”, which he said didn’t have anything of interest. John and I went looking into the “Horse Room”, which was a mostly barren room with a single large golden statue of a horse. Someone—Gladshire I must presume—had placed sunglasses upon the horse’s face. Quite reminiscent of Nathaniel’s usual attire, in fact, although something about the statue gave me a feeling that this horse was much older and more venerable than my own dear companion. I gave him a polite nod in greeting, as I would Nathaniel if he had been there at the time, before being on my way.

Down the next hall we came upon an imposing metal door—Gladshire confirmed over the Stone of Farspeech that it was a vault. He was fairly certain some baddies had made their way inside, and asked that we unlock it and clear it out. One itty bitty little problem stood in the way of that—the door was protected by a device that was password protected. A skull mounted above the door would spit acid at anyone who guessed the password wrong, or tried to open the door through brute force. Gladshire didn’t know the password himself, he’d had his apprentice Elena set it for him, and he hasn’t seen her since the attack. All he knew was that he’d told her to set it to ‘something you will remember’.

Clever adventurers that we are, we took the most prudent course of action. Guessing wildly. Paige confirmed that a few…admittedly rather vulgar terms were not the password. I tried Elena’s name—after all she was sure to remember that! We brainstormed other possibilities, and were about to give up when Paige tried the word ‘Something’. While the door remained closed, the skull didn’t activate.

A brilliant thought hit me—Gladshire hadn’t said the password need be only one word. Heart pounding, excitement flowing through my veins, I spoke the password.

“Something you will remember”

And voila! The skull remained inactive, and there was the sound of a lock opening. I pushed open the door.

And immediately back-peddled for Candy to take the lead, as there was a golden skeleton waiting directly within the doorway. A swift flurry of kicks was all it took to do away with that little problem. We got a number of nifty trinkets courtesy of Gladshire’s generosity, and we continued on our way to keep clearing the manor of such ghouls as that. Not literal ghouls. I don’t think we faced any literal ghouls. A few…other things, as you’ll soon find, but no ghouls.

 We circled back around, finding that the next hallway led back the way we’d come, but also continued forward in the opposite direction. John found a “smoking room”, and he and Vigo took a number of seemingly enchanted cigars from there. One was as long as Vigo was tall, and smelled…just atrocious, really. I had to excuse myself, alongside Peanut whose poor sensitive bear nose must have been burning from the putrid smoke.

Next we came to a parlor. The room beyond had music coming from it. Issac decided to try to scout ahead. He transformed into an adorable little hedgehog and skittered forward to peek beyond the door.

He didn’t get far. In the next room a number of awakened skeletons waited, and they immediately spotted the tiny hedgehog that pushed his way into their midst. The music grew louder and more focused, as one of the skeletons—whom I later learned was named Georgio—began playing trumpet.

I felt a challenge had been issued, and whipped out Nathaniel’s flute to begin a tune of my own.

While Georgio and I provided background music for the skirmish, Candy had a more up close and personal fight with one of the musician’s friends. (A backup dancer perhaps…?) I threw my hat into the ring as well, so to speak, when the skeleton had some disparaging words to say about Candy. His companion may have been a fine musical talent, but a gentleman this one was not. I called up a new spell I’ve been toying with—biting words—and told him just what I thought about him speaking ill of my companions.

Between the five of us, the musician’s two companions fell quickly. Georgio didn’t seem to have much in the way of battle prowess himself, and quite frankly I felt no desire to destroy him. He was a man of true talent after all!

It would seem he had no desire for a physical confrontation anymore, either. He ceased his trumpeting and challenged me to a far more desirable duel—one not of magic or sword, but of musical might.

Unfortunately for him, he flubbed his notes rather quickly, while I was quite on point. He tipped his hat to me.

Before exploding.

…I know some people don’t handle a loss very well, but looking back that still seemed a bit excessive.

 I took both his trumpet and a fiddle from the wall, which I shall play in his short lived memory.

With the skeleton band out of the way, Issac stole a peek into the next room. It was…beyond description, and even if it weren’t I fear I don’t desire to make use of words to do it justice. You shall have to fill in the gory details yourself, dear reader. Suffice to say there was a veritable horde of Fetches. They were seated at the table eating. Not food—oh no—but viscera, scraps of flesh, the last remains of many a visiting noble’s carcass...

I apologize, I did say I would not describe it, but the memory is difficult to banish.

Standing before the feasting horde was a man. Although ‘standing’ and ‘man’ are both inexact. It was more ‘floating’ and ‘ghost’.

I recognized the man from some old news I’d read some time back, while Candy realized she’d seen this man first-hand in the past. A vile fellow by the name of Count Bartholomew McLaurin. For those not in the know, he was once a count in Donmum City. However he was caught up in some dark business—human experimentation, warping creatures together, and who knows what else. All at the behest of some group called the Society of Great Enlightened Ones. He died in an explosion, a suicide bomb, I suppose to escape any punishment for his crimes.

What connection he had to this place was at first unclear. Without knowing we feared we couldn’t best him permanently—for as everyone knows, a ghost will just keep coming back if it still has unfinished business in the mortal realm.

And it would seem I was to be the one to uncover the truth. The others were rather quick to volunteer me for the task. I cannot deny I have a knack for words. I wouldn’t be an author if not! But I must say this entire situation was rather off putting. Quite frankly, I wasn’t certain that the entire room wouldn’t just mindlessly attack me. Not that all undead are mindless—as we saw from Georgio that is very much not the case, and I am well aware of the rise of awakened undead in cities across the globe. However these were…you know, eating viscera in the middle of a manor where most everyone had apparently been slaughtered…it didn’t seem like an ideal place for a chat. Georgio aside.

Still, my companions felt this was the best course of action. The fetches wouldn’t be difficult due to their pyrophobia, but we feared the ghost alone might be enough to drag one or all of us to the grave if we weren’t careful. So we hatched a plan to speak to the ghost, butter him up to learn what we could about what bound him to the mortal plane. We brainstormed possible codewords to use to call in reinforcements if things got out of hand—and settled on ‘would you like some merlot with that’, since the undead were eating. Issac also decided to come along with me—transforming into an adorable little black rabbit who helped calm my nerves tremendously. I wonder if anyone has ever told Issac he’d make an amazing therapy animal in that form?

To be quite honest with you, dear reader, I found the idea of talking to a ghost a rather frightening concept. I know we were in a haunted manor, but I didn’t expect to find a real ghost of all things!

As a wise man once said “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts”. Actually, I think maybe Vigo said that. Regardless, with a plan in place, a very fluffy bunny in hand, and a few spells cast to grant myself a…let’s say confidence boost, I strode forward into the feast of horrors.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

The Bridge of the Demonic Goatman (Part 2)

Because this story is way too long to post all in one place, I’ve been forced to post it in parts. Part 1 has already been posted. Here is Part 2, where Gene, Vinnie, and Paul, go into the woods. 

Also, I realize how shitty the editing here is. Because Tumblr is being a fucking bitch (so y’know, the usual for Tumblr), this is how it’s gonna have to be. You should be able to figure out who’s speaking, though. Enjoy!

GENE [voiceover]: Perhaps more foreboding than the bridge is the woods that lies beyond it. It is rumored that for nearly a hundred years, people have disappeared near the bridge or in the surrounding woods. Along with the Goatman, people have reported seeing the ghostly figure of a woman and hearing the sounds of a woman’s voice or laughter. There have also been sightings of flashing lights.

--

[Paul, Gene, and Vinnie are now walking through the woods. Like on the bridge, the only parts of the forest we see are the parts lit up by their camera flashlights. Everything else is pitch-black]

PAUL: Okay, I will admit… this is pretty creepy.

GENE: I feel like I’m in every damn horror movie I’ve ever seen, and I hate it.

VINNIE: This reminds me of the time I went camping with my Boy Scout troupe.

PAUL: You don’t seem the type to have been in a Boy Scout troupe.

VINNIE: I wasn’t. My dad made me sign up. He let me quit after fifth grade, though.

PAUL: Oh, okay.

GENE: Guys, seriously… I’m gettin’ pretty nervous now. [shouts into the woods] Is there anyone out there?

PAUL: [shouts] Hello!

[there is no response apart from crickets. They continue walking]

GENE: People usually report being overcome with emotion in here.

VINNIE: Like…

GENE: Like, a violent emotion.

PAUL: Do you feel that way?

GENE: Uh, no. I don’t.

PAUL: Okay, good.

GENE: Not yet, at least.

PAUL: Just give me and Vinnie a heads-up when you start to feel… murder-y.

GENE: Yeah, I’ll do that.

PAUL: Great.

VINNIE: Thanks, Gene. 

--

GENE [voiceover]: These woods are rumored to be the sight of Satanic rituals, attempting to conjure demonic entities. One paranormal investigator claimed to have found animal remains, suggesting evidence of sacrificial rituals. In fact, one local police officer told us that local pet stores stopped selling cats due to the amount of sacrificed cats being found in these woods.

Oh my God, they killed the cats? Did any survive?

Uh, no, not that I know of.

Those poor cats…

By the way, I forgot to mention, these woods are also dangerous because of the people that may be in there.

I mean, people can be greater threats than demons or ghouls, so… that’s fair.

I just realized we don’t have a way to defend ourselves if we get attacked by a person.

We probably won’t get attacked, Gene.

I have a keychain knife if that happens.

Oh, well good. If we get attacked, we’ll just let Vinnie save us.

I don’t think a keychain knife will—

The nutcases that live in the woods will cower in fear before Vinnie Vincent and his mighty keychain knife.

*wheeze* Ha ha…

*sigh* Never mind.

You’re my hero, Vinnie.

Thank you.

--

[cut back to Gene, Paul, and Vinnie walking through the forest]

GENE: Is there anybody out here?

PAUL: Any… Any cultists? Any Satanists? Anyone up to some crazy cult stuff out here?

VINNIE: Anyone cutting off the head of a defenseless, innocent cat?

PAUL: Still mad about that, huh?

VINNIE: Yes.

[they continue walking, swinging their flashlights around]

GENE: Y’know, guys, I feel like we might genuinely come to close to dying some episode.

PAUL: You think so?

GENE: Yeah… Who in their right mind would go actively searching for ghosts and demons, and make more than one attempt to contact them?

VINNIE: Ah, but remember, Genie: if we’re doing that, then clearly we’re not in our right mind.

GENE: … I guess that’s fair. [he stops and points his flashlight off to the side of the path]

PAUL: You hear something?

GENE: Yeah, I thought I—oh fuck! [camera cuts to looking into the bushes, lit up by Gene’s flashlight] I saw something move. I don’t what’s over there, but I saw the bushes move.

[they move closer to the bushes]

PAUL: [shouts] Hello?

VINNIE: Anybody there?

GENE: Hello? [pause in which nothing happens] Christ…

PAUL: I did see the bush move…

GENE: [swings his flashlight as he looks around] Did you hear that?

VINNIE: Hear what?

GENE: I heard a scream.

PAUL: You sure?

GENE: I’m serious, I heard a scream.

--

FOOTAGE REPLAY: when Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are looking into the bushes.

PAUL: I did see the bush move…

[in the background, amongst the sounds of crickets, there is the sound of a female scream]

[the footage replays over again and the scream is heard again]

--

GENE: Hello?

PAUL: Anyone out there?

[silence]

PAUL: What if we pretend we’re in on it?

VINNIE: Like we’re cultists as well?

PAUL: Yeah.

GENE: I want to tell you to not do that… but I also know you’re gonna do it anyway.

PAUL: Yep. [shouts aloud] We’re here for the cult stuff!

VINNIE: We saw the ad on Craigslist!

GENE: Do you seriously think a cult would advertise itself on Craigslist?

VINNIE: It’s Craigslist, Gene. It’s the only place that would let a cult advertise itself.

[there is still silence]

PAUL: Oh well.

GENE: Let’s keep walking. I don’t want to stay in the same place for too long.

[they continue walking. Along the way they pass a sign with unreadable graffiti letters spray-painted on it]

PAUL: You nervous, Gene?

GENE: Very nervous.

PAUL: Don’t worry. Remember, Vinnie’s got his keychain knife. He’s ready to stab a bitch.

VINNIE: [nods] Yep.

--

FOOTAGE REPLAY: as Gene, Vinnie, and Paul walk past the sign.

Paul: He’s ready to stab a bitch.

