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paragonrobits · 3 years

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A friend asked me to give a stab at a Tierlist Maker for Video Games Not Yet In the Video Game Hall of Fame Tier List Maker, so here's my list for it!

This is based primarily on what I considered to be overall value to gaming history as a whole, with games with greater influence or impact ranking higher than those that had less impact on those to follow, or on culture. All the entries are those that have been nominated to the Hall of Fame, but not actually inducted as of this post's writing. Games that I personally like are generally rated higher, though mostly because I'm more familiar with them and thus can judge their impact from a personal POV.

(Tier List explainations, below!)

SHOULD BE IN ALREADY

Final Fantasy: I mean seriously. How is this one not already in yet?? It is not, as my research suggests, the first true RPG; that likely goes to games like Ultima. It is certainly an incredibly influential one; FF is a name closely associated with JRPGs in general, and its diverse class system is one of the strongest things to do with it, as noted by challenges like beating the game with a party of Black Belts. FF is THE name of RPGs in general and I'm startled it hasn't made it in, though I suppose that's owing to more notable entries (Hard as that is to imagine). It doesn't hurt that the majority of my favorite FF titles are those most similar to this one, such as FF6 and FF9, in terms of approaching the general world setting and class systems. Most significantly is that this game popularized RPGs and made them accessible, in ways that previous games such as Dragon Warrior/Dragon Quest did not; the field of gaming would be VERY different without it; RPGs became VERY popular, to the extent of RPG elements being almost universal among other games in the modern day. (I am also pleased and amused to see 8-Bit Theater mentioned on the actual Wikipedia page. Now THAT'S notability!)

Sid Meir's Civilization: HEY NOW HALL OF FAME JUDGES, DON'T YOU BE MOCKING CIV, ALRIGHT. CIV IS FUCKING AWESOME. Okay, jokes aside, I'm genuinely astonished as the Civ series is considered the first true main game of the 4x series, and it shows; the entire genre centers around expansion, resource usage and diplomacying or conquering your enemies, and considering the impact of this game and its sheer popularity, to the extent of the meme of the game getting people to play for Just One More Turn, I'm a bit disappointed that it's not already in the hall of fame. I also note that I am personally more familiar with the spin off Alpha Centauri, a sci fi variant, which is still one of my all time favorite games.

Half-Life: Given this game's popularity, to the point of its release alone consigning the likes of Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines to cult classic status and its engine spawning a whole THING with GMod and the usage of physics mechanics in FPS games, one thing of note is its use of scripted sequences; at the time, an unknown in most games of the time. There may be something to be said for how the entire game is spent as Gordon Freeman, behind his eyes, possibly engendering a lack of separation between self and character that would be later emphasized in games like Bioshock. It's influence on games cannot be denied, with publications using it as a bookend between eras of gaming. One consistent element of what seems to make this game so distinctive is its approach to storytelling, without simply imitating film techniques which don't always work well with gameplay.

Candy Crush: This is an example of something I don't personally play myself, or even like very much, but I'd be remiss to dismiss it out of hand. There's no denial that phone games are one of, if not THE biggest market of games in the here in now; if now in scale, certainly in quantity. You might call it the TF2 Hat Economy theory; people aren't spending BIG bucks, but they are spending a LOT of little bucks all the time. It proves that highly accessible games that are generally free to play, with optional purchases, are a legitimate means of game business, and this certainly revolutionized how games were seen by the money-makers.

Super Smash Bros Melee: I loved this game as a kid, but truth be told i have a bit of a love-hate relationship; i REALLY dislike the competitive community that has fixated hard on this game, so any thoughts on it will have a slight element of pause beforehand. Even so, I can't forget the thrilled delight I felt watching the trailer for this game in supermarkets for the first time as a kid. at a time when getting any new games at all was a HUGE deal in my family. So, there is a lot of feeling behind this one! Ultimately, I have to concede that while i have complicated feelings about this game, its worth noting that the vast majority of things that made Smash iconic, and influenced the competitive scene AND the games inspired by Smash AND shaped the course of the series going forwards, largely owe themselves to Melee in particular. 64 was far more slow paced, while Melee began the trend towards much more fast paced action (and while I doubt it's SPECIFIC to melee as a whole, it may have been a trend for the genre from then). Melee is STILL widely played, especially on the competitive scene, and this sort of longevity always bears evidence of notability.

Goldeneye 007: I have to admit that despite being a kid in the 90s, despite someone who put most of their time into gaming, and despite being someone whose favorite system at the time was the Nintendo 64, I mostly missed out on the trend of history by honestly not being that much into this game. I have to say that I DID play it, however; I just never managed to get past the first level or so. I have strong memories of triyng and failing to sneak around a snowy lair of some description; it wouldn't be until the mid-2000s, playing Deus Ex Human Revolution, that I got the hang of stealth. All the same, personal indifference really doesn't matter much because HOLY SHIT THIS GAME HAS SOME STAYING POWER. IT HAS INFLUENCE, FRIENDORITOS. Perhaps chiefly, at the time it was made, consoles were not considered viable platforms for first person shooters; Goldeneye revised that notion, and created a whole revolution in multiplayer and shooter games. We would later see the ultimate consequence of this in games like Halo, which further revolutionized the whole genre. Ironically, the stealth attributes I was so bad at were part of what made the game so unique! It's one of those games that may not have aged well, by modern standards, but its import to gaming as a whole goes a long, long way.

Guitar Hero: I expect this one might be a bit hard to justify, but on its own, this game is INCREDIBLY innovative, though its not entirely the first of its kind, having mechanics based on earlier games. The very first entry has a respectable library of 30 songs, which is impressive considered at the time it was made, its not likely people expected it to get as far as it did; bear in mind that the massive libraries of later games were the result of years of this game series being a massive steamroller of a franchise! At the time, this one was an unknown. It has an interesting history as being a successor of sorts to an arcade exclusive, and inspiring a genre of imitators and spiritual successors on its own; of great note is the sheer impact this game had. With so many of those successors, the increased value of liscened soundtracks, and the way the game's concept became so influential, its astounding this one isn't already on the hall of fame. (It's also very fun, but fun alone doesn't make for memorability, sad to say.)

DESERVES IT AT SOME POINT

Myst - an iconic and incredibly atmospheric puzzle game, I'm genuinely surprised that I haven't heard talk about this one in some respect; it bears note as a rare game with absolutely no conflict whatsoever. I actually rank this one on par with the 7th Guest in terms of atmospheric games, though their tones could not be more different. So why do I think this game deserves it at some point? It was an incredibly immersive and beautiful game, lacking in genuine danger or threat, encouraging the player to explore and tackle the puzzles of the game. This sort of open-ended lack of peril makes it an interesting precursor towards certain flavors of sandbox games around now. It's worth noting that it was a tremendous achievement, given technical limitations of things such as the CD-Rom it was stored on, maintaining a consistent experience, as well as tying narrative reasons into those very constraints. It has been compared to an art film; if so, it certainly is the sort that invited imitators and proved to be a great technical achievement.

Portal: PORTAL! What can I honestly say that hasn't already been said by other people? The amazing integration of a physics engine into innovative puzzle solving, combined with a slow burn sort of minimalist plot reveal concerning the AI proving itself to be a kind of reverse HAL 9000? This game got a HUGE number of memes back in the day, and I expect anyone reading this can probably reference a few. The cake thing, certainly, and its relevance to matters of deception. There is much discussion over the game's utility in academic circles, which is certainly quite notable, and for my part, I'm interested by the point that at first the game gives you a lot of hints towards what you're supposed to do, gradually making it less obvious for the player you're on your own entirely, using your experience with the game to get past the puzzles from there, and its excellent game design. Ultimately though, I place this below Half Life in hall of fame urgency, because while I probably like this one more, it doesn't have the same impact on other games, per say. (That's a lot of awards for it, though. Wowza.)

Resident Evil: Is it fair to call this one the major survival horror game of its era? No, because it's apparently the FIRST, or at least the first to be called such. It's certainly up there with shaping the genre as a whole, both its immediate predecessors and modern games. The flavor of a survival horror can even be judged about whether its close to Resident Evil's style of defending yourself with limited resources vs controlled helplessness. It's also worth pointing out that I quite like the restricted, cramped setting of the mansion, rather than an expansive city; Biohazard was a real return to form, even if its something I mostly watched through funny lets plays because OH NO ITS TOO SCARY I CANT WATCH.

Asteroids: It's called the first major hit of the golden age of the arcade. I'm forced to say... yeah, it absolutely deserves it. The actual implementation and hardware of the game makes for interesting reading, and so its innovative nature ought to be noted: it lacked a soundchip at all, making use of handmade circuits wired to the board. It's reception was great, beating out Space Invaders and needing larger boxes just to hold all the money people spent on it. It also invented the notion of tracking initials on the top ten score, which has implications for arcade challenges.

Ms. Pac Man: This one consistently ranks HIGH in gaming records of its time, though there is admittedly some confusion to whether it or Donkey Kong was a better seller. Interestingly it appears to shape most of the gameplay mechanics people remember most for Pac-Man, such as the improved AI of the ghosts. It's more highly regarded than the original game, and on a personal note, I remember being a kid and seeing this arcade machine at ALL the laundry places my family usually wound up going to.

Frogger: It's placing on this list is not solely because CUTE FROG. The accessibility and wide appeal of the game bears a great deal of consideration, the flexibility of its formula, and just how many dang times it's been ported in one form or another. (And also, cute frog.) It also gets points for the creator being inspired for the game when he saw a frog trying to cross a road, hampered by the vehicles in the way, and he got out of his car and carried the frog across the street. The game is also evident of broad appeal, and some money-makers resisting it, goes back a long way; it was apparently dismissed as a kid's game by some, which just goes to show that some problems are older than quite a lot of gamers alive today.

Uncharted 2: this is one of those games where I cannot honestly say I have personal experience to draw from. Of the playstation's big games, I remember the Jak and Daxter series; I remember Kingdom Hearts, and I remember Ratchet and Clank, and I remember Infamous, but the Uncharted series remains

something of a 'I don't go here?' obscurity in my personal playbook. It does look memorable and charming from what I've seen, and one consistent element I've seen in comments about it is the cinematic nature of the game; it feels very much like a fun heist movie, based on what I have seen of it, and the notable thing is how the game FEELS cinematic.. in a literal way. As in, it combined elements of cinematography with game design, and that's no mean feat: what works for movies are unlikely to translate well to the interactive side, and it shows how that can be done for other games. The extensive praise does the game a LOT of credit!

WORTH NOMINATION AT LEAST

Angry Birds: As noted before, I'm not the biggest fan of most phone games, given that i prefer a more passive experience than most provide. As such, Angry Birds isn't something I've played as of this writing, but I have to appreciate the straightforward and simple gameplay; it reminds me a bit of the Burrito Bison game series, which I HAVE played, and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it's because Angry Birds is probably the innovation that coined that particular style of gameplay. It's an example of what made phone games profitable and worth the time of developers to work at them; its easy for casual players to get into, and there's a fun sort of impact involved. Given the popularity of phone games, this one has a LOT of influence in getting that rolling, similar to candy crush, if not as much.

FIFA International Soccer: Simulation games are a tricky business; it can be really difficult to get them right, and this game provides an example of it being done in a way that a lot of people REALLY loved, set up an entire game series, and revived the 3DO system after a very bad year. Of note, apparently it was commented that it was more of a simulator than a console game, and this is rather funny considering how simulator is its own genre nowadays! Such do things change. It seems to have been a revolutionary game and simulation; setting the shape for modern sport games of its type, and tending more towards realism (accounting for acceptable breaks in reality) than was typical of the time. This one's position is thus picked for its impact as a whole; while it may not necessarily be a household name now, the series continues on, and is popular enough that even after 20 years, it's still been going.

Elite: I nominate this game in this position for being a startlingly early entry into what we would now consider open-ended games, even with an element of exploration and trading; if one stretches definitions a bit, a precursor towards gameplay of the like scene in 4X players who strive to avoid conflict, if possible. Its technical breakthroughs are some very interesting reading and make for good game history; a vast and complex game (not just by the standards of the era, either), and opening the door for persistent world games such as World of Warcraft.

Wii Sports: A significant game, and much as how other titles mentioned above were famed for gateway entries into gaming for an unfamiliar audience, or those that would want o play on a more casual basis. It seems notable to me for being most suited as a family game, or a more casual experience of multiplayer than usually associated with games like this; this has greatly influenced Nintendo's design philosophy, and one can see elements of this all the way through the Wii U onwards. It's essentially a fliparound from Mario Party; less competitiveness, but definitely meant as a group thing. Controversy is evident, because like with Mario Party, injuries did result from it.

Call of Duty: I place this one here because, while it DOES hold a very significant role in gaming history, with countless imitators, spiritual successors, being a game-changer in ways that its modern reputation might surprise you with, ultimately it is less so than other games such as Goldeneye, Halo or Half-Life. It's development in AI pathfinding and tactics is incredibly noteworthy from a mechanical perpsective, and the sheer level of awards it won is notable. In the end this game's popularity and continuing influence means that it shouldn't be overlooked.

Metroid: You can't spell 'Metroidvania' without this game! A relatively open ended exploration-based game with further options opening as new tools were found give it an interesting vibe, and the oppressive atmosphere distinctive to the game says great things about its sound and level designs. It wasn't the first open world game, or explorer, or even the first to open new aereas based on equipment, but it had ALL of these elements in a very memorable package. (Samus Aran as a female protagonist is something I'm a bit reluctant to give it credit for, as her identity was obfuscated for most of the game, and only revealed in a fanservicey way in a secret ending. All the same, credit where it is due, I suppose!) It's music seems to endure as a mood setter, too!

Pole Position: Perhaps not the FIRST racing game, but still considered one of the most important from the golden age of gaming, and the one to codify many of the firm rules of the game series. It's three dimensional gameplay is incredibly innovative for its time, and having played it and games like it in the past, I'm struck by how smooth the whole thing feels. No wonder it was popular! It is notable for having been designed specifically as a 3d Experience, meant to execute techniques like real drivers might attempt, which makes it a different sort of beast in that it tried to do more realistic actions; in some ways, a precursor to modern trends of realism in many games, for ill or best. Ultimately I think this one is worth a nomination because of its influence towards racing games (a popular and long lived genre, to say the least) as a whole.

OUTSIDE CHANCE

Nurburgring 1: On the one hand, I feel a bit guilty putting this one so low; it is recognized as likely being the earliest racing game in history, and given that I just finished noting Pole Position's influence, it feels a bit mean to rate this one as relatively insignificant all the same. However, in terms of notability, I never even heard of this one, and it was tricky finding information about it. Accordingly, that may say something about its influence, though this position DOES make it noteworthy as the first of its kind, albeit with Pole Position refining and introducing elements that shaped the genre.

Dance Dance Revolution: It feels a bit strange, putting this one fairly low. This thing was a MONSTER back in the day; entire arcades were built around the dancing control peripherals it required, rhythm based games or mechanics specifically invoked it by name, and it was an absolute cultural touchstone for years and years. So, why place it low? Partly, its because I can't just shove EVERYTHING into the 'deserves a nomination' folder; I do think it's fairly reasonable for this one to at some point get a nomination in the future, though ultimately there's games more noteworthy on the whole. It's specific rhythm qualities continue outside of its genre, and are quite influential to gaming as a whole, though unfortunately the series seems to have lost something in notability over time; popularity is a factor, but so is the impact on other games.

NBA 2K and NBA Jam: I put these two together because they touch on similar touchstones for me, and they really did popularize basketball games back in the day. Jam in particular seems to be invoking the Big Head mode that were a big thing in games at the time, at least going from the screenshot. They were very popular and highly beloved games back in the day, though I don't know if they have much influence on later games. I note that interestingly, they take opposite approaches; 2k focuses on AI and realistic experiences, while Jam was deliberately less realistic and more actiony in its over the top gameplay.

