#I want to draw more of Finalist now… fuck

[yisanged]

I'll probably do fine. I got all As last year and all 5s on all of my APs and research doesn't even have an exam I have to sit in for so it's really only like I have to take 4 exams which isn't much more than last year. plus it's less classes overall I was in 6 + band last year and now it's 5 + band. I'm kind of screwed for band and private lessons but whatever I was screwed last year I guess I just have to live with mediocrity and disappointing my teacher. I don't doubt I'll be ok at ACT and SAT without too much effort although I might have to give up trying for the psat/nmsqt finalist thing. we'll see. scioly should be fine I did well last year with what was hopefully a worse workload. I wanted to do speech and debate this year but we'll fucking see now I guess. Fuck. but whatever. it's fine. even if I'm miserable from school at least I'm good at school. I can't make friends I can't cook I can't do sports I can't draw I can't do shit else. all I'm good at is essays and tests so I might as well do more essays and tests. even if I had more free time it's not like that automatically means I'd be any happier. I'm pretty miserable all the time normally anyways. might as well build up that academic record cause it's all I'm good for

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Blood and sand - Chapter Sixteen

In the weeks since Luke had come here, this number of onlookers had never come to watch, and those who did were clearly between shifts—often drunk, always rowdy. Not these people. Not today.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

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Chapter Sixteen: John

At breakfast, the King declared all current remaining warriors “finalists.” There would be no wagons of new combatants today.

“Battle Royale,” announced Dennis, who seemed to know something was going on, and eyed Luke’s little group suspiciously. “And as it’s a true fight to the end, you’ll be facing the King’s champion.” For all the talk about Charlie Dowd, Luke had not yet seen him. Now, he would.

Luke knew exactly what this was: he was being given a shot. One shot to make this compromise work. He’d never felt so determined in his life.

“Battle Royale,” said John, low. “Athur, stick with me.”

“I can do this,” Arthur said, slamming his fork down and baring his teeth.

“We will do this,” John growled.

“I can help,” Arthur snapped.

“You will,” said John. “By helping Luke.”

Arthur didn’t want to help Luke. He didn’t have to verbalize it. “I can do more than that!”

“Not now, you can’t,” John growled. “Fucking fill your role.”

Arthur clenched his fists.

“We’re almost done,” said Luke, who didn’t know how to fix this, who had no idea how to calm them down. “It’ll work.”

“Dowd,” Arthur said, low.

“He’ll be free. We all will,” said Luke, who for once in his life, lied. They would be free. He licked his lips. “Take Parker with you.”

Arthur stiffened. “What?”

“If something happens to me,” said Luke.

“If something happens to you,” said John, “Parker won’t—”

“Be dead anymore,” Arthur broke in. “Yes. I know.” His voice was rough.

John growled.

Arthur bared his teeth again. “This is what’s happening. Deal with it!” he hissed.

John growled again. “A life-debt is dangerous.”

“This will satisfy requirements,” said Luke, drawing the phrase from some long-past overheard adult conversation. “I’m certain.”

Arthur snorted, then suddenly laughed. “Sure,” he said. “All right. Satisfy requirements. All right.”

The warning trumpet sounded, loud and blatting.

Luke stood and immediately had to brace on the table. His legs felt weak, his knees useless. It was fear, plain and simple. Nothing was physically wrong.

This would work because it had to. That was all. “Come on.” He headed for the door.

#

The arena was different today.

Longer, somehow, though not wider; the sand was pristine, white, gleaming, casting tiny sparkles back at the double suns. The stands were, for once, occupied, if not packed; all the guests were there, but also the entire staff of this place, from nurses to cooks, and they didn’t quite behave as sports fans might be expected. They were largely silent, muttering, and watching very hard.

In the weeks since Luke had come here, this number of onlookers had never come to watch, and those who did were clearly between shifts—often drunk, always rowdy. Not these people. Not today.

Whatever was going on might genuinely be a one-off. This was it. Their one chance.

Luke stayed at the back with his new partners. “Right. Everyone know their timing?”

“Yes,” said John.

“Yes,” said Arthur a moment later.

“You sure you can do this?” said John.

Luke hesitated. “I can get most of them,” he said. “I don’t know if I can get everyone, but I can get a lot. Then…”

“We’ll take care of the rest,” Arthur said grimly.

“And then we’re making our wish,” said John.

“Don’t you try to be a bitch about this,” said Arthur.

Luke had to trust them to be grownups. “Get ready.”

“Fuck me, there he is,” said John.

Luke peered. At the far, far end of the arena, guarding the only exit door, stood a nude man. He was muscled; tattooed runes circled his biceps, reached around his calves, covered his stomach. He carried two enormous, spiked maces, and he wore a mask—smooth and white like Hastur’s, mouthless. Two black eye-holes stared at them.

“What?” whispered Arthur. "He’s here? How does he look? Is he okay?”

“He’s… I don’t know,” said John. “He’s wearing that pallid mask.”

“Fuck,” said Arthur, low. “Luke, he’s going to see what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing?”

“Casting magic. We’re going to have to be very careful about this.”

“Hey,” said John. “That’s an idea. I wonder if you could see with the mask on now.”

“No,” said Arthur.

“But Arthur—”

“No. I might be about to die, and I won’t with that fucking thing on my face.”

John’s many limbs sagged a little, as if Arthur's hatred of the mask—the handiwork of the King—hurt John personally.

Hastur had assumed John wanted nothing to do with him, but that wasn’t the vibe at all. John had reacted badly to news that Hastur wanted to die, too, though he hadn’t exactly gone running to prevent it. This was complicated.

The second trumpet blasted, and the horde attacked itself. Attacked itself (Luke couldn’t help thinking) the way a really sick body did, going after its own cells with its own defense systems. Some held back, like Arthur and John and Luke, waiting to see who was left standing, but most did not.

A few, however, did make a run for that exit. They didn’t last long.

Luke hadn’t expected Dowd to be so fast. His bare feet dug into the sand as if he’d been born to it, and he swung his maces so quickly they were black blurs.

Luke gasped, pressed back against the wall.

Blood, brains, bone spattered the sand, the arena. Dowd calmed again, waiting, stationed in front of that door.

John grunted.

“What?” said Arthur.

“He moves like a monster,” John mumbled. “I don’t know how he’s been enhanced, but he has. Arthur… we have to do Luke’s plan. I don’t see how we can beat him without killing him.”

“We were already going to do it,” Arthur snapped.

Without warning, the horns-all-over guy—the one with multiple heads who had exploded fake Dennis—suddenly turned and ran at them.

“Watch it!” John bellowed. Arthur and John may not share a body anymore, but they moved as one, even though Arthur couldn’t see. Arthur grabbed Luke and pulled him back, and John moved in the way, meeting the oncoming charge with so much power that he grabbed, hefted, and slammed the enemy down with a bone-aching crack.

The attacker lay still.

Luke looked. Not dead. Very thoroughly concussed. Luke resisted the urge to heal, to help; he had to save every drop of everything he had for the key moment. Still, it was hard to resist.

The eerily quiet stands, the intensity of Hastur’s presence, the weirdness of Dowd’s presence—all of it combined to make insanity, to add a strange desperation to everyone there, as if… of course. Luke hadn’t been the only person to figure out that new people kept being brought in, and that this was maybe the only chance to actually win that wish. Desperation didn’t cover this mood, didn’t even come close. These beings were fighting for so much more than their lives today. They fought for that one wish.

Above the arena, above Dowd, the King in Yellow loomed, his robe billowing, brighter than both suns.

Luke steeled himself. “Steady.”

“Fuck!” said John, grabbing Luke, grabbing Arthur (“Hey!”), and taking off at a run.

The spell hit where they’d been, sizzling the white sand gray, hissing and spitting.

Luke cried out.

“What the fuck, John?” Arthur cried, tucked under numerous arms.

“Curses,” said John. “Someone’s throwing them.”

“How-ma-ny-peo-ple-are-left?” Luke said, voice unsteady as he bounced with every step.

“Too many,” snarled John, and kept moving.

Held as he was, Luke couldn’t see; he was facing the sand. The breath kept leaving him as John leaped and landed, and bodies—injured, screaming, unconscious—filled the space around John’s tentacle-feet.

Luke resisted. Closed his eyes tightly. Resisted the urge to heal.

“Almost there,” muttered John, and then suddenly dropped them both into the sand. Luke shouted as something launched over him, something John grabbed and deflected and rolled away with, snarling.

Arthur reached for Luke, and Luke grabbed him. “Stay down!” Arthur snapped, and pulled Luke close enough to shield him.

“We have to get closer to the front!” Luke shouted, closing his eyes again as booted feet spat sand in their direction in passing.

Arthur began crawling, keeping low, holding Luke to his chest.

“Left!” Luke shouted, and Arthur dodged. A hammer came down where they’d been, spraying more sand.

John came out of nowhere and ate the hammer-guy.

Ate him. Just grabbed with many limbs, held him in the air, and then… John’s hood fell back. He had a white mask like Hastur’s, exactly the same, except chipped, and beneath it opened a maw that would haunt Luke’s dreams for years to come. John bit the guy in half. Gulp.

Arthur was moving again.

Luke’s breath felt high and wheezy. Never again, he’d never fight again—

“Dowd!” warned John, and Arthur suddenly changed direction.

Luke stared up to see Charlie Dowd coming for them. His eyes behind his mask were insane, wide, bloodshot. He didn’t seem aware of his nudity, or much else, except that Arthur had come too close to the door.

There was no time left. Luke used his spell.

It was like lifting an elephant, like holding back a cargo ship with will alone, like controlling a vast and terrible storm with his hands. It reached into every single body on the arena floor, into their brains, into their circulation. Searching and finding a universal need for oxygen, though it varied; major arteries weren’t all in the same places, and oxygen requirements varied by species.

But he didn’t need specifics. He knew how to increase oxygen to the brain, to ensure extra help. So now, he cut it off.

It took precious seconds. Everything seemed to slow down, or maybe he was just skipping moments, tied to his heart beat. Blink: everyone frozen, blood drops hovering in the air. Blink: bodies falling, eyes rolled back, faces turning bad colors. Blink: the entire arena of warriors was down, scattered, gasping, most already unconscious.

They had a little air. Luke would not kill unnecessarily. And it hadn't been precise. Arthur was unconscious, too, because Luke hadn't been able to aim it, and fuck a grown man was heavier than Luke realized.

John was still conscious. That had been a gamble; he was a god, and he may breathe, but he could resist this human spell. Unfortunately, thanks to Hastur, so could Charlie Dowd.

Luke wriggled, shifted, dug his heels into the sand and struggled out from under Arthur Lester (who was snoring again). His head felt like a thousand little hooks had found it, each one sharp and yanking. He had to keep everyone unconscious. Had to.

John was doing everything in his power to just… stop Dowd from doing more damage. Luke tried to look, and his gaze and his power slid off; whatever protections Dowd had, Luke could not take him down. But looking like that, Luke could see tendrils, dark gold magic, reaching down from the King. There was no quarter given. They had to win this, for real.

Dowd got his arm loose again and swung the mace.

John took the hit, then took the mace.

Dowd growled like an animal and fully focused on John, and Luke couldn’t see what he did, but ichor flew. John bellowed in pain.

Luke stood, his head a thousand pounds, and walked toward them.

John roared. In the mostly asleep arena, it rumbled, rattled, shocked. Dowd screeched like some kind of ancient dinosaur.

Those tendrils—

Luke had one shot, and he took it. He gathered himself, ran, and leaped.

John startled badly as Luke climbed him, using those many uncountable limbs as hand and footholds, over John’s asymmetrical shoulder, until he came face-to-face with Charlie Dowd.

Luke was quick. He’d always been quick.

Dowd was quick, and wrenched his other arm free and raised his mace.

Luke was quicker, and pulled off Dowd’s mask.

Under it, Dowd was pale, gray, ragged. His lips were cracked, and his nose had been broken and not set right. His eyes—wide and insane, then wide and horrified—looked like they belonged to a man who hadn’t slept in a year.

Luke hit him with the spell.

Dowd went down like a chump, eyes rolled back.

John panted, shaking.

“Down,” hissed Luke. “They’re stirring. Get down, damn it!”

John hesitated. Looked toward Arthur.

“Down!” said Luke.

John sighed. “Don’t fuck it up,” he muttered, plucked Luke off, placed him on the sand, and then dramatically and with much flailing flopped onto his back.

And just like that Luke was the last one standing.

The arena broke into howls.

Luke turned, panting, inundated by a thousand thousand voices, and looking directly at the King in Yellow, held the mask up over his head.

[chapter seventeen] [masterpost]

[sturthepotofmadness]

A redraw of a BotBots OC (?) of the final Omnitrix, Finalist.

Why is the image so big in the post maker, the heck-

Finalist still has some messy bits and the tail doesn’t perfectly line up with the actual Omnitrix, but hey, that’s the joy of art.

[collisiondiscourse]

Man, why does it feel like the threshold for success has a time limit? I always feel like if I'm not an insanely popular artist or powerful influencer by the time I turn eighteen, then I am an utter failure and a waste of my teenage years. I think one of the biggest pitfalls of how the generation of kids today has been raised is that we've basically been socialized to think that our best achievements have to come in our youth or else they become virtually worthless.

Like... Oh? you're a talented pianist and played in front of an auditorium of hundreds at an opera house? how old were you when that happened?

A forty-seven-year-old would be met with a few impressed nods, maybe, and people congratulating them for all their hard work and experience.

A fourteen-year-old would get news articles. they'd go viral on the internet and thousands of people would be clambering over each other to sing praises of how they were blessed with such innate talent.

I get it. It's impressive, right? Because they're young and haven't had plenty of years of experience. These kids, by all means, deserve all the praise and attention for working hard to get where they were!

But that's not the case, is it? And the culture of people putting more credit for young people's achievements doesn't even fuckin end there.

Because not only does this exact same pattern happen with literally every single thing ever, even totally non-competitive hobbies like painting, it happens with such frequency that it's considered normal. Articles use age markers about successes to serve as clickbait for their articles. Cable companies start shows purely about young prodigies and how they've beaten their adult competitors. Because who wouldn't wanna hear about a ten-year-old chess champion, right?