[in the background, there is another distant scream, this time sounding male]

[the footage replays again and the scream is heard again]

--

[Gene, Paul, and Vinnie come to a spot where branches stick out, forming something that looks a little like a structure]

PAUL: Hey, check this out. Looks kind of like a house… Perhaps a house where witches gathered? To make spells and curses? To summon dark spirits?

GENE: [hisses] Shut up, Paul.

[they move to stand in the middle of the structure and look around]

VINNIE: This doesn’t look like a human-made house.

PAUL: Who knows, Vinnie, maybe it wasn’t made by a human at all…

GENE: I’m gonna kill you, Paul. [suddenly turns and points his flashlight into the woods] Did you hear that?

--

FOOTAGE REPLAY: Paul, Gene, and Vinnie standing in the middle of the structure.

GENE: I’m gonna kill you, Paul.

[a quiet voice is heard, a male voice yelling “Fuck!”]

GENE: Did you hear that?

[footage replays over again]

--

VINNIE: Hear what?

GENE: A voice, I thought I heard a voice.

PAUL: Who’s out there? Are you a cult member? [Paul moves out of the structure further into the trees. Vinnie follows with Gene behind Vinnie]

PAUL: C’mon out!  

GENE: Paul—

PAUL: Take off your cloak!

VINNIE: Release the cat you’re about to murder.

[they move closer together as they walk. There is complete silence. Gene suddenly stops and startles]

GENE: Ah!

[Paul and Vinnie look. It’s a bush]

VINNIE: [smiling slightly] Just a plant, Gene.

PAUL: [definitely smiling wider than Vinnie] You got scared by a plant?

GENE: Shut up, this forest is messing with my head.

[all three of them suddenly turn around]

--

FOOTAGE REPLAY: right before they turn around.

GENE: Shut up, this forest is messing with my head.

[there is a barely audible sound of a snapping branch. They all turn around]

[footage replays over again]

--

GENE: Did you hear that?

VINNIE: I definitely heard that.

PAUL: Yep, me too.

[they move over to where they heard the sound]

GENE: Oh God…

PAUL: Who’s out there?

VINNIE: I’ve got a knife!

[silence]

PAUL: If there are any cultists out here, I must warn you, we have protection.

GENE: Goddammit, Paul, shut up!

PAUL: [ignoring him] We’ve got a keychain knife, and a water gun!

VINNIE: It’s holy water!

[silence]

PAUL: Well, I was right. There’s no one out here. Though that branch snapping was suggestive.

GENE: Yeah. Let’s leave.

--

GENE [voiceover]: Multiple investigators have picked up on the name “Steve” through EVP and spirit box sessions, perhaps the name that the Goatman or another entity is going by.

I’m sorry… Steve?

Yep. Steve.

… So you’re saying that if the Goatman truly exists, and it’s really the Goatman’s voice investigators pick up… he’s using the name Steve?

That’s pretty much it, yeah.

*snickering* That’s so fucking stupid…

What fucking demon wakes up in the morning and thinks, “You know what would be a really frightening name? Steve!” Are you making this up?

I am not making this up.

God, what a fucking copout…

GENE [voiceover]: Overall, this Goatman entity and/or the other possible entities that haunt the bridge and these woods are said to be extremely dangerous and physical with those who encounter them. People have reported being thrown, dragged, and struck, and multiple people have claimed to be scratched three times, a reportedly common occurrence in demonic attacks that is a symbolic mocking of the Holy Trinity. People have also claimed to be overcome with feelings of aggression and violence. In one instance, an investigator had envisioned murdering her entire team of investigators.

--

[back to the woods with Gene, Paul, and Vinnie. Gene has the spirit box in his hands]

PAUL: And we’re breaking out the spirit box again, huh?

VINNIE: This’ll be interesting, we’ve never used it to talk to a demon before.

GENE: Yeah, so… we’ll see how this goes. Okay, I’m turning it on. It’s gonna be loud.

[Gene turns on the spirit box. Immediately there is loud white noise]

GENE: So just as a reminder, this spirit box is flipping through radio stations at an incredibly fast rate. Every two-tenths of a second, it switches to a different channel, and it produces white noise. And conceivably, spirits could use this to communicate with us.

PAUL: Or a demon in this case.

GENE: Or a demon, thank you, Paul. If we hear a voice saying more than one word, then the chances are very good that it’s a spirit, or a demon, talking to us.

VINNIE: Can I ask first?

GENE: Sure.

VINNIE: Okay. [raises his voice] Is there anyone here with us?

[white noise is the only response]

PAUL: Let me try. [raises voice] Is there a Goatman here with us?

[more white noise. Then there is a sudden, very noticeable noise from the spirit box]

GENE: What the fuck was that?

VINNIE: Ask again!

PAUL: Is there a demon here with us?

[from the spirit box, we hear a voice saying “Stop”]

PAUL: Is there a Goatman here? We kicked you off your bridge, Goatman; got anything to say about that?

[white noise. Then a voice says what sounds like “Goatman”]

GENE: That sounded like “Goatman.”

PAUL: Say your name.

--

FOOTAGE REPLAY: Gene is holding the spirit box. We see Vinnie listening over his shoulder.

[white noise, then the voice saying “Goatman”]

[the footage, and the voice, play over again: “Goatman”]

--

GENE: Is Steve here?

VINNIE: How did you come up with the name “Steve”? You didn’t think any other name was better than that?

[more white noise. Then a voice: “Bridge”]

GENE: I heard “bridge.”

[more white noise. Then another voice, that sounds like the same voice as before: “Steve”]

VINNIE: I heard “Steve.”

--

AUDIO REPLAY:

[white noise]

“bridge”

[white noise]

“Steve”

--

GENE [voiceover]: Based on the response from the spirit box, we’ll be ending our investigation by returning to the apparent epicenter of activity: Old Alton Bridge. Once there, we will perform a ritual that we have never performed before on this show, and that I have never done before in my life.

Wait, you’ve never used a Ouija board before?

Nope.

Seriously?

Yeah, seriously. I don’t screw with that stuff, man.

Gene, you’re willing to use a spirit box but not a Ouija board? C’mon…

Even I’VE used a Ouija board before.

Okay, listen, spirit boxes are different from Ouija boards. Ouija boards… they have the potential to unleash an angry spirit.

C’mon, Gene, people use Ouija boards at parties. They used to sell them at Toys ‘R Us. They’re not that scary.

You would say that… Can we just get this over with?

--

[Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are sitting in the middle of the bridge around the Ouija board. Candles are lit around them. Gene is standing, holding a large box of salt, while Paul and Vinnie are sitting on the bridge]

GENE: I just want to say for the record that this still seems incredibly stupid. We’re opening a doorway, and calling a goddamn demon to talk with us. But, luckily, I have protection. [Vinnie snorts] Shut up, Vinnie. For protection, I’m going to do this.

[Gene walks in a circle around the candles, pouring out the salt]

PAUL: A salt circle. Good idea, Gene.

[Gene finishes pouring out the salt and sets the box aside. He steps into the circle and sits down, and all three place their hands on the planchette]

GENE: So we just place our hands on the planchette and relax them. If there are spirits, then the planchette will move, because they’re moving it. Not because one of us is moving it. Got that, Paul?

PAUL: I wasn’t gonna move it! I wasn’t even thinking of moving it!

GENE: You say, unconvincingly.

PAUL: Whatever, Gene.

VINNIE: I will say, every time I’ve seen a video of someone using a Ouija board, they’re always going, “Whoa!” very dramatically. Like, you can clearly tell they’re playing it up for views.

PAUL: Are they very clearly moving it themselves?

VINNIE: Most of the time, yes. But none of us are going to move it, so… we’ll see what happens.

PAUL: So how do we start?

GENE: I guess by saying our names.

PAUL: Okay, you go first.

GENE: Fine. [out loud] This is Gene.

[they move the planchette across the board to spell out Gene’s name]

PAUL, GENE, and VINNIE: G, E, N, E.

PAUL: I’m Paul. [they spell out Paul’s name]

PAUL, GENE, and VINNIE: P, A, U, L.

GENE: [muttering] Still can’t believe we’re doing this…

VINNIE: And I’m Vinnie. [they spell out Vinnie’s name]

PAUL, GENE, and VINNIE: V, I, N, N, I, E.

GENE: Is there anyone out here, who would like to speak with us?

[silence. They all wait, looking down at the board. The planchette does not move]

PAUL: I just thought of something. If you put salt around us, doesn’t that mean Goatman can’t get to the Ouija board?

VINNIE: … Oh, God, you’re right. Gene—

GENE: But the salt would trap him in here with us. That’s what we want.

PAUL: Well yeah, but what if he was outside the circle when you did it?

GENE: … Well, what do you want me to do about it?

PAUL: Give him an entrance.

GENE: [pauses, then sighs heavily] Fine. [he turns his body around, without taking his hands off the planchette, and blows at the salt] Vinnie, you blow by you.

[Vinnie turns and blows at the salt. Paul does the same, and takes one hand off the planchette and brushes some of the salt away]

PAUL: There. There’s your opening, Steve.

[Vinnie laughs]

[they all turn back around to the Ouija board, and Paul puts his hand back on the planchette]

GENE: If there’s anyone out there that wants to speak with us, now’s the time. What’s your name?

[for a couple beats of silence, there is nothing. Then…]

VINNIE: Oh my God.

PAUL: Oh shit.

GENE: Oh, fuck…

[the planchette is moving, very, very slowly, across the board]

GENE: Fucking—Paul, are you moving it?

PAUL: I swear to God, I’m not moving it. Are you?

GENE: No, I’m not moving it! Vinnie?

VINNIE: I am not moving it.

[they watch the planchette move]

PAUL: It’s going pretty slow.

GENE: If it spells out “Steve”…

VINNIE: If it spells out “Steve” I might start going back to church.

[the planchette moves over the letter “S”]

PAUL: Go faster, you demon fuck!

[Gene and Vinnie jump. Then they start to laugh, Vinnie harder than Gene]

VINNIE: Jesus Christ, Paul…

GENE: Just dropped all decorum, huh?

PAUL: [laughing] I wanted to see if I could catch it off-guard.

GENE: Okay… Well, we have an “S.”

PAUL: How about this? If you can’t spell out your name, then this bridge is officially mine!

GENE: Dammit, Paul…

VINNIE: Seems fair to me.

PAUL: Yeah, it’s perfectly fair.

[the planchette has slowly moved up to the letter “G”]

GENE: I thought it was going for the “E,” but no, that’s “G”.

VINNIE: “G” for Gene?

PAUL: He does know your name. Maybe it’s you he wants, Gene.

GENE: I’m ignoring you two.

[camera circles around Gene, Paul, and Vinnie, looking down at the Ouija board as intense music plays]

GENE: All right, demon, this is your last chance. Tell us your name.

PAUL: Remember the deal.

GENE: [sighs] Okay, yeah, fine. If you can’t spell out your name, it’s Paul’s bridge.

[silence. They wait. Nothing happens]

VINNIE: Well, I guess that settles it.

PAUL: [loudly] This bridge is mine now!

[they take their hands off the planchette]

GENE: Guess that’s it.

PAUL: Ouija boards are crap.

VINNIE: Guys, we still have to close it.

GENE: Oh right.

PAUL, GENE and VINNIE: [move the planchette across “GOODBYE”] G, O, O, D, B, Y, E. [they take their hands off the planchette]

PAUL: Goodbye!

VINNIE: Goodbye, Goatman!

GENE: All right, let’s clean up and get the hell out of here.

[they move to clear away the salt and blow out the candles]

PAUL: Got anything you wanna say, Gene? You were pretty anxious about this all night.

GENE: I mean, I would say I’m feelin’ pretty good right now. I conquered it.

VINNIE: Yeah, you did. We’re proud of you, Genie.

GENE: I’ll just say goodbye, how about that?

PAUL: Yeah, gloat a bit, Gene. This is a win for you.

GENE: [raises his voice] Well, demons… this has been fun. It’s been real… real weird, but hey. So… goodbye. See ya.

PAUL: [picks up a candle and holds it up] As we snuff these candles, so too do we snuff you from this mortal world. [blows out the candle] You fucking cowards.

[Vinnie laughs]

GENE: Paul, if you get dragged off this bridge and thrown into the river, I won’t come and rescue you.

PAUL: He says unconvincingly.