Nokia Snake: This one really impresses me for the sheer number of releases, in various forms, it's had! Interestingly, there seems to be little consensus on the name of this game; most just call it Snake or something on that theme. I went with Nokia Snake because... mostly, it sounds funny, and that's how its done on the list. This one is fairly low, but I Have to give it credit for having hundreds of releases!

Farmville: My mom liked Facebook games, a lot. And I am certain this one was one of her main ones! I rate it fairly low, and no doubt her spirit is yelling imprecations at me across the void of time, space, and abandoned socks; all the same, this one is ranked low because of the sheer number of displeasure aimed this one's way. (And to be fair, she complained about it. A LOT.) It is thus notable for unusually negative reasons; an example of exploitation, pressuring players to pester their friends to play it in an equivalent to electronic chain mail, and microtranscations.

Tron: I'm inclined to give any game that takes place in a computer land and uses programming or mechanical terminology a free pass! Interestingly, this has some association with the Snake game, as they have similar gameplay and Snake games are sometimes called Light Cylce games, after this one. It has an interesting history; the graphical system was chosen largely because it was believed it was more likely to be achieved before the deadline.

NO BUSINESS IN THE HALL OF FAME

Mattel Football: I do feel a little mean putting anything in this category; firstly because I don't want to make actual fans of something sad, and secondly because I believe you can probably find notability anywhere you look, if you are inclined. And here is the chief difficulty with this one: I could not find any real information in this one. It has no Wikipedia page, a google search only led to undescriptive links of SALES for the game, but not any information on the game itself. Notability is my main resource for sorting these entries, and honestly? If google has nothing on you, that's a pretty poor sign. Sorry, Mattel Football, but you look like a poor man's Game And Watch. You're no Portal, Myst or Pole Position.

#tier lists #tiermaker lists

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afternoonpoppy · 3 years

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Camping

Poppy awakens from her slumber, aaaaaa! This was for a commission but also something I’d wanted to sit down and write for a looong while, so this finally got me to do it and I’m glad for that. This turned out longer than I expected but I had fun writing it, so I hope it turned out well!

A bit of a chill had started to creep into the night air, but Allister hardly minded at all. Being sat by a modestly-sized campfire with Wolfram beside him, there was plenty of warmth to go around. And besides, Allister was camping again!

Sort of, anyway - it was honestly more of a meetup with friends for the evening, and they weren't even more than a twenty-minute walk from Allister's house. But the group had gotten a fire together, brought out a cooler with drinks, and even found some sizable logs to sit on. Allister preferred fold-out chairs, but his cousin Sadie had insisted it would make the whole night more 'authentic.' Plus, it did allow Wolfram and Allister to sit closer together. In all, they'd ended up with about nine people gathered together, some of them being mutual friends of Allister and Sadie, with others being acquaintances invited by said friends. The total was 'about' nine since Allister's coworker Vincent had shouted that they were going on an impromptu snack-run to the nearest convenience store thirty minutes ago.

"Honestly, I don't know what she was expecting to happen," Sadie was saying very emphatically from across the campfire. While the group had split off into their own conversations and activities, she'd recruited Allister and Wolfram into listening to the evening's third rant about the obnoxious roommate she'd been putting up with for the past while. "Like, she was gonna yell at me and then just expect me to finish cleaning up the apartment for her? I am under no obligation to do her laundry, thank you very much."

Marcus, the other of Allister's two coworkers that had been invited, walked over to take a seat by the fire just in time to catch what was being discussed and followed up with, "I mean, you gotta remember, Sadie. This is the same girl that thought she'd just hand in a Wikipedia article for one of her college assignments. You think she thinks this stuff through?"

Allister's eyebrows furrowed as he stared into the fire and tried to parse that statement. "Wait, as in she plagiarized a Wikipedia article, right?" Surely Marcus hadn't literally meant -

"I mean, I guess it's still plagiarism if you download an entire Wikipedia page and send it to your professor, yeah."

Oh. Allister nodded, struggling for something to say to that, but quickly gave up. Even if that anecdote weren't so absurd that it demanded speechlessness, he'd been content to let his friends steer the conversations of the night. Allister was just glad to hear what they'd been up to as of late, as well as to have a chance to sit outside and enjoy the wilderness. Crickets chirped in the trees of the woods and stars coated the sky up above, making a beautiful sight.

That sight had been one of his favorite things about moving out here from the city. The other being that he'd been able to meet Wolfram. Wolfram who had spent the first part of the evening nearly dozing off by the fire after the walk to the group's meetup spot, but looked to have regained some energy now that he'd been sitting down for a while. He hadn't bothered to take part in the conversation much either and had also been focusing on either the fire or the stars for most of the night. Allister wasn't very surprised, though. Considering this was the first time Wolfram had properly interacted with... anyone else in this world in person, Allister was just glad to get him out of the house. Getting into the car was still a no-go, but perhaps that would be another day.

"So, Wolfram, what do you do, anyway? You work, doing the whole 'actually trying to learn' thing, what?" Sadie asked abruptly, apparently letting the previous topic rest for now. "I don't think Allister's ever mentioned."

Allister's eyes widened and he glanced at Wolfram. The two had long ago decided not to mention the whole... 'magic and other worlds' situation to other people for any number of reasons. Not least of all being concerns as to what sort of attention Wolfram would draw as a (somewhat, at least) practiced spellcaster. It wasn't as if the pair hadn't discussed what their cover story would be to other people, but it hadn't come up very much as of yet and Allister couldn't help but worry.

Still, Wolfram seemed unphased by the question and smoothly answered, "I'm a writer. Primarily focusing on short fiction at the moment."

"Whoa, cool," Sadie said with a grin. "What do you write, like, romance, fantasy, sci-fi? Romance? I'm into romance if you've got any of that."

"Apologies, no. It is fantasy, my current project is a series of stories taking place in the same setting, so right now much of my time working on it is spent on world-building."

Allister was impressed at Wolfram's confidence in that answer. Sadie nodded, reaching into the cooler near her for a drink. "Neat. I don't actually read a whole lot, so no promises, but I'll try and give it a look when it's done. Either of you guys wants a beer?" She held up an extra can and tapped on the side with one nail.

"No, thank you," Wolfram said.

Allister shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I'll have one."

Sadie aimed to toss it to Allister but realized the fire between them might pose a problem. Rather than stand up and walk around it, she settled for instead trying to throw the can around the fire at an awkward angle, which resulted in it flying off to the side and rolling across the ground a bit. Marcus stared at Sadie with eyebrows raised.

"Uh, I think we can let that one settle there for a while," Allister said, standing from his seat to grab a can from the cooler. "Let's not ask you to throw things when you've had alcohol."

Sadie objected by holding up her freshly-opened can and saying, "Hey, this is my first one, Alli!"

"That was a sober throw?" Wolfram asked.

"Wait, shit. Okay, yeah, let's say I was drunk for that."

For a while longer, the conversation shifted back and forth through various topics among the group. Eventually, though, Allister glanced over to the trees around the campsite. He leaned closer to Wolfram and asked, "Hey, you wanna go for a walk?"

"A walk?" Wolfram leaned against Allister's shoulder. "Where did you intend to go?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I just wanted to stretch my legs and get away from the fire for a bit. We don't gotta go far."

Wolfram thought for a moment, then said, "We walked here and have to do so again to get home, so I would rather not. Feel free to enjoy yourself, though, so long as you don't end up lost."

"You sure?"

"I'm not frightened of people, Allister," Wolfram said with a smile. "I can handle any questions your cousin directs at me. Either that or I can ask her something about her housemate and let her talk for another thirty minutes."

"Hmm, I guess so. Alright then, if you're sure. I'll make sure I can still see the fire anyway." Allister stood up, stretching a bit, noting that Sadie and Marcus had both wandered off to the rest of the group and were yelling into someone's phone at Vincent, demanding they return from whatever had distracted them on their snack run. Allister had meant to tell them he'd be back shortly but figured he wouldn't disrupt anything if he just stepped away from the campsite.

Once he'd gotten some distance away, he noticed how quiet it was out in the woods. He hadn't been aware of the background noise his social circle's chatter made until he could hear the contrast in nature's quiet cricket chirps. It was nice out here. Much more Allister's pace than when he lived out in the city with his family, but this was the first time he'd taken the time to stop and appreciate it even after moving out here.

He leaned back against a tree, occasionally sipping the beer he'd brought with him, and started searching the stars for any constellations he knew. The answer was none, he'd always been terrible at telling constellations apart and never knew where one ended and another began, but at least they were pretty.

Allister's thoughts were interrupted, unfortunately, as a strong hiccup shook through his chest. 'HUP!' He raised a hand to his chest in surprise and instinctively tried to muffle the next 'HMK!' to follow, his own hiccups startling him as they broke the silence.

"Why n - HULP - now..." he mumbled to himself. As usual, Allister's hiccups were fast and obnoxiously loud. Considering it was almost unheard of for his cases to start up with no reason, he cast an accusatory look at the beer can in his hand. "Thi - HUC - this is you - HIC - your fault - HUC-UP!" He sighed - or tried to with yet another hiccup interrupting - and turned his attention back up to the stars.

Allister had planned to try to wait out his hiccups in the hopes they'd stop on their own. He preferred not to return to the party only to be a distraction for everyone. Unfortunately, he did wait for some time, looking back at the campfire now and then and eventually checking his phone to see that almost fifteen minutes had passed. It was becoming apparent that just the same as the hiccups didn't typically start without reason, they wouldn't stop on their own anytime soon either.

Allister grimaced at that thought. He had wanted to be back by now, but here he was instead, without even so much as a bottle of water to try to solve the problem. He hated what he was contemplating, but he hated leaving Wolfram on his own even more. So, without putting too much thought into what a terrible decision he was making, Allister inhaled deeply and held his breath. In the past, that had always been a terrible idea, but maybe that had always been a coincidence?

Successfully holding his breath with hiccups leaping through his chest every other second proved to be more difficult than he remembered, and it felt like he ran out of air much faster than he would have otherwise. And he was forced to give up that effort and breathe fresh air when his hiccups abruptly became faster.

Allister immediately regretted his decision. "Wa - HUP - wait - HUC-UP - please ju - HIC! HIGK - just - HUK-ULP - h-hold on - HIC!" His attempt at talking his hiccups into calming down did little to help. Even worse, they had gotten stronger and were starting to hurt now. Allister would have said it was because his own body seemingly wanted him to suffer, but he knew this was his mind's fault instead, for thinking holding his breath might seriously work this time.

"Allister?"

Allister jumped when he realized Wolfram was now standing next to him. When that had happened, he had no idea. "Fr - HUP! HIC-ULP! - Fram, I - HUC-UP! HIGK! - what - HIC!"

Wolfram reached out and patted Allister gently on his back, a look of concern on his face. "Everyone at the fire is currently engaged in a round of trivia about media that is flying completely over my head, so I thought I would come to find you. And it didn't take me very long to hear where you were... Are you alright? Those sound worse than usual, somehow."

Unable to form anything even remotely close to a proper sentence at the moment, Allister could only answer with, "B - HIGK-UP - bad ch - HIC! HUC-ULP - choices - HUP!"

"I'm not sure what that - oh. Allister, did you try to stop them by holding your breath?"

Allister nodded.

"Haven't you told me that's the one thing you absolutely cannot do?"

Allister answered with another nod and a whine between hiccups.

"And why in the world would you do that?" Wolfram asked. "From what I was last aware, there are plenty of drinks available that you could have cured them with instead. That's at least had a partial success rate before."

At first, Allister contemplated how to phrase the answer in a way that his hiccups would allow, then settled for pulling up a note app on his phone and typing. 'I didn't want to bother anybody. My hiccups aren't exactly subtle.'

Wolfram stared at the message, thinking. "I hardly think anyone present tonight would mind as much as you think. You honestly did not need to make yourself suffer like this."

'Suffer' sounded melodramatic, but considering he was still putting up with nonstop hiccup after hiccup, Allister figured it wasn't exactly wrong. 'I know it was a dumb idea. But everyone's having fun, and I didn't want to be a problem.'

"Honestly, Allister, you worry too much about these things..." Wolfram sighed. "Though I... have also hidden in a crate to avoid being seen with hiccups, so... perhaps I am not the best person to hear this from."

"You - HIGK-ULP - what?" Allister asked, too surprised by that statement to bother typing his response on his phone.

Staring down at the ground and fidgeting a bit, Wolfram mumbled, "I, um, it was rarely an issue back home but I... did have a particularly stubborn case at one point and... Hiding away until they stopped seemed ideal..."

"But a - HUC! HIC - a crate?"

"It - I panicked, I was in one of the Academia Arcana's storerooms to retrieve spell materials and - and I heard someone outside the door - the details aren't important. My point is, I do understand but don't do this sort of thing to yourself in the future, please."

Allister appreciated the thought, smiling at Wolfram and nodding. "Don't w - HUP! HIC-UP - worry, I - HIC - I won't."

"Good. Now then, I'll fetch you some water. Wait here, I'll be quick about it."

After a minute or two, Wolfram returned with a bottle of water, which Allister accepted gladly, trying and failing to state his gratitude, "Th - HIGK - thank y - HULP - you, F - HUC-ULP - Fra -"

"Just drink it," Wolfram interrupted.

Allister did so, drinking the water in quick gulps between each hiccup. It took a few tries, but eventually, they slowed down somewhat and finally came to a stop entirely. He waited for a few seconds, still unsure if he'd genuinely been cured at first, but then finally sighed with relief.

"Better?"

"Much," Allister said. "Thanks, Fram."

Wolfram smiled and leaned his weight against Allister's side. "Very good. Shall we be returning to the camp?"

"Hmm..." Allister wrapped an arm around Wolfram's shoulder. "It is getting a bit cold, huh? I guess we should." He paused for a moment, then added, "But... Hey, how about we have a real camping trip sometime soon?"

"We won't have an oven for you to cook proper meals, then," Wolfram objected.

"I mean, I guess not. But you've never had s'mores before. Those are best when they're toasted over a campfire."

"I've heard of those... what are they?"

"Chocolate and marshmallows, Fram."

Wolfram's eyes widened at the statement, clearly intrigued. "When is your next day off? We can do it then."

Allister laughed and hugged Wolfram closer. "Okay, we'll talk about it when we get home. C'mon, let's head back to the camp before Sadie comes to chase us down."

#Poppy Writes #wolfram and allister #hiccup kink #hiccups #alcohol

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave.

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered.

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did.

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark.

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty.

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out.

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head.

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried.

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering.

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued)

#hellblazer #john constantine #chas chandler #first of the fallen #fanfic #my fic

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drabblemeister · 5 years

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Wine & Writes: Coffee Prompt

Author: Ladelle | Drabblemeister Prompt: Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee. Comments: Finally posting something, would you believe it Summary: Wherein Tim is a walking tragedy who has an embarrassing crush on a certain barista. There was something to be said for the amount of busy Tim was, though anyone wandering the floor of Wayne Tech with two brain cells to spare dutifully kept their thoughts to themselves. After all, laying insult to what was very obviously a genius was an undertaking for persons with a much higher pay grade - and since Bruce Wayne seemed to turn a blind eye to the amount of Starbucks cups that, at this point, looked like planned decor within Tim's office - it was fair to deduce that there may not actually be a problem.

Tim, begrudgingly, knew he had a problem. Though, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't caffeine. It wasn't coffee, either, though he was definitely okay with the convenience of that particular assumption as it was a red herring he was prone to fall back on. After all, it was a lot easier for people to believe he fantasized about midday Americanos and not Jason T., the barista, who served them.