And what's even worse is that it then becomes a competition even among young people themselves! You scroll down on a video of a pre-teen playing Winter Wind and I promise you there will be at least one asshole saying shit like "This kid is not impressive. I saw a nine year old do the same thing the other day!"

It eats away at you! It really fucking does! because we go down this stupid rabbit-hole wherein younger and younger kids get paraded around and raised to be prodigies and meanwhile here you are, sixteen, and having a panic attack because you can't go back in time and force your eight-year-old self to keep playing the violin. It's stressful. It aches. Instead of bringing up younger people around us, we're stuck in this miserable zone where we constantly get compared and pitted against each other because we couldn't "maximize our childhood".

Isn't it enough to just... exist?

There have already been many conversations on the nature of college. How it's utter BS that people have to choose what career they want for the rest of their lives as early as junior year in HS. But what a lot of people don't talk about is just how early people are forced to decide what hobbies they want to do for the rest of their lives. People who start learning how to play an instrument at 28 can't do so without constantly being questioned why they started so late. A drawing with decent coloring garners more credit and attention for the average tween than the struggling middle-aged woman, despite both having an equal amount of experience with visual arts.

Parents constantly tell their children to study harder, to practice more--to just keep on work, work, working until their children become the perfect model dolls they use flex to one another over brunch. It's constantly having your name be followed up by your latest achievement and not anything about who you are as a person.

"This is Codi. She is a straight-A student and got invited to compete at Harvard."

"This is Codi. She is on her school's math team and knows how to play the piano."

"This is Codi. She is--"

I am a human being, thank you.

It's never "This is Codi, and he loves fashion and losing at video games." or "This is Codi, and he likes listening to annoying pop songs from the early 2010s and laying down in the rain."

Why? because none of that matters! None of that is worth listening to because anything less than what I can do to represent my family, my school, my team, my country will never be anything more than a waste of time. It's toxic, how today's generation of teenagers have to be celebrities or important figures or champions or prodigies before they are people.

It gets worse, though.

People start counting your talents like tally marks for points. You can't "just be an artist" anymore. If you draw, then you also have to be good at writing. And poetry. And graphic design. And a sport. Oh, you only know one language? Oh, you've only learned the basics of the guitar? It's like a fucking marker, ticking off boxes to determine the worth of these teenagers on the marketability of their achievements.

And, okay, it's a misrepresentation to only blame parents, right? Because it's a systematic thing. A new societal expectation for kids to be the next fucking Renaissance--with peer pressure for things like relationship experience and wild stories too. We kids now worry about not being special enough, not phenomenal enough, or beautiful enough, or talented enough, or smart enough, or experienced enough. And it's weird!

It's weird how teens now flex how tired and burnt out they are! It's weird how I've had conversations that turned into competitions of how many bullshit responsibilities we have on our plate. It's weird how I've met kids on the honor roll that are so adamant to prove to people that they've gone to parties, had alcohol, and slept around.

It's a goddamn tragedy, watching so many of my peers turning into burnouts before they've even graduated high school.

We are expected to be the most. If that one singer could do it, if that one global warming activist could do it, if that one Olympic athlete could do it--then why can't you? Why can't you have over 20.7k followers on Twitter? Why can't you have started your own band and release a popular album? Why can't you have published your own book by now? Why can't you be good enough?

I sit here, typing away at this stupid post and being unhappy and feeling like I am not good enough. I am an artist. I am a writer. I speak more than one language and play more than one instrument. I used to be a straight-A student and nationally competed in maths and sciences competitions. I am an international finalist for my sport and have multiple gold medals from foreign countries.

Yet still, I feel like my timer is running short.

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 12- Your Mother's Daughter

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Warning for canon typical violence

Masterlist Kofi

Bakugo’s text apology, believe it or not, was more eloquent than the one he offers in person but you appreciate the gesture and the brief hug he gives you when he realizes you’ve been crying. “It’s fine dumbass, you made it to the finals now just give it your all,” he huffs. Kirishima also pulls you into a hug, much longer than the one Bakugo had given you, and spends the whole time giving you a motivational speech about how incredibly cool and manly you are and how sure he is that you’ll do even better in the finals. You really are lucky to have the friends that you do. Especially since you anticipate the crowd is about to sour towards you.

All too quickly it’s time to return to the stadium where Principle Nezu is waiting on a raised platform with a box filled with slips of paper with bracket placements on them. The energy in the stadium is electric as the crowd anxiously waits to see what the bracket will be. It’s different than with the first years, where everyone’s an unknown. The crowd recognizes most of the names now from news reports and hero rescues. Dyed hair could only hide you for so long. “We will now call up the finalists one at a time to draw lots for the bracket!” Nezu announces. One by one you hear others around you getting called up. Bakugo, Midoriya, Shoto, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Denki, Sero, Hitoshi Shinso, Neito Monoma, Tokoyami, Iida, Uraraka, Jiro, Ibara Shiozaki and Itsuka Kendo all get called to roaring cheers and applause. That’s 15 names. The little fucking rodent had left you for last. Probably likes the idea of the dramatic reveal. “And last but not least, our 16th finalist (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Nezu calls and it’s like the air is sucked from the room as the crowd gets quiet and then starts murmuring to themselves. You keep your head held high as you walk to the stage even as you notice some of your classmates staring at you and the members of class b whispering. You take the last remaining lot with your head held high, throwing a wink at a nearby camera to further show them their displeasure won’t deter you.

You feel the stares of your classmates as you walk back down the stage. It’s them you really care about in all honesty. 3A had been nothing but kind to you since your arrival and it would hurt a little for their friendship to sour (you’re definitely not thinking about someone in particular at that statement) but before anyone can say anything Bakugo and Kirishima are standing next to you protectively. Kirishima links his arm through yours. “Come on, let’s head to the stands while we wait for them to start the first match,” Kiri grins at you. You give him a grateful smile and are pleasantly surprised when the rest of class a seems to fall in line behind you. None of them look at you any differently, there’s no shift in the atmosphere or added tension. Even as you can feel the glares of the crowd on your back, your new friends shield you from it until you’re in the safety of the tunnel and heading up to the stands.

“You and (y/n) stopped talking about 10 years ago right?” Midoriya asks Shoto as they walk at the back of the pack of class A students. “Yes,” Shoto confirms. “So that’s about when Black Storm was-“ “Yes.” “So Endeavor made you stop talking to her so you wouldn’t be associated with Black Storm.” “Basically.” “Jesus.” Midoriya places a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. Shoto briefly acknowledges the gesture but says nothing as everyone settles into their seats. Nezu then begins to explain the rules of the last game. It’s essentially a wrestling match, the whole stadium is fair game and you win if you can pin your opponent for five seconds or completely immobilize them. Injuries are fine but take it too far and Eraserhead and Cementoss will shut it down. You nod along as the bracket is projected onto the monitors. Your first round is with the Neito Monoma kid, you don’t know much about him, just that the mere mention of his name has Bakugo growling “You better beat that fucking extra.” “Like I’d get eliminated in the first round,” you scoff back, confidence starting to build again as your classmates continue to support you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy with a large shock of purple hair and bags for days under his eyes leaning down to wave at you. You hear Denki yelp and nearly fall out of his chair nearby but ignore it. “(Y/l/n) huh?” he asks, a slight smile. “Yea. Problem with that?” you ask. “Not at all. Villain quirks gotta stick together right?” he smirks as he offers his hand. “I’m only half villain quirk but sure,” you smirk but then you freeze, eyes glazing over before you can reach to take his hand. He smirks back at you as your hand moves to shake his without your permission. You find yourself reaching for your phone, it unlocking once it recognizes your face, and then going to your contacts before plugging in a new number. You snap back to awareness a little stunned, looking between the new contact in your phone and the baffling boy with the mind control quirk who’s currently walking away. “If you wanted my number you could’ve just asked like a normal person!” you call after him. Unbeknownst to you, Shoto watches the entire interaction with barely concealed jealousy.

It’s not long before it’s finally time for your first match. The others had briefed you on Monoma’s quirk, warning you about his copying ability. “Can he copy a quirk if he doesn’t know you have it?” you ask curiously. “I don’t know actually. Most people don’t have two quirks you know, although I don’t necessarily see how it would help?” Kirishima offers with a shrug, having already made it through his first round and into the table of 8. “Trust me, I have a game plan,” you assure him. “See you guys on the other side,” you tell him as you walk down to the tunnel to wait for them to announce your entrance. “And on our left, here she comes. Ready to blaze her own trail and show the whole world that she is more than her name, it’s (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Present Mic’s voice booms over the loud speaker as you walk into the stadium properly. The crowd boos and you must admit it stings a little but you aren’t entirely unaccustomed to the negative attention. Your eyes wander over to the section where your friends are. Bakugo gives you a nod as Denki, Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Jiro scream and cheer for you, their bodies half over the railing. They can’t drown out the rest of the stadium but they’re trying to and that warms your heart. You grin at them before locking eyes back on your opponent, stepping up to the start point they’ve indicated. “START!” Present Mic’s voice booms and immediately you lunge forward, drawing shadows into your palm before pushing them forward to race towards Monoma.

You’re not shocked when Monoma counters with shadows of his own, knocking yours away, but you can’t help but grin when you notice he’s producing shadows from both of his palms instead of just one. “I should’ve recognized you had Daddy’s quirk the minute I saw you during the qualifying rounds,” Monoma needles and you know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you but you can’t help how your temper starts to flare. He may be using your quirk but he’s clumsier with it, the result of picking it up for the first time now versus your years and years of experience. You send forward another burst of shadows making sure to get your left hand caught in the blast so it looks like both are doing the work. As Monoma clumsily sends forward his own to redirect yours you close the distance in, sweeping his legs out from underneath him. He quickly rolls before you can try to pin him down and you just barely manage to dodge the kick he’d aimed at you in retaliation. “You were there weren’t you? The day your father went rogue,” he taunts. You suck in a harsh breath allowing him an opportunity to lash out at you again and you wince a little at the sharp sting it leaves on your cheek where he’d managed to cut you with your own quirk. Your first instinct is to heal it but you hold off. Not yet. It’s not time to reveal your hand yet. “How the fuck do you know that?” you grit out before lashing out at him harder and faster. He extends both palms out, shadows flying forward to counter your own and as his hands retract you can see black crawling up his arms. Good. Your plan is working. “Oh the little daddy daughter field trip was all over the news sweetheart, we all know you were there to watch the carnage. Why do you think no one trusts you?” Monoma taunts. He fires off both palms again but this time instead of dispersing the shadows you raise both your hands, again feigning that both are doing the work, you push back against his, the shadowy energy growing and growing as you’re both slowly pushed backwards by the force of it. You hold strong though even as more and more black veins crawl up your right arm and your forearm begins to burn with the pain. You can hear Monoma grunting in pain on the other side so you kick it up a notch, fighting through your own pain until finally he breaks. He releases with a gasp, hunching forward with the pain. He looks up expecting to see you in a similar state but instead he finds you glowing as you stride towards him, the black veins rapidly fading as the light you radiate chases them back. Once you're in front of him he barely has any time to react before you deck him across the face, knocking him to the ground. You put one foot on his chest to keep him down, increasing the strength of your healing quirk just so that you’ll glow a little more brightly as you lean down to look him directly in the eye. “I may be my father’s daughter,” you start as the monitor counts down five seconds, “but I’m also my mother’s.”

The countdown finishes and an airhorn blares to signal your victory. You turn away from him, leaving him gaping at you like a fish on the ground as you walk back to the tunnel. The booing of the crowd that follows you out is music to your ears.

As far as you’re concerned? They can die mad about it.

A/N: Ngl I made Shinso so smooth in this one I was like alternate route? 💀 But n o lmao this is Shoto’s fic. OH ALSO we got even more about what happened when (y/n) was 8! I love mixing in her lore, I've actually had the very basic idea for her backstory and potentially where I’m going to take this fic after the sports festival arc since when I first started watching the show. The fight with Monoma in particular has been plotted out literally since I watched the final exam arc I think back when I was primarily a Todoroki simp oop so it's been really fun for me to get to write it here considering I never thought it would be a concept that left my head.

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @mindofess @todoplusultra @oliviasslut

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And so preparations for the final event begin! Let’s see if these being one on one matches helps me get through them a bit faster when I’m not having to transcribe quite so much action all at once.

[No. 32 - Smile, Prince of Nonsense Land!]

Another character profile to start out with! (I swear I’m gonna have to make a post compiling these once we’ve gotten all of them for class 1a… maybe run a comparison with the end of chapter profiles? Eh shrug.)

I swear, my instincts say that something that that tail should not be as flexible as it is because of its circumference. I know, I know, quirks, freaking magic, don’t think about it, but still. It’s a very straightforward quirk with a surprising amount of utility, and he makes full use of it. Good for him! Now, onto the chapter proper.

Kirishima is pretty hyped for a tournament, thinking about how they’ll be up in ‘that ring he sees on TV every year.’ Mina asks him if it was a tournament last year as well, but Sero’s the one to answer - the format’s always different, but most years involve some kind of head to head competition. (Apparently the year before theirs involved foam sword fighting, and now I’m incredibly disappointed we didn’t get to see that for this sports festival finale… would have been absolutely hilarious.)

Midnight holds up a box of lots, saying that match-ups will be decided by drawing lots. Once that’s done, they’ll move on to the festivities and then the tournament itself. It’s up to each of the sixteen finalists whether or not they participate in the fun, since she figures some of them would rather take a breather and save their strength. 

She starts to call for the first place team to draw lots, but Ojiro raises his hand, calling for her attention. He then states that he’d like to drop out, much to the shock of the others. Someone (I think Kirishima?) asks him why, since this is his chance of being noticed by the pros. Ojiro stats that he has no memories of the cavalry battle or anything that happened in it up until the tail end. And it’s probably his quirk that did that. 