--

[as Gene’s voice narrates, we see a montage of footage from the entire night]

GENE [voiceover]: Nobody knows why the Goatman and surrounding entities haunt this area, and even though we never encountered anything, I personally don’t doubt its existence. Either way, we have once again opened the door for a dark entity to enter our lives. There is a small part of my mind that is disappointed we never saw him, but I would be lying if I said I also wasn’t a little relieved. Regardless, whether or not the Goatman’s Bridge is truly infested will remain… UNSOLVED.

--

[as the credits roll, we cut back to the car. Gene is driving, Vinnie is in the passenger seat, and Paul is in the backseat. Through the windshield, we can see dawn slowly breaking]

VINNIE: I’m sorry, I still can’t get over the fact that the Goatman supposedly goes by the name Steve. [Paul laughs] That’s so fucking lame.

GENE: This experience has taught me nothing, except that you two are fucking weirdos. You know that, right?

PAUL: Ah, you love us.

GENE: I wouldn’t call it “love.”

VINNIE: He says unconvincingly. 

BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SUPERNATURAL

What unsolved mystery do you want to see next?

[sending-the-message]

The creatures of Mammoth Cave by KyBlu_I_s

Its recently been brought to my attention what Gunney has started to tell a few of our stories from when we ran the Kentucky Office of Paranomalies[sic]. That's actually the name of our branch. Each state has an office that's a perfect counterpart to ours. Well they did. Until a few months ago. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Keith. I'm a Chief Petty Officer, and these are MY versions of the stories. Gunney did a decent job of telling the Gluttony story. Although the first half was better than the second, but that's because he told it exactly like it happened. A little personal background;

I grew up in a broke ass family. My dad wasn't home because he worked two jobs to keep a roof on our heads. Mom was a drunken whore that was in and out of our lives. I couldn't play sports in school, because where I'm from that type of thing costs money. So, I read. And I read everything I could. I really loved to read about the macabre and the paranormal. By the time I was thirteen, I had read the local libraries entire section on paranormal and supernatural beings, rituals, magic, and ghosts. A little over four hundred books. But I started when I was seven. I would walk the eight blocks from my home to the library once a week with dad on Saturday morning, because he only had one job on the weekends. I would check out my limit, and usually find a way back to the library before Saturday for my next limit of books.

I graduated High school at the age of sixteen, having skipped sophomore and junior years. I waited for two years and joined the Navy. I knew Gunney from school, and we would hangout after school sometimes and play stupid kid video games til we passed out. So, when he told me he was enlisting, I figured that I would as well. Hell, they pay for college, train you for a career, and pay you while your active. Why not? Well, if not for Gunney I would have died. Several times over. So when he found a way for me to get off of that fucking ship, I was hella happy. I had wanted to study demonology in college anyway, and this way the government would actually pay for it!

Our first case was bad. Real bad. But you already know about that. See, what you don't know, is that even after Gunney left a year ago, I stayed. I'm here now. Alone. A single smartass against the evils of the wilderness. Let me tell ya, there's some freaky shit in Kentucky. Especially in the caves.

It was a crisp April morning when Gunney ordered us to assemble in the wretched bullpen. The overhead monitor displayed a torn and broken corpse. The head lay face down, the body chest up. The head had been twisted all the way around. Left arm ripped off and , and this is sick, shoved down the throat. The right arm lay broken, twisted and bloody barely attached. The legs were shredded and mangled so badly they no longer remotely resembled legs. The shredded remains if the legs looked more like a bad plate of chipped beef and raw burger meat.

" This was young miss Christa Jonas. She was seventeen years old. She was part of a six person group that took a discount tour of the Mammoth Caves. During the tour four of the six members were lost. Christa was the only one found. Her remains are on the way here so that Jerry here can perform an autopsy." Gunney paused, to point at our lone medical officer. He continued " Keith, do you recognize the injuries? Maybe have any idea what the hell got to thus poor girl?"

I shook my head as I wracked my brain for information, " No sir, I don't Gunney" I answered. I felt bad for leaving him in the lurch like that, but I really didn't have a clue what would have mutilated that girl so badly. Well, I didn't know what would multilateral her, and not eat more of her. Maybe we were looking at some type of previously unknown creature. My heart rate increased at the thought of being responsible for cataloging and naming a previously undiscovered animal, or being if another type...

As Gunney talked about the cave system, and ordered the others to get packed and armed, I went to the library of our new compound. We had more books on my favorite subjects than I had ever believed were printed. I quickly looked for anything that lived in caves, mines, or subterranean passageways. I found the book I was looking for, and carried it to a table. Taking a deep breath, I began to speed read, until I stopped on a description that chilled my bones. The creature was named a Cave Dwelling Ghoul. According to the book, the last one was thought to have been exterminated in the year 1909. However the way it kills is quite unique. Its known to take pleasure in the torture of young girls, often making them choke on pieces of their own bodies. It would then chew, but not eat a large portion of the body while the person choked to death, at witch point it would twist the head around twice. I quickly stood up and almost ran back to the bull pen. Gunney stood there waiting, and reading the case file.

" Gunney, I think I know what we have here. His many times was thus girls head turned? " I stammered, excited and full of dread.

" Uhm...It looks like twice. Yeah..twice. Why? What's that got to do with anything?" He looked at me like he expected some big speech, but I didn't have one.

" Its a CDG. A type of Ghoul that solely lives in caves. They were thought to be dead for over a hundred years. They can be killed, but its not easy. Iron bullets and thermite. Shoot them with iron, and then burn em. They'll be alive when the fire starts, just frozen. Iron to those fucks is like a massive dose of sucks to a human. It will paralyze them. However it won't wear off, til their bodies heal and the bullet is pushed out. Thermite is about the only thing that burns hot enough to kill them. They have poison glands in the base of their claws and in that mouths. A bite or scratch will knock a full grown man out for hours. When he wakes up he will be sick as a fucking dog for a few days. Nasty little bastards. Never even rumoured to be in Kentucky. Kinda weird that a species that's not indigenous and thought to be extinct suddenly shows up. So soon after...ya know."

He knew. We tried not to talk about what happened to our group, but it was an unspoken book mark in time. Like a piece of corn in a turd, just there, rather you want it to be or not. We knew that what we fought that day wasn't human. Even the civilians weren't human anymore, but it was still a tough loss.

Gunney told me to go get the thermite and try to find a source of iron ammunition while he briefed the rest of the men on what we were going to be fighting this time. I went to the armory and found the thermite. Iron ammo was another story. See, the last thing to use iron projectiles were civil war cannons. Well, a few other large bore weapons after that, but very few. I had an idea that maybe salting the lead with iron powder might work, but I couldn't risk our remaining troops on a might. So, needles to say I was fucking through the roof thrilled when I found a local black smith. I called and gave him the measurements of the projectiles that we needed and he agreed to make them. On barter no less. He wanted a hundred grams of thermite to speed his forge up and that's all. Well, it still took the man twenty eight hours to make four hundred rounds. Then I had to load them into shells. So, It was thirty three hours after the debriefing before we were actually ready to go. Since it was late, we decided to get up at 0430 and head out. We all went to bed at a little before 2300.

At 0445 the next morning we were up,loaded and heading out. It was a four hour drive from base to the Mammoth Caves state park. We arrived as the police that had closed the property off to tourists were changing shifts, so getting in was a fucking chore.

Almost an hour after arriving, we were unloading the black Humvees and heading for the main entrance. The cave we entered was honestly...Mammoth! No shit, right? The ceiling was almost thirty feet up, stalagmites and stalactites reaching up and down like crooked teeth in a rotten maw. The silence of the caves was deafening. I could hear the others hearts beating. Well, maybe it was in my head.

We walked to the coordinates that the tour guides provided as the last place the entire group was together. We set our GPS lock to those coordinates, and split up with our night vision activated. We decided to walk in a single direction for five minutes before returning to the point we marked. We did this four times before the first blur of movement was seen. Johnson saw a small man shaped thing run just out if his field of view.

" Report to my position. I have movement. I think its a single entity, but I can't be sure." He called out through the com unit. We all looked to our phones to see where he was on the map. He was less than fifty feet from me, so I was the first to arrive. When I got to his position, he was visibly shaken. His pants leg ripped in three slices torn horizontally across his right calf. Thankfully the thing hadn't touched skin, because Johnson was big ass dude, and I didn't want to be the one to evacuate his ass from the caves.

Gunney was next arrive, and quickly spotted the torn leg. After asking if Johnson had been scratched, he decided to call the tour guide on the radio to turn off the tourist lights. The cave went dark as Gunney told the others to remain in NV. The rest if our crew arrives one at a time a minute or two apart.

When we were all in the same spot, I whispered " Listen guys, these things are fast as lightening on crack. They're venomous and vicious. They want to torture us and then chew our flesh. That's how they feed. They chew, but only drink the blood and liquefied fat that they spill from our mangled bodies. Shoot them anywhere. It doesn't matter. The rounds shouldn't pass through them, they're low power and heavy bullets. Once the iron is in the skin, they're frozen solid. Then we have about eleven hours to burn them. The bodies won't burn unless we can powder them with the thermite and use the magnesium strips to start that on fire." I summed up as " Be careful, aim true. We don't have a lot of ammo. "

The men all nodded in agreement and left off across the caves. The next time I would see any of them, three would be unconscious, and badly beaten. But that's for tomorrows post.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Dr Stone 13 - 15 | Honzuki 1 | Iruma-kun 1 - 2 | Africa Salaryman 1 | Tokunana 1 - 2 | Actors 1 | Abilities Average 1 | Shinchou Yuusha 2 | Assassin’s Pride 1 | No Guns Life 1 - 2 | Kabukicho Sherlock 1 | Ahiru no Sora 2 | BnHA 64 | Shin Chuuka Ichiban 1 | Stand My Heroes 1 - 2

Tags should be rolled out soon.

Dr Stone 13

Did Senku just Salt Bae??? Now I’ve seen everything!

I remember this puckered face from the manga! It’s hilarious!

Poor Kinro…he’s shocked at Ginro’s words…

Those were foxtails.

Who knew Suika’s mask could look so badass, amirite???

Honzuki 1

I like books…so this was a natural pick for me, y’know?

OKAY, why is the girl drinking wine she accepted from an older man??????

O…kay, so this has nice backgrounds and a pretty nice aesthetic with all the flowers, but otherwise it’s kinda dull, to be honest. It moves at the pace of a slice of life show…and I’m not sure it’s intentional or not.

“Only grownups are allowed to tie up their hair.” – So then, and correct me if I’m wrong about this…why is Turi’s hair in a braid? Or, when they mean “up”, they mean in a full bun like Myne (Main???) did earlier?

I’m thinking either a marketplace might have books…or at least signs to read.

I’m thinking of Maou-sama Retry from last season…because I’d rather a boring slow walk like the one I just saw, rather than a terrible run cycle like the one in the first episode of that show.

What…? Was Urano a vegan or vegetarian…? Or just too much of a city slicker to deal with seeing a dead chicken?

Iruma-kun 1

I picked this one based on the good ratings it had on ANN.

How does anyone remember these lyrics??? How many “ba” and “bi”s do you need???

…Hayate the Combat Butler, basically speaking.

Levy = Leviathan, I’d assume.

Aye, what a poor lad…to be sold off at 14…

Well, that was a fast way to set up an episode. If more shows were like this, I’d be a happy camper.

I-Is Opera…a DUDE?! Hallelujah! I hit Bishonen Jackpot #2! (No. 1 is Seiya, of course.)

You comedies wanna play hardball with me? Huh?! Do you, punks?! Let’s see how many times you can make me (wholeheartedly) laugh, then! (Current laugh count: 1)

Gender-coded uniforms, much…?

Is Catgirl related to Opera somehow???

Well, you do know that Asmodeus represents lust, right? That’s why he’s pink, isn’t he?...Isn’t he??? Update: Oh, yeah, right. Sullivan should probably be “Solomon”, but the name is deliberately different for comedy’s sake.

Uh, lemme guess: Daisuke Namikawa for Asmodeus? Update: Ryohei Kimura. I knw he sounded familiar…he’s Kane-san, in other words.

Kamehame-fireball!

(Iruma-kun is a master of dodging)…I thought it was because of that spell from before, really.

Da Vinci homage for the win!

Oh hey! 2nd German suplex of the season (I didn’t watch the first one).

By the power of dodging, Iruma wins…one servant! (Just in case Fate/ wasn’t enough for you…so to speak.)