"Ugh," Tim said, spinning in his desk chair. He'd slept in too late and nearly been tardy for a meeting, and so he hadn't stopped by the coffee shop at his usual time. It was enough to drive him insane. "What am I? Seventeen?"

He was not seventeen, but the amount of time he spent thinking about Jason's fingers fitting cardboard protectors onto steaming cups of coffee was enough to make him second guess what maturity bracket he was sure he'd climbed to post-college.

"Hey, how'd the meeting go?" a voice startled him, and Tim was quick to sit upright in his seat, as if he'd been caught at something incriminating.

"What meeting?" he questioned. The words practically fell onto the table, where he idly glanced downward, catching his reflection in the glass.

Desperation stared back.

"Uh," Tam blinked. She tucked a short, layered curl behind her ear. "Your 9am?"

Tim looked up just in time to see her eyes lift to meet his, as if she'd been scanning the tabletop, attempting to pick out just what he'd been staring at.

Tim sighed. Slouching into his chair, he ignored they way the joints squeaked under his weight; he twirled a stylus between his fingers and shrugged. "Oh, that meeting. It was fine."

Fine wasn't how anyone came away describing acquisition calls, but there weren't any words that could accurately convey the torture of listening to attorneys yell out IRS jargon for the better part of an hour. If Tim had to guess, it was definitely one of Dante's seven layers.

"Hmm," Tam hummed, and it was a very particular hum, a sound she always made when she was two steps ahead of him. For a moment, he was worried she was going to tell him that one of the attorneys had phoned in for him. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe and said, "I've come to learn something."

Tim hoped it wasn't the fact he'd stolen another one of her sticky pads.

"Behind every successful person," Tam continued, looking quite philosophical as she leveled her big brown doe-eyes at him, "is a substantial amount of coffee."

This time, it was Tim who blinked.

"Of which you've had none today," Tam clarified. "So I ordered you some. It should arrive any minute and all I ask if that you go downstairs to get it."

Tam, above all things, was a godsend. Blessed with the ability to make scarily accurate assumptions, she'd clearly missed a psychic calling and, since such a raw, interminable force of power had been unfairly relegated to transcribing Tim's barely legible meeting notes for the better part of a forty hour work week, Tim showed his respect by simply obeying her demands.

"Okay," he said.

In return, she offered a satisfied nod.

Tim added, "...and thank you."

And then, like all higher powers, she was gone.

This left Tim with the arduous task of standing, to which his entire body protested. He'd barely slept the night before (up late rebuilding a desktop) and listening to the lawyers go at it had effectively locked up his joints. Probably a survival instinct; you know - if you stay incredibly still, there's a chance they won't see you. Still, he found the willpower to move.

The 10th floor was quiet, spare the distant squeal of a Xerox and the distinct sound of a disgruntled administrative assistant lending a multitude of kicks. In nearly every corner, a muted television aired current market speculation and Tim wasn't surprised to see that the acquisition was already being reported on. Making his way to the elevators, he dragged a hand through his hair, disturbing the gel he'd forgotten he'd slicked through it.

A few bangs fell loose and he sighed, reaching up to loosen the neck of his tie since he was through with meetings for the day and wasn't expecting Bruce to drop by. For comfort, he even popped the top button, enjoying, momentarily, the ability to breathe. That was, until the door pinged open and the front desk was laid bare, a certain Jason T. stretched idly over the rise of it, a steaming cup of coffee seated next to his bicep.

In that very moment, the receptionist happened to turn, her attention torn from Jason T. and to the ever-so-slight movement of the executive elevator. Practically glowing, she called, "Mr Dr-"

It was too late.

In an unconscious moment of self-preservation, Tim jabbed the close-door button. Jason T.'s eyes lifted to meet his - just as the elevator whooshed shut.

Tim blinked.

His heart pounded.

Once again, his joints locked - same survival instinct. Just as useless.

Oh my god, he thought. Did I just-

Just, he had.

Eyes wide, he stared at his white-knuckled finger, still glued to the panel. He thought about going back upstairs. It wasn't like he needed the coffee. Besides, he'd just messed up his hair. And his tie wasn't right.

Natural Selection was a voice in the back of his head telling him that those green eyes were a danger to his very existence.

Without realizing it, his finger loosened on button, and with another ping, the doors once again slipped open. Only this time, right beyond them was a too-tight black shirt, biceps for days, green eyes that had the highway of Tim's circulatory system immediately rerouting southbound routes, and a lower lip pinched between teeth that made Tim swallow so dryly that he thought he might embarrass himself further by stumbling into a coughing fit.

"It's probably the sensor," Jason T. said, and he was leaning forward, nearly in Tim's space as he analyzed the doors. Since Tim was never going to admit he'd subconsciously tried to cut and run, he simply cleared his throat and took a step back, trying to get some air between them.

"Yes, well," Tim said, clearing his throat again. "Technology."

At that, Jason T. glanced down, an unfiltered grin garnering dimples. The spirit of Charles Darwin yelled, "Run!" from somewhere beyond the mortal plane.

Tim said, "You brought coffee?" and immediately ducked and weaved, trying to get to said drink, which he saw was still on the desk’s top. Their receptionist was in the process of hanging up a call, to which she sighed gratefully.

"I was calling the repairman," she said.

Tim fought a winning battle against the heat of his cheeks. "Yes, well, we should definitely have someone take a look."

"I didn't see you this morning," cut in Jason T., which was an interesting comment, because Tim wasn't aware the barista knew he existed. Which, in truth, was a bit ironic; some days, Tim thought everyone knew who he was - and his favorite color, album, magazine, hobbies, etc. He had a wikipedia page, after all. Also a twitter.

Something about the earnestness in Jason's eyes said he definitely did not have a Twitter.

Why was that so goddamn attractive?

"I didn't know you were keeping tabs," Tim replied, snaking the coffee into his grasp and taking a sip, giving his lips something other to do than further make a fool of himself.

Jason T., in all his disheveled and fitness-kissed glory, cocked his head sideways. "Would you rather I not?"

Tim, mid-swallow, lifted his gaze. Was this....flirting?

There was a beep, and Jason T. pulled up his watch. He sighed, though there was nothing about the sound that lended to defeat. "Well, I've got to run," he said, leaving Tim in a haze of bewilderment. "Still on the clock, you know."

Tim had not known.

He was still stuck on Jason's keeping tabs, a whole calculatory meme dancing behind him. He must have looked the part, because Jason laughed as he made his way towards the door and tossed Tim a salute.

"See you tomorrow!"

The sentiment echoed.

Tim stood for a moment longer, eyebrows drawn inward, trying to decide is he was either hopeful, and idiot, or perhaps both.

"Mr. Drake?" the receptionist said, and Tim nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten she was there.

"Sorry, it's just - he wrote something on the cup--" she said, looking incredibly pleasant about the whole ordeal.

"Oh," Tim replied, examining his white button-up to ensure he hadn't spilled just before finally taking a look at the cup. He stumbled over a laugh.

In fine-point cursive, there was a phone number. And then: next time, don't leave asking me out to your assistant~

#jaytim #wine and writes #prompts #ladelle writes #these losers #i love them

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niniblack · 4 years

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As yet untitled Star Wars once upon a time au...

Yes, you read that correctly. Sorry, if you’re waiting on the next chapter of the boyfriend experience. I’ve reverted back to high school and started writing Star Wars prequel time travel modern AUs instead. (The next chapter of TBE is in the works, it’s just angsty as hell so...)

I’m posting this to gauge some reaction because I don’t know many SW people and I haven’t written for this fandom since I was literally in high school, so I’m very rusty. James is Anakin, obv. It helps if you’re at least familiar with the concept of Once Upon a Time (wikipedia has all you need), but that’s really all you need to understand this.

- - -

James decided to treat himself to a glass, or perhaps two, of nice whiskey that evening. It was his birthday after all. They were meant to be special. Even if he’d spend the day working, and was now spending the night alone, for who even knew how many years in a row now.

He’d barely taken a sip when there was a knock on his door.

He hadn’t ordered anything and wasn’t expecting anyone, so was surprised when he opened the door to find a kid standing in the hallway – a mop of blond hair; jeans, a t-shirt with a cartoon on the front, and a nice looking jacket; clutching one strap of a backpack over his shoulder.

“Are you James Smith?” the boy asked.

“What are you selling?” James asked.

The boy frowned. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m Luke.” He waited a moment, looking up at James with wide blue eyes. “I’m your son.”

James wasn’t sure he’d ever been speechless before, but he felt it now. He tried to say something for what felt like a full minute before managing, “I don’t have a kid.”

“Yes, you do.”

James frantically tried to recall what he’d been doing… ten years ago? The kid looked around that age. He’d been 23 and… in the hospital, for six months out of that year. “I don’t think so.”

The boy – Luke – looked annoyed. He shoved past James, into the apartment, and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. “My mom’s name is Paige Nadler,” he said over his shoulder. “You probably don’t remember her though. Or don’t remember that name.”

Paige? James didn’t think he’d ever dated a Paige. “You got the wrong guy, kid,” he told him, letting the door fall shut and following Luke inside. “Where are your parents? How did you get here?”

“You’re my parent,” Luke said. He’d perched himself on one of the kitchen stools. “And I took the bus.”

“From where?”

Luke was spinning around on the stool, letting his backpack drop to the floor, as he surveyed the apartment. “You live by yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” James said. “Look, you can’t just barge in here and claim I’m your father. I’m not. I’m gonna call someone to pick you up.”

“Not the cops!” Luke was suddenly frantic, jumping off the stool and running over to James’ side to reach for his phone. James held it up out of reach. “Please don’t! I just wanted to meet you!”

James frowned down at him. “I didn’t say I was calling the cops.” When Luke didn’t say anything, he asked, “What’s your mom’s number?”

Luke shook his head. “You can’t call her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t– She’s not–” Luke’s face twisted up, earnest. “You can’t call her.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” James told him, trying to say it gently. It probably didn’t come out that way, because Luke’s eyes were suddenly shiny with unshed tears, and unlike when people tried to use tears to get out of paying him, this time it made James feel awful. “I’m sorry, really. But I’m not your dad. It’s a pretty common name. And it’s a big city. You just got the wrong apartment. I’m sure you’ll find him at the next one.”

“How do you know I’m wrong though?” Luke demanded.

“I–” James paused. He… didn’t, actually. But surely he would know if he had a kid out there. The mother would have told him about it, wouldn’t they?

Luke leapt upon that pause. “See! You don’t know for sure. You could be my dad.”

“If that’s the logic you’re using then the old guy at the end of the hall who smells like piss could be your dad.”

“But we look alike,” Luke argued.

And he did have him there, James had to admit. They had similar coloring, and the same cleft chin. Luke was looking up at him hopefully now, and James sighed. “Lots of guys out there with blue eyes and a dimple.”

Luke sighed too, shoulders slumping.

“Where do you live?” James asked. “I’ll take you home myself instead of calling anyone, okay?” He kind of wanted to meet the kid’s mom, just to see if he did recognize the woman. Unlikely, but worth a shot.

Luke hesitated, but said, “Nuevo Esperanza, New Mexico.

James stared at him. “You took a bus here. From New Mexico.”

“I looked up how much Uber was but it was really expensive,” Luke offered, as if that was a good explanation.

- - -

The gps calculated the drive back to Luke’s hometown in New Mexico at nine hours and thirty-five minutes, and that was with no stops. Which should have been when James saw sense and called the cops to come get this wayward child and deal with him, rather than continuing to handle it himself.

But then he thought of the panicked way Luke had begged him not to. And, honestly, James had no desire to talk to police in even the best of circumstances. Luke still staunchly refused to give up his mother’s phone number, insisting that she couldn’t be contacted. So, it looked like it was up to James to take the kid home. To fucking New Mexico.

James had to sleep before embarking on that, so he set Luke up on the couch with a pillow and sheet and spent the time before he fell asleep hoping the entire encounter had been a weird dream, and that when he woke up the kid who may or may not be his wouldn’t be in his living room anymore.

No such luck.

“Can we stop at Taco Bell?” Luke asked the next morning, once they’d cleared town and gotten into Arizona.

“Do you see a Taco Bell?” James gestured with one hand to the barren desert scrub around them.

“I mean, at the next town.”

“The next town is not going to have a Taco Bell.”

Luke was quiet for half a mile. “McDonalds?”

They were about an hour into New Mexico when Luke asked to stop for probably the third time. There wasn’t a rest stop for miles, and when James suggested just pulling over to the side of the road Luke had turned to look at him with an expression of utter horror on his face. So James found himself driving twenty over and passing trucks with barely enough clearance to get them to the next rest stop before the kid burst. Luke took off running before the car had even come to a full stop.

James twisted his head to the side, trying to crack his neck. And realized that Luke had left his backpack behind. It was the first time he’d seen him let go of it since he’d arrived last night.

He was intending to look for Luke’s phone, and hopefully find it easy to unlock with a contact labeled Mom in plain sight, so he could finally call the woman and confirm that he wasn’t being led on a wild goose chase. It didn’t feel like Luke was lying, but as much as the kid talked he managed to not say anything substantial, and James usually had a good sense for these things. Something was up, beyond whatever had made the kid take a two day bus trip to track him down.

The phone was not easy to unlock. Luke had face I.D. and his passcode wasn’t any of the obvious ones James tried before nearly getting locked out. He dropped the phone back in the bag, and dug around for what else Luke had with him. A spare set of clothes – not that he’d changed into them this morning – a battery and charging cable for the phone, and something hard wrapped inside a t-shirt at the bottom of the bag.

James pulled it out. It was some kind of silver, cylindrical toy, though he had no idea what it was supposed to do.

“What are you doing?” Luke demanded, voice high. He’d left the passenger door hanging open in his mad dash for the rest stop, and was staring at the contents of his bag spread out across the seat in horror.

“Going through your stuff.”

Luke was stunned into silence by the honesty.

“What’s this?” James asked, waving the toy in the air.

“Careful!” Luke reached for it.

James handed it over. “What is it?” he asked again.

Luke bit his lip. “It’s a lightsaber,” he said, emphasizing the word. He was watching James closely, waiting for god only knew what.

“Is that from Star Trek?” James asked.

Luke’s mouth fell open. “What? No!”

James raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s–” Luke seemed at a loss for words, knuckles white around the lightsaber. “It’s yours.” He said, holding it back out.

James shook his head. “I don’t want your toy, kid.”

“It’s not a toy,” Luke argued. “And it’s yours. Look.” He changed his grip, holding it with two hands, and did something that made a bright blue-white beam of light spring forth from one end. The air was suddenly filled with a buzzing noise, like an electric grid. It grated against James’ senses like nails on a chalkboard.

He clambered out of the car, staring across the roof of it at Luke. “What is that thing?”

Luke’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. “Your lightsaber.”

“It’s a toy.”

Luke glanced around, then took a few steps toward the handicapped parking sign near them and raised the… James wanted to say blade, for some reason, but it wasn’t a blade. It was a child’s toy. An overpowered glow-rod.

It sliced through the metal sign in a clean sweep.

James blinked at it. Blinked again, forcefully. The sign was still sliced in half, and smoking slightly. He stepped toward it. The metal looked melted along the edge.

“What the fuck is that thing?” he demanded.

“I told you,” Luke said. “It’s a lightsaber. It was yours. You just don’t remember.”

“I’d remember if I owned a movie prop that expensive,” James said.

“No,” Luke insisted. “It’s your lightsaber. Your name isn’t James, it’s Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. And you’re my dad.”

James stared at him for a long minute. This was… worse than he’d thought. “That’s just a movie, Luke.” Was the kid’s name even Luke, or had he pulled that from the movie too? James hadn’t actually seen Star Wars, but Luke Skywalker and lightsabers managed to bleed into the general pop culture well enough.

