#because god forbid we go into fantasy for fantastical looks

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

I think the thing that pisses me off about the dearth of long hair is that when we do see long hair it’s never actually like, done up? Galadriel and Gil-Galad essentially had a wig slammed on their heads and called it a day.

It’s like the studio was against having creative or unique hairstyles because it would be too much effort or money or something.

If they’re worried about monotony in their characters, it’s much easier to create individual-specific looks with long hair than short. No one’s putting their hair in elaborate braids? No one’s entwining gold or silver in there? No pins, headdresses, clasps with the symbol of their house for easy visual cues? Different hair styles specific to different elven cultures? No long curly hair, no long straight hair, no long kinky hair, or hair with unique colours?

Nope, it’s just one brown, ear-length, swept back wig shared between the major players.

[witchbitchheadedtoaditch]

Shadow Work Prompts Part 2

Hello my loves! I'm going to add some more shadow work prompts (primarily because... Kaye needs to do shadow work and maybe this will convince them to do it. (It won't. We all know it won't. But we can hope....))

I'm gonna put these below the cut just so people don't have to scroll through this long as fuck list on their dash if they don't want to see them lol

Some of these are really, really heavy, and do touch on things like sexual assault, abuse, death, etc., so this is the trigger warning for you.

A lot of these are also focused on women and AFAB folks because I'm trying to reconcile with my femininity and whatnot.

Anne Carson Quotes

You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.

Words bounce. Words, if you let them, will do what they want to do and what they have to do.

Eros is an issue of boundaries. He exists because certain boundaries do. ... Eros: the boundary of flesh and self between you and me.

Desire is no light thing.

It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

All mortals owe a debt to death.

...sex is a substitute, like money or language.

...your story begins the moment Eros enters you. That incursion is the biggest risk of your life. How you handle it is an index of the quality, wisdom, and decorum of the things inside you.

Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.

Philosophers say man forms himself in dialogue.

There is no person without a world.

If there is anything dearer than being alive, it's dark to me.

We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing... life.

The underworld's a blank and all the rest just fantasy.

Caught between the tongue and the taste.

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us? For an instant God suspends assent and poof! we disappear.

Girls are cruelest to themselves.

What really connects words and things?

Blessed be they whose lives do not taste of evil

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.

Consider incompleteness as a verb.

You can get used to anything, my mother was in the habit of saying.

I am talking about evil. It blooms. It eats. It grins.

I don't want to be a person. I want to be unbearable.

Beauty makes me hopeless.

The dead... are victims of love, many of them.

To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

You read a hundred military manuals you won't find the word kill they trick you into killing.

I went mad, a god hurt me, I fell.

Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.

Love does not make me gentle or kind.

Your grief is as great as your splendor was: some god is weighing the one out equal to the other.

You can never know enough, never work enough, ... never leave the mind quickly enough.

Language is what eases the pain of living with other people, language is what makes the wounds come open again.

Where does unbelief begin?

Everything that is me is with me.

A wound gives off its own light...

I began to think I was someone thirsting for God.

You are a person in love with the impossible.

When we are denied a story, a light goes off.

Some conversations are not what they're about.

I lack myself.

Who knows what will happen if I'm alone with my grief.

I... forbid that you should ever lose your screams.

You are not a god. You are not that enlarged self. Indeed, you are not even a whole self, as you now see. Your new knowledge of possibilities is also a knowledge of what is lacking in the actual.

There is a loneliness that fills the plain.

The women of mythology regularly lose their form in monstrosity.

We live by waters breaking out of the heart.

Time as hunger. Time passing and gazing. Time as perseverance. Mountain time. Time as paper folded to look like a mountain. Time compared to the wild fantastic silence of stars.

What are we made of but hunger and rage?

When I look at you, even for a moment, no speaking is left in me.

Kelly Cherry Quotes

I didn't find my story; it found me.

There is blood everywhere and I am lost in it. I breathe blood, not air.

The story of [their] great-grandfather [or any ancestor]... was [their] own story, too.

Ashe Vernon Quotes

Don't you dare, for one minute, believe that my kindness makes me anything but insurmountable.

Understand that I am not your next victim in a laundry list of broken girls.

I will eat you alive before I let you make a meal of me.

What they don't tell you about standing up for what you believe in is that your feet will bruise and your legs will ache.

I'd like to take a moment to submit a formal apology to my soft parts because they kept me warm when I was trying to freeze to death, and I hated them for it.

I let myself be afraid.

When you learn you are only as good as your beauty routine, you forget how to define yourself by anything else.

I will know how to be vulnerable with you, but I won't know how to not regret it.

I know how to put my body inside someone else's but not how to make it beautiful.

I love better at a distance.

I am as much lion as I am lion tamer.

I got good at inflicting pain the same way I got good at soothing it.

Quit picking old wounds and going tor walks in the aches and pains you already made it through--you call it healing, but it sounds like a good way to take a haunting home with you.

I am a cathedral of almost-lovers

Louise Gluck Quotes

We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.

I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.

The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.

Intense love always leads to mourning.

You will never let go, you will never be satiated.

It will feed you, it will ravish you, it will not keep you alive.

Why love what you will lose? There is nothing else to love.

I speak because I am shattered.

I don't need your praise to survive.

Whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice.

Nakedness in women is always a pose. I was not transfigured. I would never be free.

The unsaid, for me, exerts great power.

I am tired of human... I want to live on the sun

Death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life.

There are places like this... you enter as a young girl... you never return.

Writing is a kind of revenge against circumstance, too: bad luck, loss, pain. If you make something out of it, then you've no longer been bested by these events.

The riddle was: why couldn't we live in the mind. The answer was: the barrier of the earth intervened.

It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.

You're not a creature in body. You exist as the stars exist, participating in their stillness, their immensity.

And then, suddenly, something is over.

You must be taught to love me. Human beings must be taught to love silence and darkness.

Sappho Quotes

Someone will remember us/I say/even in another time.

Their heart grew cold. They let their wings down.

What cannot be said will be wept.

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Love shook my heart like the wind on the mountain rushing over the oak trees

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

The female creature is a letter.

No holy place existed without us then

She who loves roses must be patient and not cry when she is pierced by thorns.