There’s a single heart on Babylys in the ED, it seems…plus a giant bow.

Africa Salaryman 1

If Beastars is anime Zootopia, then this is absurdist Zootopia.

This is some Attenborough s***...until it isn't.

The OP scenes with the characters dancing...that's gonna be in my nightmares.

Oh, it's the pa in pachinko (“chinko” meaning p***s) that’s missing, so they went with glasses/asses instead.

We got Punpun animated (i.e. frightened Toucan)...score.

Giraffe Donuts, LOL.

I’m really pissed now…there’s no adblocker for my phone, so I had to sit through a good 8 ads or so just to get proper subs…I almost lashed out at someone because of it, too.

FireLion, LOL. I like these old computer-style transitions, but I don’t like how many ads I have to live through for it.

Tokunana 1

Is it just me, or did the police guy say "futures" (plural)...?

Hmm...by brandishing a gun at that point, is this man implying he's a saviour, or that guns are cool? I sure hope it's not the latter, considering gun violence rates worldwide. Then again, I might be reading into this one detail too much.

This reminds me of Midnight Occult Sevants…which doesn’t bode well for this show.

I can see this being my next Cop Craft…which I don’t need this season.

…oh, boy…rule no. 1 of detective shows: don’t be a hostage or get kidnapped. Ever. (Inevitably, if the show is about police in some capacity, someone will break this rule at least once. It’s made to be broken.)

Between this and Kimetsu no Yaiba, we’ve had enough “intelligence” (“using your head”, i.e. headbutting) to last us a while…

This CGI looks kinda bad…Africa Salaryman does better with disguising its CGI.

I like how the skull had a bow on it.

Wait, a dog, bird (pheasant) and gorilla (monkey)…this is some demented Momotaro going on right here…

Lookit that lady go!!! Woot!

To be honest, I keep feeling like Seiji’s gonna develop superpowers…or is this not the show for that…? (I mean, there’s dragons in the synopsis! Dragons!)

This show looks kinda off model, which is a bad sign in the first episode…hearing gunshots after the ED kinda startled me, though, and made a killer move for another episode out of goodwill…come to think of it, I’ve been giving out a lot of “can’t peg down this show with one episode, will watch more” this season already…

Dr Stone 14

(no notes, sorry!)

Actors 1

I’m a fan of Masuda, who voices a character in Actors’s 3rd iteration…IIRC. It’s gonna be a while until we get to him, though.

Uh, how does this guy play keyboard with those floppy sleeves of his???

Specifically, according to Hinata, Haruna told him he was being too noisy before she went back to sleep…although I’ve never seen a little girl be woken up by her big brother in these “I’m late! *puts toast in mouth as they run ou the door*” intros, so it’s refreshing.

His name is Otonomiya (“sound temple”, with “sound” being the thing you hear), of course he’s going to be part of a musical franchise…

“Akizuki Kai” sounds familiar…I dunno why though.

UGGGGGGH! If you’re doing a singing anime, let us hear the damn song!!! Don’t make us wait for the Otonomiya version!!!

Kagura…Sousuke??? Classicaloid??? I am so not going to match that boy with this one. (Well, one of the kanji is different, but everything else is the name, right down to the wordplay. A kagura is a type of dance, y’see, and one of the characters matches one in the Japanese word for “music”, ongaku. The other can be found in Otonomiya’s name, in fact.)

What’s up with this white wall business, anyway??? This ain’t Tokyo Ghoul, this is a singing anime!

Archery boy is good boi. Me likey.

I have a bad feeling about Nozomi, yo.

I LOLled so hard…I mean, this pink dude’s name is Uta Outa…it’s so redundant. You expect me to love him???? LOL, as if!

Con brio = with spirit, with vigour. Adagio = slow, by the way.

Stand My Heroes 1

I’m here for Ume, as I always am. Ume’s role is Go Miyase of the Kujo family.

That was a pretty epic opening, actually.

Who scouts a civilian for a narcotics unit???

I am so not going to be able to match names to faces at this rate…

Hey, don’t you go patronising girls!!!

I feel like it would’ve been better (and flashier) to demonstrate the drug immunity by showing, not talking about it.

Takaomi looks like Tenn from Idolish7, man…

Hmm…I saw Ume’s character, but it’s hard to evaluate his voice for Go just by a “Here you go.” (And no, that’s not a pun…not an intentional one, anyway.)

I just realised Aoyama has this tiny plait on the side of his head. It’s rather cutesy for a narcotics show.

(Aoyama informs Rei about Arakida)…yeah, but why are you here, Aoyama? Are you just here to warn Rei???

The stain really is gone, you really can’t tell that it is there…I assume that means she was drinking water in that tall glass of hers (Rei).

This ending song is a bit weird…I never expected it to be English. I expected it to be by the VAs, to be honest.

Abilities Average 1

It’s better if I call this “Abilities Average” rather than the long-winded “Didn’t I Say to Make My Abilities Average in the Next Life?!”.

The scenery in this show is nice, at least…(?) But is that a CGI carriage I see?

Comic Earth Star…that doesn’t bode particularly well for me. The only series I’ve watched that has a series that hails from that magazine is SekaTsuyo (Wanna Be the Strongest in the World!) and I didn’t like it much in the end.

Ohhhhhhhhh…kay. Is it just me, or did I read “Hotel Little Gust” as “Hotel Little Girl”…?

Mile and Myne (spelling pending). In female-led isekai. This season only!!!...this is gonna suck, isn’t it?

Lenny is a boy’s name, though…?

Why is the show’s English tagline “God bless me?”…? I’ve half a mind to drop this show already…and I read the premiere report on ANN, so I knew it was going to end like this. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve had a season where I just catch up on older series, even though I keep thinking I will have one on my hands during weak seasons. (This has been a worry since the especially weak summer 2018 season, really.)

The Spain Square…? Really?

Really? You’re gonna complain about Japan’s declining birth rate here???

Whoa, I wouldn’t be surprised if this show were taken for granted by yuri shippers…

The extreme buffering means I managed to spot a redhead who I’ve seen on this show’s promo material…yup, that’s her.

Oh…great. This redhead is tsundere…(If I give one more complaint, I’m getting out of here!)

Oh…so Mile even pointed it out…(probably because this buffering is going so slowly, I can guess what’s happening before it actually happens.)

Okay, so I never figured out why she started calling herself a country girl and I went back and looked (despite all the buffering I was fighting) and no one ever does call her a country girl, it’s just a random misconception she has. Because it was so unclear that this was the case, I’m going to drop this show. (Well, for all the middling shows I have this season, losing one is actually a relief…!)

Shinchou Yuusha 2

Here we are again…and I’ve been thinking about Seiya a lot since last time, which probably seals the deal in that this is going to be part of the final lineup. (Today’s Seiya probably helps a lot with that.)

Ohmigosh, Rista’s panicked face when they almost get caught by Chaos Machina…LOL.

…just as I thought, I go “nnnnergh” under my breath when someone mentions the name “Aria”.

Assassin’s Pride 1

I picked this show because the protag looked kinda hot…but only now I realise he looks like a knock-off Kirito and I really start to regret my choice…

Is it just me, or is this show really dark??? (Not just because of the bloody scene at the start, mind you.)

The side of the train says “Cardinals 26110”, in case you were wondering…(then again, you probably weren’t wondering that…)

Wait-his name is Kufa WHAT?!

This is giving me Lance N Masques vibes now, because it did almost the same plot beats except for the fact I still can’t reconcile the fact Kufa Whatsit lives in a lantern (which is actually a pretty interesting idea…if it didn’t seem rather unviable upon retrospect)…that means it’s halfway to drop city.

Melida is so flat, she doesn’t even fill out her dress…(LOL, that gives a new meaning to “flat as a board”.)

But why is the tutor a dude? Plus an older dude to a younger girl, at that???

Hey, Melida is essentially my kinda catnip…at least in my head...because she’s someone without powers in a family with powers (basically, she’s like Daichi from Crimson/Future is Crimson in that regard). Then again, Charlotte tried playing the same hand by having superpowers and absolutely sunk itself ‘cos I couldn’t stand Yu.

Elise runs reallllllly derpily.

Those CGI alleyways look baaaaaaaaad, man. Like, “looking at grainy footage through a UV camera” bad.

Okay, Kufa. You are not Naruto. You will not see them aliens. Give up already.

The actual frig is an anima???

I like this black/bright blue/purple combo…it’s nice.

Umm…but what is the way to awaken the mana???

I’m currently going, “So why should I give a s*** about Melida???? Ripoff Kirito just chooses to swear his life upon her and awakening her mana because she’s been beaten down a grand total of once…You should’ve killed her already, Kufa. Isn’t that what being an assassin is about???”…and then I realise there’s more to the episode…

Waiiiiiiiiiiiit…one of the maids’ names is Nietzsche??? Like the Ubermensch guy??? That’s weiiiiiiiird, man…

Kufa is a chuuni, calling it now.

The text under the series logo doesn’t quite make sense…

Hmm, this one’s a tough call, but I think I’ll give it a 45 and a hard drop. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself “So why should I give a s*** about the main character?” before…I think the closset to that would be when I’ve asked myself why I wanted to be subjected to this (for anime that get dropped).  

No Guns Life 1

Now that I look at the title again…why is it called No Guns Life when Juzo’s life will always have a gun in it for as long as he’s like that (i.e. he has a gun for his head)…?

*Juzo smokes* - Oh, now that’s a striking opening scene if I ever knew one!

Ohmigoshit’sKnuckledusterfromBnHAVigilanteswithagunforhisheadand…I…*huff huff* can’t breathe anymore…LOL.

Seriously, I thought I thought up some weird s*** for my old stories, like the girl whose face was missing and Akoya turning into a manequin to preserve his beauty.

“The only ones who can touch my trigger are those who I’ve chosen to accept.” – Is that…a sexual metaphor??? Or an intimacy one in general???

Wowwwwwwwww, chibi gunhead (which was hinted in the OP) was not something I expected from such a hardboiled show.

“…shot right in the head.” – LOL, says you when the guy with the gun head is behind you.

I thought there was seriously a pun there by having the gun head’s name be “Juzo”, but it turns out his name has the kanji for 13. Maybe that hints at how unlucky he is instead. (Same with Inui and it containing the character for “dog” – turns out it’s a different kanji.)

I think this is reminding me of Mahoutsukai no Yome – strong in its core genre at first, but then shows some weakness when it comes to comedy.

I worry about how this show will look during the midseason slump period…it both has traces of CGI and the still camera pretending it’s “properly animating” a scene.

That ED really is something…and hey, I got an explanation for why the show has traces of CGI in it from the credits! Unreal Engine was credited there and that’s normally used for games.

Kabukicho Sherlock 1

Dammmmmmmmn, that’s one sweet soundtrack!

Man, I know I said for Stars Align that there’s no slap to the face like a slap to the face, but…this was a slap to the face in that I did not expect Mrs Hudson to do an entire Coraline-style musical routine in the first half of the episode. I could tell from her (?) appearance that she was a drag queen/trans caricature, but they didn’t need to make her a singer in a bar…and the “sexy” shots of Mrs Hudson’s butt are kinda disturbing…and especially the part where Watson (I think it is?) gets a butt grab for his trouble…

The woman in the blue dress is Diana Oldoini (spelling needs confirmation). The woman with the blue hair…seems to be called Tenkill…(yeah, under the subs, I can’t really make it out.) All the women at Pipe Cat seem to be trans stereotypes, which vaguely annoys and unsettles me.

Kyogoku = Natsuhiko Kyogoku and Sherlock is Holmes, but I dunno about “Michel” or “Kobayashi”.

The Watson from the Holmes books was a doctor in the Afghanistan war…I know that much.

Natsu -> Fuyu (summer -> winter), hiko (“brilliance/brightness”, a common component to Japanese boys’ names) -> to (“person”, also a common component of Japanese boy’s names).

Oh, Michel is this guy (Belmont)! No wonder. Update: So the cats are like placecards, announcing that you’re in the building.

White Rose! I saw it when Watson showed up in his car, so I figured it was going to be important…I just didn’t think it was necessary so soon…

Chili oil…no wonder the woman was disgusted by Sherlock’s burp. Not to mention, Holmes was good at identifying chemicals too. This show is shaping up to be a modern Holmes more than Detective Conan is!