“It’s real,” Luke insisted. “This is real.” He waved the lightsaber, and the blue light made a swish through the air with a swooping sound, the color blurring.

“And you think that I’m… Anakin,” James said.

Luke nodded.

“And your mom?”

“Her name is really Padmé,” Luke said. “She doesn’t remember either. No one does.”

James wasn’t even sure what to say to that. Luke was starting to sound delusional. He was saved coming up with something as Luke launched further into his explanation:

“It’s the whole town,” Luke said. “Time is frozen. No one ever ages or leaves or anything. The Emperor used the Force or something and sent them all here and now everyone is trapped and can’t remember who they used to be.”

“The Emperor used the Force to trap a bunch of Star Wars characters in a town in New Mexico where no one ever ages and they can’t remember being Star Wars characters?” James asked, trying to wrap his head around Luke’s delusion.

“Yes!” Luke said, looking excited for the first time in this conversation. “Well, except for me and Leia. We age. But I think that’s because we were born here.”

“Leia?”

“My sister.”

“Oh, right.” James nodded. “That’s, uh…”

Luke’s face fell, and he turned off the lightsaber, holding it loosely in one hand. “You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that,” James said.

Luke shook his head, staring at a point on the ground between them. “You didn’t have to. No one believes me.”

James felt too tall all of a sudden, standing over him. He crouched down, trying to catch Luke’s gaze. “Hey. I’m taking you home, aren’t I? I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

Luke scoffed, but didn’t look up.

James tried a different tack. “It is a cool lightsaber.”

That got him watery blue eyes peering at him from under the too-long bangs.

“Let’s get going again and you can tell me how it works.”

James stood up, and placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder to turn him back towards the car. “Come on. Faster we get going the faster you can ask me to stop for more junk food.”

Luke laughed, a little. “We still haven’t found a Taco Bell.”

“Fine, next Taco Bell it is then.”

#star wars #my fic #sw ouat au #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #star wars fic

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

Text

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 34: AMJ #6.1

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

You know I considered ending this series after the initial arc. I may well discontinue it after awhile. But for now at least I am going to press on. Thus begins the second of what I and dead certain will be a shitty arc of AMJ. Pray for me.

Before we dive into the issue I want to quote for you the solicit for this issue:

WELCOME TO NY, MJ! After the CAN’T-MISS events of AMAZING MARY JANE #5, your favorite redhead is back home! First stop: Spider-Man! But has her relationship with Mysterio changed things with the love of her life? Next stop: a press tour! Complete with iconic New York guest-starring gigs, and OH NO WHAT’S THAT?!?

We spent over 10 years of seeing Peter and MJ separated in the 616 universe.

Thanks to Nick Spencer they blessedly got back together.

Across 25 issues we got to see Peter and MJ interact and 99% of the time it was awesome and helped some old and open wounds get a little better.

It wasn’t every issue, but that was good. Don’t want to get indulgent right?

Then this series came along and Peter/MJ interactions got limited again due to the nature of the story.

That was a shame but at least we were going to get a great MJ story right?

Except we didn’t. We got a story that paradoxically simultaneously celebrated MJ whilst also inadvertently character assassinating her and just being a disgusting fucking mess in general.

But here we have MJ back in New York where Spider-Man is. This issue is even promising us an interaction between them.

Sounds good right?

Let’s see if it will deliver.

As always here we get the recap.

And once more it gives us the full title of the movie in spite of the comic yet to have done that.

As for the ‘strength of his vision blah blah blah’, you know the drill by now. That’s all bullshit, Mary Jane would never connect to Beck over that or allow him to walk free because of that.

There is also a passage in the recap claiming that MJ connected to Beck over familiarity with his situation. The idea of this being their last chance to make it big. I’ve already talked about how that’s bullshit, see part 12.

Finally, the recap confirms that MJ has still failed to tell Peter the truth. Nice to know MJ will continue to be hardcore out of character moving forward into this new arc.

As the issue starts we see MJ introduced as a guest on some kind of chat show.

As has been the case throughout the series, the art is (stylistically at least) gorgeous.

Beyond that there is little to about this page. Except of course the fact that Mary Jane has thought captions.

Let me repeat that.

For the first time in six issues the readers are being given an insight into the thoughts of title character!

You know, if this were a brand new run, a re-launch or even say the beginning of an outright new era for a series maybe that’d be okay.

But it isn’t. It’s the same run, the same volume, the same story, merely the next arc. This is like if Nick Spencer hadn’t used thought captions throughout the first five issues of his ASM run but then randomly did for the Trivia Night storyline with Boomerang.

Thought captions are perhaps one of the single most potent weapons in the arsenal of a comic book writer. It allows for immense development of characters and enables writers to combine the strength of prose stories with those of more visual mediums.

Now, it’s not that it’s bad to simply not use them. But be consistent. Thought captions would’ve gone a long way in helping us understand Mary Jane better in the first arc along with elaborating upon her asinine decisions there.

Not to mention for a character so often written off as shallow or just eye candy wouldn’t an insight into her thoughts have helped dispel such accusations? Jed Mackay has been doing that pretty consistently since the first issue of his Black Cat run. There it has done wonders for Felicia and fleshed her out more.

It’s especially bad when we consider we got more of an insight into MJ’s thoughts and feelings in one issue of Nick Spencer’s ASM run than in the entire five prior issues of her solo title.

Anyway, as her interview with Reilly Redding begins there is some quips and verbal jousting going on. Reilly asks if the movie has wrapped but MJ explains that McKnight and the crew are still shooting in L.A. Reilly asks if MJ is sure about that.

This isn’t a positive, more a general observation. I’m not overly familiar with chat shows, let alone American ones, but to my eyes the host seems influenced by Ellen DeGeneres.

Anyway, let me dispense with the pettiest of gripes first. I hate Reilly’s hairstyle. I hate that hairstyle in general. To me it looks really stupid, like you went for a haircut but gave up halfway through. That’s not in anyway shape or form a fair criticism. I totally own that. It is just a tiny point that really bothers me personally.

On the more positive side, Williams continues her frustrating tendency to nail MJ’s personality traits within a problematic context. MJ’s social skills are one of her greatest powers and here her charisma and ability to play verbal tennis with Reilly is executed superlatively. When Williams does stuff like this she delivers some of the best Mary Jane writing in a long time. Which is why I hate saying and believing that she shouldn’t work on the character over all. She makes traits of MJ shine whilst nevertheless damaging the character over all.

Case in point, the movie is still filming right? And the Vulture (and probably the other members of the Savage Six) are still out there. Let’s be kind and presume they are in a new secret location. That means Vulture will still want to find out where they are, so all the people (and their families) from issue #4 are still going to be harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi gang and potentially threatened by the six themselves.

Oh well, MJ still DGAF I guess.

Guess she doesn’t care that she’s appearing in public (in NYC of all places!) in spite of six villains now holding a very direct grudge against her.

Also, we FINALLY get the full name of the movie in the story itself, not the recap pages.

As the interview continues, MJ takes questions from the audience. One man asks what it’s like for her to play a real hero for the first time considering she’s played normal female roles before.

MJ responds that they are all heroes to her. She doesn’t really make the female role distinction quite the same way either. It’s more like she plays a hero who is also a woman.

The next question is about the weird press speculation about Cage McKnight’s conduct. The woman asking the question wants to know what he’s really like. MJ responds that he’s great, just dedicated to the craft and protective of his crew. She points out the paparazzi didn’t take kindly to him because he in turn didn’t take kindly to them hounding the movie.

Reilly then reveals McKnight is here for the interview.

Once more, Williams (with a huge help from Gomez’s art) conveys the charisma and social savvy of MJ here. Gomez’s body language demands particular praise. He conveys MJ’s beauty, flirtation, charm, etc. And he does it on multiple levels. The subtle genius of this page is how Gomez captures MJ putting on a performance for the public, to convince them she’s being utterly genuine and casual.

As for the dialogue, the best faith interpretation of the man’s question, he meant MJ has never played a super hero before, just normal non-powered women. He didn’t mean stereotypical female roles. That interpretation makes MJ’s response make more sense than if the former was the intent. So I’ll give Williams a pass and presume that was in fact her intent.

As for the second question it further highlights the unethical nature of allowing Mysterio to impersonate McKnight. The real McKnight has a lot of gossip and a new public image that was not of his own making. It wasn’t even an unfair fabrication by the press, it existed specifically because someone else was using his name, face and reputation for personal gain.

Also the audacity of Williams to directly reference issue #4 where Ken was harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi squad but just ignore the fact that that should still be going on.

To MJ’s confusion Cage McKnight joins the interview. However, he doesn’t seem to know anything about the movie at all. He says the first he heard of the movie was when he was contacted for the interview. Meanwhile MJ frantically contacts Beck on her phone. Reilly notices and calls MJ out just before Beck confirms he’s still in L.A.

To MJ’s horror she realizes she’s sitting next to the real Cage McKnight who’s returned from his penguin expedition. Reilly asks why he came on the show if he doesn’t remember movie. Cage responds that just because he doesn’t remember making the movie doesn’t mean he didn’t. he explains that in the past he’s made movies in ‘artistic fugues’ and presumes this is just one such time.

*pinches bridge of nose*

Oh my Gooooooooood this is so dumb.

I get the desire to have humour in a story for the sake of levity. But the world of Spider-Man is not even remotely a borderline Deadpool or Harley Quinn or Lobo comic book. The humour doesn’t come from absurdity or a cartoonlike breaking of logic and reality.

And make no mistake, this is absurd. Scratch that, it’s contrived to the nth degree.

First of all I’m not that well read up on fugue states so I briefly consulted Wikipedia who had this to say:

Dissociative fugue, formerly fugue state or psychogenic fugue, is a dissociative disorder[1] and a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity, including the memories, personality, and other identifying characteristics of individuality. The state can last days, months or longer. Dissociative fugue usually involves unplanned travel or wandering and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. It is a facet of dissociative amnesia, according to the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

-Wikipedia

Basically a fugue state is a sort of similar condition to Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly known as having a split personality. Only instead of an individual’s psyche fracturing into different personalities that take dominance, it’s someone’s mind running away with itself and becoming someone else. The individual forgets aspects of who they are and becomes someone else.

A very good example within fiction can be found in the Doctor Who episode ‘The Next Doctor’. In it a man named Jackson Lake suffers a traumatic experience and in the midst of it (through a sci-fi gizmo) absorbs a lot of information on the character of the Doctor. His traumatized mind consequently decides to imitate what it regards as the Doctor.

youtube

What I’m saying is McKnight’s dialogue about his fugues are very probably bullshit unless someone can cite evidence to the contrary.

Using the above description though McKnight has gotten this rare psychiatric disorder multiple times and specifically in conjunction with his job as a filmmaker. Yeah, no. Not buying it and neither should you.

Being a film director isn’t a muscle memory skill you can’t forget no matter what. People with amnesia or Alzheimer’s disease do not forget how to play the piano or how to drive. But directing a movie? There are so many moving pieces to that job that rely upon you knowing how equipment and more importantly individual people operate. You have to bear a shitton of theory in mind too. It is physically impossible to repeatedly have fugues and then maintain that job.

And even if it was, oh my lord, that is the single most contrived thing in this series yet. Are you SERIOUSLY telling me that Mary Jane and Beck and the entire production got this lucky. The guy who’s reputation is what the movie is riding on happens to be someone who repeatedly deals with this incredibly rare mental condition?

Holy shit. That’s Superior Spider-Man levels of contrived.

And yet if you still swallowed all of that it still wouldn’t make sense!

McKnight presumes he made this Mysterio movie in a fugue state right? But he wasn’t, so he would remember his life during that period of time. Meaning that there are lots of public records and personal accounts testifying that he was making the movie at the same time that he knows he was observing penguins.

If you suffer amnesia or blackouts or DID then there are obviously gaps in time you cannot account for. The overwhelming majority of people who deal with those conditions make a point of keeping track of those gaps, for practical reasons if nothing else. So McKnight would know that there isn’t a gap in time he can’t account for and certainly not for the time period the Mysterio movie has been going for.

Shit, the movie is still filming! How the Hell does he believe he is still making this movie in a fugue state if he’s consciously aware of lacking any knowledge about it?

Not to mention if he’s been in the Falkland Islands this whole time. A quick Google search informed me that by plane it’d take over 14 hours to travel between the islands and Los Angeles. How the fuck is anyone supposed to ever commute that distance, let alone regularly. And McKnight sincerely believes he was doing both at the same goddam time?

You couldn’t even argue that McKnight believes he made the Mysterio movie before his penguin expedition. Because the movie is still being made and all his other ‘artistic fugues’ would have a movie as proof of what he was doing during the fugues.

This is just mind-numbingly stupid and lazy writing. It smacks so hard of Williams trying to desperately paper over the holes in her initial story.

More importantly, how fucking stupid is Mary Jane or Beck to never considered this possibility? I don’t mean the fugue bullshit, I mean the idea of McKnight just coming back from his penguin adventure.

Was Mysterio honestly so incompetent as to have never accounted for that? He seriously never had anything in place to make sure McKnight wouldn’t just decide to cut his journey short? Jesus, and I was dumb enough to buy his line about McKnight spending a year with the penguins.

Even putting that aside, what the flying fuck was MJ and Beck’s plan for when he eventually came back in the first place? Say he really did spend a year with the penguins then came back to the USA. Suddenly he has a movie with his name attached to it and lots of controversy. Let’s say McKnight’s fugue bullshit added up, there is no indication MJ or beck knew about them. So how the Hell were they planning on getting away with the obvious questions he or his friends or family would have had?

And if they did know about the fugues, why didn’t Williams address that before? That was kind of a lingering question hanging over the story until now wasn’t it?

God I can’t believe I paid for this!

On the next page MJ spots a guy in an Oni Mask backstage. She presumes he’s there to scare her as part of the show. However, she notices that the P.A.s haven’t seen him. Meanwhile Reilly set up a stupid game for them to play.

I got nothing to say about this page beyond McKnight’s dialogue. Williams is clearly trying to frame the real McKnight in a less than sympathetic manner. There could be many reasons why. I suspect one of the reasons is to incline us more towards Beck’s version of McKnight and to make us not feel as bad about Beck (and MJ) exploiting his identity.

Because being vaguely and lightly sexist means you deserve to have your career, public image, sense of self and life violated and damaged I guess?????????????

As Reilly brings in people from the audience to compete against McKnight and MJ, the latter thinks that there is something weirdly familiar about the Oni-masked man.

I have little to say about this page too.

Reilly’s attitude and facial expressions make me dislike her, even beyond her stupid haircut.

And as for the Oni-Masked man (I’ll just call him Oni for now) my only guess is that he’s affiliated with Mister Negative somehow. He had his goons wear Oni masks at times. And MJ interacted with them and Mister Negative himself in the popular 2018 Spider-Man video game by Insomniac; and it’s adapted comic book City at War. As such perhaps Williams is trying to tie-in or capitalize upon audience familiarity with that.

As MJ plays the dumb game he ponders if Oni could be a lesser member of Peter’s rogue’s gallery. Observing him again she notices him murder a civilian.

The dumb game annoyed me, but that’s just me.

Beyond that all I can say is that MJ’s dialogue about Peter’s rogue’s gallery is interesting. It proves that MJ has at least a working knowledge of Peter’s major foes. Which just further proves she would have been familiar with Mysterio and his crimes, just in case anyone was still clinging to the idea that she wouldn’t.

Also, the art and especially that splash page were beautiful.

Unfortunately for MJ, Oni notices she witnessed his crime. MJ is nervous and backs away in fear, annoying McKnight when she bumps into him. Meanwhile Spider-Man swings across town yelling for to hold on as he is on the way.