Because I prayed this word: I want.

If you had a desire for good or beautiful things and your tongue were not concocting some evil to say, shame would not hold down your eyes but rather you would speak about what is just.

Wealth without virtue is no harmless neighbor.

I am weary of all your words and soft, strange ways.

Paisley Rekdal Quotes

Does it offend you to watch me working in it, touching my hands to the greening tips or tearing the yellow stalks back, so wild the living and dead both snap off in my hands?

I can wait longer than sadness.

It is such a small thing to be proud of.

Should I, too, not be loved?

We are even now still so young

I loved him. I loved forgiving him.

Yasmin Belkhyr Quotes

Contrary to wound, I still know nothing of defeat.

Contrary to ache, I still know nothing of guilt.

I help: a good daughter.

Someone always ends up holding something mangled.

It wasn't enough to feel... he had to see, to know.

Adrienne Rich Quotes

There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.

Lying is done with words, and also with silence

Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you; it means learning to respect and use your own brains and instincts; hence, grappling with hard work.

When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.

My heart is moved by all I cannot save: so much has been destroyed

If you are trying to transform a brutalized society into one where people can live in dignity and hope, you begin with the empowering of the most powerless. You build from the ground up.

Until we know the assumptions in which we are drenched, we cannot know ourselves.

The truth of our bodies and our minds has been mystified to us.

It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath. It will be short, it will not be simple.

You look at me like an emergency.

The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than truth.

In a world where language and naming are power, silence is oppression, is violence.

There is no 'the truth', 'a truth'--truth is not one thing, or even a system. It is an increasing complexity. The pattern of the carpet is a surface. When we look closely, or when we become weavers, we learn of the tiny multiple threads unseen in the overall pattern, the knots on the underside of the carpet.

The moment of change is the only poem

There is nothing revolutionary whatsoever about the control of women's bodies by men. The woman's body is the terrain on which the patriarchy is erected.

The scars bear witness but whether to repair or to destruction I no longer know.

Not biology, but ignorance of ourselves, has been the key to our powerlessness

What kind of beast would turn its life into words?

Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has been created between people.

You touched me in places so deep I wanted to ignore you

Silence can be a plan rigorously executed, the blueprint to a life, it is a presence, it has a history, a form. Do not confuse it with any kind of absence.

Most women have not even been able to touch this anger, except to drive it inward like a rusted nail.

We have lived with violence for so long.

This is my body, take it and destroy it

We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings. And the fear of our deepest cravings keeps them suspect, keeps us docile and loyal and obedient, and leads us to settle for... many facets of our own oppression.

Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.

A language is a map of our failures.

The more I live the more I think two people together is a miracle.

Poetry is, among other things, a criticism of language.

How do you make it, all the way from here to morning?

An honorable human relationship--that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word "love"--is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.

You grieve in loneliness, and if I understand you fuck in loneliness.

We write from the marrow of our bones.

The liar has many friends, and leads an existence of great loneliness

We must use what we have to invent what we desire.

William Styron Quotes

We're all in this game together.

In depression this faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come-not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute.

It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul

We each devise our means of escape from the intolerable.

Reading--the best state yet to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.

Let your love flow out on all living things.

Loss in all of its manifestations is the touchstone of depression--in the progress of the disease and, most likely, in its origin.

Kai Cheng Thom Quotes

I wanted to protect you, but I'm starting to think that the best thing you can do for people is teach them how to protect themselves. Every girl needs to be at least a little dangerous.

A sanctuary is a place where the door only locks from the inside.

Sometimes to be somebody else, you have to be nobody first.

You will be able to stop hurting people when you stop hurting yourself.

When you're a child trapped in a situation of physical or psychological depravation, you learn shame as an efficient, elegant mechanism of survival: shame simultaneously shields you from the reality that danger is out of your control (since the problem is not that you're unloved and deprived; it's that you're Bad) and prevents you from doing or saying anything challenging that might provoke a threat.

It's good for you to cry sometimes. Even if there isn't a reason.

When you live in a community of queers, anarchists, & activists, crisis is the baseline and stability an outlier.

You are mine like nothing has ever been before.

Safety is, I believe, an inherently classed, raced, and gendered experience that frequently runs the risk of being used for regressive ends--ironically, for restricting the freedoms of the vulnerable, those who are never really safe. Often, we see the call for safety actually reinforce the power of oppressive institutions, like the police and the prison system, in our lives. When we choose safety over liberation, our movements fail.

When they looked at me and my sister, even their love was hungry.

Some people will cling on to anything that makes them feel even a little bit free.

Forget, if you can, all the promises you've ever made and the lies that you've told.

Once you start hurting people, you can't stop

I feel tired. I don't want to be myself anymore.

Sometimes it's important to be alive.

Sometimes, there is nothing you can do but surrender.

You are always disappearing in the hope of being seen. You are always shrinking to fit into someone else's arms. You are collapsing ever inward, a galaxy to become smaller.

Gregory Orr Quotes

If we're not supposed to dance, why all this music?

Even hell is holy.

I was born with a knife in one hand and a wound in the other.

Maybe she loved me, maybe not--who knows? Not even the gods can see into a human heart--it's that dark.

Writing often reveals us to ourselves, lets us name what's important to us and what has been silent or silenced inside us.

And to live only once--what if that's not enough?

Maybe it was always simple: loss surrounds us. Who would deny it? We ourselves are loss, are lost.

I want to study the book of the world: every vanishing page.

The dead sing us songs I'm learning to answer.

[bansept]

Let’s dance

/NSFW WORK/

While it’s not the absolute worse, nor the absolute best I could come up with, it’s a pretty nice start of the maybe long series of NSFW scrabbles for my dear Ichihime fandom!

To anyone who was a bit thirsty, I give you this fresh refreshment that I hope isn’t that bad!

DANCER ORIHIME X STUDENT ICHIGO

--------------------------------------------------------

Blurry windows and foggy mirror, heavy breaths and skin burning.

The light was shining on them, their sweaty bodies moving in rhythm with the music, the gentle voice of the instructor ordering them around, making each movement matter.