Wowwwwwwww…this show really doesn’t like gay people either (understatement).  It’s like I’m watching a show from the 90s in regards to the LGBTIQ+ people in this…

Moriarty is a thief for thieves, huh? A regular (modern) Robin Hood, so to speak. I wonder if the poor kids are the Baker Street Irregulars…?

This soundtrack is sooooo good! Plus it’s clearly leading up to a rakugo scene, based on the fact “Shibahama” briefly appeared on the screen during that really cool rainbow/text scene!

“What sort of girl takes her clothes off for a man she’s never met?” – A sex worker.

I-Is Moriarty drinking Dr Pepper…? Or Coke?

This is really shaping up to be a modern Sherlock Holmes – with his rakugo, this Sherlock is leading his Watson to the answer!

Ohhhhhhhhh man, these CGI cars look terrible!

H-HUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?! W-What? Sherlock gets hit by a car in the first episode (I think they wanted it to happen for humour)? This really is a show where it’s neither mystery nor comedy…it’s just kinda weird and kinda there.  

So that’s Mary Morstan and…who? (If you never figured it out, I learnt these characters’ names through ANN cast announcements.)

I…don’t get why Sherlock is screaming because I don’t know what Watson’s bottle-thingy is for, but I’ll assume it has to do with pain for Sherlock’s genitals or something of the sort…and go “ouch” for him.

Okay, so the next-ep preview’s “Why not join the staring at eye moles squad?” is a joke. You see, the word nakibokuro refers to a mole (or beauty spot) under the eye (where hokuro = mole and naki = cry, so it’s as if the person cried the mole into existence). Then it’s mitsumetai, meaning “want to stare”, but then the tai for “want” is substituted for the tai meaning “squad”. So that nonsense English line is just a very literal translation that isn’t funny…just confusing. I don’t get the “Cobra?/ Farewell” exchange though…

This very last scene before the end of the episode seems to be a page of info about the setting of Shinjuku in this series. East and west were split by a wall and train tracks, it seems, and you ned to pass through the gate to go between them…I spotted this omake because of the cat in one corner.

I don’t quite get why the case had to be treated like a gameshow at one part, but that would be a cool plot if someone ever wrote a story about it…(actually, wait. I think I do know a similar plotline from Detective Conan – the one with Natsuki in it – plus the Running Man by Steven King is somewhat similar to it too.)

Ahiru no Sora 2

Essentially, Sora is a reverse Kuroko…amirite…?

Ugh! This slang is so outdated!!! “[T]otes craycray”…the translator’s trying too hard to be a hip teenager…

How does anyone keep food in their afro anyway…?

I…miss shonen protags like Ahiru. The type that are earnest, but not shouty.

I was thinking I might drop the show here, but then I looked at the posts and strangely they didn’t talk about Chiaki (who I expected to be the deuteragonist of this show). Instead, they talk about Momoharu, so I was wondering what kind of twist they were pulling.

Beet red, my butt…

…then again, more Chiaki shenanigans showed up, so I really am gonna drop this. Geesh, Chiaki, you really suck.

BnHA 64

Eyyyyyyyyy, my local sublicensor is back to simulcasting BnHA! That didn’t happen for the stuff affected by the CR x Funi partnership, so I’m happy it’s happening right now.

I heard this was a recap ep but it was handled well…oh well, the new OP is well worth the price of admission.

I like how Amajiki (my boyyyyyyyy!) is like “Don’t touch me!!!”, even in the OP.

Hmm…I see one of the male journalists being scolded uses Windows 10.

Tokuda’s name is literally a pun on “It’s a special (episode)”…good job, Bones and BnHA staff (sarcastic). Update: Maybe the “tane” (seed) means he’s seedy…?Nah, that pun doesn’t work in Japanese.

Good job on recapping Vault Boy (as he’s known). I found his POWERRRRRR! thing amusing when s3 was airing, remember?

I get the feeling (based on the chapters Viz made free for the sake of hyping s4 up) Nighteye is a parody of the Jump series Seiji Tanaka. Update: No, now that I google Seiji Tanaka up and remember Horikoshi was going for a stereotypical Japanese salaryman look, it’s just a giant coincidence…

Tokuda has that “nice older man” vibe going on…hmm…

Whoaaaaaaaaaaa, that quirk is creepyyyyyy…

“…false encouragement to those…”

Selfie for the photobomb photographer!...(or something like that…)

Oh nooooooooo, I know exactly what’s in store for these guys, now that Viz made chs. 122 – 162 available for free for a limited time!!! That ED though…it’s basically torture for someone who knows what’s going on!!!

Shin Chuuka Ichiban 1

This is a sequel to a series I watched ages ago in Cantonese, so…heck if I’ll understand what’s going on, but I’ll try. Even though my memory of these characters should be better than everyone else’s, it might even be worse, considering all the anime I watched in the years between…

All these faces are familiar…but I’ve forgotten most of their names…If I remember right, the blonde is Sanche, the only one I really remember because he gave his all to cutting radish by moonlight so that it was proven it was so thin you could see the moonlight through it…yeah, I think that’s the only character aside from Mao I can really say anything about. (I don’t think he was blonde last time I saw an anime about him, though.)

These chickens are adorable...in this day and age, we know these chickens aren't carriers of misfortune...but just roll with it for now.

The subs don't note it (the visuals do eventually though), but her (Tiya’s) bro is a big one.

I never realised how long Mao's hair was until this series...

Even these men look like chickens...LOL.

The essence of SCI is, like any other shonen, Mao gets underestimated and kicks their asses.

The men even sound like chickens, LOL.

See? Silkies. I've never taken care of one myself, but they are adorable lil' birds with a distinctive look. Anyways, I think what sets this apart from SnS is the earnestness from years gone by (rather than extreme exaggerating). Also, this ep. made me hungry...LOL, that's the sign of a good cooking show.

Yeah...I forgot the reason why Mao wears that blue thing over his arm is because he can dramatically reveal himself as Super Chef. That happened a lot in s1.

...who's Fei again...?

Tokunana 2

I think this is going to be the decider as to where I push the threshold of my rankings, since this how is very middling…also, it’s pretty obvious to note the ep. titles go 1, 2, 3…(and so on).

I’ve watched my fair share of mysteries (Detective Conan gives you a lot of ‘em), so I can tell the covering of the mouth is a tell…the dwarvish man is lying.

The news headline says “Rainbow Bridge Reconstruction”…(It has a particle on the end though…I dunno whether I wanna translate that or not.)

Based on the “dragons” idea, I wouldn’t be surprised if the main antagonist’s surname was Kuzuryuu (“9 headed dragon”).  

Codenames? They even did that in Double Decker and in some senses, that was a parody of the entire cop procedural! (What with “Perm” as a codename and all that…speaking of which, I think Travis was the type who liked “fun” codenames too…he called himself “Boss” as well…and called his rookie “Rookie”.)

The saying goes a painted dragon should have the eyes painted last or else it’ll come alive and fly away. It must be something of the sort for daruma too. By the way, I could guess the politician was trying to be re-elected before Ichinose said due to the hissho (“sure win”) written on the daruma.

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone in anime sit backwards on a chair like that (Ichinose’s pose)…

How does Suga know about the blog…?

I keep swearing Seiji is gonna awaken some type of powers, but…I dunno why…?

“Here it is! My fist of justice!” *whomp*…that’s how I imagined the final punch to be for Seiji.

I swear…I’ve been seeing this Angolmois-style filter over Tokunana…(grr…)

Stand My Heroes 2

Wait, there’s Hattori…and Hatori…? Update: Oh…kay, so there’s Otani Hatori (of Revel) and then Hattori You (of the police). They have the same colour hair…and the same hairstyle…there goes my dreams of even comprehending this show…

Wait, so the English-language song is the OP????

Why does a guy called Maki always have green hair…?

Seriously though…Yui is a cliched scientist. By that, I mean he doesn’t really act like one at all – he obsesses over potential samples and whatnot (emphasis on “potential”).

Where the heck did you acquire a drug like that, then, Kagura???

Only Rei, who knows what happened at the dinner, can say “you’re nice based on what you did at dinner”. The viewer wasn’t privy to such things…

Aki’s tsundere…!

That fight scene was barely animated…geesh.

Maki’s got such anger issues that it’s hard to get behind him…

By the by, I don’t find Jekyll and Hyde cases hot, so Maki is basically a no-go.

Iruma-kun 2

This could be the show that decides it all. Iruma-kun is the 2nd-last show on my prospective shows for the season, so I’m cutting the fat fast by watching a few shows that indicate the quality of everything underneath as well as itself.

LOL, I never noticed there was an “Oh my gah” in the OP, haha.

Okay, so the pun in the title is Mairimashita! Iruma-kun (“I’ve Arrived! Iruma-kun”in formal Japanese because he’s the demon king’s grandson), but it’s “demon entry” rather than the standard kanji…so there’s absolutely no way to make that joke work in English, hence “Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun”. The pun in Iruma is that it’s an anagram of the formal iku/kuru (come/go), mairu. Yes, that’s the mairu I was talking about earlier.

I love how the narrator is just like “akuma deeeeeee~su” with all the enthusiasm of a postman; that is, he’s not very good at covering up his sarcasm.

Oh, so it’s maccha, but macha (demon tea)…geddit?

…oh! I actually noticed Sullivan’s hands were bandaged, but I didn’t think anything of it! So it was plot-relevant…

Hellraiser clock…for mezamashidokei (where ma = demon again)…that is a good pun! I love you, subber!

I assume the series of 5 symbols I keep seeing is actually “Iruma”, meaning the demon language is based on English, or at the very least individual romaji.

Oh wait! Babibabi(etc.)ru…does that mean the OP is referring to the school??? *mindblown*

…don’t tell me it’s Sullivan…? Update: Nope, I forgot about “Severus Snape”. He’s Aizawa from BnHA, but a demon.

Asmodeus stands out far too much in a crowd, LOL.

Whether useful or useless, trash is trash.

That’s…a very death metal snake…to put it one way.

This reminds me of Future is Crimson…how nostalgic…I really expect a cute monster though.

*laughing behind hand* Oh noooooooo…does that mean Iruma summoned the teacher??? (Hahahah!!!! Hahahaha!!!)

So…I was right, but I wasn’t right??? The teacher is a cute demon, I guess. Very fluffy. His Snape form isn’t bad either, but I’d prefer someone younger than him, to be honest. (Gimme plushies of the small fluffy sensei!)

Okay, so sukima appears to be a word meaning “gap, crevice (etc.)”. There’s the character for demon in it, so it’s kinda like calling this section the demonic gap-closer…the malevolent mini-episode…the fiendish filler! Yeah, I like the sound of “fiendish filler” (even though I don’t even like filler!).

Dr Stone 15

…now Senku’s done it. (i.e. married Ruri)

I like how Suika went splat while running. It adds more consistency to her nearsightedness.

Now there’s a cliffhanger!

No Guns Life 2

I always love it when people say they’re unarmed…but truth be told, people (normally) have two arms…not to mention, Juzo has a gun for a head and a fist that can rapidly punch. You can’t really call that “unarmed”.

I just realised Juzo’s jaw doesn’t really move when he talks…

Wait a second, ARAHABAKI????? You mean, Chuuya Arahabaki???? (Talking about that to those not in the know would be spoilers, so I won’t explain what I mean here, just in case there are non-BSD fans reading this.)

So…uh, where are Juzo’s eyes in that head of his…?

Ooh, authentication keys. Sounds like cybersecurity. That…was my jam before I jumped ship – apparently I’m too dumb to deal with modulos (which are important to cybersecurity).

Hmm…gun slave unit? Whatever does that mean, hmm??? (somewhat inquisitive, somewhat sarcastic)

Can a guy with a gun for his head get lung cancer? These are the big questions, folks.

Hmm? His hobby is house-cleaning, but he doesn’t have any kids…? That sounds sort of weird (although my ideas of a house cleaner are probably a bit…motherly, I guess? “Conforming to traditional stereotypes”…how about that description instead…?).

I never realised how short the muzzle of Juzo’s head is until I got this side shot.

“Guess that means I won’t be able to hold back against you!” – Whoa! That’s some effective horror…and this isn’t even a show that has “horror” as one of its genres…

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

Five So-Bad-They're-Good Horror Movies to Cure Your Post-Halloween Depression

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Five So-Bad-They're-Good Horror Movies to Cure Your Post-Halloween Depression

It’s that time of year again, folks. Yes, that irrepressible sadness achieved by horror fans once Halloween comes to a close and all of the spooky fun has been had. Parties attended, candy collected, and now it’s time to go back to your boring, non-spooky existence.