Gomez draws a nice Spider-Man.

Anyway, more of Williams making us dislike McKnight, see above for more on that.

MJ backing away in fear has me apprehensive. I don’t know if that’s in character for her. I guess the shock and surprise could’ve thrown her for a loop. And if Oni doesn’t notice her then it gives her a better chance of raising the alarm and capturing him.

I must say, I do like MJ being on the backfoot here after issues #1-5 made her often overconfident and over capable at times (see her nonchalance over the Savage Six in issue #5).

Also, isn’t MJ going to give Oni the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he’s sorry for murdering that guy just now. Maybe he wants to make amends by creating a movie about his life. So why is MJ so scared?

Sure, he just murdered someone, but what is that next to the laundry list of Beck’s crimes?

As it turns out, Spidey wasn’t on his way to save MJ. He was in fact en route to a French restaurant to have dinner with her. He is actually before MJ for a change.

I know Gomez isn’t the only artist on this issue and this doesn’t look like his work. Who ever is drawing it though is doing a very bland depiction of Peter with a overly wrinkly forehead.

The joke about him arriving first for a change was funny though.

Back at the studio, the show wraps up. McKnight insults Reilly’s profession just in case you’ve not realised he is a jerk yet. MJ thinks about persuading everyone to evacuate and searches for her phone. She notices Oni leaving and decides to leave her phone behind.

I already know MJ is going to pursue Oni herself. The stupidity of that aside why the fuck wouldn’t you grab your phone before doing that? You could use it no matter where you wind up and it wasn’t so far away that he’d get that much of a head start.

In fact, if Oni knows MJ is a witness why did he bother hanging around in the first place.

And why didn’t MJ raise the alarm immediately, the worst that would happen is the guy would run away. He’s just stealthily murdered someone and is in a mask. He obviously isn’t going to take the audience hostage, so if her priority is protecting innocents then raising the alarm immediately (or in fact earlier would’ve been her best bet. Yes that’d probably mean he’d have escaped but unlike with say Peter’s origin, getting him the Hell out of there would’ve reduced the immediate threat to the civilians present.

And on top of that if she figures he’s targeting her because she was a witness to his crime then by alerting everyone to his actions she’d have removed his need (at least for the moment) of sticking around to eliminate her, thus getting him away from the audience.

If he’s leaving anyway, MJ could also just grab her phone and put a call in to Peter, her super hero chums or the police and get them on the case immediately. If she was really so determined to go after this guy herself she still could but would’ve had a back up just in case he escapes or kills her. If she fails then she’s insured someone will still pursue him.

And as I copiously detailed in parts 19-22, MJ is not a super hero (and she knows that). She has no idea what this guy’s skills, weapons or powers might be, nor does she know what resources or assistance will be nearby to enable her to survive or subdue him. This isn’t like an armed cop, a martial artist or a super powered person going after a regular crook. She really doesn’t know what she is in for. Even if he is just a normal man, he clearly has a height and weight advantage over her, is obviously willing and capable of chocking a man to death and is armed. MJ meanwhile has little self-defence training, no weapons and hasn’t got the weight or muscle capable of taking him on if she’s backed into a corner. And she’s pursuing him back stage where presumably there is a fair chance of encountering many corners!

I understand that she doesn’t want to endanger innocent people, but there is no point in risking her life there is a much more practical and likely to succeed option available to her. Live to fight another day and all that. Yes the guy might hurt people during or after his escape but that’s a lesser evil vs. going after him herself when she is very unlikely to subdue him, far more likely to die and then the guy will get away without her having passed on any valuable intel on him to someone more qualified to pursue him.

Also once she sees the guy leaving she could just tell everyone the situation and ask the audience to stay put.

Basically if raises the alarm right there on stage and/or calls Peter or the authorities she is over all putting less people in danger and increasing the chances of the guy being apprehended in the long run. But no, instead she is going to gamble on the far slimmer odds that she can capture the guy.

Not to mention, why would the guy even give a shit that MJ saw him? Why would MJ give a shit that she is a witness to his crime? He is wearing a mask! She couldn’t identify him even if she went to the police. It is literally part of the reason her goddam boyfriend wears a mask!

And by the way, are there no security cameras backstage? Wouldn’t MJ consider that or Oni himself?

McKnight apologises to Reilly (so not that much of a jerk I guess) as MJ pursues Oni (barefooted) backstage. As she does this she rehearses what she will say to Peter in her head. This entails telling him that she had to get away from the killer. As she is thinking about this the body of Oni’s victim is discovered. Backstage she comes face to face with Oni who refers to her by name.

Yay. MJ deliberately planning on lying to Peter again. It’s so awesome that Williams understands why this isn’t a really bad idea for the reasons I pointed out in part 17.

By the way, I suspect Oni knows MJ personally rather than just recognizing her work.

I’m actually going to leave it there for now as the next part of the story has a shitton to unpack.

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Master Post

#Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #Mysterio #Quentin beck #Spider-Man #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mjwatsonedit #MJ Watson #peter parker #Doctor Who

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szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

When was the last time you cried and what was the reason?: family issues

Do you believe in ghosts?: maybe

If you could live on the moon, would you?: almost all of it belongs to Tom Cruise so no

What is your favorite time in history to learn about?: I just like many interesting history facts in general

When is the last time you felt discriminated against because of your gender?: not sure which situation was last

What race are you?: caucasian, white, european, polish, slavic

What is your favorite sex position?: I’m not into sex tbh Have you ever lost your SO to another person?: yup

Have you ever had a thing for a friend’s parent?: no

Have you ever believed in Santa Clause? from what I remember

Have you ever thought you were getting a surprise party, but you really weren’t? nah and I don’t like surprises so I’m glad I never really had a party like this

Have you ever forgotten someone’s birthday? I suck with dates

Has a friend looked bad in a profile picture and you didn’t tell her? it was my opinion but if they liked their pic then it’s their problem

Does it take forever for your internet to load websites? sometimes

Have you ever pretended to listen to someone but you really weren’t? yeah :x

Are you a bad driver, or do you know someone that is? I know some that are bad yet say they’re oh so awesome at it ugh!

Have you seen the animated movies Tarzan? sure

Have you actually called 911 for an actual emergency? If so, what was the emergency? not me but my parents

Do you sleep in the living room a lot? I never do

Did you enjoy watching The Flintstone’s growing up? yep

Do you wish you were born in a different year? kinda wish I was born after war and die before 2020 or even live in another time period

What do you buy more: Movies or candy? neither

Did you used to eat chapstick when you were younger? ewww, noooo, not even toothpaste

What made you pick up the last book you started reading? I was watching a movie and heard that book has a different ending so I had to see for myself Have you received any bad or troubling news lately? shitload When was the last time you were relieved about something? I wish I was... What about your life concerns you the most? my health related issues mostly but also money and fam, love life, religion etc. Is there a common thing most people seem to do without trouble, but it scares you (talking on the phone, driving, interviews, etc)? When was the last time you had to do one of these kinds of things? there are, recently

Describe a time when you were there for a friend? were there in person? When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? days or weeks ago What is a situation that makes you feel especially confident? umm... Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? depends Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? I guess I’m easily offended Is there a belief you have that most others around you don’t have? Do you share this belief with others, or do you tend to keep it to yourself? sure, might talk about it if asked and in the mood If you’ve moved out from home, what was the scariest thing about it? What was/is your favorite thing about it? I didn’t move out yet but there are dark scenarios I imagine that could happen and they concern me What are your thoughts on “forgiving” murderers or rapists? Do you think it’s even possible to forgive these people? I wouldn’t forgive a rapist but particular murders can be justified If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take? who cares about grades and cost when you have no possibility/talent/ability anyway?... Last item of clothing you purchased - do you wear it often? didn’t wear it yet Has anything made you feel nostalgic lately? lots What was the last chore you completed? I just helped mom around kitchen and bathroom - przynieś/podaj itp.

Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? sloth?

Has anyone ever told you that you’re incapable of whispering? nope, my mom is incapable, she whispers louder than when she’s normally talking to someone

Who was the best kisser you’ve ever dated? I’ve only kissed one person in my entire life

When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? yesterday

this one

and I plan on doing smth similar

Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? one of the most reliable sources that are available for free

When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? meh

Do you want to repaint your walls? I prefer to move out

Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? hardwood

Who would you say is the most selfish person you know? majority of society

Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? waste of the movie

How old were you when you got to go on your first date? dunno what I can count as one

Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? weirdly protective

Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? never had a chance to

Has anyone ever called you a good kisser before? I had my moment

Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? she’s into men so...

Do you know someone who cares about themselves more than their child? it seems that most of parents act this way

What’s your favorite hairstyle you’ve had so far? hmm...

How many dogs do you have, if any at all? 1

Do you think biting is weird or sexy? biting hard is very dangerous and I’m not into being bitten but I might/can bite a little

Would you rather be called hot or beautiful? neither but I'll “believe” slightly more in being beautiful than hot I think

Have you ever had a pet turtle before? yep

Do you still sleep with your parents when you’re scared sometimes? just once I had a bad night and my dad was working overnight so I went to my mom’s bed but then I left in the middle of the night anyway as she was snoring, not that it usually bothers me

Have you ever met someone with two different color eyes? saw pics on the internet only

How many surveys on average would you say you’ve done in your lifetime? shitload

Do you enjoy going school shopping? tiny bit as I enjoy shopping in general?

Do you think Pug dogs are adorable or just plain ugly? adorable

Have you ever met someone who completely resembled their pet? lookalikes

Has anyone ever knitted you something before? sure

Do you think there is a soulmate out there for everyone? then why some ppl die single?...

Do you like short or long surveys the best? it’s not about length, I need interesting questions

Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real? I didn’t try to make it pas for real wtf

Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? *rolling my eyes*

How many uncles do you have? don’t know nor care as they don’t give a shit about me

Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along? nah, sometimes I feel physically bad because of it tho

How often do you shower? basically everyday

What is the absolute worst thing about high school? from my personal experience - stress

How many sodas do you usually drink in one day? I don’t drink soda for years

Have you ever met an annorexic pregnant woman? woah I can’t imagine that

Have you ever simply looked at someone & could tell they were homosexual? oh well...

Do you have the ability to read someone without even knowing them? sometimes

Would you rather eat or sleep? sleep

Are you one of those die hard Twilight or Harry Potter fans? am not, especially Twilight - I didn’t read/watch it because it sounds awful

Have you ever cried while watching a movie trailor? yes

Have you ever learned that someone had lied to you all along? sadly

When was the last time you had a physical injury? this ending week

Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer? not really

Have you ever had to bail someone out of jail before? nope

Is there anyone in your imediate family who was adopted? no

Do you know anyone who doesn’t have any common sense? I meet many ppl like this often on the streets or online

Do you think you look anything like your parents? I know I do

Who is the skinniest person you know? Is it because of a disease? when it comes to look or weight? disease though

Is this year the best one you’ve had so far? r u joking?...

What color is your significant other’s hair? natural or dye? XD

Are you ashamed of anyone in your family? yeah The best Christmas gift you ever gotten? The sims 2 as I dreamed of it and didn’t expect my poor parents will afford and give it to me ever, I was so moved that I cried and my sister was jealous and angry

Who is your favorite actor or actress? can’t decide

What is cuter: kisses on the forehead of the cheek? I don’t consider them cute when I receive them but kind of awkward actually but giving them is a different story

Do you believe in evolution or creation? smth in between, it’s complicated

What group would you say you’d normally fit into the most? I feel that I wouldn’t really fit any

Are you better at drawing things or painting? drawing

Have either of your parents ever called you a failure before? I am a failure

How long have you been on the computer right now? too long, about 6 hours Name three black things that you can see? celphone, pendrive, necklace would you perfer to do the dishes or hang washing/laundry? dishes

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peggyellis · 4 years

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welcome to holland.

I have accepted at this point that my posts are all going to be badly out of chronological order in terms of our trip. We’re now skipping over Denver, Wyoming and Idaho and going straight to Washington. Oops?

Over a year ago, my friend Julia sent me a free audiobook, “Maybe You Should Talk to Someone.” In short, it’s a story written by a therapist who finds herself needing therapy after a breakup. I downloaded the book but never got around to listening to it – I’ve never really been the audiobook type. Obviously the Universe knew what it was doing – when I set out on this trip, I fired up my audible app and found the book sitting there ready to be listened to. Somewhere on that long miserable drive from Kansas to Denver, I started listening.

The author touches on a number of topics: relationships, grief, loss and change. I have about 20 different posts I’ve started stemming from this one book, but the one that is freshest in my mind today is “Welcome to Holland.” In the book, Lori (the author) is counseling a woman who learns she has terminal cancer. Lori explains that "Welcome to Holland" is a prominent essay, written in 1987 by American author and social activist Emily Perl Kingsley, about having a child with a disability. Yes, I stole that last bit from Wikipedia. The idea is this: parenthood is like planning a trip to Italy. You’ve always dreamed of going there; cruising the canals in Venice, eating pasta in Naples, being awed by the roof of the Sistine Chapel in Rome. You buy books on the best places to eat and tour, and spend hours learning basic Italian phrases. You dream of your experience; the wonderful things you’ll see, the people you will meet, and falling in love over and over again with Italy.

You board your flight and fall fast asleep, and when you awake, you’ve just touched down. You look out and see tulip fields and Dutch architecture, and your flight attendant welcomes you and your fellow passengers to Holland. Wait…what?!? But I boarded a flight to Italy!, you exclaim. I’ve made so many preparations! But try as you might, no amount of begging, pleading or cajoling will get you to Italy. You’re in Holland, and Holland is where you must stay.

See, Lori explains, “Welcome to Holland” isn’t just about parenthood; it’s about life. We all make plans and visions of what our lives will look like. We will be married. We will have a great job. We’ll be parents to beautiful and healthy children. We’ll travel the world. Inevitably, no matter how hard we try, one day we board a plane to Italy and wake up in Holland. We spend so much time preparing and planning for our lives to look one way, but sooner or later, no matter how hard we try, we all end up with our metaphorical planes touching down in Holland.

It is in Holland that we are all faced with a choice. We can spend our time missing Italy, trying desperately to get back there, and dreaming of our trip that we originally planned. We can gnash our teeth and cry and wail at the fact that this stupid plane was supposed to go to Italy, and instead we’re stuck in this dumb place that is anything but Italy. Or – we can take a look around us and start to experience the beauty of Holland. It doesn’t have Michelangelo or the Vatican or pasta, but Holland has tulip fields, the Hague, legal marijuana and the best Brazillian steakhouses inside or outside of Brazil. (Take the last one or two from personal experience). Holland has beautiful architecture, bikable cities and a great airport. When life lands us unexpectedly in Holland, we are given the choice – nay, the opportunity – to fall in love with Holland, even if it’s not the reality we expected.

Sounds nice, huh? Well, my first reaction was to scoff and say something to the effect of “yeah, sure, whatever lady.” Holland sounds nice when we’re talking about an unexpected move or a job loss, not when we’re talking about terminal cancer or a divorce or a disabled child. Did this woman really expect me to be like “oh man, I am just SO HAPPY that the man I wanted to marry broke up with me two days after I lost my job and now I am homeless, jobless and single with no prospects on any of these 3, Holland is SO GREAT”?!?! No thanks.

I hated Holland all through Kansas, most of Colorado, parts of Wyoming and DEFINITELY in Idaho. Holland was the pit in my stomach when I thought about returning home. Holland was the familiar text ding, only to find it was someone else. Holland was grief and loss. If you’d asked me to paint a picture of Holland, it would probably look a lot like Newark, the city I am convinced is the worst place on earth. Grey, smoggy, dirty and sad, I wanted nothing to do with Holland. I wanted to go back to Italy.