Now, if anyone had told Ichigo he would be taking dancing lessons, staring at his reflection in half anger, half concentration and listening to young teenage girls giggle behind him, he would have slapped them. Not because dancing was shameful, because frankly, it definitely was not. Well, except for some dances, like the macarena or shit like that. No actually, Ichigo would not have believed himself for agreeing to come to dancing lessons to stare at the instructor.

As in, gawk at her.

.

.

.

Ichigo Kurosaki’s week had started as normally as any other week : waking up early, drinking liters of coffee, going to work on some english literature thesis, eating with some friends and coming back home to work until way too late at night, and starting over again.

Yes, he had been told several times by everyone he knew that coffee was bad when it was too much, yes, he had been told to work better on his thesis if he wanted to study and teach Shakespeare. Easier said than done, and that was why his friends had kept rumbling about either taking a break, thank you Chad, or stoping any distractions and really work, fuck you Uryu.

He was sitting across them, stirring his lunch leftovers slowly while the tall half Japanese half Mexican giant was pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking around them as Uryu was probably talking to him. Ichigo tended to not care much.

“So you better get back on track before your old man decides to stop…”

“He’s not lending me money anymore. I work now, you know?”

Uryu threw Ichigo a quite unimpressed look, closing his mouth only to push his glasses up his straight nose. Chad was holding back a tiny smile, but Ichigo of course saw it.

“Giving lessons to kids and working part time in a dojo isn’t really enough to pay for important studies. Or keep you floating like now for the rest of your little life.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth together, a hand digging in his pocket to hold onto his phone, anything hard to stop him from throwing hands with his friend. He really wondered how or why he even talked with the blue-eyed man in front of him.

“Excuse me?” A voice came from the side, clear and ringing in his ear loud enough for Ichigo to turn his head around. Any distraction was good enough to momentarily wipe Uryu from his mind.

Ichigo felt his grip on his phone loosen, just like his jaw.

The angelic voice that had called them was probably the most angelic form of life on Earth, putting to shame anything renowned painters and, god forbid, even Shakespeare, had ever described. With long, fluffy and so exquisitely soft looking auburn hair, bright grey eyes surrounded by a round face, with subtile eyebrows, a cute little nose and, fuck, pillowy lips…

The young and oh so magnificent woman was slightly leaning towards them, an inviting smile on her face while her slender hand was handing over rosy flyers.

“I’m sorry to bother you, gentlemen, but we are offering free dancing lessons to promote the opening of our new dance studio.” A sweet smile and Ichigo felt his eyes widen further. “Would you be interested?”

With the push of his friends, and because he was perfectly unable to say no to such a goddess, Ichigo was the only one to accept, the other two finding some kind of weird excuse. But really, the young man was perfectly fine in agreeing to go alone there.

.

.

.

What a fantastic recruit they had chosen for the job, he marvelled, walking down the sunny streets with his backpack, staring at the flyer that the gorgeous woman had given him. He wondered if she would be here, in this class, jumping around in sportswear and doing whatever dance lessons did. Ichigo snickered when he realized he’d be one of the idiots doing those idiocities too.

After a good 15 minute-walk, the orange-haired man stood right at the front of a brand new building, the white walls making the golden-ish design of the sign shining in the sunlight. Windows with closed curtains made him raise an eyebrow, but he still entered the dimly lit building, the office desk standing elegantly, but alone.

“Hello?” He asked, voice calling out in the empty space.

God, he hoped he had not arrived too late. Or worse, too early. Ichigo hated to appear eager, even if his brain reminded him that, actually, he was.

A few quick steps rushed on the clean floor, the young woman appearing from the corner of a room, head out of a door, that certainly led to the dance floor. Damn, he hated that word, but like the way her face lit up seeing him.

“Oh! You came!”

Now, if his heart had jumped when Ichigo had first seen her, now something else did when she walked up to him in tight clothing, working out clothing, that hugged everything and didn’t leave much to the imagination. The man quickly got his backpack into his hands and placed it in front of his groin. Breathe in, you can do it.

“Well, huh, I told you I would come, right?” He chuckled airily, watching her smile again, her shoulders lifting up in happiness, her breasts bouncing NO DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

“Thank you for coming, sir. You are right on time for the 3PM lesson. Others should come, but classes are mostly in the morning. Though I could make an exception for you!”

She brought her hands together in a small clap, and Ichigo did blush but desperately hoped it didn’t show.

It did, and the young woman pointed at the door in the back, with written in both English and Japanese “changing room”.

“You can go get changed, here is the key. Please be ready in 10 minutes.” she bowed to him slightly and walked back to the studio, slower than when she came in, and Ichigo felt his eyes trailing after her, impossible to stop himself or walk ahead as long as she was in here.

“I’m fucked.”

.

.

.

Yes, he was.

His young, overactive and definitely way too interested brain had created this mental image of dancing lessons, yoga sessions and massages to be a place of filth, where people turned into beasts and let nature rule them over as one of them was bended over a table while the other pounded in them. Instinctively, the clever and thinking part of said brain had stopped the idea, assuring him they were only fantasies young people in rut had twisted to fit their horny selves.

Unfortunately, part A of the brain had been right, and part B admitted defeat immediately when the session started with stretching methods.

With the instructor showing, naturally.

Going up, down, to one side then the other, running around the room wasn’t that bad. It actually helped get rid of the incoming boner Ichigo felt growing, and he stopped at the end to breathe out, now completely calm.

Apart from the moment she had come up to him to gently help him get the posture right, expertingly taking his hands to place them where needed, showing him how to do the exercise, her butt for him to see, and it was easy to think it was simply a coincidence.

One that brought his hard on back.

Then Orihime Inoue, the instructor, who had given him her name at the very start of the session so they would stop calling each other “Miss” or “Sir” as if they were still in school, came next to him and asked him to do some squats.

“I don’t see how that helps the dancing…” He doubted, looking at her in the eyes, and she chuckled lightly, raising her hand to pick up his arms and place them in the air, in front of him.

“Dancing is beautiful and powerful when you have good leg muscles. And while you do have muscles, if they themselves are not powerful enough, you won’t last very long.” She explained.