Ohh, ominous. And Izuku’s really concerned for Ojiro here. Ojiro states that he knows this is a great opportunity, and he knows it seems stupid to throw it away, but this final turnament… everyone else made it with their own strength. But he’s standing here and he doesn’t even know how or why. He just can’t take it. 

Hagakure says that he’s thinking about it too hard, and that he can just show what he’s made of in the tournament. Mina agrees, saying that by that logic, she shouldn’t really be here either. Ojiro starts crying, hiding his face in his hand as he shakes, explaining that he’s talking about his pride here. He doesn’t think it’s right. (He also has no idea why the girls are dressed like that. Really, the entire cheerleader gimmick seems a bit… awkward, here.)

Izuku has no idea what to say. But class B’s Nirengeki does - kind of. He admits that he can’t remember anything either, so he wants to withdraw as well. This is a contest of skill, so letting someone who didn’t do anything advance… doesn’t that defeat the whole point of the sports festival? Isn’t it against the rules?

Kirishima starts to tear up, calling the two manly. Up in the booth, Present Mic announces the strange turn of events, while Aizawa wonders what Midnight, as the coordinator, will decide. Midnight’s ruling?

She likes it. The two are allowed to withdraw. Aoyama puts a hand on Ojiro’s shoulder and promises to win it for him. 

Midnight tells the kids that replacing the two will be members of team Kendo, who took fifth. Kendo replies that if it’s gonna be like that, then shouldn’t it be team Tetsu instead? Her team was immobilized pretty much the whole time, while team Tetsu were giving it their all to keep what they had until the very end. She then hastens to assure that they aren’t colluding or anything, it just feels right.

Tetsutetsu is in tears by the gesture. After a brief transition, it’s decided that Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki will join the finalists, bringing the number back up to sixteen. And with that, the match-ups can be drawn!

Izuku notes that if he wins his first match, his second’s gonna be against Shouto. Which I feel is very rude of him to just entirely discount the possibility of Sero winning the match. I mean, it’s an honest assessment, but STILL. Rude. Anyways, before his match with Shouto, he still has to face off against Shinsou, who has to be-

And speak of the devil, there’s the guy in question. He wants to know if he’s Midoriya Izuku, which startles Izuku. Izuku recognizes him from the declaration of war two weeks back. He goes to respond, only to be cut off by Ojiro’s tail over his mouth. Shinsou huffs and turns t head away, while Ojiro warns Izuku not to answer him. 

We get a few other reactions from some of the other students: Shouto contemplates how his match with Izuku will be sooner than expected, and that he wants Izuku to bring his best before he takes him down. Katsuki wonders out loud who Uraraka is, which startles an eep out of her, possibly for using her actual name. Mei approaches Tenya, chucking as she starts to ask him something. And Present Mic announces that they’re setting aside the tournament for the time being, and getting on with the thrill-a-minute festivities. 

There’s a few snapshots of what everyone is up to over the course of the side events: some of the non-finalists racing massive balls (probably rubber?) around the inside perimeter of the stadium, Ojiro talking to a stressed out Izuku, Tokoyami napping in a tree, Tenya drinking five (5) cans of orange juice, Katsuki doing… something, Shouto crouched down resting somewhere outside the stadium, and finally some students searching for items on the cards they were given. Oh, right, and the girls are doing cheerleader stuff, with Hagakure being the most enthusiastic, and Jirou and Momo as the least. 

Honestly, with that jump, Hagakure is either buff as heck, or Ochako is lending her a hand. 

While all this is happening, Izuku is narrating how some people preferred to psych themselves up, while others tried to relax. Everyone was dealing with it differently. And before they knew it, the time had come.

We come back into the narrative as Cementoss is just finishing up crafting the battle platform from scratch, which is honestly incredibly impressive. I guess his manipulation of cement includes being able to dry it out super fast. And really, with how it looks, he’s just showing off. Especially with those torches, like, those can’t have been made from cement. Were they just put there and the cement set around them? Did he use the cement to manipulate them into place? I have questions, sir.

As I said, showing off just a touch. 

Present Mic thanks Cementoss before asking the crowds if they’re ready. He talks about how the students have been through hell to get here, but now it’s time for the one-on-one tournament! They’ll only have themselves to rely on. Even if someone isn’t a hero, that saying holds true! You know it! Spirit, technique, strength, wisdom, and knowledge! Use them all and show us your best!

...They’ll only have themselves to rely on, even applied to non-heroes? Uh, wow. Talk about the underlying 𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓮𝓼 showing up here. I honestly can’t help but think that Izuku’s issues with heading off alone in the current manga arc has less to do with emulating All Might, and more absorbing all these small asides and comments from all the staff of UA. Which is fucking 𝕪𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤.

Anyways, while Mic’s doing his thing, Izuku is trying to calm himself before his match, only for Toshinori to come up to talk to him. He notes how it took a while, but Izuku’s finally getting the hang of using One For All, and gives Izuku a wonky thumbs up. Izuku is surprised to see his mentor there, but also corrects him - he doesn’t really have a hang of it, he’s still uneasy. He brings up his microwave visualization thing, and how he’s been trying to recall when he launched it at the villain, but it still feels dangerous. As if he could fall apart if he loses focus for a second, and, well, it’s like Toshinori saw. Given the level his body is at, even when Izuku controls it, it only gives a small boost in power. 

Toshinoir thinks on it for a bit, before reminding Izuku about that talk about giving it between zero and a hundred. As Izuku is now, heis body’s capable of about five percent. Izuku considers that, thinking that if it’s like that, then he’s just gotten lucky with everything. Toshinori gives him a few thwacks on the head and neck, telling Izuku that that’s because he’s always been trying his hardest, calling him a prince of nonsense. He also chides Izuku, saying he’ll never be a hero looking so mopey.

While Izuku recovers from the assault, Toshinori tells him to listen, before stating that especially when Izuku is feeling worried or scared, that’s when he needs to smile. Izuku’s come this far, so show some bravado, even if it’s fake. To punctuate this, Toshinori swells up into All Might, giving him another thumbs up. And I guess it kind of works as motivation, since Izuku seems less stressed?

Anywho, we finally get into the first match! Present Mic announces the two, with Izuku getting a comment about his making a weird face despite his good performance, and Shinsou getting a comment about not having done anything to stand out yet. The rules are simple - win by knocking out your opponent, immobilizing them, or getting them to say ‘I give up!’ Bring the pain! Recovery Girl’s on standby. And fight dirty if you must! ‘Ethics’ have no meaning here!

...this explains why Shinsou immediately went for such a low blow. 

Anywho, Cementoss makes himself a seat to watch from, so as to be prepared to stop the match at any time. Present Mic clarifies that going for the kill is a big no-no and will disqualify you, because a true hero’s fists fly only when in pursuit of villains. 

Shinsou starts talking, contemplating the ‘I give up’ option before asking Izuku if he gets it? That this battle’s going to test his strength of will. If you have any kind of vision for your future, there’s no sense in worrying about how you get there. Like that monkey, babbling about his stupid pride. 

Wow is Izuku pissed. Present Mic announces the start of the match as Shinsou rhetorically asks what kind of dumbass throws away a chance like this. Izuku rushes forward furiously demanding to know what Shinsou just said - only to stop dead. Shinsou calls it his win, while in the stands, Ojiro is stressing out, tail flailing as he snaps at how he’d warned Izuku about this. Toshinori is waiting at the entrance to the stadium, confused. 

Present Mic asks what’s wrong, the battle’s just started, show some spirit! Mere seconds into the match, Izuku is frozen in place?

And we end the chapter on that cliffhanger. What an introduction to Shinsou, and we have more to go in the next… one or two chapters, can’t recall. 

Anywho, see y’all next time for spooky quirk shenanigans! Can’t believe our first ghost sighting is about to happen. Fricken love ghosts.

[smorgasbordofobsessions]

liveblog: yugioh! s501-506

ep501

it's hysterical how rebecca is infatuated with yugi but yugi is like ????????????

everyone realized that they can't get home since no one booked a return flight from san fran haha

rebecca is jealous of tea haha

HELL YEAH A NEW KAIBA DUELING TOURNAMENT!

kaibaland has been built! and it's about to open!

kaiba in a white suit!!! ohwow he looks good

"the kaibacorp grand championship" ohriveting

what the fuck is up with mokuba's voice? puberty?

"you think kaiba would have the decency to come and ask us himself?"

um... kaiba? ask????? ask dweebs he can't really stand but puts up with when the world is in danger?? that kaiba?? yeah okay

HWAT

KAIB'AA NOT GONNA DUEL IN HIW OWN TOURNY???

who is this pink-haired dude

that you know BECAUSE he has - a french acent?? no german apparently???????? - pink hair and is into flowers he's a douchebag of epic proportions

oh so they have an computer dueler

this dumb kid got rid of all his magic and trap cards so he could get more dragon monster cards dummy

ep502

real talk: kaiba needs MUCH better cyber security because this is the econd? time someone has hackd his shit, and that's not conting rebecca right now to "find" the problem

ohmygod crying children no shut up

but you knwo what - this is gonna be a good duel just to see how ou can win with a deck full of monsters

"see to it that the swimming pool is filled with milk"

honestly though some cards need to only have one special effect and call it a day

wow not even one turn in and yami's down to 800 life points

"your deck is strong" "how?" "because it has heart"

"i'll take good old-fashioned brains over microchips any day"

"heart of the underdog" - if one draws a monster from their deck, they can draw another card (repeating)

oh hahahahahaha this is funny because the WHOLE DECK!! is monster cards

yami acting embarrassed is just.. so fucking cute ohmygod

ahh he instantly switched with yugi when put in a tight spot ha

kaiba literally flew to help save mokuba

PLEASE BRING BACK THE DOG JOKES!!!!

"anyone who's late for registration is immediately disqualified. mokuba, make sure wheeler is late"

WOW YUGI YOU'RE A STUD

zigfried

"i don't care who you are, you show some respect if you wanna stick around"

what the fuck is this lineup of duelists this is honestly hysterical

"it's joey wheeler! our overwhelming underdog!"

comedy

wow yugi's grandfather is part of the duel!

oh wow!!! so the finalist is gonna duel yugi! cool!

ep503

we have a new opening and please i am begging to see more tan!yami like i want to be flooded with that image only

"i need some female friends"

yugi knows leon on sight but couldn't tell you about anyone else

yugi wants yami to take over this public speaking role

sto phe's so precious

thank you kaiba for being dramatic as fuck!! and entering the stadium from dropping out of a helicopter and using a jetpack!!! to land

kaiba letting everyone know that this isn't some kumbaya duel! this is "a battlefield! so trust no one!"

kaiba is o smart and i hope that people don't talk shit about him

"the doctor is in! i guess you should've eaten tour apple today, because this doctor is here to stay."

stop

ep504

i actually want yugi's grandfather to win because i think it'd be fun

why the fuck does joey need to be number one?

oh wow i actually forget about the fact that joey has consistently not won any of the competitions he's been in hahaha

been so caught u in saving the world hat he couldn't win haha

"i'm wide open!"

ep505

i want my back to craaacckkk

"self-proclaimed child genius"

so is this duel gonna be about yugi's heart

what's funny is that rebecca is into yugi but vivian is into yami

lackluster duel

kaiba doesn't trust pink dude and i'm pretty sure it's because he knows that pink-haired dudes are douchebags

i don't know how it is in japanese, but i do admire the dub's committment to the aesthetics of everyone's character

the dedication to making bug jokes, or themed insults and sayings is actually commendable

pig dude won against weevil and rex in one turn

ep506

"don't touch the suit" "oh i'll touch more than that!"

"no one insults my fashion sense and gets away with it!"

joey is soooo fucking amped it's crazy

tea's flat tone literally made me choke

yugi finally letting him feelings out bless him

he just wants to play a regular tourny without high stakes!!

this german accent kills me

every time i see duke i just want to see more dungeon dice

the animation is a bit poor

[eiriee]

I posted 1,175 times in 2021

123 posts created (10%)

1052 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.6 posts.

I added 178 tags in 2021

#paradise lost - 38 posts

#the forbidden game - 32 posts

#chuck tingle - 20 posts

#medabots - 15 posts

#ohhc - 14 posts

#rdr2 - 12 posts

#pokemon - 12 posts

#lj smith - 12 posts

#ouran high school host club - 12 posts

#eurovision - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#specifically this version on a harp before destroying the harp in case the other demons realised he had any emotions other than revenge

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Is Jenny Indian? She dressed up in a batik beaded vest and a tissue-linen blouse, which is a material saris are often made from. Plus she expected her parents to be cooking with sesame oil.

Jenny is described as having honey blonde hair, forest green eyes, and eyebrows like "decisive brush strokes", traits Indian people can definitely have. "Cypress eyes and sun-glowing skin". "Everything about her was golden, even her skin."

It would also fit, imo, with her immediate fear the guys in the rougher Eastman Avenue part of town were out to get her if she was used to experiencing some trouble like that.

Also she's friends with a black girl and another girl raised in Hong Kong who speaks fluent Cantonese, both people unlikely to be in the super-popular crowd at an American high school due to racism/xenophobia and so perhaps more likely to be friends with other outsiders.

Plus, Jenny is very concerned (in the beginning of The Hunter) with being good enough for her "wonderful" boyfriend Tom, who does very well in sports and so is likely part of a popular crowd she is not in

13 notes • Posted 2021-01-23 18:48:56 GMT

#4

“I want you to fuck me,” I demand. “I need that cargo ship dick up my tight ass.”

- Two times Hugo Award finalist Chuck Tingle

15 notes • Posted 2021-03-28 08:07:29 GMT

#3

Julian is described as having hair "cropped close at the sides, long in the back and so long over the forehead that it fell into his eyes" in More Games.

He either has an undercut, a mowhawk...or a mullet with a fringe!

20 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 22:14:51 GMT

#2

Sometimes self-care is buying yourself a new Chuck Tingle.

"The Billings Buckaroos are in rough shape. After winning games all season, this notorious football team suffers a series of terrible injuries, and due to a technicality in the rulebook, they’re forced to use the stadium groundskeeper as a stand in. Coach Rick knows that without a new player, they’ll never make the playoffs, but they can only draw from people who already work or live at the stadium.