When I showed up to our home outside Seattle on Saturday night, I had cried the entire way through Oregon, decided to throw my phone into the Pacific Ocean when I reached Seattle, and vowed to hate Holland for time and all eternity. In what had become a theme on this trip, our host Renee took one look at my red swollen face, and immediately knew just what to say. She’d ended up at this farm in an unexpected turn of events when a divorce left her lost and homeless. In the 50+ acres of cattle, vegetables, horses and lakes, she’d found beauty even in the unexpected. I looked around, and the sprinkler mist created a rainbow in the weeping willows. The lake glistened in the setting sun, and the open fields stretched on for miles. Even Luna made a friend in Shadow, the friendly German Shepherd, and they romped in the front yard for hours. Our home was a little in-ground greenhouse that had been converted to a studio, and the hanging lanterns and wide windows made it cozy. Holland suddenly didn’t look so bad.

Scenes from the farm

It was there that I decided I wasn’t ready to go home, that I was going to open myself up to more adventures, and that it was okay to be not okay. That night was the eve of the infamous chicken alfredo, and Luna and I took a long walk into the cattle pasture while I contemplated my new life. Holland suddenly wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t what I expected, and I missed Italy, but Holland started to show its beauty there in Yakima, Washington. I would need to learn a new language, and maybe buy some new tour books, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad here. Welcome to Holland. I’m here to stay.

Our home in “Holland”

Wisdom from the universe and our little greenhouse

#travel #welcometoholland #washington #girls who travel #luna

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

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Spider-Man: The Darkest Hours Thoughts

Many years ago I was contacted by someone who recommended this novel to me and others from a Mary Jane fan point of view. You can read the recommendation here.

Whilst I own the novel and started it at least twice for whatever reason I stopped reading it before the start of the first big action set piece. However since Dreamscape audio released the novel on audiobook I’ve finally been able to experience it for myself.

So how’d it fair? SPOILERS ahead

I don’t usually do this these days but because this story is relatively obscure I’m going to provide a synopsis. Or more accurately marvel.wiki is:

“Even though he is a chemistry teacher, Peter Parker has now been forced to be a substitute basketball coach over at Midtown High where he works. His ineptness soon negatively draws the attention of basketball star Samuel Larkin, who challenges Peter and refuses to cooperate with his own teammates. Going over the player's records, Peter soon discovers that Larkin has not taken all of the required vaccines needed to play at the school, which will mean his automatic expulsion from the team for the remainder of the season, as well as dwindle his chances of getting a scholarship to a good university.

After a long day of coaching, Peter returns home and discovers that Mary Jane has won a part as Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's Macbeth. However, the play is held in Atlantic City, so in order to compensate for the long drive, MJ bought a car despite not having a driver's license, let alone any idea how to drive. They began discussing whether or not Peter should teach her. In the middle of the talk, however, the Rhino attacks Times Square, so Peter leaves to go fight him as Spider-Man.

While on the way there, Spider-Man runs into Black Cat, who claims the rampage is a trap and that Peter should not go. He ignores her warning, though, and continues to head there. Peter easily defeats Rhino, knocking him unconscious in the process. Just as he does, however, the siblings of Morlun - Thanis, Malos, and Mortia - appear. They blame Spider-Man for their brother's death despite the Other being the true person who ripped his throat out, and now want revenge by killing him. Spidey initially flees, but with the help of a SWAT team and Black Cat he eventually takes them on (he also seeks help from Doctor Strange but is declined, with Strange asserting that his interference would harm the cosmic balance). Mary Jane comes to the fight scene and becomes jealous that Felicia is able to help Peter fight the siblings, as well as how the siblings are treating her husband. Enraged, she takes her car and runs Morlun's siblings over, distracting them and giving Spider-Man the time needed to banish them to a barren netherworld using three trinkets Strange had secretly arranged to be given to him.”

Let me get some admissions out of the way.

a) I’ve not read a ton of Spider-Man/comic book based novels, although I own the majority of the Spider-Man ones that Wikipedia claim exist. I dunno why, I just never manage to get around to them for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s because comic book superheroes being designed for a visual medium which so often emphasises action makes the jump to prose (or in this case audio) difficult. Indeed I must admit when reading/listening I do zone out a bit when action scenes occur.

b) I’m not familiar with the work of Jim Butcher although I hear great things

c) I’d actually forgotten the specifics of the recommendation for this book. I just remember it was recommended and it was because it should feed the MJ fan/shipper in me and others. Forgetting this was lucky actually as it allowed me to enjoy some aspects of the books I’d otherwise have not been surprised by.

Let’s also get the technical aspects out of the way since this is an audio book I am discussing.

The narrator, Jack Meloche is...okay...mostly.

I find his performance of Peter a little too nasaly and early on in the audiobook you do have to kind of power through his performances of Mary Jane and especially Felicia. By the end of the story I grew to tolerate them but never love them. Hearing a grown ass man do his best to convey a sultry kinda sorta femme fatale can be a bit cringe inducing I must admit. His best performance is as the Rhino though.

Other things you should know is that this novel is loosely in continuity with ‘Spider-Man: Drowned in Thunder’ (which I talked about here),

https://hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews.tumblr.com/post/140091613524/spider-man-drowned-in-thunder-my-thoughts

another novel from the same range of books. It was published and is set after the events of this novel and both are set chronologically during the J. Michael Straczynski ASM run prior to Spider-Man joining the New Avengers.

I’ll be upfront with you I found ‘Drowned in Thunder’ to be better for the most part and downright ingenious. It did not however use Mary Jane as much or as critically as this story. She was important but didn’t have as big of a role as she does here. Does that make one novel better or worse than the other? Neither, they’re just different. It’s healthy to mix up the emphasis certain supporting characters get after all.

Looking at ‘Darkest Hours’ on it’s own merits for the most part it nails the characters in terms of the sentiments but my personal problems with it are in the presentation at times. Not even all the time just some of the time.

Let me put it more clearly.

There is exactly one scene featuring Aunt May, specifically a phone conversation. And this phone conversation progresses into a very involved inspirational speech from May to Peter about how awesome he is as a person/hero and the scene’s drama stems from the fact that Peter might be fighting his last battle soon after this. Are the sentiments Aunt May expressing in character? Of course. Are these things she would say? Yes!...but...I felt it was kind of...off that her one scene in the whole story is her showing up and giving the most involved inspirational speech Spider-Man has ever gotten from her or anyone else. Spider-Man 2’s backyard scene was tame by comparison. I just feel it would’ve been better for May to have both featured in some way prior to that scene and for the speech to have been dialled back a bit.

Much more relevantly though is the book’s handling of Peter and MJ’s relationship.

Throughout the novels there are scenes of Peter and Mary Jane being very much in love. The most common way this is expressed is via Peter complimenting Mary Jane in his head.

Would Peter feel this way about Mary Jane. 100% yes! But...I don’t know if it was the vocal performance, the fact that we have this back in the comics now, or really JUST me but personally I kinda...cringed a bit.

I’m not saying it’s bad!

I’m not even saying it could be better!

I’m sure there are many readers who adore this.

I’m not well versed in romance fiction so maybe I’m missing something here and actually it’s perfectly acceptable or great writing.

I’m saying just for me personally again...I’d have wanted it dialled back. It just got a little much, a little cringey for me personally.

But you know that happened sometimes in the JMS run which I loved and agree with everyone else wrote the marriage better than it has ever been written.

Speaking of Straczynski we really need to talk about his Spider-Man work.

Commonly original Spider-Man novels (i.e. not novelizations) that are trying to vaguely present themselves as being canon (so we aren’t talking about stuff like ‘Hostile Takeover’ set in the Marvel Gamerverse) try to have synergy with the status quo of the day or a very recent one.

This novel is no exception. My research tells me it was published in 2006 and whilst it’s not reflective of the then status quo of the comics where Spider-Man was unmasked and a member of the Avengers, it is reflective of the dominant status quo immediately preceding that which ended circa 2004-2005.

To refresh your memory that involves Peter being a teacher at Midtown High, Mary Jane being an aspiring stage actress who recently reconciled with Peter, and both Aunt May and Black Cat knowing his secret. To drive the point home about just when this novel is set there is an entire dialogue exchange discussing the idea of him hypothetically joining the Avengers. A discussion that in my eyes throws some wonderful shade at the idea.

This is the same status quo that ‘Drowned in Thunder’ was set during but ‘Darkest Hours’ hardcore embraces this status quo in a way ‘Drowned in Thunder’ never did. ‘Drowned in Thunder’ if anything drew more from the Paul Jenkins PPSM run than JMS’ run and exempting Aunt May being in on the secret felt like with a few changes it could’ve exorcised every other element of his run. Peter’s teaching job was a factor in the story but it was used as a brilliant and organic segue way into a Bugle/Jonah centric investigation.

‘Darkest Hours’ though...doesn’t do that.

Rather it is practically a lost arc from JMS’ run. No, not his ‘era’ wherein we’re talking about every title during his time in charge. I mean that if this was a comic book story it could’ve been straight up slotted in directly before or after ‘Sins Past’ and no one would’ve batted an eye.

The way the story tries to handle Peter’s marriage to Mary Jane, Peter’s teaching job, the inclusion of Doctor Strange and Dex, the potted history of Ezekiel, the direct references to Shathra and friggin ASM #500, and of course Morlun’s siblings. This FEELS like the JMS run!

And for a lot of people that’s going to be a huge deal breaker for this novel.

In my experience of Spider-Man fandom whilst there is a lot of appreciation of JMS’ run it was divisive for various reasons. A lot of people just for whatever reason turned off by Peter being a teacher (or more accurately not being a photographer for the Bugle) and recoil even more over the presence of mystical elements like Morlun or Doctor Strange.

Now if you liked or tolerated that stuff then this novel is a hidden gem of sorts, whether you want a shot of nostalgia or just found that stuff compelling.

Me personally, I liked the first half of the JMS run for the most part. And Jesus Christ looking back at it after what we got after he left it’s a Hell of a lot better.

Say what you want about Ezekiel and Peter being a teacher but I’d take that stuff over fucking Superior Spider-Man and Parker Industries!

Of course the elephant in the room regarding this novel in the modern day is that it predates Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon as stories establishing Morlun had a family.

And...did...it...BETTER!

In Spider-Verse/Geddon Morlun was the main character and his family had unbearably simplistic personalities that boiled down to being variant action figures of him!

Now don’t get it twisted. Mortia and her brothers are a million miles away from the greatest villains in Spider-Man history. In fact they have LESS personality than Morlun did.

And yet in context this actually works for the story more effectively than in Spider-Verse/Geddon.

Morlun as originally presented was essentially a very eloquent predator and a hunter, not quit a full on force of nature but close to it. He was intimidating because he really didn’t do anything besides hunt Spider-Man and want to eat him.

Where Spider-Verse/Geddon failed was in reintroducing Morlun and then immediately watering him down by having him appear alongside his variant action figure family with moments and even back up stories told specifically from their POVs. Sure JMS gave us moments focussing on Morlun’s character outside of Spider-Man or Morlun, but they existed to introduce the character and briefly build him up before we realize just how utterly outclassed Spider-Man is against him. When we already know who the Hell Morlun is we don’t need scenes focussing upon him because he isn’t a character who can support that level of attention. Nor should he be because he’s SUPPOSED to be a one not hunting and killing machine basically.

That’s why this novel makes better use of ‘the Ancients’ than S-V/G made of ‘the Inheritors’. We don’t have scenes from their POV thus they can basically be what Morlun was when Spider-Man first met him. Ruthless predators on the hunt, except now there are three of them so Spider-Man is truly screwed!

The plot cleverly focuses instead on the characters who have to DEAL with the impending threat the Ancients pose rather than trying to pretend these guys have actual characters. Butcher also makes them much scarier than the Inheritors because rather than monsters who basically just port in wherever and kill indiscriminately, the Ancients have riches and resources. They are a part of society and Peter is racing against the clock hoping those resources don’t zero in on who he is and where his family lives. This dread, this tension is delectable and far more effective than what Slott of Gage ever did. It helps that we actually see Peter reacting believably to the pressure and stress of his potential demise rather than be a generic and passive as he was in Spider-Verse.

Also the fact they appear alone rather than alongside Morlun is better too as it means Morlun doesn’t look less unique and they look less like variant action figures.

Additionally Butcher does a great job fleshing out the backstory to the Ancients, helping to integrate them well into the established Marvel Universe, developing their abilities and how they worked. Hell he even remembered how they were supposed to work as JMS defined them rather than how Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon just ignored these abilities and did whatever they wanted. For instance Butcher establishes clearly the Ancients CAN feed off of life forms other than Spider-Man as opposed to S-V/G just having them do that with no explanation and feed off of just anyone. Butcher also remembered Morlun saying that eating Peter would sustain him for a looooooong time and incorporated it into the plot. Similarly he provided a clear explanation for why Spider-Man couldn’t simply use the same trick he used against Morlun again (because he’s outnumbered!) or get help from other heroes like Doctor Strange. Speaking of which we got one of the best ever explanations for how magic works in the Marvel Universe ever. Wasn’t expecting that nor for Wong to be so delightful!

The only real misstep Butcher makes as far as the Ancients are concerned is the idea of the Rhino being a potential snack for them when he never got his powers from a real rhino or anything like that. He was even referenced as one of the pretenders to totem powers by Ezekiel. I guess you could that the Lizard (who was also referenced) should count so...whatever the rules aren’t clear here.

Let’s leave our main villains behind and talk instead about our more grey characters.

So yeah...Jim Butcher wrote one of the all time great Rhino stories here!

Again wasn’t expecting that!

The Rhino in Aunt May’s home breaking bread with Spider-Man is so insane an image that you’d love it for the absurdity alone, but Butcher makes it totally organic. He also keeps Rhino in character (with the exception of a time he refused to kill Spider-Man which I don’t remember being a real story) and fleshes him out rather wonderfully. He draws some great parallels between Rhino and Spider-Man and frankly the scene where Mary Jane is literally shaking with laughter over these comparisons is unquestionably the highlight of the whole novel!

What was really great was that Butcher didn’t change the Rhino or compromise him. He’s still a mercenary, he’s still not really a good guy, but he’s more human. He doesn’t like Spider-Man, he wants to beat him, but he also on a certain level respects him.

It’s just expertly done!

Then there is Felicia. Had Spencer not already fixed Felicia this story would’ve ignited fury within me. Not because this was bad but rather that this story used Felicia so wonderfully that BND and Slott’s ruination of her would’ve stung all the more.

Felicia is purrrrrrrfect here!

Not quite good, not quite bad, sultry, catty, territorial, smart, aggressive, dangerous, loyal. Butcher NAILED her character!

The fact he uses her to open up a philosophical debate about the differences and moral justifications between Peter, herself and the Rhino is inspired. There are differences but the lines aren’t as clear cut as Peter treats them as. In a sense he really does have a bit of a double standard in regards to her and everyone else. This isn’t the only time Butcher brings out Peter’s flaws very well. The scene where Peter has momentary lapses into light machismo are well done. Spider-Man is a hero but he ain’t perfect that’s why we love him!

This brings us to Felicia and Mary Jane. Sorry...I love it. Maybe it’s problematic, maybe it’s problematic that I do love it...but I just do.

Okay from a strict continuity point of view Butcher puts MJ and Felicia at greater odds than they really should be. By this point in time there were tensions but there was also friendship. Truth be told Butcher puts that friendliness in there but only at the very end of MJ and Felicia’s arc together and the resolution to the tensions are off-page. And yet...what can I say the pure soap opera of it was fun for me on a very base level. Who says marriage is free of tension again?????