He sighed, argument hitting the spot, and did as many squats as her, next to him. If he was going to do some body work, then it would have been better to simply just go to the gym…

“Come on, don’t day dream! Do 50 and then we’ll see how you dance.”

The world stopped, all the clocks ticking in the empty void, head turning to stare at her incredulously, catching her puffing out her cheeks and laughing out loud, holding on to his shoulder to avoid slipping on the ground.

“I’m kidding, Ichigo-san! Don’t worry!” She kept laughing in her hand, and the young man felt several things : first, shame for letting his fear sweat outside of his body. Second, amusement at her dorky laughter.

The third emotion was out before he could control it, pulling her close to him and taking her hand off her face. Orihime looked shocked by his actions, ears and cheeks reddening from the effort as well as embarrassament.

“What…”

“That’s enough exercising for now. Let's get to the real work.”

He looked into her eyes, who had kept on looking up and down his body for the last half hour, her hands who ran up his arms to land on his collarbones, mouth opening slightly to let out nothing but a tiny “yes”.

He had been on fire for multiple reasons in life : because of anger against his father, his friends, sometimes his sisters. Because of grief, when he had to help other family members carry his mother’s coffin. Because of anxiety and weariness, because of exercise.

But this time, when he walked the two of them to a bench by the side of the room, he was burning in need and hunger.

Orihime was also fever like, the nice and calm mask she had slipped on falling away with her tank top, leaving her in just a sports bra while she kissed Ichigo deeply, tongue easily giving up the dominance in favor of the man’s own flexing muscles.

The sound of the music all but disappeared when their bodies collapsed together, hungry kisses and nails like tiger’s claws on each other’s skins.

With a quick breath, Ichigo pulled away from her mouth to kiss her neck, lapping at it gently, her hand going to his hair while he touched the skin of her hips and stomach. Softness and hard muscles seemed hard to combine, yet there she was, smooth smooth skin covering powerful muscles, ones that he would enjoy teasing.

After the kisses, his head got lower and lower, caging her lower stomach, not touching in the slightest her breasts, that would come later.

“Hmf, what are you... “

“Sh, don’t talk too loud, others might hear.”

He grinned from ear to ear, looking up as he licked his lips, her breath catching in her throat. Orihime’s hand suddenly caught his hair and pulled him up, as gently as possible, and they kissed again, one nibbling on the other’s lips, Orihime’s hands getting under the man’s wet shirt, feeling the tight muscles, the crease between each abs, the v line digging in his shorts.

“No one else is here… So, don’t hesitate to yelp, Ichigo.”

She murmured agaisn’t her lips before going deeper in her search, this time digging in his shorts to find what she seeked with a grin.

Ichigo yelped indeed, not expecting the woman under him to get so bold, yet there she was, feeling him up and stroking him in his damn shorts.

Fuck, would be the right word to use.

He didn’t utter a single vowel, bringing her pants and her underwear down rapidly, going back to kiss her as their lips found each other again, lost in moans and the electric touches of their tongues. Orihime kept on stroking him, gently pumping him up and down, the member in her hand turning even harder as she placed her thumb on the slit. Slick came out of it, and she chuckled at the man’s reaction : eyes closed and shaking behind the eyelids, Ichigo seemed ready to burst at any moment, but he groaned, not accepting an early end.

His finger, that had been on her lower stomach, stroking at her sensitive part, now had entered her, one by one. The long digits didn’t waste any time in looking for her gspot, that tender place inside of her that would make her see stars in seconds, if he was careful enough.

“Ichigo… No, not like, th-that…” She moaned against him, her free hand digging in his hair, pulling her face in his neck to try to resist the impossible pull on her body. “I… need….”

“I know, baby, I know… Let me take care of it…” He whispered back to her, placing one kiss on her forehead. His fingers came out of her, taking her own hand off of him, even if he twitched in insubordination. “You’re all good, Hime, you’re good…”

He reassured her, voice gentle like he knew she liked, hands lowering his pants to angle his cock to her. Ichigo finally freed her breasts from their confined space, letting them overflow on her chest, filling his vision with sights of her blushing face and exposed tits.

“You’re beautiful Hime…”

He smiled at her, rubbing her nose with his with a grin that she gave back, before entering her fully, nice and slow. She yelped this time, voice resonating in the empty room, but never stopping her sweet sound and words towards him as she dug her fingernails in his back, feeling him getting as deep as possible, filling her up to the brim, the end, to the heart.

She pushed her head out of his neck, and with a tiny frown, pouted.

“You didn't play.”

Ichigo winced, the tightness of hers squeezing just right around him, and nodded his head.

“I’m sorry… I tried, but you always look so fucking amazing in sports wear… fuck, I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t know my own fiancée!”

Orihime didn’t answer, couldn’t really, and pulled him back down against her generous mounds before he got started with his thrusts, rocking them carefully against the oh so fragile wooden bench of his future wife’s dance studio.

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I’ll never forgive my playlist for making me turn what was supposed to be absolute filth into sweet love making on a bench.

Tell me what you thought of it, and how I can better myself!

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Mulholland Drive (Lynch, 2001)

This review contains spoilers.

David Lynch's Mulholland Drive was released in recent years by the Criterion Collection, that great home video company that's probably the OG of boutique labels, known for putting out acclaimed, significant or otherwise interesting films in really nice packages. (For some reason I had been thinking they put this out only last year until I actually looked it up. I guess my sense of time has been a little warped as of late, and as much as I'd like to tie this review into pandemic-era life, the fact is other labels have captured my attention lately, as can be evidenced by my embarrassingly large and extremely shameful Vinegar Syndrome haul from their Halfway to Black Friday sale from a few months ago.) Now, nobody in 2021 is going into this movie truly blind, but if I happened to pick up the Criterion cover and perused the back, aside from the list of special features and disc specs, you'd see the below (which I grabbed off their website):

Blonde Betty Elms (Naomi Watts) has only just arrived in Hollywood to become a movie star when she meets an enigmatic brunette with amnesia (Laura Harring). Meanwhile, as the two set off to solve the second woman’s identity, filmmaker Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux) runs into ominous trouble while casting his latest project. David Lynch’s seductive and scary vision of Los Angeles’s dream factory is one of the true masterpieces of the new millennium, a tale of love, jealousy, and revenge like no other.