Or is it?

Plenty of websites will give you lists of the best movies out there guaranteed to shock and horrify you. This list will not give you any of those. The following is a list of five horror films that might incite a different reaction in you. This list contains the best of the worst, the most unintentionally hilarious ‘horror’ films ever put to the silver screen. There’s always been something fascinating about movies that set out to scare and end up creating joy in their sheer ineptitude, and for some reason horror seems to be a genre full of these types of movies.

Bear in mind, however, that everyone’s taste is subjective, and what might be considered irredeemably awful to one moviegoer is god-tier cinema to another. None of the movies on this list are meant to offend anybody who likes them, and in fact, I encourage you to seek them out. Sometimes a good, old fashioned spooky laugh can be just what you need to cure the post-Halloween blues.

  5. The Wicker Man (2006)

A remake of what was once called “the Citizen Kane of horror films” is already a tough one to get right. No matter how much heart and soul you put into your final product, fans of the original are always going to come at you with their grievances with your remake. Despite this, sometimes you get a remake that not only seems to have been made by people who didn’t care about the original, but seems to have no regard for movies as a concept.

The Wicker Man is based on the 1976 film of the same name, which is most notable for having starred Christopher Lee, who often cited the part as his favorite of all of the roles he’d played. The original is beloved by critics and horror fans everywhere, coming in as number one on quite a few ‘best of’ horror lists. For those who love 70s British horror, its must-see.

It’s intriguing, then, that the remake has somewhat overshadowed the original due to its infamy. It’s hard to pin down exactly what makes this movie so enjoyably terrible. Maybe it’s the fact that Nicolas Cage seems to be constantly shouting; Maybe it’s the weird obsession that the movie seems to have with bees and honey; Maybe it’s the weird matriarchal cult that comes across just a tad bit sexist in hindsight. Whatever the reason, The Wicker Man remains a classic of so-bad-it’s-good horror.

Choice Quote: “How’d it get burned? HOW’D IT GET BURNED?”

  4. Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966)

Most who know about this movie know about it due to it’s being spotlighted in 1993 on Mystery Science Theater 3000. However, even without the commentary from the crew of the satellite of love, this movie is still one kicker of a beautifully bad movie.

What do you get when you combine a barely-experienced crew and actors, endless scenes of characters aimlessly driving around, polygamist Satanic cult members, and random insert scenes that have little-to-nothing to do with the plot? Well, you get Manos: The Hands of Fate, a 1966 minimal-budget horror film about a family on a vacation who encounter a cult. That’s really about all there is to it. The editing is poor, the acting is wooden. At one point a random pair of teenagers making out in a car and being caught by a police officer interrupts the plot, as if to say to the audience, “We realize there’s not much else interesting happening here, so here’s some eye candy while you wait for something to actually happen.”

According to Wikipedia, the whole thing started when director, producer, and star Harold P. Warren made a bet with a friend that it would be easy to make a horror movie. From that, we got Manos. Oh, and there are a few random scenes where the wives of the movie’s villain The Master get into catfights, seemingly for no reason other than the director wanted to show some women fighting. Take that as you will.

Choice Quote: “Enough! Enough of this stupid bickering! The child must die! If you persist in this foolishness, your usefulness will come to an end!”

  3. Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959)

Ed Wood is an interesting director for many reason. For more information about what an enigma that man was, check out Tim Burton’s 1994 biopic. But Wood’s 1959 science fiction-horror feature Plan 9 From Outer Space was cited by Seinfeld as one of the worst movies ever made, and continues to amuse to this day. In a deceptively simple plot, this early feature of the zombie genre (pre-Night of the Living Dead, even!) follows an alien invasion in which the alien’s main goal seems to be the reanimation of dead bodies. Thus, the deceased rise from their graves to pursue the living, referred to not as zombies, but as ‘ghouls’ by the characters.

One notable feature of the film is the fact that frequent collaborator and friend of Ed Wood, Bela Lugosi, has a part in the film. However, halfway through production, Lugosi tragically died, and in the meanwhile Wood brought in a stand-in to hold Lugosi’s place for the scenes with him that they hadn’t shot yet. This results in Lugosi’s stand-in (Tom Mason, by name) attempting to hide the fact that he was not, in fact, Bela Lugosi, by wearing a rather ridiculous-looking Dracula cape and holding it over half of his face. It’s as silly as it sounds.

In addition, the movie features some truly hilarious special effects, including a shot of a UFO flying over California that’s very obviously a paper plate, and a plot that seems to combine The Day the Earth Stood Still and White Zombie into one hilarious package.

Choice Quote: “And remember my friend, future events such as these will affect you in the future.”

  2. Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2010)

Birdemic is inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, but upon an initial viewing, the parallels fall flat when compared to the movie’s many technical faults. The atrocious CGI is overshadowed only by the wooden acting and the flat plot. The film follows a software salesman and his Victoria’s Secret model girlfriend who suddenly find their town under attack by killer birds that, get this… spit acid and explode into flames when they touch the ground.

If this doesn’t sound good enough for you, just look at those birds. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. They don’t remotely blend with the background at all. It looks more like they’ve been merely copy-pasted into the frame than animated whatsoever. One has to watch them in motion to truly appreciate how awkward they move. It’s very obvious that they’ve not been rendered properly, and instead of the fluid motion traditionally associated with computer-generated effects, the bird’s wings flap jerkily, and spin around in a strange 360 degree motion. The movie has been compared to good-bad predecessors such as Plan 9 because of it’s strange and awkward tone, and in fact has been called “the best worst film [of] 2010.”

Choice Quote: “And many have died from starvation, due to the difficulty of finding enough food, such as seals.”

  1. Troll 2 (1990)

You’ve seen the clip on YouTube. A young man in glasses stares, horrified, while a fly crawls leisurely across his face. “They’re eating her…” he intones, ominously, “and then they’re going to eat me. Oh my GOOOOOOOOD!” But Troll 2 is more than just one viral video of bad acting. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find yourself what I believe to be the best bad horror movie there is.

There’s a lot to dissect here. First of all, the name Troll 2 is misleading. The movie is not actually related in any way to the 1986 fantasy film Troll. The movie was actually an unrelated Italian film called Goblins, but when it was released in America, the studio thought it better to attach the film to a previously released property. Most of the conflict on the set came from most of the crew being Italian and not having a very firm grasp of the English language, and that includes the screenwriter, whose clunky dialogue is a staple of this film’s notoriety. According to many of the American actors in this movie, they offered many times to try to make the dialogue sound more natural and a little less like it’d just gotten run through Google Translate, but the director, Claudio Fragasso, shot that one down.

This movie contains many things, but nowhere among those things are any trolls. Yes, you heard me correctly. The movie called Troll 2 contains no actual trolls. The creatures seen above are referred to as goblins throughout the whole thing. The town they live in is even called Nilbog. (No prizes to those among you who can tell in two seconds what ‘Nilbog’ spells backwards. Seems these goblins learned their disguise tactics from Son of Dracula.)

And that doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of this mess of a film, which also contains an erotic corn on the cob-eating scene. Yes, really. It must be seen to be believed.

  And that concludes the list! Hopefully those of you out there who like a more low-key Halloween got to enjoy some classics of the horror genre, but as a connoisseur of cult cinema, I felt as though it was necessary to spotlight some more unconventional Halloween favorites. So pop one or more of these into your DVD slot or look them up on Netflix, and be prepared to laugh. You might even forget that it’s November.

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin: Ambush (Part 7)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. During a journey with other draenei, Pallas and Telurin become separated when orcs attack.

Telurin dispatches the orc captain with brutal, even shocking efficiency. Motaanos breathes a long sigh of relief when he falls, knowing his own exhaustion could have created a dangerous situation without the tireless Ebon Blade aiding him. The battle dies down, the other orcs abandoning their fallen captain now that they have seen that the death knight is truly something to be feared.

Mot takes a moment to catch his breath, leaning on his mace, then approaches Telurin without yet seeing what the undead draenei is doing. “That was well done--”

The vindicator falls back in horror when he sees what Telurin has done to the fallen orc. “What is the meaning of this?!” Being an Auchenai, it’s even more apparent to him that the death knight has manipulated a soul into remaining inside the corpse. Granted, it’s the soul of a foe who would have killed them without hesitation, but to an Auchenai, it’s nothing short of blasphemous.

“Peace, Commander, I don’t intend to keep it. Do you want your Soulpriest back or not?” Telurin doesn’t look back at Motaanos, his attention still remains with the newly risen ghoul, and it’s to the newly undead that he directs his next words. “Speak, I have given you voice. Tell me what you have done with the draenei you captured yesterday. Your Master wills it.”

Motaanos presses his lips together and holds his peace, despite the fact that the freshly-dead orc captain is disturbing to his senses as a ghoul.

After a beat, the orc ghoul speaks in a low, quavering drone. His lips form the words slowly around his tusks. “...Braxen…Gorereaper... wanted them... Draenei blood… Summons… powerful demons… Or so he... claims.” There is a sense that the chieftain didn’t understand the specifics. Motaanos goes pale in the background. “...Weak slaves… They had… no other use...”

The orc ghoul slowly raises his left hand to point at a path in the woods that winds a short distance out of the encampment. There is a sense of dread that lingers over the path. The grasses and plants there are dead, and the trees are twisted, as if something in the soil had poisoned them.

Telurin, satisfied with the answer, pulls the necromantic magics pinning the soul of the orc to his body with a vicious twist, and the body drops as if it were a puppet with its strings cut. The tie between a death knight and their ghouls left no room for lies; the orc had divulged all he’d known, as well as the layout of the cave they’d find the hostages in and what he had known of this Braxen Gorereaper. Sugarfoot comes back around without being told and Telurin mounts in one smooth motion, already pulling the horse’s nose in the direction the orc had pointed.

“Keep up or be left behind, they are close!” He calls back to Motaanos right as he digs his heels into Sugarfoot’s side.

Sugarfoot thunders down the fel-tainted path in the early morning. From what Telurin had been able to glean from the mind of the orc chieftain, this Gorereaper is without doubt a practitioner of the warlock arts, having often been seen in the company of demonic beasts he kept under his sway. It was not a common talent for fel orcs, suggesting that the warlock himself was not tainted to the same extent they had been, or perhaps not at all.

What is apparent is that he was prolific in his studies. Sugarfoot soon reaches a terminus in the path: A grave altar carved out of dark stone, decorated with skulls, bones, and the dried stains of dark indigo draenei blood. The gruesome sight of the remains of sacrificial victims can be seen. Many appear to have been devoured by something horrible afterward, their remains nearly unrecognizable in the foul greenish light that glows from cracks in the rocky ground. The twisted trees complete the scene: Awful mockeries of themselves, scorched black.

There is no sign of the warlock himself, nor of his minions. Assuming he was one of the more intelligent orcs, he likely departed the camp as soon as there was a disturbance.

Not far from the blood-spattered altar, there is a line of iron cages trimmed with wicked metal thorns. Inside the cages, a cruel sight meets Telurin's eyes: Several draenei bodies, in varying states of nauseating violation. Some are chained, some gutted for their blood.

The air is heavy with the stench of death. But Telurin's senses would tell him that one of the cages held a glimmer of life.

Telurin had seen worse, done worse under the Lich King’s thrall, but the amount of death, comprised of solely his own people, sets his anger burning all over again. He promises to himself that when Pallas is safe, he will return and raze this place to the ground. Surrounded by death, the point of Light-touched life in the last cage is bright to his senses, and he yanks Sugarfoot’s head toward it, sliding off of the big horse nearly on top of the cage.

“Watch and guard.” He says to the still keyed up horse, one hand on Sugarfoot’s neck as he approaches the cage, the reins looped loosely onto the pommel to give the horse freedom of movement. He tries to temper some of his anger as he turns his attention to the occupants of the cage, knowing it won’t be useful here. He draws his sword and sets it to the chain holding the door shut, trusting the runed blade against the strength of whatever poor metal the orcs had used in the chain’s construction.

It gives easily, and Telurin gets his first unobstructed view of what lay inside.

Motaanos comes up quietly behind Telurin, his face ashen.  Although he had grown up surrounded by death as an Auchenai, the sense of wrongness of the corruption of fel, to him, felt a violation of the worst kind.

