23 & French. Call me Lou if you please.Here will be an almost complete collection of things I like, from comic-books to insects. Also food and sometimes Science. But mostly superheroes. Because, dude, superheroes.
my gender is VAST and COSMIC and NEBULOUS and UNCHARTED and you expect me to check “m” or “f” ???
Every year the train fairly buzzes with bets, gold and dollar bills changing hands fast as lightning as the train pulls into Salem. Even the most cynical New York witch gets caught up in the fervent debate that rages through the compartments like a wild fire.
“I’m telling you. It was stone last year so this year it’ll be wood. Oooh, a log cabin!”
“Oh come on, a log cabin? What is this, 1818? Please. I bet it’s a gigantic apartment. I heard we’ve got more students this year than ever before.”
“Oh, gross, an apartment? I live in one of those normally, I don’t want to be there during the school year. I’ve got my fingers crossed for a big stone mansion like 1978 had.”
“Those lucky witches.”
It’s a fight out of the door of the train, dozens of students falling over themselves as they run towards the enormous gates that are the only thing that ever remains the same at the Salem Witches Institute. They reach up to the sky and mark the boundary between the magical and the mundane. From outside, all you can see is a field – standing empty and ruined. That is, if you even make this far. America is huge and wild, even after so long. There will always be hidden pockets of wilderness tucked in among even its most urban states. American wizards don’t need magic to hide away their lands. They just need enough money to buy a good plot out in the middle of nowhere. And America is practically overrun with middle of nowheres.
The first look at their school is always a sacred moment for every Salem witch and wizard (contrary to the name, it has always been a co-ed school. Both men and women died in Salem after all). A moment of stillness as they regard their home before the year begins and they submerge themselves in spells and potions and all things magical.
You see, every year the Salem Witches Institute sheds its skin and begins anew. Bricks might fall out like old teeth as wooden planks push their way out or ivy might peel off like old snakeskin to reveal gleaming stone beneath. Its first year it was a crude log cabin with just one room for all five of its students. The next year, a wooden house stood in its place. The following year, a gorgeous creation of glass and gleaming metal welcomed dozens of students trickling in from all across America as word of this bizarre, wonderful school spread. In 1876, 100 years since America declared its independence, the Salem Witches Institute looked exactly like Hogwarts. Some students were outraged, some were touched, most were confused. But as its Headmistress pointed out, no one but the school could decide what it would look like from year to year. And besides, she said with a definite twinkle in her eye as she welcomed them in, wasn’t it important to remember where we came from so we can see how very far we have come since then?
The European schools tend to look down on the Institute. Even the oldest American school is but a babe in arms next to the Great Schools of ancient Europe. Hogwarts was founded in 990 AD. America wasn’t even discovered yet.
(Of course they forget that long before a white man ever set foot on their land, Native witches and wizards were casting their own spells and teaching their children magic in smoky wigwams or under the starry skies.)
So, to them, the Institute’s changing nature is indicative of its youth. Like a teenager with a new hair cut every few weeks. It’ll settle down eventually, most European wizards agree indulgently. Everyone needs their rebellious period.
Salem witches and wizards just roll their eyes. Why on earth would you want to remain stagnant when the whole point of magic is change? Every Salem graduate knows, deep in their bones where their spark of magic resides, that magic is renewal and transformation and growth. They go out into the world knowing they can change it.
(written and submitted by rainbowrites. Rainbowrites has a tremendous ability to capture the wondrous, that spark that made canon seem so significant, even as they depart from canon and create new worlds, explore schools and perspectives only mentioned in passing. I’m always pleased to how else they’ll challenge and play with perceptions of and within the wizarding world. ♥)
Don’t diss the classics, Hate Bishop, boomerang arrow once nearly took down Iron Man.
[From Hawkeye #3, 2012 and Tales Of Suspense #64, 1965.]
sad soldier cuddle puddle
based on these tweets from earlier:
Every time an article mentions failed movies of female comic characters like Elektra, Catwoman & Supergirl, they should also mention the following:
- Batman Forever
- Batman and Robin
- Superman III
- Superman IV
- Wolverine Origins
- Spider-man III
- Green Lantern
- Superman Returns
- Ang Lee’s The Hulk
- X3: The Last Stand (mostly male cast)
- Fantastic Four (mostly male cast)
- Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (mostly male cast)
- The Spirit
Here are some generic romantic cliches that crop up in every genre. As for apocalyptic/zombie specifically…
- Psychological damage. A bunch of civilians shoved face-first into Stone Age technology and killing large numbers of humans and being forced to survive will probably not have all their donuts in a box. PTSD and depression will be common. Some may even develop DID. You need to deal with mental illness in a thoughtful, slow manner rather than brushing it aside because TWOO WUV. Also, your characters will probably be used to seeing their loved ones die, leading to a little reticence on both partners’ behalves.
- Survival. Hunting by skilled humans has a 50/50 success rate. Gathering is impossible in the winter and it won’t take long for a group of humans to strip an area bare. Moving from house to house to search for supplies is time-consuming. That’s just the food. Now add on securing a safe place for the night, lighting fires, and battling the elements. Your apocalypse couple simply won’t have a lot of time for soul-searching lovey-dovey stuff. They won’t be alone (safety in numbers) and they can’t lie in bed all day.
- Don’t be silly. Wrap your willy! (Only applies between reproduction-capable people, obviously.) Despite the 21st century’s efforts to ensure safe sex among people who can’t afford a child, protection is the last thing on every post-apoc couple’s mind. Children are clumsy, slow to learn, easily broken, and, basically, a burden. Not to mention pregnancy and childbirth would be 10000 times more dangerous without medical facilities and with the undead horde shambling along behind you. So, yeah, your couples should be worried about pregnancy and practice safe sex (which, yes, you can do without a barrier or birth control … it’s just not as effective).
- Bodies. Everyone’s going to have body hair. Everywhere. Your post-apoc lady will not have silky smooth legs or armpits or nice-looking eyebrows. I will probably kill someone if I read about another “hairless groin” in post-apoc fiction. Not to mention bathing will be infrequent (can’t get caught with your clothes off) and, unless the character is hoarding deodorant, all your smells will be au natural. Long hair is also out. Zombies can grab it and drag you towards their mouths. Practical hair will be hacked close to the skull or - if it’s long - bound very tight to the skull. There’s going to be a shortage of Abercrombie-esque bodies as well, because people are scrounging for food daily. You might have some lean muscle. Most people will be fairly thin. And not attractive thin. Brink-of-starvation thin.
- Save the Princess. This isn’t a trope specific to post-apoc, but it rears its head so often I’m going to address it again. Many times, the male hero will need to rescue his female lover from the clutches of some psychotic ringleader who probably intends to rape her. First of all, the hostage trope is dumb and sexist. Secondly, anyone who has survived the apocalypse this long isn’t helpless. Children old enough to understand what’s going on (older than 7-9) will be lethal little tyke bombs. And forget about teens or adults, especially if they have someone or something they need to defend.
Lieutenant Louise Erman of the US Army Nurse Corps throwing her Ju-Jitsu instructor Major Strom during an unarmed combat class.
The Army Nurses were put through rigiours training in preperation for the opening of the second front—Normandy—by the Allies where they would follow the landing forces to help the wounded.