Now, this is a tough movie to evoke with only a blurb, but I'd say that does a pretty respectable job. I however do not own this release. What I do own is the barebones Universal DVD that was released a few months after the movie, back when going into the movie blind would have been far more likely. This is the description on the back:

This sexy thriller has been acclaimed as one of the year's best films. Two beautiful women are caught up in a lethally twisted mystery - and ensnared in an equally dangerous web of erotic passion. "There's nothing like this baby anywhere! This sinful pleasure is a fresh triumph for Lynch, and one of the best films of the year. Visionary daring, swooning eroticism and colors that pop like a whore's lip gloss!" says Rolling Stone's Peter Travers. "See it… then see it again!" (Time Out New York)

Now, the previous description probably couldn't fully capture the movie's essence, but this one makes it sound like an erotic thriller. (Could you imagine somebody going into this thinking this was like a Gregory Dark joint? I say this having seen none of his thrillers and only his hardcore movies, although I must admit an MTV-influenced Mulholland Drive starring, say, Lois Ayres is something I find extremely intriguing.) But you know what? Good for them. Among other things, this movie, with its two all-timer sex scenes, feels like one of the last hurrahs from an era when mainstream American movies could be unabashedly horny, before we were sentenced to an endless barrage of immaculately muscular bodies in spandex (stupid sexy Flanders) somehow drained of all sex appeal (god forbid somebody pop a boner...or ladyboner, let's be egalitarian here). I apologize if I'm coming off as a little gross, but having been able to barely leave the house for practically a year and a half, watching sexy movies like this is one of the few remaining thrills at my disposal. Please, this is all I have.

Now I suppose I should say something about the movie itself, but it might be a challenge given how elusive it is in certain respects (Lynch is notoriously cagey about offering interpretations of his movies) and, as a result, how heavily it's been scrutinized over the years. No doubt any analysis I offer as to the movie's overarching meaning will come off extremely dumbassed. What I will note however, is that for whatever reason, the scene I remembered most vividly is where Justin Theroux walks in on his wife with Billy Ray Cyrus, particularly the candy pink paint he dumps on her jewellery as revenge. We've been following Theroux, a movie director, as he's been having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, having had control over casting his lead actress taken from him, which he proceeds to process by taking a golf club to a windshield of his producers' car and then reacting as above when he finds his wife with the singer of "Achy Breaky Heart".

With his Dune having been notoriously tampered with by producers, I suspect there's a bit of Lynch's own experience in the scene with the producers, which plays like an entirely arbitrary set of rituals deciding the fate of his movie with no regard for his opinion or even basic logic. While I don't know how particular Dino DeLaurentiis was about his espresso, I did laugh. Now, taking the reading that the first two acts of the movie are a fantasy of Naomi Watts' character, who is revealed to be miserable and ridden with jealousy in the third act, the amount of time we spend with Theroux is maybe hard to justify. Is this perhaps her "revenge" on him, his romantic and professional success having been flushed away while he flounders in search of greater meaning to his arc? Aside from possible autobiographical interest, these scenes do play like a riff on the idea that everyone is the main character in their own story, and if the Watts and Laura Harring characters can be thought of as having merged or swap identities, then perhaps Theroux's arc is the remainder of that quotient. (Now, it's worth noting that aside from being insecure and arrogant, Theroux in this movie is a less stylish than the real Lynch. If Watts conjures the best version of herself in her dream, Lynch maybe doesn't want his dream avatar outshining him.)

Now why did the Cyrus scene stick with me all these years when other details had slipped? Mostly because I'd found it amusing, partly because of the extra specific image Lynch produces, and somewhat because of the casting of Billy Ray Cyrus. Now, I don't have any special relationship to the Cyrus' body of work, but Lynch's casting of him, with his distinct mix of bozo, dudebro and hunk, results in a very specific comedic effect. This is something Lynch does elsewhere in the movie, like when he has Robert Forster show up as a detective for a single scene. The Forster role is likely in part a leftover from the movie's origins as a TV pilot, but the effect is similar (albeit less comedic). Melissa George appears as a woman who may or may not be a replacement for Watts in some realm of reality. Other directors obviously cast actors for their screen presence and the audience's relationship to their career, but the way Lynch does it feels particularly pointed, as if he's reshaping them entirely into iconography. The effect is particularly sinister with the presence of Michael J. Anderson, with whom he worked previously on Twin Peaks, and Monty Montgomery as a mysterious cowboy who dangles the secret of the movie over Theroux's character.

Cowboys in movies are frequently heroic presences (see any number of westerns) and are otherwise innocuously stylish (I confess I've come dangerously close to ordering a Stetson hat and a pair of cowboy boots), but the presence of one here feels like a ripple in the movie's reality. A dreamy, brightly lit mystery set in Los Angeles should have no place for a cowboy. It ain't right. (It's worth noting that Lynch at one point copped to admiring Ronald Reagan for reminding him of a cowboy. Is this his expression of a changed opinion? I have no idea, but Lynch has never struck me as all that politically minded.) Neither is the hobo that appears behind the diner. Certainly hobos have made their homes behind diners, but this one's presence and the way Lynch produces him feel again like a ripple in the the movie's narrative. Jump scares are frequently knocked for being lazy and cheap devices to generate shocks, but the one here gets under your skin.

Now about the movie's look. This starts off like a noir, and the mystery plot on paper would lead you to think that's how the whole movie plays, but the cinematography is a lot brighter, with almost confection-like colours, than that would lead you to believe, at least during the daytime scenes. This is another element that likely comes from its TV origins, but it does give the movie a distinctly dreamlike, fantastical quality that a more overtly cinematic look, like the one Lynch used in Lost Highway a few years earlier, might not capture. This is one of the reasons I think this movie works better than that one, and there's also the fact that the amateur sleuthing that drives the bulk of the plot here serves as a more pleasing audience vantage point than the male anxieties that fuel the other film. I also would much rather hang out with Naomi Watts and Laura Harring than a charisma void like Balthazar Getty.