He turns his attention to the inside of the cage the death knight has cut the lock from, then falls to his knees with a cry of agony. Pallas is there, laying unconscious on the filthy, blood-spattered bottom of the cage, his Anchorite's robes reduced to shreds. His body is covered in bruises, whip welts and the punctures of bites. Wrapped around the smaller priest, holding him as if to protect him, is the bony body of Grigore, his skin deeply lashed and coated blue from his own blood. Even his tail is wrapped tightly around Pallas's.

Motaanos is beside himself, his eyes wide with grief. He chokes out, "Grigore..." before reaching towards the soul priest with a gauntleted hand.

Telurin’s own anguish is quiet, but the sight of the two Anchorites sets his jaw and strengthens his resolve to slaughter the rest of this clan for what they’ve done. With Motaanos in the doorway, Telurin lets the vindicator be the one to assess the damage, knowing he will be able to help in this case more than he.

“Neither of them will be able to ride.” Telurin says, and it’s blunt and harsh but it’s true, and it’s a problem Telurin can work on right now, how to get them out of the orc camp and back to the nearest Alliance settlement. “There was a cart back at the camp, it will have to do. Can you stay with them while I retrieve it? Be on your guard, stabilize them as much as you can while I am gone. I will be quick.” He almost turns back toward Sugarfoot before Motaanos answers, but he waits, needing to be sure the Commander can work through his grief, set it aside for now. They’re in unsecured enemy territory, alone, and he needs them both to stay sharp and battle ready until it’s safe to do otherwise.

Motaanos's expression changes as he gleans from both Telurin's words and closer examination that both of the priests are, in fact, alive. He regains control of his emotions, and becomes steadfast, nodding as he crouches next to the two unconscious draenei inside the cage. "I have enough energy left to provide some healing; they'll be stabilized at the very least."

The Vindicator gingerly places a hand on Pallas's shoulder, and his opposite hand on Grigore's. He begins to channel the Light. It's a faint, quiet presence in this fel place, turning the cage floor around the three draenei a soft, calming gold. Mot looks back at Telurin with trust in his eyes for the first time.

[newyorkbaby]

If you see this, post a snippet from your current WIP

I saw @fondleeds post so I thought, why not!

Louis polishes his spoon with the hem of his shirt by the light of the fire, ignoring the ache in his back and the soreness of his bum. The flat cushion he's sitting on is easily the most uncomfortable bed he's ever had, but it's better than sleeping on the cold tube station floor.

He hums along to the radio, some oldies singer crooning out a song Louis has heard hundreds of thousands of times in the past six months. It's just habit, by now.

When his spoon is reasonably clean, he yanks open his satchel and digs around. While there isn't much left to choose from, he still feels indecisive as he pulls out a can of pork 'n' beans and a rolled up bag of Weetabix.

He considers the fact that it's the last of his cereal, the box having only lasted him a few days. He knows he should hold on until he can restock, knows he should savor it, but the cereal-aholic in him takes over and he grabs his bowl and dumps out the remains.

Some powdered milk, some (hopefully) less-than-lethally irradiated water, and soon Louis is digging in. The satisfying sound of his crunching muffles out the droning from the radio, and makes it harder to hear Grimmy's voice as the song comes to a close.

"That was Way Back Home by Bing Crosby and the Bobcats," he says, "in case you have been living under a rock for your entire life and didn't already know."

Louis chuckles to himself after swallowing another spoonful of cereal.

"Honestly," Grimmy continues, "the biggest tragedy of the apocalypse is being left to play the same 10 records over and over again! Anyway," Louis can practically hear Grimmy's eyes rolling, "up next is Roy Brown's Butcher Pete, so enjoy and don't forget to take your RadAway!"

Louis grimaces as the next song starts up, setting aside his mostly-empty cereal bowl and grabbing his pack. He hopes the food he's been eating hasn't been too contaminated, but everything he's eaten since leaving the vault has had that telltale metallic taste to it, so he's not quite sure.

He pulls out three empty packets of RadAway before he finds one with a little bit of solution left. It'll have to do.

Loading up the needle and taking the shot, Louis winces through the sting as the chemicals rush through his bloodstream. Fortunately, he's had lots of practice delivering intravenous medicines. He lets his mind wander as the solution settles, remembering the hours he had spent helping his mother in the vault's clinic, bandaging up scrapes for the kids and helping give the old-timers their pills. He remembers watching his mother struggle to find a useable vein in Mrs. Pennington, an old woman on her way out of this life. When his mum had finally succeeded at connecting the IV, they both watched as Mrs. Pennington drifted to sleep for the last time.

He remembers being afraid to die. Now, though, he knows there are worse fates than dying peacefully in a warm bed, surrounded by friends. Now he's afraid he'll die alone, brutally, without ever knowing the fate of his mother, his sisters, his baby brother.

Louis' thoughts are interrupted by shuffling from down the tube corridor.

He's been living in this underground station for months, having stumbled upon it when he gave up his search for his family near the vault and decided to move south. Since then it's been his home base, and he's suffered his fair share of visitors, mainly in the form of feral dogs and ghouls. Still, he knows that any day could be his last, and the idea of being ripped apart by the monsters of the wastes sends his heart rate spiking.

Leaving the radio on as a cover for the noise, Louis slinks away from the fire he's built in the middle of the platform and hides behind a pillar, loading his last few energy cells into the laser pistol that's barely managed to survive the past few months without repairs.

Louis holds his breath as the shuffling gets closer. He can't pick up any breathing, as is usually the case with feral dogs, and the average feral ghoul usually never stops howling and grunting. He hopes it's just a mutant mole rat or perhaps an oversized insect, but with Louis' luck, he doubts it.

Grimmy's voice continues to spout off on the radio, echoing off the cement walls and bouncing down the tunnels. He announces the next song, and the Glenn Miller Orchestra kicks off a jazzy rendition of At Last. The fire crackles loudly once, twice, and Louis tries not to let the idea that his killer could be on the other side of the pillar he's hiding behind.

When he hears the sound of tin cans being knocked over, and a quiet "shit!" is blurted out by the intruder, Louis' heart jumps into his throat. He acts on instinct, spins around the pillar and points his pistol at the dark figure looming over his things.

"Oi!" he shouts. "Drop your weapons and put your hands up!"

The intruder - a man, Louis notices - squeaks and drops what Louis recognizes as his own copy of Tumblers Today. His hands fly up as he turns towards Louis, and the light from the fire illuminates his face.

Louis' hands tremble as he takes the man in, from his dirty boots to the messy bun that sits on the top of his head. His eyes are wide and seem black in the poor lighting of the tube station, and his fingers are visibly shaking where they poke out of his fingerless gloves. He's taller than Louis, and broader, but he looks as if he's just seen his entire life flash before his eyes. Louis can't blame him, really. Nobody likes surprises, not in the wasteland.

"What are you doing here?" Louis demands, hoping the tremors in his voice are somewhat hidden by the gentle love song playing in the background.

"I-I'm just looking," the man stammers, "just looking for parts!"

"Parts? What do you mean, parts? What kind of parts?" Louis knows the man must be looking for weapons and ammo, same as Louis has been doing for the past six months, but he's so completely shocked to see another human that he can't quite figure out what exactly he should say.

"Anything," the man says. "I look for scraps, for tech, anything! Please don't shoot me!" His voice, though deep, jumps a few octaves when he pleads.

"Quiet!" Louis hisses, nervously rocking from foot to foot. His inclination is to believe the man, but his head is fuzzy and his heart is pounding and dammit, he didn't even know there were other people still alive out here! "Have you got any weapons?"

The man nods. "In my bag, and in the holster." He nods again, this time towards the belt that is resting snug against his hips.

Louis looks closer, feeling his heart return to a semi-normal pace of beating. The stranger isn't lying; there is definitely an old-school pistol tucked into a holster on his right side, and he can see what looks to be the barrel end of a rifle sticking out of the top of his backpack. There are also multiple purses slung across his chest, Louis notices, although he's not sure what their purpose is. He doubts the man is trying to make any fashion statements, but, stranger things, and all that.

"What else do you have on you?" Louis asks, lowering his gun slightly, but not entirely.

"Just scrap metal, a few batteries, ammo, some food-"

"Alright," Louis stops him. "I get it. Listen-"

"Harry," the stranger supplies.

"Right. Harry. Listen, I-"

Both of them stop talking as a series of howls interrupt their encounter. The hairs on Louis' arms and the back of his neck stand at full attention. He knows that noise, absolutely.

"Ghouls," he whispers.

Harry is immediately three steps further away than he was before, though his arms are still raised. Louis re-aims his pistol on the stranger.

"Hold it," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper. Another series of howls rings out, and Louis regrets not switching off the radio before. The love song has ended and Grimmy is chattering away, likely drawing the ghouls in, but Louis refuses to turn his back to the stranger for even a second.

"I'm sorry I intruded," Harry says as he continues to move back incrementally, "but I really must be going."

"But!" Louis quickly runs through excuses to keep the stranger in place in his head. He is untrusting, and he's scared, but maybe Harry knows where other people are. Maybe he's seen-

More screeching, and grunting. The ghouls are surely just around the bend, soon to descend on Louis' hideaway.

"Come with me," Harry blurts, and Louis swallows hard.

It's a huge risk. Harry might kill him, or worse.

Still, between another living human and a pack of glowing, flesh-dripping mutants, the choice is somewhat easy.

"Okay."

Louis puts down his gun, grabs his pack, and shovels in what he can before he takes off after Harry. As they ascend the platform steps and break out above ground, Grimmy's laughter is drowned out by the howling of the feral ghouls.

[hawk-in-a-jazzy-hat]

Anime Review: Gosick

In the year of 1924, in the fictional European country of Sauville, lies the prestigious Saint Marguerite academy; a place for students to reach the best of their ability. One such student is Kazuya Kujo; thierd son of an imperial soldier determined to make a name for himself away from the shadow of his two older brothers. Not that it’s easy, as due to his appearance he is quickly dubbed the Reaper that Comes in the Spring, as to a local ghost story, and his very appearance is made synonymous with bad luck.

On his first day at the academy, however, he makes a chance encounter. In the towering library on the ground, he discovers a beautiful garden on the top floor. And in there, he discovers a mysterious doll-like girl with beautiful golden hair; the Golden Fairy that supposedly steals the souls of men. He soon finds out however that this is no fairy, but a genius young girl called Victorique, who is kept in isolation at the academy for somewhat dubious reasons.

Kujo quickly takes a liking to her, and as they get involved in spooky goings on and grisly murder cases around the country, she soon takes a liking to him. But a storm is coming, and their happiness is threatened by the very forces that kept Victorique shut away in the first place...

The Reaper, and the Golden Fairy. Two terrifying beings, and two people totally unsuited to be with one another. Yet though the gale threatens to tear them apart, their hearts will always be together.

It’s time to consult the wellspring of wisdom and assemble the fragments of chaos once again.

Every time I start a ‘block’ of new anime series from my overwhelmingly large backlog, I’m always hoping for that ‘one’ series to come up. The series which seemingly comes out of nowhere, that I know very little about, and yet which somehow, inexplicably makes it onto my favourites list. A couple of blocks ago, it was Fate/Zero and Rozen Maiden. The block after that, it was Jormungand. And when I did my little Urobuchi retrospective, Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet was the show which really stuck out to me. It’s a nice feeling when it happens; finding something excellent completely by accident.

In many ways it’s these kind of shows which essentially ‘save’ anime for me; there’s only so much stuff which is mediocre-to-average you can sit through before you begin to question why you’re bothering. I try and mix things up a bit; mixing the things I’m genuinely excited for with shows like the ones above that I’m practically going into blind. Perhaps it’s the lack of hype which makes them stand out, or perhaps I do, occasionally just find diamonds in the rough. It certainly doesn’t always work; shows such as Haibane Renmei or Requiem for the Phantom, while technically impressive, can fall a bit flat under an emotional scrutiny, whereas others like Aldnoah.Zero and Umineko are just plain crap.

But when these shows come along, it’s well worth the wait and the drivel I forced myself through to find them. I was slightly concerned with this current block; while it did give me Tokyo Ghoul and Eureka Seven, both of which are great, the latter I was kind of expecting to enjoy anyway and the former only really became great in its second half after a pretty dull first half. As for the rest of the things I’ve been watching, Ghost Hound was technically sound but ultimately a bit of a let-down, Clannad annoyed me for several reasons, Umineko, as I’ve stated, was pure crap, and we don’t talk about Elfen Lied ever again. I was beginning to worry that I wasn’t going to find my ‘undiscovered gem’ as it were for this block.