One night, however, Coach Rick has an encounter with phantom mothman quarterback, Pete Mobino, an encounter that will change his team, and his heart, forever. Pete Mobino is a legend and he just so happens to haunt the stadium that Rick can draw players from.

Now these two trans sports icons are doing everything they can to fight through the playoffs and make it to the Super Bowl, drawing on a hardcore superstition that always seems to win the game.

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on phantom mothman quarterback action. It features two proud trans men who do not experience any dysphoria regarding their genitals."

26 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 18:27:56 GMT

#1

Julius Caesar has been dead for 2065 slutty, slutty years

77 notes • Posted 2021-03-15 19:21:32 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[radramblog]

Every Boros Commander, Part 1

Every one of these rambles is going to be longer and nerdier than the last, I guess. We’ll see how long I can keep that up for.

If you aren’t or haven’t been at least a casual fan of Magic: The Gathering, this post is going to be completely lost on you, sorry.

Oh also I’m having to split this in half since it took basically all afternoon to write and its still juuuust not done.

Boros gets a lot of shit for being bad and having bad generals for EDH until recently, and seeing as its my favourite two-colour pair I felt like exploring, well, every option we have for the combo. I’m excluding the new Commander Legends partner commanders in this, since I don’t have all day, and I’m also not covering Akiri and Bruse Tarl since no-one ever builds just Boros with them, and I’m not including 3-5 colour decks that just happen to have red and white in them. That’s not Boros.

Boros’s strengths are in manipulating combat, in tokens, and with Voltron strategies. It is the best pair for Equipment decks and top tier for Aggressive decks, to the point of being arguably shoehorned by WOTC into such strategies for a long time. Its weaknesses are mostly to do with card draw and ramp, possibly the most important things in a casual game of Commander, but the former is alleviated by many of red’s recent card draw options and the latter easily supplemented with mana rocks- if you have enough money, any deck can have good ramp, but enough budget options exist these days that it isn’t too bad even for the “worst colors”.

Anyway, enough beating around the bush lets get into this. Going in Chronological order.

Agrus Kos, Wojek Veteran (29th most played as of writing)

…It seriously took until Ravnica to get a legendary RW creature? Heinous. Cool as Agrus is as protagonist of the Ravnica novel, his card simply does not hold up in 2021, let alone beforehand. He’s a Glorious Anthem style commander, except he works best only with creatures that are both red and white, and not nearly enough cards produce multicolored tokens for him to boost. Oh, also he’s a 5 mana 3/3 with no protection or evasion that has to attack to get his effect. Save it for the novel.

Razia, Boros Archangel (30th most played as of writing, the last place finalist)

Speaking of Ravnica. Razia is fucking cool, between the art and unique, if underwhelming, activated ability. She is also 8 mana and not green. She is the only commander to my knowledge that can redirect damage to opponents’s creatures, so if that’s the deck you want to build, go for it, though enjoy the distressingly small cardpool. God, they couldn’t have given her an extra power, could they?

Brion Stoutarm (6th most played as of writing)

Brion is the first actually viable commander of the bunch, being a pretty decent head to either a Fling deck with Ball Lightnings or Acts of Treason, or just Giant Tribal with his Lorwyn compatriots. I don’t think I’ve ever seen or played against Brion yet, but I’d be interested in doing so. Having lifegain in the command zone with a deck that likes throwing damage around is pretty nice. It’s surprising that he’s still so high, especially considering EDHREC (my data source) only now pulls from the last 2 years of decks, but I’m certainly not sad to see him there.

Jor Kadeen, the Prevailer (19th most played as of writing)

Spoilers: Jor is actually the best Anthem commander. +3/+0 is huge, and when most of your ramp and some of your draw is artifacts you’re not going to have a hard time getting metalcraft. 5 mana is a fair chunk for an aggressive deck but he turns the damage output up enough notches that I think he’s pretty good. Underrated in my opinion. How are there more Tajic, Legion’s Edge decks than Jor Kadeen decks?

Basandra, Battle Seraph (24th most played as of writing)

Basandra is the head of my current Boros deck, being a pillowfort/combat manipulation deck. She’s, uh, not ideal in that even, since she stops even you from casting removal and such during combat. Having an extra must attack effect in the zone is nice, though, and a flying commander can be nice for closing games out. Basandra at least has the gift of being fairly open-ended, but also, she doesn’t really do anything, so that’s probably got something to do with it.

On a side note, fuck you Terese Nielsen for turning out to be a cunt. No-one else seems to have drawn this character, so I can’t even make an alter. Fuck.

Gisela, Blade of Goldnight (10th most played as of writing)

Gisela has a lot of very attractive words on her. Unfortunately, 7 mana and that ability means that as soon as you drop her out of the zone, you better use her quick because she isn’t sticking around long. Obviously lends herself to group slug or Earthquake decks, but the former paints an even bigger target on your head and the latter is even mana hungrier than normal. I prefer her in the 99.

Aurelia, the Warleader (5th most played as of writing)

Aurelia was the “best” Boros commander for a long time, and it’s easy to see why- haste and an extra combat trigger add up to a lot of damage very quickly and it’s not like there was much competition for a while. She’s actually the only one of the top 5 Boros commanders that wasn’t printed in the last 5 years, so I guess she’s stood the test of time, much like Brion.  I’d argue she’s pretty boring though, seeing as she has the one thing she does, but she does it well and there’s no faulting her for that. She’s the closest we have to r/custommagic’s favourite “double combat triggers” legend. A lot of people seem to run her as Angel Tribal too, which of the available Angels in the zone I’d argue that’s a pretty good shout. The Red/Boros Angels are fun!

Tajic, Blade of the Legion (20th most played as of writing)

The first on this list I’d consider playing as Voltron, Tajic’s first card is indestructible which as a former Sapling of Colfenor player is fucking excellent in the zone for when you have to play defensively. He does, however, require other creatures in the deck to truly shine, and you do have to have those creatures attack, so it can be awkward to get the most out of him. He’s a cool dude though, much better than his other card imo.

Anax and Cymede (23rd most played as of writing)

The first draft I ever played was a Born of the Gods draft in which I splashed Anax and Cymede. Clearly, I had no idea what I was doing. Anax and Cymede look a lot like Tajic in deck, to be honest, since they’re creatures that like having buffs but also want other creatures around to benefit. Heroic is kind of an awkward requirement, however, and I suspect you’d be spending more time just having it as a buff for the royals themselves. Its nice to see a loving married couple as a Magic card, though, I’m sure things will be good for them always.

Iroas, God of Victory (9th most played as of writing)

Somehow despite it being common in the 99 of aggressive decks, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Iroas deck in my local metas. I think it has the potential to be pretty powerful, since if you can meet his (admittedly harsh) requirement he’s an indestructible evasive commander with that magical 7 power making commander damage a 3HKO. And when he’s not ready to rumble, he’s nigh impossible to kill on account of the limited targeted enchantment exile people tend to play in the format. Otherwise, he makes attacking free and bountiful for other creatures, and so is just kinda good to have around- I can see running him for that alone.

Munda, Ambush Leader (27th most played as of writing)

Somehow more people are playing Munda than Razia or Agrus, despite being just the worst commander with Ally in the text (outside the type line, love you Zada) and not doing actual anything outside of that. Why the fuck doesn’t he draw the cards? Why does he just stack them? God, Munda sucks. Also I have like 3 of them, since I drafted a lot of that deck in that environment and people just pass him around. Anyone want one? Be my guest.

Kalemne, Disciple of Iroas (11th most played as of writing)

Precon face commanders always get a bit more love and a bit more power than the average legend, and Kalemne is no exception. Double Strike in the zone on a creature that gets bigger is just nuts, and it means she kills people astonishingly quickly. Even my non-voltron Kalemne deck that just wanted to play big idiots had her as a huge threat since even if she gets killed she stays big. Kalemne also happens to be probably better for Giant tribal than Brion, though he does at least get to yeet those removal magnets if they do get removed.

Anya, Merciless Angel (26th most played as of writing)

I didn’t think Anya would be this low. While she is another indestructible commander, it is conditional, and her abilities are self-sabotaging- if someone is in range of being killed by her, you’re probably not going to want to attack them just so you can keep indestructible and buffs, but you also, yknow, want to kill them. I can see her being political in this way though- keeping someone alive with her swords at their throat can have some fun implications. I think shes underrated despite her awkwardness.

Archangel Avacyn (14th most played as of writing)

(Her colour identity is RW since her other face is a red creature. It’s a bit odd, I know)

Avacyn was fucking unbeatable in draft and obnoxious in Standard (though one of my favourite magic stories involves her, so,), and since I never managed to get one for Kalemne when that deck was around I have no real love for her. She’s generically powerful without leading in a particular direction, but her flip ability is pretty cool as is her story in the set. It’s OK. Also why do people keep putting her in Angel decks? You know she doesn’t flip off those, right?

Adriana, Captain of the Guard (22nd most played as of writing)

Adriana, Adriana. I didn’t dislike Adriana as much as I did until I actually did the math on her. Typical commander games are 4-player, so she is a +3/+3 anthem at maximum assuming you have good attacks on every single opponent and that none of them are dead yet. I’m really not sure why you’d play this over Jor Kadeen, and it looks like people aren’t, so. Melee was a fun mechanic in draft, but I completely understand why it hasn’t crossed over, ever, to other formats, seeing as there are 7 total cards with it and most of them are draft chaff. CONTINUED IN PART 2...ANOTHER DAY. PROBABLY SOON SINCE IT’S 2/3 DONE ALREADY.

[gayorphanboss]

Christmas is hell in my world - To be continued

Blood rushing to my head, heart palpitations beating faster than an electronic dance music track and bleeding from my head with a flow like a river. 14-years of this shit, 14 fleeting moments of beatings in a time period of 10 minutes. I’m on my floor, concussed with a swollen face, blood dripping off my face into the floorboard cracks. As the blood dries on my face, then makes it hard to open my eyes with the drying of the blood working as a glue on my eye lashes. The rats in the walls hear silence and make their way near me. I was frozen from the previous events, so I probably came across as an inanimate object of my room. Who did this to me? My father. Why?

The morning before I’m immobilized on my bedroom floor.

Eyes heavier than a dumbbell. I’m Half-asleep and half-awake, before the sun beaming through my bent and crooked cheap aluminon cheap blinds, make me fully aware of the day. Waking up in my own personal hell. Today isn’t just any other day. Today is Christmas. Therefore, it’s a Christmas lunch today with my family which seem like a bunch of strangers who hate me. I’m very much the black sheep. You grow up thinking adults are mature, but sometimes they act like they are still in high school, like a peer I would come across in the hallway.  But perhaps I am the problem. Sigh, why do I always feel like I’m the issue for everything I do. Do all 14-year-old boys feel like this? Sometimes I feel like a fish being pulled backwards and drowning in my own environment. Having the resources like gills and still consuming toxicity.

We are taking a full car from Ballarat to Melbourne. Guess what, I’m in the middle even knowingly I am taller than my sister Shannon. Shannon is three years older than me; she is about to go into her final year at high school. She has a good work effort, quite pretty, has freckles and long thick brunette hair. When I encountered a bullying ideal at school, she mentioned to me “once you let people walk all over you, they will be doing it for the rest of your life. In some sense I could already understand what she was talking about, with my current abuser, my father. All I knew what to do, was freeze and take it like a punching bag.

I don’t speak up or challenge any logical statement of being taller to not sit in the middle, because the consequence is more physically brutal of having a boney ass and no leg room for an hour and a half. Much better than being whipped by a belt, smacked in the face and whatever my father feels like doing to me. He struggles with his own personal problems and looks me like a punching bag, then when he wants to release his anger, he hits, kicks, throws plates, belt and whatever he wants.

Have a small bite of Weet-Bix then straight into the shower. I close the wooden door and make way into the shower filled with moldy walls. Stare at the spider in the web before washing my hair. In this moment I’m fantasying dropping dead. Perhaps being turned into ash like some magical spell in some sci-fi shit on tv, sci-fi or fiction? Who the fuck knows, I don’t! All I know is I want my ashes being washed down the drain like no such thing as existence of myself Xavier. I relive a memory of watching Saw with my mother, while she was spaced out on crack and I was seven. Admired the beauty that they had endure the pain and mostly they dyed afterwards, while I was constantly enduring more and more abuse without being relieved of my pain through death. So… death seemed pleasurable today.    

I wash my hair quickly, since getting a “hurry up Xavier” from my other sister Nikkita, through the wooden door. Now Nikkita is a very amazing athlete, dual sports or being a national athlete, finalist and medalist, I’ve always admired her. Also admired her when she put her body on the line between myself and dad, when his red bull anger was bursting, and he was trying to hurt me. I was at the door, she was in-between myself and dad, while she was not letting him through. She was in a sense stronger than him. In this moment anyways, because she wasn’t backing down and she was firm, and he couldn’t get through. She was pushing him away, while was trying to her out of the way.

I get dressed in some shorts and a T-Shirt. Now we all make our way to the car. We drive to another suburb in Ballarat, to Nan’s home. We are taking her car, on the basis of ours was gross and my father looked after things very poorly. Nan is a, my way of the highway type of women. I have a Ying and Yang love for that part of her.

We arrive, say our hellos’. Then we pack the car with my Nans dishes. Now we are on the road to Geelong. I’m so wrecked and not prepared for this day. In this car trip, I’m quite quiet. I have decided that I won’t speak any more than I need to for the day. Because I seem to always tend to be the problem. The “know it all”. This remark stems from earlier years working out basic logical problems, which ignited hatred towards my intellect. These problems solving were over many different factors in life. But one what comes to mine, is trying to fit a couch through a doorway. I suggested another way, since the initial way of trying to force it through was not working. So, I suggested “how about we try putting it on an angle”. Then my father gave up, had a little tantrum, stormed through the door and slammed the screen wire, like a four-year-old not getting a chocolate at the checkout at Coles. Left my sisters and I, to work out how to get this fucking couch into the house while he is defusing his tempter in his room. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion to be polite and not react to any remarks made by the adults on this Christmas day. Since everything I do and say is just a problem. I sincerely saying this, I’m not being sarcastic, I just want everyone to have a good time and if I do not speak, I think that will be the easiest way.