The manufactured warmth of the daytime scenes also results, like in Blue Velvet, in the nighttime scenes feeling like they're in a completely different setting, one which perhaps offers the key to unlocking the mystery, or at least revealing the phoniness of the movie's surfaces. I think of the evocative Club Silencio sequence, which comes as close as anything in the movie to laying its illusions bare. ("No hay banda.") But at times Lynch will throw in disarmingly childlike, inexplicable imagery, like the dancing couples against a purple screen in the opening, something that would seem tacky and amateurish elsewhere but feels oddly cohesive here. There are a number of directors whose work I admire for being "dreamlike", and putting them side by side they all feel quite distinct (you would never mistake a Lucio Fulci film for a Lynch), but they have the unifying idea of imbuing the tactile qualities of film with the truly irrational to really burrow into your subconscious. Other directors have made movies with some of the same elements as Mulholland Drive, but none have put them together in quite the same way.

[noonymoon]

You Have Been Lied To #4

hello again!

in the first few posts we have talked about

how the public narrative is carefully constructed by a global elite

how our entire perception of our past and how we came to be was shaped throughout history

how the myths and stories about a great flood and giants throughout all the cultures are real

how there are children going missing in massive amounts

and why they are going missing 1 & 2 

while i am not at all hurt on a personal level by the fact that many people start to unfollow me - i really don't care for status, fame, pleasure, distraction, an online-reputation, or ANYTHING at all anymore -, i am really saddened that only a fragment of people care for the Truth. the only thing i can do is keep going and pray that people will wake up in time. many others have begun to wake up (a lot of people woke up because of the Qanon movement but i am not a Qanon).

in this post today, i'm going to shed light on what Nazi-Germany actually was. i personally didn't dig deep into my own research because i am entirely overloaded with all kinds of researches and Hitler is not really my favourite topic in the world. but i've read a great book that pulls from many well-researched sources, plus i am using my common sense. when you can count 2+2 together and it makes sense, you know that ist is the Truth. the 2+2 we are going to look at today is the following:

- we've learned that the mainstream media and the entertainment media serves mainly two agendas: 1. to keep the truth away from us, and 2. to shape our perception of WHAT is possible, what is fantasy, what is truth and what is just too crazy to be real. right?

so, according to this parameter, let me ask you the question: why do you think there are SO MANY movies and works about the Nazis being deep into occult knowledge and into mystical artifacts? Captain America: Civil War, Hellboy, Wolfenstein, the Indiana Jones series, Iron Sky, The Keep, and many others are part of this concealing of Truth. the reason why Hollywood wants us to believe that this thought is too fantastical and too absurd to be real is that the Nazis truly had religious interest in the occult.

here is a brief overview about the topic 

there are quotes by Hitler himself which make one think what the heck did he mean by that...? (looking at it from a public narrative perspective ofc)

according to what i've learned Hitler was a huge follower of the teachings of Madam Helena Blavatsky - who founded Theosophy, basically the doctrine where the New Age movement gets pretty much all its ideas, and on which all the secret societies are founded: the Knights Templar, Golden Dawn, Freemasons, Rosicrucians, Ordo Templi Orientis, Illuminati and many more.

this image alone speaks volumes once you realize what’s being communicated.

the Lemurians? the Atlanteans? THE ARYANS? after breaking the veil of deception that is around all of us, it couldn't be more obvious that Hitler was deep in the occult knowledge that was brought forth by Theosophy in 1875. it simply does not make sense at all that Hitlers only goal was to create a race that "has blonde hair and blue eyes" (though it plays a tiny role in this as well). Hitler truly believed with all his rotten heart that there is a race that is superior to regular humans. this religious belief burned in him and his Nazis like an insane fire and they went on a lot of expeditions around the world to find more occult knowledge and also a very specific thing which i am not mentioning yet.

there are a ton of actual real photos of Hitler and his Nazis in Tibet visiting the monks, and also Hitler in the Antarctica (which is a whole rabbit hole for itself but that one is really crazy *lol*) and whatever you've heard in the public why Hitler went to these places, it is not the Truth.

when i was still in this witchy community on here, i often saw posts that basically told Nazis to f*ck off and stop using Runes. back then i had no concept of why any Nazi would use the nordic runes except maybe the superficial thought of "Germans are germanics are nordics" or whatever *lol*, the Truth is, in Hitlers quest to unlock as much as occult knowledge as possible, he also visited Iceland and studied the Nordic Edda. [ Hitlers goddaughter was also named Edda, just throwing this in here ] - Guido von List (an Austrian living in Germany) was apparently the first one to assign mystical meanings to the nordic runes and founding an occult Religion named Wotanism, he died in 1919.

another thing i want to point out is the Swastika. you probably know that the Swastika is pretty much an ancient symbol and appears in ALL kinds of cultures of this world. there is a reason for this that goes deep beyond any regular comprehension, but the public narrative is that Hitler simply stole this symbol and made it a Nazi-Germany symbol, but the truth goes much, much, much deeper than that.

of course we can pretend like all of these connections are just "coincidences" and of course we can cling to the public narrative that is telling us lies, lies, lies. i dearly encourage everyone who wants to know the Truth about this world to start researching. in all of the previous posts i've mentioned and linked really good starting points. you don't have to be a Christian or believe in Jesus in order to find out about the world we live in (though, after discovering all of the pieces and puzzling them together, the most logical thought for me was to literally RUN towards Jesus and i know this is different for everybody but i am praying for you to find Him). i know a lot of this sounds crazy and flat-out foil-hat-kind of way. but always remember that this image of the Truth is on purpose. people who dig into the Truth get out-cast, people who discover the Truth and want to wake other people up are being labelled as wrong and crazy, get silenced, get threatened, get assassinated.

to say it in Hitlers very words: "Truth is not what is; Truth is what people believe it to be" .... sadly, that is very true in our society today. everyone just picks and chooses what they want to believe and there is no concept anymore of ultimate Truth because we are being lied to from each and every side. and i know this sounds radical and Noony how can you say something like this, and so on and so forth, i really GET IT. i understand that it sounds radical, i understand that it isn't what people WANT to hear. you can condemn me all that you want, i really do not care anymore, this is way too important than setting my own comfort above it. Truth is truth, and lies are lies.