Then I saw Gosick; a show which has assuaged my fears and reinstalled my faith in anime once again.

It’s not perfect. It has problems, some of them rather major. But when you actually get down to what matters, Gosick is actually a pretty fantastic show.

It helps that the production is done by my absolute favourite of all anime studios; Studio Bones, baby! These guys can take on any genre and any art style and make it work, I swear. It’s funny, because by Bones standards Gosick isn’t actually that impressive on a technical level; the character designs, while striking, are simple, the direction is merely fine, and the animation is really quite restrained. Yet even a Bones show on a budget looks better than about 80% of other anime out there, and at its best Gosick is a really pretty show, really making the most of its gothic setting. The standout moments are few and far between, but when they come around they really make the most of it. Overall Gosick is just a really purty show; perhaps not with quite the sparkle and flair of a KyoAni or a P.A. Works show, but honestly, I prefer a style that’s a little more grounded anyway.

As for the music, you’re honestly not going to notice it. Aside from a couple of notable insert pieces and two really good ending themes (the opening looks pretty but the song is pretty meh), most of the music just basically does its job; accentuating the mood and blending into the background. I can’t fault it for that, though I can’t see myself revisiting the soundtrack like I do for, say, Eureka Seven.

So here’s a thing which took me far too long to figure out; the title Gosick isn’t a referencing to a plot point or a character in the series, but is in fact just a corruption of the word Gothic. I’m not making a point here, other than the fact that I feel silly for not working it out.

Although technically it is an important point, because when it comes to whether this show works from a story perspective, the important factor is literally staring at you right in the title. From the early episodes Gosick has a tendency to paint itself as a season long mystery show, which honestly is doing itself a disservice. If you’re watching Gosick for a good mystery, you’re probably going to feel rather let down. Even if you’re watching for a thriller or a crime drama or something, it’s really quite basic in that regard.

But if you’re looking for the best example of a purely gothic anime you can find, I can’t think of any better example than this.

(or Rozen Maiden, but...you know...one thing at a time)

It’s not just the visuals and the sound that lead to this. It’s the lore. It’s the setting. It’s the ghost stories and folklore playing along with politics, science and the occult. It’s a tension that never really goes away, and a constant feeling of dread for both our main characters at any given time. It’s pure black comedy mixed with goofy slapstick, and it’s genuine terror mixed with cheesy horror.

Good, proper gothic is a hard thing to get right. In the west, Laika and Tim Burton are probably the only ones who really know what they’re doing in that regard, and even then the latter has the tendency to overdo things here and there. Gosick however strikes the balance just right; it is one of the most consistently entertaining series I’ve ever watched. Even in shows I loved, I can generally point to moments that are better than others. Gosick is basically an extended anthology; two or three episodes a time dedicated to the current mystery, with hints thrown in now and again towards the overall plot. But the thing is, it works, because all the individual mysteries are seriously engaging, as is the main plot. Sure, not everything hits, and not every single plot twist is truly warranted (I am reminded of a certain late revelation which is highly uncomfortable and really could and should have been done another way) but honestly everything that needs to slot into place, really does.

It helps that the show has a strong cast. Again though, not strong in the traditional sense; most of them don’t really go through a proper arc or have much development at all. Even the main hero Kujo pretty much stays the same throughout the whole series, and if there is a weak spot to the show I’d have to point to him. He’s kind, charming and performs the every-man role fairly well...

...buuuuut he’s also a blithering idiot. Like, really. You wonder how he even managed to find his way off the boat.

Okay, okay, he’s not that bad. And frankly, I’ll take his idiocy and his many, many poor decisions with slightly more leeway given the fact that he is such a charming person. It’s not like Shirou from Fate, who is such a blithering moron yet is also so convinced he’s right that you just want to punch him. Kujo’s idiocy is harmless. Most of the time. I did want to slap him once. Maybe twice.

The rest of the supporting cast fill their roles well. The hyperactive teacher, the friendly cook, the flamboyant detective, the secondary love-interest who doesn’t have a chance at all; they’re all interesting and distinguishable in their own way, frankly fitting a gothic story to a tee. They don’t have to have fully fleshed out characters just so long as they’re instantly recognisable, which they are.

Also, props to the show for having a character with ridiculous anime hair, where, not only is this actually acknowledged in the show, but is also a vital plot point. That did make me chuckle.

But of course we’re just skirting around the edges here; the real reason to watch this show and the reason it is so dang entertaining is Victorique herself.

Victorique is basically the Sherlock for the show, but she has an awful lot of layers to her. She’s grumpy and stroppy, but also adorable with a childlike innocence. She can be badass when she puts together a mystery from the smallest cues, yet also badass when she fights for her own happiness. Her relationship with Kujo is what makes the entire series for me; they both fill each others weaknesses, and bring out the best in one another. It’s a deep, mutual respect and friendship that lies beneath the surface teasing and baiting, which honestly is the thing I think was missing from Spice and Wolf.

Honestly, I think Kujo and Victorique have one of the best relationships I’ve seen in any anime. And the show knows this, and is constantly threatening to wreck everything; I won’t spoil anything, but when the feels hit, they hit hard.

Gosick is a show that really shouldn’t be as good as it is, and in fact may not be. It has issues with storytelling, with characterisation, with a bit of major plot contrivance near the end and with the fact that one member of the main duo is, as I’ve mentioned, a complete blithering idiot. But honestly, it doesn’t matter; Gosick does so many things so, so right during its run that I can’t help but instantly love it. If you’re one for sweet, delicious Victorian gothicness or just want to see an adorable and really well realised relationship (which may or may not be romantic) between two very different people, I can’t recommend Gosick highly enough. And even if you’re not sure, give it a try. I did, and while I certainly wasn’t expecting anything truly fantastic, I most certainly got it.

My score: 8/10

Well, one more show from this block to go. Will it round it off nicely, or will it bring the whole thing crashing down. We may never know.

Well, we will. That’s why I do this stuff.

Next classic review will be RahXephon.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                       Yoon Bora, who is known by no other name,                                    a 30 year old daughter of Loki.                               She is the owner of The Flower Mill.

FC NAME/GROUP: Yoon Bora / Sistar CHARACTER NAME: N/A AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 30; January 30, 1990 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, SK OCCUPATION:  Owner of The Flower Mill HEIGHT: 165 cm (5’5″) WEIGHT: 46 kg (101 lbs) DEFINING FEATURES: Her body is covered in scars. A majority are on her back, arms, and calves.

PERSONALITY: Originally, Bora was a sweet, and gentle child. She was outgoing, expressive, and caring. However after her encounter with Louis and her time at the Gourmet, she has became distant. She has had trouble trusting anyone since her time there. She has grown quiet and timid. She struggles with interacting with others by her own resolve and often finds herself incredibly lonely. She feels heavy guilt over her past and the lives she took, and it makes it harder for her to form close relationships with others. Her heart is soft for those whom with “bad pasts” who need some form of guidance, and she is willing to form a type of motherly relationship with anyone, taking them under her wings. Now that she tends to a child, she is much more defensive and protective while she is out, willing to harm anyone who threatens those close to her.

HISTORY: tw; Abuse, torture, murder, death

Background uses elements from Tokyo Ghoul

The Seoul native had been a popular lady. She spoiled her friends with affection, and she was a studious girl. On an errand to help her single mother, she met a man named Louis. Though older than her by several years, he befriended her and would meet her daily to help her in running errands, often treating her to desserts. Innocent and naive, she would betray her mother’s wisdom of keeping her powers private and relay the information to the man she trusted the most. He was the epitome of “stranger danger,” and now being sure of the powers of which she possessed, he would test her out. He would call upon his companions to bring him the most exotic of animals. She touched lions, tigers, bears, jaguars, hippos, rhinos, and more. Her inner database of animals expanded dramatically.

Unknown to her, his actions were motivated by greed. Satisfied by her powers. he would drug her on a trip to a nearby ice cream shop. Hours would pass before she would awake to find herself in a cage in a dimly lit room with chains around her arms, legs, and neck. Confused and afraid, she would find her supposed companion laughing before her.  He would reveal his own quest. She was simply now his pet. Louis ran an underground fighting ring for the rich and twisted to watch. Weekly, he kidnapped unsuspecting humans and pitted them against each other. However, she was a spectacle. She held a force that could bring him spectators from around the world and entertain those whom he called his regulars. He would demand her to turn into the animals he showed her so that his spectators would get even more of a gruesome sight.

Bora would immediately be unwilling. She could never steal someone’s life. She was far to sweet and delicate to do such. Her resistance was strong, but a few power tools and a few days of frequent torture forced her into being a servant to his wishes. The first kill was the worst, and the shows were off and on for weeks. Tens of masked figured stood on platforms above jeering and cheering as she decimated the poor humans who stood no chance. Every performance was graded, and if she did not meet Louis’s standards, she was punished with the same torture she met at the beginning.  Fear captured her, and she remained with Louis for years, doling out pain that shattered her soul.

Before one match, a sudden realization would hit her. There was only one way to prevent death to anyone else, and it was the death of Louis. Straining against her chains to escape, a small rodent would crawl within her cage, and gently laying her fingers upon it, she was transform and finally escape her cage and chains. Emerging from her prison, she was prepared for death or freedom. Anyone who stood in her way felt her piercing claws and sharp teeth. By the time she reached Louis, the building reeked of death. Asleep in his bed, she would pounce upon him in her jaguar form, and as he awoke, she struck the moment she saw the fear in his eyes. Her keeper was no more in minutes.

Transforming back into her human form, she knelt on the floor before a mirror. It had been ages since she saw her reflection, and the woman looking at her was not the woman she knew. Freedom was bittersweet, and as she allowed herself to break down, a bird would appear before her with a message. Her escape was waiting in a location called Mount Phoenix. She had no clue whether she should trust this, but at this point, she had nothing else going for her. With her newest bird companion, she cleansed herself from the blood and headed off to a new life.

At Mount Phoenix, she found a new start, and she reconnected with people from her younger days. Despite the years of suffering she endured, she started to finally free herself from the crushing weight of her horror. Bora felt that her future finally looked bright, but soon, she would be shook to her core as news that the man she despised so much had been revived from the dead. Flashbacks from her past haunted her nights and day, and she finally decided that there was no way she could keep hiding on the island. Bora left her friends without a word, knowing so many would stop her if she left.  She rather be dead than leave other unsuspecting people to his hands.

Bora sought out the man through the few clues she had, and as she finally reached the den of her enemy, her greatest nightmare was real. He was alive and breathing, and she had to end this. In a swirl of chaos and a recreation of her past, he was torn to pieces in a surprise attack. Louis seemed different from when she last saw him, which was probably due to some side effect of his resurrections. Blood covered the floor, and the only way she thought that she could truly end this chapter in her life was through fire. So as the demigoddess set the house on fire, she heard the cry of a child just moments before her exit.

Even with danger presented by the quickly consuming flame, there was no way that she could go leave the innocent child, and though a close call, her and the child get out of the collapsing building. Bora has a more pressing questions. Whose child is this? Where does she go from now? So, Bora works on the reunification of child with her parents, and in her journey to find them, it leads her to a mother who sold the child to Louis knowing she could get good profit off of them and their powers. Bora knew that there was no way she could leave the child in the hands of this woman, and for the right price, she paid the woman to give all control and guardianship over to her. Her and the child needed a new start to the lives that had been stolen from, and she knew that the only place that would give them that was Mount Phoenix.

PANTHEON: Norse CHILD OF: Loki POWERS:

Shapeshifting: Bora has the ability to shift into the figures of different animals. This power requires that she has touch them at some point, but there is no determined length required for it to be added to her ability to shift. Any clothes worn during shift either fall around her or tear depending on her change. All scars on her human body translates onto her animal body. Despite the appearance of an animal, she is unable to converse with other animals, and most other animals are aware there is something different with her. Due to her history with Louis, she has a wide arrange of animals from domesticated to wild, exotic animals.

Disguise: Bora has an uncanny knack of disguising herself, through a creative combination of clothing, makeup, and hair styling. This power is not something she explores much or is even aware of.

STRENGTHS: Compassionate, Reliable , Strong Fighter WEAKNESSES: Guilt-Ridden, Quiet, Distant