Looking past the paddocks into the skyline. Listening to my tunes and minding my business. All is going to plan. Just a normal trip, nothing abnormal. Few remarks about us, made by nan. Some body shaming to my beautiful sister Nikkita, influencing Shannon to be more proper and you know, the “know it all” remark made about me even knowingly I am being dead quiet. So in short it is a shit travel from point A to point B.

We arrive. My uncle grant and his wife Christie are the hostesses of this Christmas lunch. Also, Uncle Brett and his wife Andrea are here. With their kids, Nigel and Glen. Greetings to all, I am being polite also a little closed off not to draw to much attention to myself. I have now just witnessed Andrea and Nan accidently peck while greeting each other. I’m moving gently throughout the space and saying hello. I’m sitting on the couch with my mouth shut, but the conversations are drifting between footy (AFL) and the cricket. Two things, I am no longer interested in, but I do not voice anything. Wow. I think I am the problem. The social setting is a dynamic with only signs of peace and joy in this festive. Dad’s laughing loudly. Nan’s smiling. Pa is being the beautiful soul he is. I’m sitting on the couch, identifying I am the problem. That moment of nothingness is followed through with the hollow feeling. The feeling of emptiness, and my thoughts are thinking, I deserve every shred of abuse in endure. I’m a broken piece of shit which brings my family anger.

I make my way out-side to pat the dog. This dog is a stunning Kings Charles, named Penny. Doesn’t bark and is very friendly. I’m patting Penny outside so I can take a breath. I need a second. A second to wrap my head around, that I am a fucking burden to everyone. I am this fucking know it all twat. I want to cry, but dry less tears are coming out since I’m so fucking empty. Soo fucking over everything. I am that “cunt” one of my friend’s parents at the time called me, when over afterschool in grade 6, yes, fucking primary school. I am also that “cunt” my dad called me at 5 years old. I am stupid and ugly which my step mum called me. I am weird. I am arrogant which the dads at the swim club called me. I deserve to be the laughingstock at the swim club’s presentation when dad was awarded the golden clip board award, for breaking one over my head when I was 7 years old in Melton. They all laughed so fucking hard over awarding him it, may as well created the term “lol” before the internet slang took over in later years. I’m all the names grant calls me, I’m worth $5 a day to clean a whole house like Christy said. I’m ungrateful like every single fucking adult in my life has told me, if that’s family or teachers and everything in-between. Perhaps, they can smell the homo on me. And I am an abomination against reproduction and to this conservative family. All the beltings for crying when I was younger. I fucking deserve to have my emotions beaten out of me. The ringing ears from being so consumed by my thoughts gets broken by the calling of me name. “Xavier” Nikkita slurs.

I shift my feet back inside, the realization of my own burden on others feels like my legs are twice as heavy… I’m just extra weight on others. Back inside. Sitting on the light-colored couch, and feet on the carpet-mat. Conversations are still that bleak short talk whether shit. Time passes and we all make our way outside.

It’s a scorcher of a day in Melbourne. I am now seated at the “kids table”, while the “adults:” are at the adult table. We are under a gazebo whole they are seated under a shelter. Everything isn’t still going to plan as I drown in my own guilt of being this factor of unhappiness to my family and a subject of pain for them too. Half or so hour later, we all make our way grabbing a white kitchen plate to plate our food. I get some ham, potato salad and lamb and of course gravy. Some salt and pepper and I’m ready to eat this delightful feed. Through the sliding glass doorway, minding my business while treading lightly protecting my plate of food. Bum to the plastic chairs, very similar to the ones in primary school. Fork and knife in unison eating this delicious plate in serenity.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 030 [Scavenger Hunt]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,494

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〈“So we’ll keep on starting the fire, thinking we’ll smoke out the liars. We don’t give up when we’re tired, that isn’t the way that I’m wired. Someday, we’re gonna rule the world.” Zayde Wolf, “Rule the World (Generdyn Remix)”〉

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“Hey, kid!” Shimatsu grinned as I approached. “You were awesome in the cavalry battle!”

“Thanks,” I smiled softly. “Can I get three?”

“Coming right up!”

I glanced around at the spectators, chatting excitedly about the first two events of the sports fest. Several pro heroes were stationed around the stadium, keeping an eye out on the off chance some villain was dumb enough to try attacking. I spotted the chick from earlier, making a face at one of the food stall guys to get free food while the Woodsman scolded her for doing so.

Heroes… what does that word even mean, really? From what I remember from the TV shows and movies back home, the definition of a hero is someone that saves or helps others without ulterior motives and without personal gain. But in this world, being a hero is a job, one that young people across the globe aspire to have. People want to go pro for the fame, the fortune, and the power… If you have the title of hero, you can basically do whatever you want if Endeavor is anything to go by.

I wonder… why did my mother become a hero? Surely she got paid a lot more being a villain, so it couldn’t have been about money. She was already famous as an assassin, too. Was it the power she wanted? That doesn’t make sense, either. The world of villains makes it ten times easier to gain power because there are no rules or laws. What was her reasoning for changing her life? Did she have a dream? A goal she could only accomplish as a hero? I wish… I wish I could ask her.

“Kid?”

I snapped my attention back to the old man.

He wasn’t smiling, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

I took the box from his hand, staring down at the individually wrapped tacos. “Nah, I don’t think I am. But… I will be. So don’t worry.” I grinned at him. “Thanks for the food, Ojin.”

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“Get those foam fingers in the air, it’s almost time for the last round! But before that, good news for everyone that didn’t make the finals – since this is a sports festival, we’ve prepared some super fun side games everyone can participate in! We even brought in cheerleaders from America to get your blood pumping! Hold up…”

“What are they doing…”

“Looks like class 1-A is going full-on fanservice!!”

The fuck is that cockatiel going on about now? I glanced around, my eyes landing on my female classmates. Uhh, why the fuck are they cosplaying as cheerleaders? Ain’t our class getting enough attention already? Sparky and Mineta look awfully happy about this… I swear if they are responsible.

“What?! You tricked us?!” Momo cried, glaring at the two boys. “You’re gonna regret this!!” Fucking called it. I sighed, approaching Momo as she sunk to her knees. “Why is that I always end up falling for that little pervert’s stupid schemes? I even used my quirk to make these outfits…”

I scratched my cheek. “Haven’t you learned not to believe anything those two dopes say? You’re too naive, Momo, and they keep exploiting that.”

“Ugh!” Punk threw her pom-poms down, face completely red. “I hate those guys!”

“Well, we go have a little time before the finals start and I kinda like these uniforms, so~” Invisigirl started frantically waving her pom-poms and I could hear the smile in her voice. “How about we just roll with it?!”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Wow, Toru, you’ve got skills.”

Momo glanced up at me with a defeated expression. “I tried looking for you to let you know. I was worried that you might get into trouble for not participating, but now I’m glad I wasn’t able to…”

“I would’ve happily gotten in trouble,” I deadpanned. “I would die before wearing that shit.”

“R-Right…”

I smiled, patting her on the head. “Thanks for lookin’ out, though, Momo.”

She smiled back, nodding her head.

I turned toward the two boys, who were too busy watching Toru as she jumped around to notice my advancing toward them. I grabbed both of them by the back of the neck and slammed their faces together. They cried out in pain, wiggling in my grasp, but my hands started to heat up and they stilled, not wanting to get burnt. I smiled brightly, my voice low. “The next time you fuckers mess with the girls, I’ll give you a taste of pure hell, mkay?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!” They cried as I threw them to the side, scurrying away with their tails between their legs. Fuckin’ idiots. I felt a tug on the back of my shirt and I turned around, raising a brow at Punk.

She shifted, her face still red in embarrassment. “Thanks for that.”

I hummed. “No problem. Sorry about that day in the locker room, I was kind of a dick to you.”

She smiled, “It’s no big deal. Water under the bridge.”

I scratched my cheek, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. “So, uh, what’s your name again?”

She sweatdropped. “You’re just like Bakugo, jeez. Kyoka Jirou.”

We shook hands, exchanging a grin. Huh, maybe this socializing shit ain’t as bad as I thought it was.

“Have fun competing in these side games, everyone! After they’re over, the twenty students from the top five teams will be duking it out one-on-one in a tournament-style fighting competition! I promise you’re not going to want to miss these match-ups!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. First, we gotta run around like chickens with our heads cut off, then we gotta work together and socialize, now we gotta beat the shit out of each other? Maybe I shouldn’t have dissed the idea of playing a game of golf…

“Ah, yeah! Finally getting a chance to show what we’re made of!” Kiri grinned brightly. “I watch these finals every year and now I’m actually in them!”

“So wait, is it always a tournament?” Alien asked curiously, bringing her finger to her chin.

“The final’s always a one-on-one competition, but they switch it up every time.” Flex Tape answered. “Last year, it was a foam sword-fighting match.”

I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kiri asked in confusion.

“I just… I pictured hitting Bakugo with a foam sword on the head…”

He paused, lifting his head as he imagined it. Then he started to laugh with me.

“Come closer and draw lots to see who you’re up again!” Midnight announced. “And then enjoy the pleasure of the recreation games before we start. The twenty finalists have the option of participating in these activities or sitting out to prepare for battle. I’m sure you all want to conserve your stamina. I’ll start with the first-place team.”

“Um, excuse me…” Tail raised his hand in the air, looking sad. “Sorry, but I’m withdrawing.”

“Ojirou, no way…”

“But this is a rare chance for you to get scouted!”

“It just wouldn’t be right,” he responded. “I barely remember anything from the cavalry battle until the very end of it. I… think it was that guy’s quirk.”

I scratched my cheek thoughtfully, closing my eyes. Who was he partners with again? I don’t even remember seeing him once during the battle.

“I know this is a great opportunity,” he continued. “I wish I could take advantage of it but my conscious won’t let me.”

“Just think about this,” Izuku spoke softly.

“I have, okay?!” Ojirou’s brow furrowed as he held up his fist. “Everyone gave their all in round two, but I was just someone’s puppet. No way. I don’t want to advance if I don’t even know how I got here. It wouldn’t fair.”

“You’re making way too much of this!” Toru said cheerfully. “Just kill it in the finals and prove you should be here!”

“Yeah, what she said!” Alien added. “I didn’t do much in the battle, either.”

“That’s not it!” He covered his face with his hand. “I’m talking about my pride here. I refuse to give that up!”

Ah, men and their pride.

“Also… why are all the girls except for Winchester dressed like cheerleaders?”

“Because Mineta and Sparky are perverted dipshits,” I answered.

“Right…”

“Nirengeki Shoda from class 1-B,” A short boy with soft blue hair stepped forward. “I think I should withdraw for the exact same reason. Regardless of how strong I am, this isn’t how I wanted to get here! It would go against the values of the festival to advance without earning my spot!”

“Listen to these guys, they’re so manly!” Kirishima cried, making me sweatdrop and pat his back.

“Well now, here’s another weird turn of events.”

“We’ll have to see what Midnight has to say about all this, she’s the one in charge.”

Because letting the R-Rated hero be in charge sounds like a banger of a plan. What could possibly go wrong.

“This sort of talk is incredibly naive, my dear boys. That turns me on!”

“What the fuck, man.” I groaned, smacking my forehead. Thinking of Midnight being turned on is the last fucking thing I want burned into my skull.

“Shoda! Ojirou! You’re both withdrawn! Now, let’s see… We’ll move four students from the sixth place cavalry team so we have enough contestants.”

The orange-haired girl from class B spoke up. “We were frozen most of the time. Honestly, we barely did anything in the cavalry battle. Isn’t that right, girls?” She looked at the three standing on either side of her, who nodded in agreement. “You should choose from the group that kept fighting the whole time – team Tetsutetsu.”

“Kendo!” The silverette spoke up, surprise lacing his voice.

She smiled. “I’m not doing this as a favor. It’s just fair.”

“Seriously, you guys… thank you!!”

“And so, Tetsutetsu, Shiozaki, Honenuki, and Reggian have advanced to the finals. Take a look at the bracket, my dears! These are your opponents!”

Let’s see, I’m fighting some bitch named Regina Reggian? The fuck kinda name is that, fam? That’s almost as bad as Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu…

“Hey, you’re Winchester, right?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see the black-haired guy with the air chain. “Depends on who’s askin’.”

“I’m your opponent,” he grinned. “The names Regina Reggian, but you can just call me Red.”

“Isn’t Regina a chick’s name?”

He sweatdropped, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, well, my creator thought it would be funny. Pretty sure they hate me.”

“Right…” This bitch is definitely nuts.

“Listen up!” He pointed his finger in my face, pink eyes flashing as he grinned. “I’m gonna beat your ass like Jotarou beat Dio!”

“I don’t know who either of those people are, bro.”

“Whack.”

“Okay! Let’s press pause for a momentary interlude! Before the battles begin, it’s time for some pulse-pounding side games! First, how about a scavenger hunt?!”

Cards were handed out to those wanting to participate.

I flipped mine over and my eye twitched. Where the fuck am I supposed to find this shit? I glanced around the field, eyes stopping on Bakugo who was leaning against the wall looking pissed off at the world. Oh… Well, then.

I grinned as I approached him. “Oi, Bakuhoe. I need you for somethin’.”

“Huh? What for – What the fuck are you doing, bitch?!”

I ignored his protests as I threw my arm around his upper thighs and hoisted him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Fuck, you’re heavier than I thought. Go on a diet.”

“Fuck you!” He smacked the back of my head. “Put me down or I’ll kill you!”

“Quit squirming, you fuck.” I scowled, coming to a stop in front of Midnight and dropping him onto his ass, holding out my card that read ‘犬 Dog’.

“I’m not a fucking dog!!” Bakugo screamed.

I scoffed. “You sure fucking yap like one, chihuahua.”

“Die!!”

Midnight smacked the top of my head with her whip. “Denied!”