one of my favourite scriptures in the Bible is "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." --- John 8:32 ... it could NOT be MORE accurate. it's actually mindblowing how relevant and true these thousand year old words are, especially today. i've never felt so light and free and happy and sane EVER before in my entire life. i've quit my psychopharmacy drugs a while ago (i've been taking prescription drugs for more than 10 years) and my life is looking just bright and wonderful right now, and this even though i almost died in April, still recovering from it. i am more courageous, more filled with love, more motivated, more friendly, more calm, my household is doing just fine, everything is clean and neat, i am doing my chores, my plants are thriving, and even though i am literally ALONE 24/7 (real life AND online) i never ever feel lonely. and i am living with wide open eyes and even though this world is HORRIBLE, i am peaceful now. the Truth really DOES make you free. i've stopped with all kinds of toxic things, from sugar to drugs, you name it. i don't crave neither stimulation nor attention anymore. it's incredible. i can only recommend it. what God and his prophets also foretold over 2000 years ago that it would be EXACTLY like this. "evil will be considered good, and good will be considered evil" - people who speak the truth and do the good deeds will be demonized by the masses.

doing witchcraft and magic and believing in the New Age NEVER felt evil because i was never harming anyone. and i am pretty sure that 99,5% of you people on here feel the exact same way. we are being conditioned by the entertainment media to believe that magic is wonderful, innocent and curious. Disney is doing a GREAT job easing little children into the concepts of magic and fantasy. and i know most of all people never harm anyone with their magic. and God didn't forbid us to do magic because he doesn't want us to have fun or to have a spiritual life, or because he thinks we don't deserve any of the things we can do for ourselves magically. God will HAPPILY provide each and every need of us. the reason why God forbid his people to practice magic, sorcery, divination and witchcraft is to protect us from being deceived. now, a lot of people will rebel mentally, and that's okay, i was the same way. before you haven't discovered the truth and combined all of the puzzle pieces, it really just doesn't make a lot of sense, is really provoking and sounds bad. i was really wrestling with all this myself. now, i am grateful to the Lord that this wrestling process ended up in me being OPEN to what He has to say, and discovering the Truth instead of rebelling and living a lie any further. Praise God for not giving up on me with my stubbornness.

today, i've listened to an interview with the Illuminati Defector that i've mentioned in an earlier post, who was going to be one of the highest ranks in the Illuminati (Queen Mother of Darkness). her name is Jessie Czebotar and she has made it her mission to bring light to this worldwide matter and help survivors being rescued. please listen to some of her interviews, it’s mind-blowing what she has to say.

honestly, when you realize how EVIL these people are and that they ARE witches and druids and that they USE the occult and witchcraft and magic on an EXTREMELY high and incredible level, the LAST thing you WANT is to continue doing the same thing. like. i am not judging anyone here, truly. because we simply do not know what's going on. but when you suddenly realize that EVIL PEOPLE like Hitler, like the Illuminati and the Freemasons and all of these secret occult societies did and ARE doing the same thing of which WE regular people think it's no big deal and it's okay, you simply wanna run, run, run from it as far as you possibly can. at least this is how i feel about it. i am not forcing anyone to believe me, i am simply encouraging you to at least find out why i am saying all these things to you, and then decide for yourself.

Jesus said that we will know them by their fruits. a good tree can only create good fruit and a bad tree can only create bad fruit. a good tree can not create bad fruit and a bad tree can not create good fruit. it's really quite simple.

God bless the ones that read this with an open mind.

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift’s Cinematographer: How We Shot ‘Folklore’ Video During a Pandemic

“We needed to be safe,” Rodrigo Prieto says. “For her sake and for our sake as a crew during the shoot, but also for the future of filmmaking”

CLAIRE SHAFFER

Rodrigo Prieto is not exactly the guy you call for an easy shoot – whether that’s a four-hour mob epic for Martin Scorsese, a post-9/11 meditation on New York for Spike Lee or a triptych ensemble drama for Alejandro González Iñárritu. More recently, the renowned cinematographer was faced with a challenge of a different kind: taking on his second top-secret music video for Taylor Swift during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Swift unveiled her self-directed “Cardigan” video last Friday alongside Folklore, her indie-rock quarantine opus cobbled together over the past three months. The 16-track record has dominated both physical sales and digital streams, despite largely avoiding the traditional, prolonged album rollout that Swift has codified during her time on the pop charts. As far as promotional singles go, “Cardigan” barely counts, as it premiered on YouTube simultaneously with the album’s release on streaming services; you could choose, as many did, to listen to all of Folklore before ever pressing play on the video. But rather than feeling tacked on to the project, “Cardigan” acts like Folklore’s plain-spoken thesis statement, depicting Swift on a solo journey through magical forests, stormy seas and candlelit cottages that she conjures up with her own musical capabilities. Like the album, it’s homespun and dreamlike and, in the right light, a little unsettling.

According to Prieto, that all came from Swift on their first phone call. “She had the whole storyline – the whole notion of going into the piano and coming out into the forest, the water, going back into the piano,” he tells Rolling Stone. Their last collaboration, “The Man,” found Swift adopting a male alter ego to satirize gender inequality. From the beginning, though, Prieto says “Cardigan” was always going to be more ambiguous, and more personal: “When she called me and told me that this was more of a fantasy, I found that really appealing.”

This was in early July, when Prieto had simultaneously begun serving on a committee for the American Society of Cinematographers (ASC) to conceive solutions for safely resuming film production during the ongoing pandemic, all while COVID cases continued to spike upwards in California. Prieto had just finished filming a PSA for a healthcare company when Swift asked him to work on “Cardigan,” and he was well aware of the many, many layers of risks involved in the project.

“We needed to be safe, for her sake and for our sake as a crew during the shoot, but also for the future of filmmaking,” he says. “Because we want to keep working and doing what we do, and if, God forbid, someone got sick on one of the first jobs that was filmed, it would probably close down [the industry].”