The peak of my enjoyment was when the pair were just unrestrained hurling insults at one another. Again, shallow I know, but it was just fun for me and I really loved Peter having to step up and be the grown up in that situation and coldly let everyone know where they all stand. MJ doesn’t get to talk to Felicia that way because she’s their friend. Felicia doesn’t get to talk to MJ that way because she’s his wife.

This brings us to Mary Jane herself. Apart from again the romance stuff for me personally going a bit too far she’s mostly done very well. She’s supportive, she has a subplot of her own dealing with a real life problem (learning to drive), she makes mistakes, she’s great at analysing Peter, and helping figure things out via being a confidant. Oh and she totally saves the day at the end. No straight up she does. If not for MJ the day would’ve been lost and Spider-Man would’ve been dead.

It was such a baller as fuck scene I am slightly pissed off that it wasn’t realized as a comic. Her throwing shade at Doctor Strange was also priceless.

The final thing to mention is the subplot involving one of Peter’s students.

I am once again going to draw comparisons to both the JMS run and ‘Drowned in Thunder’ as they are apt here.

Okay basically strictly speaking the subplot regarding Peter helping one of his underprivileged kids retain a spot on the basketball team was a weak spot of the storytelling. Not because it was necessarily bad (though a 30something trying to write ‘inner city youths’ leaves something to be desired) but because it really didn’t tie into the main plot all that much.

In ‘Drowned in Thunder’ Peter’s teaching job was integrated seamlessly.

But in this you could tweak the novel and exorcise the whole subplot. It’s relevance really is mostly thematic (Peter and the kid both need to embrace team work to succeed) and to illustrate character traits of Peter Parker. He’s so responsible he would still make time to help out this poor student even whilst his life is potentially ticking away. Nor will he abandon this kid to save his own skin, even though the kid’s physical life might not be endangered at all if he did.

Now that all being said I LIKE the subplot’s inclusion. Not only because it does demonstrate Peter’s character and the lesson he needs to learn for this story, but because I view it as part and parcel of this book’s mission to be a lost JMS story.

Really the subplot could’ve been one of the handful of stories told during the JMS run concerning Peter helping out his impoverished students. If viewed as part and parcel of trying to capture the ‘flavour’ of the era the subplot succeeds.

Finally I must say I loved Peter’s words of defiance before his possible demise.

Over all I’d say this was a very strong story. Okay, as an over all package not quite as good as ‘Drowned in Thunder’ but still up there, with moments and aspects that are as good if not superior to the latter.

Highly recommended.

P.S. I can’t believe we got development and a great use out of Dex of all the obscure characters out there!

#Spider-Man #Jim Butcher #Morlun #j. michael straczynski #black cat #Felicia Hardy #the black cat #mjwatsonedit #Mary Jane Watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mj watson #rhino #the rhino #Aleksei Sytsevich #Alex O'Hirn #Peter Parker #Spider-Verse #Spider-Geddon

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ebaeschnbliah · 5 years

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THE ‘CABIN’ ON THE MEADOW

________________________________________________________________

When I took screenshots for DISTRACTIONS & CONSEQUENCES I noticed a certain object on the meadow near the street where Phil deals with his unmoving car. It looks like some sort of small cabin and is caught by the camera several times in all four sequences of the boomerang case.

More than one director of the TV series has indicated that nothing is unintentional nor a coincidence in Sherlock BBC (X X) Therefore the possibility exists that this object on the meadow, which can be seen multiple times, could have some meaning as well. This in mind, I took a closer look ..

TBC below the cut ….

1 - The first time the cabin can be seen (during Phil’s visual report of the incident) it is shown only partly. First on the left, then on the right margin of the screen. It stands on the meadow next to the street but is separated from the street by a hedgerow. Therefore it most likely has nothing to do with road maintenance. Otherwise it would be rather impractical to reach.

2 - When John arrives at the crime scene and describes his surroundings via WiFi, the cabin takes a much more central position.

3 - When Sherlock explains the boomerang case to Irene, while the camera circles round them, the cabin turns up multiple times in the background.

4 - It even stays in the frame for some time when Irene explaines the case in the final sequence, while Sherlock watches, drugged by her chemistry.

Gotten curious, because I had an idea what this ‘cabin’ might possibly be, I enlarged one of the sharper pics for a better view.

Those things can be found in various shapes and forms (some examples below) … but I think this cabin looks a lot like a container for beehives.

Of course, even if this cabin on the meadow is indeed a container for beehives, it could simply stand here anyway because it belongs to the person who owns that area and therefore it was caught on camera unintentionally. And naturally it would appear that often on screen because the scene was done by an allround shot. But then, who knows? If it really has to do with bees, I consider a coincident as rather unlikely. After all, bees and beehives are very well known to be closely linked with canon Sherlock Holmes, especially with his retirement upon the South Downs.

Bees on the South Downs

“It occurred after my withdrawal to my little Sussex home, when I had given myself up entirely to that soothing life of Nature for which I had so often yearned during the long years spent amid the gloom of London.”

“My house is lonely. I, my old housekeeper, and my bees have the estate all to ourselves.” (ACD, The LIons Mane)

---

“But you had retired, Holmes. We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs.'

'Exactly, Watson. Here is the fruit of my leisured ease, the magnum opus of my latter years!' He picked up the volume from the table and read out the whole title, Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen.”

“I shall get level with you, Altamont,' he said, speaking with slow deliberation, 'if it takes me all my life I shall get level with you!'

'The old sweet song,' said Holmes. 'How often have I heard it in days gone by. It was a favourite ditty of the late lamented Professor Moriarty. Colonel Sebastian Moran has also been known to warble it. And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs.” (ACD, His Last Bow)

A small, lonely farm upon the South Downs, the soothing life of nature, keeping bees and enjoying the honey gathered by them on blossoming fields and meadows. Maybe near a lake or stream? Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere?

As soon as I considered the possibility that the cabin on the meadow could indeed be a home for bees, I started to look at the place chosen as filming location for the boomerang case, with different eyes. What could have been the reasons for the decision to choose precisely this place? Soft, rolling hills, sometimes covered by woodland, lush green meadows, rivers, streams, small brooks and ponds are characteristic features of the South Downs. (Source of pics: Wikipedia)

The landscape where the boomerang case takes place could easily be located somewhere in the South Downs …

It doesn’t take much fantasy to imaginge that Sherlock’s little ‘retirement’ farm lies just round the bend of the street on the pic below, somewhere near that lake or stream. Perhaps there’s even a small boat at hand for occasional trips on the water. After all ... once a pirate, always a pirate. :)

Side note: according to the DVD commentaries for ASIB, the boomerang scene was filmed in a valley in Wales.

As mentioned in DISTRACTIONS & CONSEQUENCES … viewing Series One as prelude for the whole story, where the first three episodes serve as introduction (ASIP), user manual (TBB) and chapter list (TGG) … the actual story told in Sherlock BBC - the crux of the matter - would then start with A Scandal in Belgravia. Here, Mycroft tells Sherlock (and the audience) that this case is about sex. Sherlock’s appearance as well as the environment chosen for the beginning of the case …

a naked body wrapped in a pristine white sheet

a heartfelt yawn, as if just woken up from sleep

the lush green landscape of the surrounding area where the case starts

… are metaphors often used as indications for rebirth and renewal. And the boomerang case itself can be easily interpreted as a small foretaste - a teaser - of the central theme told in this episode, respectively of the whole story.

A very short summary of that case interpreted on a metaphorical level:

A load of unacknowledged desire (obesenes) linked to a certain problem (Phil/John), causes an unmoving body (car) to explode and thus leads to ‘la petite mort’ of a distracted mind (Hiker/Sherlock), who was busily playing with a resurfaced memory (boomerang) from the past (East). The great water nearby (big emotions/Eurus), joined by a small brook (sex/Rich Brook/Reichenbach/Jim Moriarty/Mr.Sex) completes this scene in a perfect way … as do the 59 orgasmic sighs/text alerts of a phone (heart) and Sherlock’s nickname ‘the virgin’ ... given to him by Mr. Sex.

Back to the bees ...

Including a container for beehives into the very beginning of a story that looks suspiciously like a metaphor for the sexual awekening of Sherlock Holmes, shot at a place which has a great resembalnce to the South Downs, is indeed a very interesting filming choice. Bees are strongly linked to the retirement of Sherlock Holmes and therefore to the end of the story.

Thus, the addition of bees into the boomerang case, creates a full circle and links the end of the story, the retirement of the original character Sherlock Holmes, to the sexual awakening of the same character at the beginning of ASIB in this modern adaptation.

And it’s not the first END from canon, which is linked to a BEGINNING in Sherlock BBC. The famous quote “Good old Watson! You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There’s an east wind coming all the same …” from His Last Bow, chronologically the last of the original Sherlock Holmes stories, is taken up partly in the Unaired Pilot of Sherlock BBC, when Sherlock calls his brand new aquaintance, whom he knows at this point only for a couple of hours … “Good, old Dr. Watson” (X).

Bees and cars ….

ASIB - an unmoving car, next to a container of beehives, makes a loud, explosive noise and as a consequence causes the death of the distracted Hiker. The man is hit by the returning boomerang, his head bashed-in.

TLD - A car moves at breakneck speed, to the strains of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. It knocks over some bins before it releases a completely drugged Sherlock from its boot. The driver and owner of the car is Mrs. Martha Louise Hudson. According to Mrs. H. this car was financed by the income of her late husband Frank, who run a drug cartel in Florida and blew someones head off. Sherlock ensured his execution. As has been noticed by a lot of people very early on, the licence plate number contains the letters APIS. APIS is Latin for bee.

The only other person who dirves this car, also at breakneck speed, is John Watson when he comes to Sherlock’s aid in the same episode. And just like Jim Moriarty in TRF, who smashes a glass pane to get to the crown jewels, John’s weapon of choice to break into Sherlock’s room (’Am I the current king of England?') … is also a fire extinguisher.

ASIB - Another car plays an interesing role, most likely a HONDA ACCORD (see pic for comparison) which is strongly linked to the red ‘APIS’ Aston Martin from TLD. Linked by the cargo carried in its boot. It’s the first car of significance in ASIB and appears on screen prior to the boomerang case. The man found in its boot is dead. The biggest mystery though is … this man shouldn’t be there at all.

‘... according to the flight details, this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat he’s got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of those special biscuits. Here’s his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead he’s in a car boot in Southwark’

Later, in the same episode, the plane crash in Dusseldorf, Germany, will turn out to be the rehearsal of the flight of the dead. The ‘maiden flight’ of ‘the dead’ never takes off though. Irene Adler is able to get to the relevant informations. She passes them on to Jim Moriarty and the criminal mastermind thwarts Mycroft’s ‘neat’ plan entirely.

In TFP, nine episodes later, Sherlock himself becomes the pilot of the ‘flight of the sleeping’ and safely lands that plane.

Sherlock Holmes baffled ...

That’s the title John chooses for the unsolved case of the dead man in the boot of the car. This title refers to a short American silent film from 1900. It’s the earliest known film which shows ACDs detective character Sherlock Holmes on screen (X). Here John’s post reaches 1895 hits before it freezes.

The case immediately afterwards is the one in the theatre where Sherlock takes the deerstalker hat from the prop room to disguise himself because of the press waiting outside. (Stalking the Deerstalker)

Then Phil’s car 'explodes’, the Hiker’s head gets bashed-in and Mycroft (RATIO) orders his brother to take on the 'sex case’.

Series Four of Sherlock BBC sets a lot of circles in motion which move backwards before closing. It’s very interesting and thrilling and it reminds me of the snake biting its tail … the ouroboros. :) (X X)

A last afterthought regarding the three linked cars and where they come from:

HONDA is a Japanese brand

SAAB is a Swedish brand

ASTON MARTIN is a British brand

Locations and directions seem to play a big role in Sherlock BBC … not to mention the EAST. Considering this, the first car is linked to the Far East, the second one comes from a place east of, but much closer to Britain and the last one is British. This reminds me of Anderson’s map, shown in MHR, and Sherlock’s supposed journey homewards, leading him from Tibet to India to Hamburg, the Netherlands and France. He travels back home from the East ... like John from Afghanistan …..

May, 2019

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.

#the cabin on the meadow #asib #boomerang case #phil #hiker #boomerang #container for beehives #cars and bees #in the boot

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yeoldenews · 6 years

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A few updates in my ongoing project to read and transcribe letters written by Rachel, a wealthy girl on the East Coast in the 1890s, to her cousin Will, a pre-Law student at Yale...

Rachel graduated from Ogontz School for Young Ladies in June of 1898, just after her 20th birthday. Despite several letters worth of detailed planning (I now know which rail and coach lines to take from NYC to Philadelphia and how much they cost) Will was not able to attend commencement. He did however send her a Yale pin she had been pining after for her birthday.

I have my personal suspicions that the pin may have also been an apology for the ‘I’m going off to war don’t tell anybody’ prank as it was apparently very expensive

The pin may have backfired slightly

“You shouldn’t have spent so much money on my pin and then perhaps you could have come here.”

One of Rachel’s most pressing concerns about the Spanish-American War is that it’s going to interfere with her plan to set Will up with her roommate (Margaret #2)

There seems to be some running inside joke that Rachel can’t buy shoes unless Will is with her

I finally figured out that Mary, who is mentioned in the letters quite often, is a young woman who was taken in by Rachel’s parents as an adolescent and is pretty much Rachel’s adopted older (11 years older) sister. Mary often serves as a chaperon for Rachel and her friends during various trips and outings.

Will is spending the summer in Europe before he starts law school and Rachel asks him to send her a postcard from Venice because “I want to know how my pigeons are.”

Rachel, Jack, Mary, ‘B’ and Margaret #1 are trying to plan their own trip to Europe for the spring of 1900. I haven’t gotten far enough in the letters yet to know whether they were successful or not.

Rachel goes to Florida with her mother and is “dying to stay” because she wants to go on the last hunt of the season with Alligator Joe.

Rachel is on a quest to see Maude Adams, but has so far been unsuccessful. “It makes me tired that I haven’t seen her.”

The “new house” which has been under construction for over two years is finally finished and seems to be impossibly full of guests at all times. “We have been having stacks of company but only have 15 in the family at present.”

I am really curious how many bedrooms this house had.

The vast majority of the letters Rachel writes between June and September are essentially 19th century phone tag trying to arrange plans for when people are coming to the house in Chautauqua.

I have also started reading letters from Rachel’s cultured globetrotting spinster Aunt Lilla.

Lilla does more interesting things in a week than I have done in my entire life.

Even when Lilla is doing nothing she is such a delightful storyteller that it still feels like an adventure.

Today I read three pages Lilla wrote about wallpaper and thoroughly enjoyed every word of it.

At least half of Lilla’s friends and acquaintances have Wikipedia pages.

I’m probably going to be talking a lot more about Lilla.

#rachel #victorian #1890s #history #stories #epistolary #lilla #venice #florida #rachel & co

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ladyofthursday · 7 years

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“Movies”

My addition to @dreamcas‘s Halloween Challenge! I chose the ‘movies’ prompt so prepare yourself for some fluffy Dean/Cas Halloween goodness (I hope!).

Rated Teen for language. Dean Winchester/Castiel - Highschool AU

(Full Disclosure: I have never seen The Shining as I also hate horror movies!)

xxx

“C’mon Cas, what’s the worst that could happen? It’ll be fun!”

Those, Castiel thinks, are famous last words.

When Dean had asked him at lunch if he wanted to come over that evening and watch scary movies, while Sam went trick or treating, Cas felt so on the spot he couldn’t think of a suitable way to say no. After all, he doesn’t really want to tell Dean that he loathes horror movies with a passion.

So, he’d just burbled, “yes, of course it will be. I’ll come round about six.” instead of thinking of some way to tell Dean the truth.