“Che, that ain’t fair, Midnight!” I scowled. “Where the fuck am I supposed to find a dog, huh? Am I fucking game to you?” I pointed at Bakugo’s face. “This is the closest fucking thing to a dog in this stadium! I demand a different card.”

“Denied!”

“Son of a -”

Bakugo shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at the side of my head. “Instead of doing this stupid shit, you should be getting ready for your match! I won’t fucking forgive you if you lose to anyone but me!”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva.” I sighed, deeply, turning and walking away from them. I was a few feet away when I heard a high-pitched voice.

“Hey! Miss!”

I glanced up at the stands, seeing a young boy about nine or ten leaning over the railing and waving frantically. “Uhh…”

“Catch me, ‘kay?”

“Wait, what, OI -!” He jumped over the railing, making the nearby spectators cry out and try to grab him. His aim was pretty on point, not gonna lie. His body slammed against mine and I lost my balance, falling back onto my ass with him in my lap. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, huh? You coulda got seriously hurt, kid!”

He grinned brightly, showing off a gap where he was missing a top tooth. “I had faith that you’d catch me, big sis!”

Sis? What, is he a fan of James Charles or somethin’? “You shouldn’t be down here, your parents are gonna be mad.”

“Mom’s at work and dad left us when I was three.”

I sweatdropped. “Who brought you here, then?”

“My big brother! But he’s too busy getting rejected by Mt. Lady!” He giggled.

“For fuck’s sake,” I slapped my forehead. He giggled again and I narrowed my eyes. “Do not repeat anything I say. Clear?”

“Kay~” He grinned. “You need a dog for the scavenger hunt, right?”

“Yeah.”

His body started to shift in my arms, getting a bit smaller as his skin and clothes were replaced by fur. The boy was now a dog, his legs and belly white while the rest of him was a soft orange. Now, I’m not a dog person at all, but he’s pretty fucking adorable. What is that, a corgi?

He licked my cheek, making my eye twitch in annoyance. “Sorry, I can only talk to people I’ve licked!”

“…alrighty then.” I returned to Midnight, holding the kid up like I was holding Simba.

She raised a brow but didn’t question where I had gotten him from. “Approved!”

“Dope.” I brought him back to my chest. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Riku Reigen!”

“Alright, Riku. Let’s find that idiot brother of yours.”

He tilted his doggy head to the side, ears flicking. “But what about the other events, big sis? You’re gonna miss them!”

I shrugged. “I was only doing it because it was easy and I had nothing else to do. Plus, I’m in the finals so I don’t have to participate.”

“Okay, if you’re sure!” He barked happily. “Let’s go~!”

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▸ Forward

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[mfackenthal]

MFackenthal Interviews Drake (from Cordonian’s Gone Wild)

Hello all!

This delightful honor that @cordoniansgonewild bestowed upon me continues.  With much help from @speedyoperarascalparty, please enjoy my interview with Drake ... 

“Drake, I was sorry to hear about King Constantine.  Are there any words you want/need to say about him?” 

Drake took a long draw from his glass of whiskey, pulling the air through his teeth making a little sound with his first sip. "Not particularly, no."

He’s direct, I have to give that to him, I thought to myself.  “So rumor is these changes to the social season were made official while most of you were drunk? Are you willing to comment on this rumor?”  

Drake quirked an eyebrow at me. For a moment, I feared he might not even respond.  

"Drunk is an understatement." He scoffed. 

I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty.  “So, how is this going to work?  Are you going to have a “picking” order?  Liam picks first, then Leo, then … ? 

Drake scowled at me and then took a deep breath.  "Look, you seem like a nice lady, so I don't want to be a dick...but that question basically just confirmed for me that there is no way I am fucking doing this … sorry."

“I like a challenge, Drake” I said as I quickly continued on.  “Do you know, will you have a rose ceremony each week?” I asked with a smirk on my face.  

Drake smirked, shaking his head as he downed his drink.  "Knowing Liam, he probably has a different damn color for each suitor lined up."

“Will the ladies be allowed to say who they are most interested in?”

"Beats the hell outta me," Drake answers.  

“What if two or more of you fall for the same person?” I muse out loud. 

"Not gonna be a problem.”

“And what about you?  What are you looking for in a spouse?” I ask.

Drake shook his head and pounded on the bar motioning to the bartender for a refill.

At this point, we had a bit of a staring match, which I lost.  Drake wasn’t willing to say anything more, so I continued. “What do you think might give a lady a leg up in this competition?” 

Drake scowled and took another gulp from his fresh whiskey, "this is un-fucking-believable..."

Choosing to ignore his attitude, I push through, “what are you looking forward to in this social season?” 

Drake exhaled running his hand through his hair, "For it to be over."

“And what are you hoping to avoid in this social season?” 

Drake growled "A wife."

I laughed at that one just glad he didn’t say me.  This causes Drake to look up at me, smirk, finish his drink and call for another.

“I’m guessing you don’t think the social season end with multiple weddings?” 

Drake narrowed his eyes at me, a low guttural moan escaped his lips before he picked up his glass of whiskey and swallowing this one in one gulp. 

“Do you know how will the ladies be selected to enter the social season?”

"Oh sure, Liam will probably choose from the finalists in Cordonian’s most rich, self centered and useless."

“I believe the show is called “Desperate Housewives of Cordonia,” I respond. 

Drake actually laughed at that one.  For the first time of the evening, he leans back in his chair - looking almost relaxed.

“We’re almost done, Drake.  I promise.  Just a few more questions.  Has anyone or any organization tried to influence how you will choose a spouse?“ 

Drake chuckled, "pretty sure there aren't any groups or organizations that give a shit about who I marry."

“Oh Drake … I don’t think you understand the following you actually have.  Women are going to pay quite a bit for this magazine that will mainly be pictures of you.  BUT, I know you won’t care about that.  Next question, will you help me in my quest to get the MFackenthal Show to have exclusive rights to publicize the social season?  I believe I can give the people what they want and allow each of you some, shall we say, privacy.”  

"Honestly, Megs? I plan to do everything possible to get out of this nightmare, so with any luck, I won't have a damn thing to do with it. So I support your bid."

“I’ll take it.  Okay, final and most important question - Do you happen to know if Bastien might be looking to … not remain single?” 

Drake raised his eyebrows. "Bas?" He smirked chuckling. "Yea, Bas is almost as single as they come...except for me. I plan to keep it that way. But I'll tell ya what. I'll put in a good word for you with Bas." He shook his head mumbling to himself. I’m fairly sure I heard him say something like, “maybe someone can get something out of this bulls**t."

As you can tell, I wasn’t getting much out of Drake and I figured that was about as high a note as I was going to get.  As I was getting up to let him finish his drink in peace, however, I couldn’t help but ask one more question.  If you don’t love Drake after his next answer, you may be heartless.  “Drake, if you hate it all so much, why not leave?”

Drake gave a long exhale. "I can’t...leave. I mean...Liam may be at the top of my shit list right now, but...he doesn't have a choice in this. And he...he’s got a lot on his shoulders. I just, I don't want to see him stuck with some crown chaser. Maybe..aw hell, I don’t know, Megs. I guess I'm just hoping if I'm there...maybe I can help...help him find someone that will make him happy. He deserves that.” 

~~~~~

And now for the tags.  I’m going to tag those of you who have asked to be tagged in my interviews and a few who specifically asked to be tagged for THESE interviews.  @cordoniansgonewild will reblog this with the tags for their fans.  As always - just let me know if you want on or off this list.  

@eileendannie, @hopefulmoonobject @queen-among-writers, @hopelessromantic1352, @lilyofchoices, @msjpuddleduck

[letterboxd]

Most Picture.

There are many ways to predict how the Oscars will go. How much money is the studio spending on the campaign? How highly rated are the nominated films? How much work have nominees put in during the awards season? Is it simply their time?

For this 2019 horse race, we thought it would be fun to go for a different metric. A fool-proof statistical analysis to find not what is the Best Picture, but what is the Most. And with that, we set about investigating the stats on rewatches of the eight films nominated for Best Picture.

It turns out that plenty in the Letterboxd community have logged the Best Picture nominees more than once, and in some obsessive cases, well into double figures. We had a feeling, based on anecdotal mood and general noise, that A Star Is Born and Bohemian Rhapsody would be right up there in the stanning stakes. And they are (read on for our Q&A with Letterboxd’s most obsessive A Star Is Born fan). But also: The Favourite made the top three, and the film you have rewatched the most left the other seven in the dust.

Without further ado, Letterboxd presents the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards, ranked by the number of members who’ve watched the 2019 Academy Award Best Picture nominees two or more times (total in brackets, as of today).

Each film features a review from its greatest fan, i.e. the Letterboxd member who has logged the film more than any other (at the time of writing).

And the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards go to…

1. Black Panther (13,268)

“Would I see this movie a personal record high of seven times in theaters? For Wakanda? Without question.” —Krys (12 watches, seven in cinemas)

2. A Star Is Born (5,943)

“TIRED: discourse about whether or not the film hates pop music, all think pieces about whether the film thinks Ally is a sell out and what that means for feminism, discourse on whether Why Did You Do That? is a bop or not.

WIRED: discourse about whether or not Jackson Maine even had an ass good enough to inspire such pop perfection.” —Juliette (16 watches)

3. The Favourite (5,378)

“I miss this so much I dreamt it. Instead of riding, Sarah was doing cartwheels.” —CBotty (15 watches)

4. Bohemian Rhapsody (4,928)

“The critics can go fuck themselves. THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE I HAVE SEEN! (for the fifth time).” —Iain (16 watches)

5. Roma (4,270)

“Yes I’ve seen this twice today, yes i cried like a bitch both times, yes this is the only movie.” —Eve (7 watches)

“My feelings regarding Roma are complicated to say the least. It’s like dating the girl of your dreams, only to realize that you are completely incompatible, which ends in desperate clinginess for an ideal that was never true to begin with. It’s been a strange journey of love, disappointment, and eventual acceptance, where I’ve come to terms with my feelings. I still admire the hell out of it, and I hope it wins all the awards in the world.” —Orrin (7 watches, admittedly more times than they have actually seen it)

6. BlacKkKlansman (3,669)

“This movie is so fucking powerful, and I loved every second of it.” —Kota (6 watches)

7. Green Book (1,370)

“OK what a way to start the new year. I love this movie so much. Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali are for sure going to get nominated (and it’s well deserved).” —Anthony (5 watches)

8. Vice (1,164)

“8.4/10” —Harrison (4 watches)

Unpacking the re-watchability of A Star Is Born.

“I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.”

Of the eight Best Picture finalists, Black Panther has been out the longest, had the largest budget, and has done the rounds of the streaming services. It was always gonna take the top spot in a rewatch match. But to figure out the rewatchability of second-place-getter A Star Is Born, we went to the film’s hardest stanner, Juliette, to help us understand why fans keep coming back even though it’s a complicated watch.

While Juliette’s multiple reviews are meme-tastic, quippy, punctuation-free gems of observation, when we asked her to explain herself, she went remarkably deep. Her replies may just make you want to take another look at Ally and Jack. [Note: this interview contains spoilers for the film’s plot.]

How many times do you think you have seen A Star Is Born? Juliette: I think I have seen the film sixteen times? I know for certain I have seen it fourteen times in theaters, but I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched it in the comfort of my own home since it’s been released on digital. There’s just something about the energy in a theater while this film is being screened. It gives me chills just thinking about it!

What keeps you coming back to it? It's so hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that draws me back to this film time and time again. I love a good love story when properly executed! I’m kind of obsessed with celebrity culture! I love a great musical! And like many people, the subjects of this film: alcoholism, mental illness, suicide, self-doubt, the cultivation of the self, love, mentorship, and reconciliation of one’s experiences with a flawed parental figure are all things that have permeated my life. Some of these things, I understand and have a firm grasp on, they feel definitive and their impacts are a tangible output. Some of these things, I still grapple with daily. There is little definition, largely just confusion and sporadic outbursts of pain.

When I return to this film, which I often do, the thing I don’t expect it to give me is answers. I don’t expect the film to be able to define for me what I must come to define for myself. I don’t expect it to clarify my confusion. I don’t expect it to eradicate the pain. I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.

There’s a scene towards the end of this film where, while mourning the loss of his brother, Bobby explains how he heard one of Jackson’s songs performed at a bar. At first, it angers him. He feels like no one really knew Jackson. But then, something shifts and just hearing the song begins to soothe him. It reminds him that, in spite of their trauma and their turmoil, it isn’t all for nothing.

That’s what this film is for me. It soothes me. It reminds me that the facilitation of our healing can come through art. It reminds me that for people, who once felt broken and irreparable, it is possible to find love and happiness not just with another person, but within one’s self. It reminds me that our pain and our devastation can be met in equal measure with (and even maybe be overcome by) our brilliance, our triumph, and our devotion to one another.

What have you noticed with each rewatch? What I notice most with each subsequent rewatch of the film is what a massive undertaking the sound editing and mixing for this film must have been. I have such deep and profound respect and admiration for all the work that went into crafting the audio for this film! The film is such a visceral experience, one that truly engages all of the senses. I remember physically recoiling in the theater the first time I heard the sound of Jackson’s tinnitus. I remember feeling my entire seat shake in time with the music during the concert sequences.

I also have a sincere recommendation! Once you watch the film a few times, I really encourage you to watch the film just through the lens of watching Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real in the background of the pivotal scenes. It adds so much dimension to scenes you thought you already knew!

What is the single greatest scene in this version of A Star Is Born? As clichéd or “basic” as it may seem to say, there is no denying that the greatest scene in this film is when Ally joins Jackson on stage and the two perform Shallow together. It’s a cataclysmic and mesmerizing moment.

It’s the way Jackson physically steps back and acquiesces his spotlight to new talent. It’s the combination of awe and support in Jackson’s eyes as he watches Ally assume center-stage. It’s the way Ally assumes her place at the mic for the first time. It’s how Ally—all at once terrified, shocked, overwhelmed, empowered, and free—finds a version of herself she had long thought impossible to access under the stage lights. The arc of which is punctuated by Gaga’s impeccable performance in this scene, most noticeably by the shift in her physicality, from her hands covering her eyes, unable to make eye contact, to grabbing the mic and belting her now patented cathartic wail.

It’s the way, two artists—no, two people—are separated physically on the stage singing into their individual microphones, but slowly find their way to meet in the middle and sing as one. In itself, this scene is the film in miniature. If this scene hadn’t worked, it’s very unlikely the rest of the film would have worked.

Not to mention, the scene is just absolutely stunning. Of course, the music is heavenly, that’s a given. In terms of the composition, I love how the camera moves around and captures each protagonist in different ways. And the color palette is gorgeous. The way that blue and red light dance around our protagonists throughout the sequence is just jaw-dropping. It’s the kind of high an artist, and in a turn a viewer, could spend their whole life chasing.

What do you wish haters understood about the film’s greatness? My first priority would be to tell the haters that Lady Gaga is not playing herself in A Star Is Born! Just because Gaga is a singer playing a singer, doesn’t mean she isn’t acting!

Furthermore, to me, it feels unfair that the power of her performance is sometimes diminished just because she sings in the film. Anyone can sing in a way that is technically proficient with enough training, but to tell a story through song? To act a song? To perform with every iota of your being musically? That’s a whole other skill and it is just as worthy of recognition and respect as any other leading performance this year.

Secondly, I would like to convey that just because something is a remake doesn’t mean that it lacks value or that it lacks something to say. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is about this story that seems to capture the collective imagination every few decades, but I think it has something to do with how it presents ascension at the expense of descent, art as both artifice and freedom of authentic expression, and love in spite of sacrifice and self-destruction. There’s something about that cocktail that becomes the perfect receptacle for the expression and examination of our cultural anxieties.

Its malleable formula allows for questions to be asked about how we think about celebrity and fame, the self-identification process, and the value of art. In that sense, a remake of A Star Is Born is vital and refreshing, and certainly not tired and uninspired, and most importantly, it doesn’t lack something to say. It’s inherently reflective of the culture it was created in by its very nature. It allows us to ponder not just how Hollywood tells stories about itself, but also how we tell stories about ourselves. And if you ask me, there’s so much value in that.

What do you think should win Best Picture at this year’s Oscars? Well, I’m clearly biased towards A Star Is Born, but I would not be mad to see Roma or The Favourite walk off with the evening’s top prize!

What do you think will win Best Picture? My heart says Roma, my head says Green Book.

[cathygeha]

Have you discovered THE THALANIAN DYNASTY series by NYT Bestselling Author Katee Robert?

In FOREVER THEIRS an exiled prince, his bodyguard and the woman they can’t seem to leave alone, must return home to clear his mother’s name and reclaim his crown. Fans of Laura Kaye’s THEIR’S TO TAKE or Sierra Simone’s AMERICAN QUEEN will devour this cinderella-esque ménage.

Start reading the series for FREE! Download THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT, the novella that introduces you to Theo, Galen, and Meg for FREE at:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2M3w3A9

B&N: http://bit.ly/2Jl0k7Q

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JxT2Bg

iTunes: https://apple.co/2LtEK1L

 Add THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT and FOREVER THEIRS to your TBR pile on Goodreads then keep reading to get a sneak peek excerpt and your chance enter the giveaway to win one of TEN (10) eBook copies of FOREVER THEIRS!

  Title: Forever Theirs

Author: Katee Robert

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Thriller/Menage

Release Date: September 10, 2018

Publisher: Indie

Series: The Thalanian Dynasty

Page Count: 73K

Format: Digital

ASIN: B07DP7HT14

 Synopsis:

 Meg Sanders enjoyed her wild night with a prince and his bodyguard—but now she’s moving on. She has enough problems without borrowing the kind of trouble Theo brings just by being who he is. But no matter how determined she is to leave that night a fond memory, she hasn’t seen the last of Theo and Galen… Galen Mikos's life boils down to one goal. Keep Theo alive. But as long as Theo draws breath, he’s a threat to the powers that have taken over Thalania—and anyone they associate with runs the risk of becoming a target, too. Galen will never forgive himself if they let their selfish desire for Meg puts her in danger. But it might already be too late… Theo Fitzcharles might be an exiled prince, but he doesn’t intend to stay that way. He’s only concerned with one thing—clearing his mother’s name and reinstating himself as Crown Prince of Thalania. There’s no room in that plan for distraction, especially when it makes him forget himself the way Meg does. But after spending one perfect night with her and his best friend, Theo has no intention of leaving her alone.  Even if it damns all three of them in the process.

 Available at:  

 Amazon: https://amzn.to/2t3usho

B&N: http://bit.ly/2yiyKr9

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JQap0k

iTunes: https://apple.co/2JBPRtb

  Enter to win one of TEN (10) eBook copies of FOREVER THEIRS!

Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29564/?

 Forever Theirs Excerpt

Copyright © 2018 Katee Robert

 Galen stepped out of the cab and pulled Meg after him. At this time of night, there was still plenty of street traffic—plenty of opportunity for his father’s men to blend in until they were close enough to attack.

They already had attacked.

He hustled her off the sidewalk, half carrying her in his rush. She cursed at him, but she could be pissed. At least she was still alive. He didn’t believe for a second that Dorian would order her killed, not when he would see her as a tool just waiting to be used. But Galen’s father would attempt to take her, and that Galen couldn’t allow.

He didn’t relax until the elevator doors opened into their apartment and he caught sight of Theo pacing back and forth through the living room. He’s okay. Meg’s okay. They’re safe.

Except they weren’t.

Shit had hit the fan in the most fucked up way possible, and there was no cleaning up this mess.

Galen released Meg’s arm and ensured the security system was booted up and the door was locked. “Trouble?”

“Not here.” Theo rounded the couch and stopped just out of reach. He devoured Meg with his gaze, no doubt taking in her tangled hair, her torn dress, and the way she shook like a junkie in need of a fix. Adrenaline letdown. Theo cursed. “I’m sorry, princess.”

Meg crossed her arms over her chest and slid back a step, shying away from him—from them both. “I… I need a minute. A shower. Something.”

Theo gave a short nod. “Take what you need.”

She headed for the bedroom and spun at last second. “Alone.”

“No shit,” Galen growled. “Go. Take your time. We don’t touch walking wounded anyways.”

Her spine went rigid and her hazel eyes icy. “Fuck you.”

Better she be angry than terrified. He could work with angry. The scared woman in the back of the cab, looking for reassurances that he couldn’t give her… That kind of comfort wasn’t in Galen’s skillset. He preferred the harsh truth to silken lies, and there was no truth he could give Meg that wouldn’t result in her terror.

He stared until she squirmed. “Already did.”

Meg raised a shaking finger. “I swear to god—”

“Children.” Theo’s voice snapped through the room, a sharp tone that a person ignored to their peril. Meg made a sound perilously close to a snarl, but Theo ignored it. “Go shower or do whatever you need to get your head on straight. You’re fucking terrified and you’re snapping at the biggest dick in the room just to prove that you’re not helpless. It’s wasting time we don’t have.”

“His dick isn’t the biggest,” she muttered.

Galen almost laughed. Even scared out of her damn mind, Meg still had a mouth on her—and hell if he didn’t respect her more for it. “Go shower, little mouse. The adults are talking.”

She made a sound like an angry teakettle and stalked down the hallway. He waited for the sound of the door slamming, but a soft click was all he got. “Damn.”

Theo stalked into the kitchen and snagged the whiskey bottle. He took a long pull and then passed it over. “Tell me.”

“Two men. I didn’t recognize them, but they claimed Dorian sent them.” Galen drank from the bottle, letting the whiskey burn away the awful feeling in his chest when he’d walked through that door and found Meg tied to a chair with two men standing over her. He’d thought… It didn’t matter what he’d thought. He got there in time. They hadn’t done any lasting damage.

At least not the physical kind.

“She can’t go back.”

Galen stared at the bottle. He tightened his grip and put serious consideration into bashing Theo a few times with it. “You just couldn’t leave her alone, could you? It took them a grand total of three days to figure out she might matter and come after her. Fuck, Theo, this shit is on your head.”

“I know.” Theo watched him. Those blue eyes saw too much, just like always. “And yet I’m not the one who was skulking outside her work. You told me you were meeting a contact.”

Caught.

He opened his mouth, and then abandoned the lie before he gave it voice. “You put her in danger. I was ensuring she stayed safe.”

Theo’s lips quirked, but his eyes went hard. “Lie to yourself if you need to, but don’t you dare lie to me. I know why you were there—the same reason I was a week ago. You couldn’t stay away from her any more than I could.” He bracketed Galen’s throat with his hand, his thumb caressing Galen’s pulse point. Theo leaned in. “I shouldn’t have paid the tuition with my own name, and I’ll be the first to admit it. But we are both moths to her fucking flame, and you don’t get to play the beleaguered bodyguard—not right now, and not with me. You want her.”

“Yes.” The word felt ripped from him, taken despite his best efforts to stay silent.

Theo’s grip tightened and his gaze dropped to Galen’s mouth. “We can’t stay in New York. They’ll have eyes on her place.”

“They wanted to take her, Theo. There was a van illegally parked near the back door. They might have set her up to answer questions, but they were going to take her.” If they had, Dorian would use her for whatever purpose he had in mind, a lever to get Galen and Theo to dance to his tune, and then he’d discard her like yesterday’s trash. Even if he didn’t kill her, there would be scars, and she wouldn’t be the Meg they knew anymore.

Theo pressed his forehead to Galen’s, grounding them both. One breath. Two. Three. On the fourth, he stepped back and released him. “You were there in time.”

“I might not have been.” If he’d managed to resist the siren call of Meg’s presence, if he’d had more control, if he’d really gone to meet his local contact instead of doing the skulking Theo accused him of.

“You were there in time,” Theo repeated. He glanced down the hallway to the master bedroom where they could still hear the shower going. “Make the call.”

“She’s never going to forgive us for this.” For dropping a bomb on her life and leaving on destruction in their wake. The two grand was nothing compared to what came next.

Theo sighed. “I know. But better she’s pissed and alive than the alternative. Make the call, Galen. We need to be out of New York before dawn.”  

  Other books in The Thalanian Dynasty series

 Theirs for the Night

THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT is a novella. Theo, Galen, and Meg's story continues in the novel FOREVER THEIRS.

Download at:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2M3w3A9

B&N: http://bit.ly/2Jl0k7Q

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JxT2Bg

iTunes: https://apple.co/2LtEK1L

 About Katee Robert

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it 'a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension."  When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. 

Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram | BookBub

  http://www.barclaypublicity.com/

[stoppagetimeplus]

Pre game thoughts drinkin at Lucky’s

I’d like to start by saying, I’m used to fair-weathered fans. This IS Houston after all. The moment any team is doing bad they become the red headed step child that no one wants anymore. It’s happened with our teams, with players & even turned our backs on an entire franchise... more than once! So this talk about people not being fans of the Dynamo anymore or not re-newing season tickets... GREAT!

Peace out!

Kick rocks, hommie!

CHUNK.

DUECE.

Holla at a playa when you see him in the streets!!!!

If enough of y’all leave then MY ticket is gonna be cheaper! Lol

But really, this is nothing new. This is our Coaches 2nd year with the team & he ALREADY has western conference final appearance & US open cup finalist on the resume. SECOND YEAR! We ALSO have two of the leagues most exciting players in Quioto & Elis while remaining one of the cheapest teams, if not THE cheapest team in the league... HOW is that a BAD thing!?

Is the team perfect? Naw. Is the money for season tickets worth it? Meh. Are the front office/ownership doing everything they can to build & grow a fan base? FUCK NAW! But we ARE a better football team since Wilmer took the helm. We are being... “creative” in our player choices and for the most part it’s worked out. While I agree there is NO REASON why we shouldn’t have a significant DP under contract, we have still pieced together a competitive team. Money ball, right “Lastros?” Or did y’all forget that already?

I get it, this team & this city are BETTER than its current standings... but EVEN when we were firing on ALL cylinders, it took a western conference final to ACTUALLY sell out BBVA... what’s THAT say to the team & organization? In such a densely populated city... with a stadium damn near in the middle of the city... with one of the cheapest professional sports match day experiences in the city...

Don’t get me wrong, I got a LAUNDRY LIST of things the club could/should do but for right now, two years into the Wilmer Cabrera era, we could be doing WAY WORSE!

My group should be tailgating again starting the September 15th match against Portland. Stay tuned & feel free to come out & join us in celebrating every win, cursing every draw & drowning our sorrows with any loss...

Peace y’all!

Keep ya heads up!

-Hero

[leglesstv]

Pretty big: Chayne Simpson, World Champion 2020.

Australia has a newly crowned surfing world champion. On the 9th of March, Chayne Simpson, from Wollongong NSW, beat Californian Sam Coyne to win the World Kneeboard Surfing Championship in convincing fashion. The event went down in Dunedin, New Zealand, organised by the New Zealand Kneeboard Surfing Association. Conditions were varied throughout the event with the final surfed in small waves on a high tide that effectively saw competition reduced to a game of strategy and patience. This is particularly ironic: Chayne made the quarter finals of this event when he first entered in 1999 and has consistently placed high since. He’s been runner up a number of times, but never won. Always the bridesmaid, now at last, the bride.

Chayne’s been riding kneeboards since the age of about 15, when he was growing up on the NSW south coast. A mad bodyboarder at the time, he recalls trips after school with his brother Troy, and Mark Slater, whose dad Rob would ferry them around to surf the pick of the local breaks. With a healthy kneelo underground in the area it was inevitable that Chayne would see the possibilities offered by increased speed and turning power: it wasn’t long before Rob Slater had the boys on kneeboards and surfing regular club competitions with the Wollongong Area Kneeboard Association (WAKA).

This is amateur surfing, the kind where people turn up month after month, year after year, because they’re dedicated to their sport, not because there’s any financial gain down the track. It’s very fertile ground, but kneeboard comps are often more about a chance for the far flung and sometimes isolated kneeboard fraternity to catch up than winning. The bulk of the field tends to be pretty flat, but the top level are as far beyond the ability of the average kneelo as the top 44 footboarders are above the average surfer. At that level, competition can become intense: a World Title is at stake after all.

Chayne lives less than a kilometre from Albert Munoz, a transplant from Puerto Rico now resident in Wollongong, also a two-time kneeboard world champion and one of Chayne’s best mates. The two don’t surf together all that much because both have young families and wildly different day jobs (Albert holds a PhD and is a university professor, Chayne is a fireman and a qualified signwriter.) Chayne reckons he has the pick of the surf because his work allows more flexibility to plan sessions around the forecasts, while Albert’s job dictates when he’s able to surf. Albert can be found at East Corrimal any day there are waves, (outside of office hours), while Chayne tends to travel the South Coast a lot more, hunting quality. When they do surf together, surprisingly, there’s little competition. Said Chayne, We don’t compete at all when we’re free-surfing, at least I don’t. I like watching what he’s doing, but that old cliché of trying to do better, you know - he’s done a turn, I want to do one better … I think we’re getting a bit old for that.

The two first met at the World Titles on the Sunshine Coast in the early 2000s. Chayne remembers Albert as a really annoying little bastard in the water who just wanted every single wave that came in. Freesurfing he was annoying the hell out of me. I think I had a bit of a go at him, told him he can’t have every wave and to just calm down. He just ignored me and paddled away. After Albert moved to the South Coast and joined the WAKAs, the two ended up mates. It’s a solid friendship that’s endured some 16 years now, with the pair often travelling to competitions together as well as working on Legless.TV.

A very talented waterman, Chayne surfs because he likes doing it. He rides kneeboards because he likes the point of difference it brings to a line up as well as the pure camaraderie that pervades this tiny branch of surfing’s family tree[RH1] .

Chaynes relationship with the World Title has been fraught from the start. He remembers being ousted by a ruthless American in the quarter-final in 1999, when the competition was run without a priority system. A wave popped up where Chayne and another competitor were sitting.

He was sitting inside me, so I asked him if he was gonna go, and he said no, I’m not going, you go. I went, and I turned around and he was behind me on the wave. I got an interference. One of the dirtiest tricks you’re ever gonna get, I reckon.

Chayne doesn’t push the contest side of things at all.

No, I’m definitely more into freesurfing, 100%. I could never go in a contest again and I‘d be fine. Some people train for it, study opponents and all that sort of thing, yeah: I just go surfing. I also wanted to win this World Title, but … I nearly got knocked out first heat again in this one, it was as close as it gets. I think I’m not that competitive until it gets to the final. I’d rather get knocked out first heat than come second in the final.

Of course in Chayne’s case this is no hypothetical supposition.

In previous titles, where I’ve bombed out first heat, I couldn’t have cared less. I’ve just gone ‘oh well, that was funny.’ But when I’ve worked to get to the final, through the whole contest, and then I don’t win, that actually does crush me a little bit at that point. Kyle Bryant mentored me a little through this contest. He sent me a message that said ‘Don’t come second, mate, second’s fucked. You’re better off getting knocked out first heat than you are coming second.’ I reckon he’s 100% right.

At the 2009 event, held at Opunake, NZ, Chayne was seeded into round 3 but was knocked out in his first heat. Unfazed, he took off in a campervan with his brother and a mate and a guidebook.

We had a Surfing New Zealand book, no kids, no women. We just travelled around and went surfing. We chased wherever was offshore and had swell, had a few beers every afternoon.  Every corner we turned we got pumping waves. We scored everywhere we went. Best surf trip I’ve ever been on. We just got lucky – unlucky in the contest, lucky in the trip.

Kneeboarding’s regularly criticised for the age of the people who do it. With a heyday perceived to be somewhere in the late 70s, kneeboarding has produced several world champions over the age of 40. Past winners have expressed a desire to see the world title go to new, younger surfers, but this is a branch of surfing whose constituency is aging, into which few younger surfers care to venture. The event this year was remarkable in that both finalists were under 40. Chayne is as keen as anyone to see new blood in the sport. Who does he rate?

Well, it’s an ageing sport. The talent pool in that younger age range isn’t deep, but there are some guys. Tom Novakov (son of past World Champ Michael Novakov) came through the harder side of the draw and took down a couple of guys people probably wouldn’t have expected him to take down, but he surfed well, he had me on the ropes in the quarters. There’s a young kid from Dee Why who’s surfing really well at the moment, Charlie Mowbray – he wasn’t there (at the World’s), but he surfs really well. He wouldn’t be 20 yet. Owen Fairweather, he’s from Victoria. His surfing is so much better than any of us were at his age. I wasn’t even kneeboarding at his age - he’s 14, I think. He’s ripping, he’s going to be one to watch, for sure. His dad, Pete, has won the Phillip Island comp. In fact, he’s the only Vicco to win Phillip Island.

That’s fine, but is there enough new blood entering the sport for it to continue as a competitive field?

Yeah, there’s enough to keep it going. There’s not enough for it to reach new heights or anything like that, but they’re trickling. There’s probably just as many kneeboarders now as there were when I started out.  

So, what was it that drew you in to riding kneeboards in the first place?

When I started, I was riding bodyboards and kneeboarding, but I went full cripple around the time I left school, when I was around 17 or 18. It was just … fun! I kind of liked the fact that it was different. Surfing Pipe all the time, it was just so suited to that, and just doing turns. I was riding dropknee before – you do a turn and the tail slides out and you go into a spinner. You do a turn on a kneeboard and it just holds the rail, you’re just down low and … you’re carving rather than just sliding.

So, Chayne is a world champ who just wants to go surfing. With Wollongong the long-established centre of Australian kneeboarding, he surfs a lot with Albert, his World Title arch-nemesis. Some 16 years after their first meeting they seem to have worked out how to get through a session by dividing the available waves equably between themselves, but the contrast between freesurfing friendship and cut-throat competition is not lost on Chayne. Their friendship has been forged over years, through long hours at close quarters - travelling to comps, sleeping in cars, hunting waves together. When I pointed out that their friendship might be seen as unusual, Chayne agreed.

No way that would happen with the standup guys. Their one and two are focused on contests all year, training and eating right. They have to, it’s their job. I couldn’t think of anything worse than a sponsor putting pressure on you, saying that you have to finish in the top ten this year or we’re going to cut your sponsorship money, that pressure must be insane. We don’t have to worry about that, we just go surfing. If the World Titles are on one year and we don’t want to go - like Spain (the last World Title two years ago) - we just don’t go. Just go surfing. You know, the odd person over in New Zealand actually looked at me funny like that. They’d see you going for a surf and they’d say, ‘Oh, you’re going to do some training for your heat’. I’d say, no, I’m just going surfing mate. Yeah, people are funny.

The 2020 World’s contest, like many others, was marred by inconsistent surf. With a contest window of limited size, and a lot to get through - with age divisions as well as the big one, The Open - the organisers had a busy week. The Open Final came right at the end, but the best waves arrived much earlier in the week.

The Final was easily the worst waves of the whole contest, through every age division, every heat. It was almost unsurfable. They waited until the very top of the tide. I mean, every surfer on the planet knows at the top of the tide it goes slack – no waves break. It was up against a concrete wall, so there was backwash through the whole line-up. It was one to two foot, it was choppy. There was only pretty much one good wave caught in the final, and that was my first wave. That was why I managed to keep him off, because after that first one there was stuff all.

Chayne took that one scoring wave, and priority, and hung on.

It’s not something I do, ever, but I’ve had those other finals where it was always my fault: something went wrong, I didn’t do something right and lost it. Well, I wasn’t going to lose this one, so it was about the last 8 minutes, and I had priority. I just sat half a metre away from him. Every time he paddled, I paddled. I don’t know that he could have caught any waves, but I knew they were going to be no good, and he was getting desperate and taking off on just anything. I managed to hold him right down to the wire. Neither of us got to perform, it was horrible. I did apologise. With about five minutes to go, I said I’m sorry about this mate, but I’ve got to do it. He was fine with it. He just laughed and said, ‘Yeah, it is what it is’, and I continued to block him. It might have meant more to him than me, maybe I shouldn’t have blocked him, but I don’t know, I don’t think he was going to get a wave anyway. They just didn’t come in.

We talked briefly about money and the influence it has on surfing. Chayne likes the idea of surfing as amateur sport.

People are in these competitions and everything, but they’re not that competitive. We’re not surfing for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

So, why do the contest at all? Were you motivated by the titles you didn’t win previously?

That was my full motivation. My motivation for going to the contest to start with … well, I actually wasn’t going to go, but Parkesy phoned me and said he’d appreciate it if I went. You know, as promotion for his boards and all that, so I went. I had pretty much no intention. When Albert asked me if I was going I was probably 90% not going, but once I was there, and once I got to the quarters, I thought, I’m not going to let another one go, I’ve got to get this one.

And the lovely Mrs Simpson - what does the missus make of it?

She just loves that I love it. She’s proud of me for winning the World Title, but she says to me all the time … I go away on these trips with Zion and Drag and we do these video clips and she always says ‘I don’t know why you go in the contests, you get way more enjoyment out of doing this’. She’d rather me not go in the contests, just go away with those guys, do the videos. She knows I’m not stressed about doing that stuff. I always have fun and in my eyes it does a whole lot more for kneeboarding than a contest win does. A lot of people said that to me while we were over there, that they really appreciate the clips that we put out, cos there’s no-one else doing that. I wish there was – I don’t want to watch myself surf! I’ve had quite a few messages on Instagram and Facebook from younger guys that are getting into it because of those clips. They’re not getting into it because they might win a contest.

Particularly when you have a contest with the final held in unsurfable conditions. There was that one day where everybody turned up and it was offshore and barrelling. In my mind, that would be the time to have a contest. Just put everybody in the water and see who’s going to be the best.

Yeah, it was cooking. That was the day they did all the age divisions. They didn’t do the Opens that day. The day after the final, on the way to the airport we went in and surfed that beach again and it was even better – it was fucking cooking! Me and Maukino and another young guy from New Zealand. They were keen to surf some swell as well, it was 10 out of 10 pumping. There was me, about 4 American kneeboarders and a bunch of local guys. The whole beach was cooking. So, if the final had been on that next day, and we’d had video, well that would have done wonders for competition kneeboarding.

This year the South Africans kicked off a big campaign with a lot of big claims and were all out to win the Title, and they didn’t get it. They had some wins, but not the big one. How did they take that?  

The South Africans were great. They motivated me big time to go, actually. They were all online with the Saffa attack and they were going to take over and that fully motivated me to go over and not let ‘em win. But they’re really good blokes and they’re really good surfers. There’s three or four of those guys who are world class, and they’re good guys. Albert and I were in a heat with Lester (Sweetman) who was their main threat, it might have been round 5, and we knocked him out and I thought – he’s a really nice bloke, really chummy, wanted to have a chat, gives you props on your surfing and all that - but I thought when he got knocked out he was going to lose it, but he was fine. Came up and shook our hands, smile on his face - Great surfing with you - and off he went. And they’re all the same. Yeah, top blokes and if they keep doing these contests like they’re talking about, just keeping the ball rolling, one of those blokes is going to be at the top in no time.  

Chayne has an uncanny ability to thread his way through deep barrels and an explosive above the lip attack. Both are documented in a growing body of stills and video online via Legless.TV and longtime sponsors Zion and Drag. Chayne’s widely recognized by kneeboarders as one of a handful of surfers pushing the performance boundaries. His name is as familiar in kneeboarding as Simon Farrer or Peter Crawford. His win was popular.

I need to mention that. The support we got from people I don’t even know, just random people stopping us to say that they wanted me to win, they needed me to win. That put a bit of pressure on, for sure!

So is the pressure off, now you’ve won a World Title?

It will take the pressure off in a way, but … I don’t know how I’m going to word this without offending people, but I don’t want another 50 year old to win the title. My motivation going into the next one is to make sure we don’t get someone old. You know, see some of the kids go through instead of those really old blokes.

It’s great that your style of surfing has finally been recognized. Don’t get me wrong. Simon for instance: he’s a great surfer, but he doesn’t surf the way you do. He’s less progressive, more of a classical surfer. You’re different. Long barrels and then massive airs.

That’s how I want people to know me, I want them to know me as the guy who’s in a barrel and comes out and does an air. I don’t want to just be a guy who’s got a World Title. Freesurfing, I wouldn’t have been happy with any of the waves I surfed in the contest, except for one in the teams challenge, I almost would have just went in and done something else for the day cause I just wasn’t surfing well.

So being World Champion, does that do anything for you?

Well, people have been coming up to me at the beach and congratulating me on winning the World Title, but it’s funny, having a kneeboarding world champ. Like, what does that even mean? It’s more embarrassing than anything. It’s a funny thing, competition. There are people around that I surf with, whose opinions about surfing mean something to me. I’m good mates with those people, and they’ve all congratulated me, and that feels good. They’re genuinely happy for me as well. There’s a few guys around who’ve been saying - ‘Oh, I thought you were world champ already, you know, I don’t see anyone else surfing like you surf.’ And that’s such a wanker comment, but that’s what’s been   happening. At the moment, the guys I surf with are all pro surfers: Asher Pacey, Harry Bryant, Craig Anderson and all these big names. When those guys come up and say, ‘Fark, how was that turn,’ that’s … well[RH2] , having guys that shred in the surf, that you look up to, telling you that a wave that you got or a turn that you did was sick, yeah, that’s a better feeling for sure than a contest win.”

Chayne’s back home in Wollongong and keen to get back on the road making videos with the crew from Zion wetsuits. He had surfed twice already the day we spoke and was pretty pumped.

“The guys I travel and surf with, I don’t ever get the feeling that they’re like - why have we got this kneeboarder with us. They’re just stoked on what I’m doing, that I’m doing something different, they’re happy to tell me that I got a good wave, or did a good turn. When you’ve got people like Taj Burrow or Dane Reynolds commenting on your clip, that sort of blows my mind. That’s pretty big.”

Words: Rob Harwood - Legless TV

Images: Steen-16images, Richard Kotch, Others supplied by Chaye