And now Cas is sitting on the couch in the Winchester’s basement and wishing that he was somewhere else. Dean’s fussing with the old TV that John gave him to put down here and asking Cas whether he has any preference at all.

“No… not really… just, um… well, you choose,” he finally mutters. He really wishes they’d been able to go trick or treating with Sam. But Sam doesn’t want their company and Dean said this would be just as fun and he wouldn’t need a costume. Still, Cas thinks, it could be worse. Dean could have dragged him to some terrible Halloween party that half his class seem to be either throwing or attending.

“Okay,” says Dean, flopping down on the couch next to him. “I thought we’d start with a classic – The Shining. You’ve never seen it right?”

“Right…” replies Castiel, his stomach sinking.

“Great!” Dean grabs the bowl of popcorn off the nearby table and hits play, bright eyes focusing in on the screen.

It takes maybe fifteen, twenty minutes for Cas to become utterly convinced that he hates this movie. His palms are sweaty, and he keeps checking his phone, desperately wishing the time would pass faster. He flicks his eyes over at Dean, who hasn’t taken his eyes off the screen once.

After another five minutes, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom in a desperate attempt to escape the dark confines of the basement. He splashes water on his face and tries to get a hold of himself before descending the narrow, creaking stairs. Perhaps, Cas thinks to himself, he could have coped with the movie if they’d watched it in Dean’s room instead of the basement. But ever since John and Mary let him clear it out and turn it into a den, Dean loves to watch movies down here, claiming it’s much quieter.

To his horror, he finds that Dean has paused the film, waiting for him to return.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he mutters, as the couch springs groan underneath him.

“Sure I did, you’ve not seen it before!” Dean says, a happy grin on his face. “What do you think so far?”

“It’s err… I… well it’s certainly nothing like anything I’ve seen before.” He twists his jumper in his hands and pulls his knees up to his chest. He desperately wishes he could say something to Dean as he resumes the movie. It’s not like Dean would judge him, they’ve known each other for years and he tells Dean everything.

Come to think of it, Cas isn’t even sure how Dean doesn’t know about his hatred for horror.

Then again, Cas isn’t even sure he had an opinion until last year when Gabriel forced him to watch all the Saw movies. He hadn’t slept properly for a month afterwards.

He tries to focus on the movie. It’s not supposed to be that scary, and he may have read the entire plot on Wikipedia in the bathroom, just so he knows what’s coming. But he’s still having a hard time watching.

He shifts nervously in his seat.

“Hey Cas, you ok?”

“Yes, of course, why do you ask?”

“Well you haven’t stopped fidgeting the entire time.” Dean turns to look at him, concern etched across his face, green eyes shimmering in the light from the screen. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Well, um, it’s just…” Cas takes a deep breath and screws his eyes shut. “I hate horror movies.”

Silence.

Cas doesn’t even dare open one eye. Then he hears the click of the TV and Dean muttering “shit, shit, shit!” over and over.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me Cas?!” He asks, and Cas can feel the warmth of Dean’s hand on his shoulder.

Isn’t that the million dollar question?

“Well, it’s just, you were so excited about it. And… um… I like it when you’re happy.” Cas can feel his face going scarlet and he opens his eyes a smidge to see Dean’s face right in front of him. They’re virtually sat in total darkness right now. There’s just the dim glow from a lamp in the corner.

“That’s, umm, that’s really sweet Cas. But, I was just happy to spend time with you! You could’ve said something!” Dean looks a little flushed himself and Cas isn’t quite sure how they ended up nearly nose to nose.

“It’s ok… please don’t worry about it Dean,” Cas says, reaching out to put a hand on his friend’s thigh. Dean’s leg is warm and firm and Cas swears he feels a tiny shudder running through Dean when he touches him.

“Yeah well, it just makes me look like a shitty friend,” Dean grumbles. “Some best friend I am!” He goes to pull away and Cas isn’t sure why, but he grabs Dean’s wrist to hold him in place.

“You’re my best friend Dean. The best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Oh.”

“And… um… I like making you happy.” Cas repeats, unsure where this flash of bravery has come from. “And I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.”

There’s silence again. The air feels a little heavier and Cas isn’t sure what to do next. He tries to think about what normally happens in films at these moments but all he can think about is creepy voices and blood.

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I, um, I like it when you’re happy. You’re really cute when you’re happy.”

“Oh.”

Cas isn’t sure what makes him do it, but he leans forward and presses his lips to Dean’s in a soft kiss. Dean’s lips are warm and dry and a little spark flashes through Castiel’s body, warming him from the bottom of his toes through to the ends of his hair. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt in his entire life.

His heart is racing again, palms sweaty against the cool of Dean’s skin. He’s still scared out of his wits, but this time it’s for a completely different reason.

When he opens his eyes again, he and Dean are barely an inch apart, staring at each other. Dean’s cheeks are flushed in the dim light and his eyes a wide, a nervous grin playing across his lips.

“So,” Dean mutters, voice low as he struggles to find the right words. “You, errr, wanna forget watching the movie? Cos, I think I’ve got a better idea, and I think you’ll like this one better.”

Cas laughs as Dean winks at him. It’s such a Dean move, and the tension dissipates like morning fog under the light of the sun.

“Well Dean, I’m intrigued… I think I’d like to hear more about this idea.”

#dreamcas halloween challenge #halloween challenge #ladyofthursday writes #spn writing challenge #supernatural #spn #fic writing #destiel #dean winchester #cas #castiel

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sarahjart · 4 years

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UNIT SIX// PROJECT: FILM// REFERENCES

Salut Les Cubains- Agnes Varda (1963)

Salut Les Cubains is a 30 min short documentary film made by Varda during her visit to Cuba in 1963. It explores Cuban society and culture post revolution. The most interesting thing about this film is that is made entirely out of a compilation of still images. They are edited together to create the illusion of movement while still retaining a jerky low-frame rate effect. This effect works extremely well when edited to match the accompanying music- to which the people appear to dance. The jumpy tone of the visuals along with the upbeat music creates a comic, light-hearted tone.

I thought the idea off using still images as frames for the film was a highly effective and original way to produce tone. However, I don’t think this would be appropriate for my work, as I don’t think it suits the darker tone I am going for.

Mechanical Principals- Ralph Steiner- 1930

Mechanical Principals is a short silent film which documents the movements of mechanical parts. We see close up how pistons move up and down or side to side and pendulums sway, but never the larger machines that they are a part of, nor what they are manufacturing.

I found the focus on single parts of machinery, in silence, forced me to think about their movements in different ways than I normally would. The longer you look, the more mesmerised you become with the rhythmic repetition of the parts, and the more you see the beauty in them- where you would usually ignore or dismiss them. I really enjoyed this technique and think that perhaps zooming in to remove context may be something I’m interested in doing for my film.

Snow- Geoffrey Jones- 1963

Snow is a short documentary film made by Geoffrey Jones for British Transport Films in 1962-1963. The 8-minute-long film shows the efforts of British Railways staff in coping with the 1963 United Kingdom cold wave. An example of "pure cinema", it was nominated for an Academy Award in 1965.- Wikipedia

This film was one of my favourites that was shown during the briefing. I thought that the gradual speeding up of both the music and the visuals shown in the film was very effective in portraying a feeling of resolution and engaging the audience in a semblance of a ‘plot’ despite disconnected images. Fast cuts were made in the editing to create a real feeling of frantic plot movement in the film. I think I am going to look at this one further and use it as close reference for my own work.

Inner Passage Excerpt- Bill Viola- 2008

In this excerpt from a video installation piece by Bill Viola, a man embarks on a psychoactive journey across the Mojave desert. The film focuses on the physical body as it confronts extremes of endurance.

I found watching this film to be quite the visceral experience. Sensory images and sounds are combined along with quick cuts and a lack of music to create a disconcerting atmosphere which you can’t help but watch. A vertical format is use- which adds to the sense of realism because the modern day brain associates it with being filmed with a phone (or I did anyway) which added to the effect. The experience of watching this film was far from comfortable, and I was very interested in just how effective the editing was as inducing a physical reaction of of the audience. I think will look closer at this one and try to use some of the techniques in my own work.

An Ecstatic Experience- Ja’Tovia Gary- 2015

Brooklyn-based Ja’Tovia Gary’s six-minute film An Ecstatic Experience (2015), fuses an account of nineteenth-century slavery in the US South as recalled by a former slave in 1937, reenacted in 1965 and reedited for the twenty-first century. Black-and-white TV footage shows the American actress, poet and civil-rights activist Ruby Dee channelling Fannie Moore (a former enslaved woman) describing the revelatory moment at which her mother declared that their enslavement was over: ‘It troubled her in her heart, to know the way we was treated.’ -https://artreview.com/features/jan_feb_2019_future_greats_jatovia_gary/

The most interesting thing about this film stylistically is the fact that lines and shapes are drawn, or seemingly scratched straight into the film, and animated around the central figure. The film is also duplicated multiple times on screen to convey points of particularly high emotion. I really enjoyed the aesthetics of the animated lines, however I’m not sure if it would be appropriate for my piece. It was pointed out in the briefing that the lines actually distract from the actress in this film, making it hard to listen to what she is saying-which is a problem when what she is recounting is a story of great emotional and cultural weight. Although I liked the lines aesthetically, I didn't think they worked that well with the film- I thought they distorted the tone too much, which I think would also be the case if I used this technique in my own work.

Way of Ozu- Kogonada- 2016

Way of Ozu is a short film by ‘essay’ filmmaker Kogonada, which examines the repeat motifs, relationships and use of space in films by the Japanese master filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu.

This is done by comparison using three separate video frames within the piece, which allows Kogonada, and the audience to view three separate Ozu films at once and directly note their similarities/differences. The footage is perfectly timed to often give a domino/transitional effect between the three frames which I thought was particularly effective.

I am really interested in this style of filmmaking and my give this style a go for my film.

Grosse Fatigue- Camille Henrot- 2013

Grosse Fatigue is a short film intended to be displayed in a gallery space, showing a dense amount of video information presented in the form of Internet browser windows opening over the top of each other to form connections between imagery. The film is based off of found footage from Google searches and so ids very similar to the archive I have been trying to create for this project.

Henrot uses quick imagery and editing to create an overload of information. I found it very interesting that she uses the format of browser windows, it almost makes the film feel interactive- like it would be something you could do on your own computer, but at the same time presents pairs of imagery that I would have never grouped, but they work perfectly. I also found the idea of layering lots of video imagery on top of each other in different sizes to be an interesting technique. I don;’t know if it is appropriate for the tone I want in my film, but even so I thought it might be valuable to my project.

Sans Soleil (trailer)- Chris Marker- 1983

During the briefinf we watched a 30th anniversary trailer for Chris Markers film ‘Sans Soleil’. The film is a feature length experimental essay piece which compiles a series of thoughts, images and scenes mainly from Japan.

The trailer played many different clips from the film through the template of the text ‘sans soleil’ as a frame- so you were viewing the film directly through the title. This was an interesting way to see the film and an excellent idea for the trailer as it keeps you constantly aware of the name of the film. The saturation/contrast was turned up on some of the clips also, giving the elements an intense effect. I have not seen colour played with in any of the other references so far, so that opened up more ideas for my own film in terms of colour correction!

Trilogies- Susan Pui San Lok- 2015

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to view this film online- I think it was shown in a gallery space only during its exhibition. However, I did read about the film on the website linked in the brief. Trilogies uses clips from various TV adaptations of The Condor Trilogy produced between Hong Kong, China and Taiwan. It condenses 400 hours of footage into 195 minutes.

Looking at pictures of the film- it was displayed in three separate frames to be viewed as a single piece- similar to the Way of Ozu by Kogonada. I think this set of three is an excellent way to display dissonate information/clips/imagery. I’m seriously considering trying this for my own work.

Apex- Arthur Jafa- 2013

Apex is a 800+ photo collage of abstract imagery which attempts to share and build on what Jafa considers vocabularies and methods central to black cultural production.

The images play in quick succession accompanied by a beat that matches the cuts between images. This makes the viewing experience rhythmic and mesmerising. The quick cuts allow the film to feel as if it is moving forward and not some much like a slide show which is an interesting effect. I’ve not seen many films made of only still images like this so it was interesting to consider this style as a possibility.

Love is the Message, the Message is Death- Arthur Jafa- 2016

Another of Jafa’s films- this one focusing on a montage of music, video clips and historical recordings to paint a picture of black experience in modern day America.

I thought this one was an excellent example of the style of film I want to make- the combination of mute videos overdubbed with a soundtrack, and videos with sound combined with the soundtrack, as well as text on screen really emphasises the montage aspect of the film. I was really inspired by this one and intend to use some of the techniques.

H20- Ralph Steiner- 1929

H20 is a seven minute silent film portraying liquid in various forms. I found it really interesting to sit and watch water in black & white in silence because it almost becomes something else. You can't attach any of the normal sensory attributes to it, and so you notice other things- like tone, reflection and movement.

Similarly to mechanical principals, which was made by the same person, I found it useful to consider zooming in on a subject to such an extent that it becomes abstract.

Actuality Picture/ The Magic Lantern- Tom Ireland- 2009-17

This film is 244 minutes long and consists of thousands of images of Saturn taken by the Cassini space probe from 2004 to 2017. The film references early cinema and ‘actuality films’ which documented everyday life.

The images from the space probe allow us to examine a single subject from hundreds of different perspectives, which is very interesting when viewed in quick succession- allowing the viewer to build up a three dimensional awareness of the planet and its surroundings in their minds. I also found it interesting that this film is said to mirror ‘actuality films’ of everyday life- these are image of space- the very opposite of everyday life, and yet they are displayed in so much detail, and in a relevantly mundane fashion, that Saturn somehow becomes everyday!

Dreams Rewired- Manu Luksch- 2015

I have only watched the trailer for this film (its feature length) but am very interested in it and will pursue watching the entire thing soon.

This film uses rare and unseen archival footage from nearly 200 films to create a montage, narrated by Tilda Swinton, to trace the desires and anxieties of todays hyper-connected world/technology.

I absolutely adore the use of interesting/unusual archival footage combined with a modern speculative message which can also be found in the old video material and becomes clear when linked in this way. This is the exact thing I will be trying to do in my own film.

I have become more interested in trying to find some archival footage for my own project after viewing this film trailer.

Arrangement Series- Jin Angdoo- 2013

In Angdoo’s series of arrangement films, objects such as books, cutlery and flowers are arranged, accompanied by classical music, to represent certain moods. The book arrangement below is ‘timid’.

I liked the simplicity and abstraction of the imagery shown in these films- and appreciated the set design which shows the artist is self-aware to the passage of time in her film. I wasn’t sure how I could pally any of these techniques to my own work however.

Miles from Anywhere- Gary Carpenter- 1997

This film, similar to both of the Ralph Steiner films I have already covered, examines surface textures in the extreme close-up. It is an exploration of environment and landscape.

I found this one easier to watch for the modern eye than the similar Ralph Steiner films because of the inclusion of temporally edited music and ambient noise. I found the textures to be hypnotic the way they are run though the film, and thought again, that seemingly ‘boring’ imagery can be brought to live through sound and editing.

Samsara- Ron Fricke- 2011

I watched the ‘food sequence’ clip from the feature length non-narrative documentary film Samsara. The films name means ‘continuous flow’ which sums up the Buddhist belief in birth, life, death and reincarnation.

I found the sequence I watched from the film, which focused on food production, specifically the meat industry, and then the consumption of the food, absolutely mesmerising. The clips of the production lines and supermarkets where sped up to show the idea of a ‘continuous flow’ of production, and really made the scale of the human food production industry to clarity.

I thought the order of clips and the pauses between sped up and normal speed ones was particularly effective in allowing the sequence to get points across about what you were seeing without being overtly obvious or needing any narration.

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