The extensive safety protocols for the shoot ranged from standard – everybody had to get tested, and every member of the crew wore a mask – to outlandish: Because Swift would need to spend a large part of the shoot not wearing a face covering, the crew used a colored wristband system, determining which members of the team were permitted to stand closest to her. (Prieto, assistant director Joe Osborne, and set designer Ethan Tobman all wore one color, lighting designers and gaffers wore another, and so on.)

Prieto actually wore two face coverings – a mask and an acrylic shield – for most of the day-and-a-half-long shoot. And just to ensure that crew members crossed within a six-foot range of Swift as little as possible, the entire “Cardigan” video was shot by mounting the camera to a robotic arm, which was then controlled by a remote operator. The “techno arm,” as Prieto calls it, is typically only used in the industry for crane shots and other establishing visuals.

“We were going to use the crane for the ocean scene,” Prieto explains, referencing the shot where the image zooms out on the wide expanse of the water before honing back in on Swift. “So then I said, let’s have it both days.”

Hooking the camera up to a giant robot was the safest way to get close-ups on Swift’s face, Prieto explains. And as unwieldy as that sounds, you’d never know from watching the video that a human being wasn’t behind the lens at all times (In fact, given its success, Prieto is looking into smaller robotic arms that can be used on a dolly for upcoming projects.)

There was, of course, the added tangle of secrecy – the filmmaking had to be done indoors to avoid crowds, and Swift wore an earpiece throughout the shoot to lip-sync to the song without any of the crew hearing it. The crew built three sets on two stages across one large studio, and in order to create the illusion of natural light for the outdoor scenes, Prieto and his crew draped giant stretches of white bouncing fabric on the walls and ceiling. The process took longer than usual due to COVID, with the lighting crew working in small groups and frequently taking breaks so they could remove masks and catch their breath.

“Filmmaking is a gregarious endeavor by nature,” Prieto says. “People are close to each other, so it’s really hard to remember to keep to yourselves.” Given the distancing on set, it was sometimes tricky for crew members to communicate over reference points and documents – “we had to kind of point at each other” – but Prieto attributes Swift’s clear vision for the project as a guiding light. Ahead of the shoot, she sent him and Tobman numerous visual references for each scene – a mix of photographs for the dark ocean water and drawings for the fantastical forest sequence. One illustration, of a sword lodged into a rock formation overlooking a creek, was particularly inspiring: “That became our focal interest – we didn’t imitate it, but the feeling of it was what we went with.”

On top of that, Swift came up with a detailed shot list for the video ahead of time, with each visual accompanied by a time sequence within the song. “The ocean water, the fingers on the piano, whatever it may be, she knew what she wanted for each section,” Prieto says. Unlike with “The Man,” Swift couldn’t be as hands-on with her direction on set – she viewed each take through a video monitor after it was shot – but Prieto was impressed by her ability to “talk with the camera” and utilize cinematic language without formal training, like with the unorthodox, zoom-out-and-in shot over the ocean. “I was blown away, because it’s all metaphorical,” he says. “This video is not just pretty images of things; she’s telling a personal story through her lyrics, her music, and now through the video.”

ts1989fanatic her mind and artistic talent continues to amaze me constantly

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Empire of Sand by Tasha Suri

Summary: A nobleman’s daughter with magic in her blood. An empire built on the dreams of enslaved gods. Empire of Sand is Tasha Suri’s captivating, Mughal India-inspired debut fantasy.

The Amrithi are outcasts; nomads descended of desert spirits, they are coveted and persecuted throughout the Empire for the power in their blood. Mehr is the illegitimate daughter of an imperial governor and an exiled Amrithi mother she can barely remember, but whose face and magic she has inherited.

When Mehr’s power comes to the attention of the Emperor’s most feared mystics, she must use every ounce of will, subtlety, and power she possesses to resist their cruel agenda.

Should she fail, the gods themselves may awaken seeking vengeance…

Empire of Sand is a lush, dazzling fantasy novel perfect for readers of City of Brass and The Wrath & the Dawn. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: A fantastic fantasy with really cool worldbuilding that we adored, and it keeps you engaged with a protagonist who does what she wants without remorse 😤 (and we love her). Also, heads up this isn’t YA persay, we’d classify it as more NA (new adult).

The Good

→ Mehr

Kae: So let’s get started with one of my favourite strong, badass female characters, Mehr.  Mehr is the “bastard” daughter of a noble. Her parents were very much in love, but her mother was an Amrithi. The Amrithi people in this world, are very connected to the spirits and the Earth. But, as all ~connected~ people seem to be, they were hunted by the Ambhans because they were seen as the lowest race of people. They were seen as barbaric, heathens, and all those other mean things people say to seem inferior. As much as the Ambhan’s hated the Amrithi, they needed their blood to protect themselves from Daiva (spirits). Ambhan’s also think of themselves as the superior race so jot that down. Now let’s get back to Mehr. 

Mehr is the daughter of an Ambhan noble and an Amrithi tribeswoman. The Amrithi do not marry because it will mean they are giving themselves up and breaking a vow that it literally written on their skin. It would mean they are losing a part of themself. Because Mehr’s father keeps a big ol’ cup of ‘RESPECTING WOMEN JUICE’ with him, he was like “Yeah that’s totally fine. I still love you and our children will be protected so this is fine.” So Mehr is protected, as well as her little sister Arwa. The thing is though, Mehr looks very much like the Amrithi. She has her mother's dark skin and hair, and tall figure. Her little sister looks more Ambhan, so she has a much easier time blending in. When Mehr was very young, her mother abandoned them and returned to the desert. So Mehr’s father had to remarry. Mehr’s stepmother is not kind to her at all. She is mean and petty and even forbids Mehr to see her sister, Arwa whenever she feels Mehr is being ‘disobedient’. Mehr’s stepmother, Miryam, has also raised Arwa as her own because she cannot have children. So she feels some type of ownership over Arwa. 

Mehr is very aware of her Amrithi roots and continues to practice the Amrithi religion and dance her Rites whenever she gets the chance. On one particular spirit Daiva fueled stormy night, Mehr decides to dance her rites in the storm. This particular storm is called Dreamfire and it’s basically when the spirits come down to earth. While doing her Rites, she ends up lost and wanders into the city, unaccompanied (Which is a huge no-no) and finds herself at an Amrithi woman's house (whom? Has taught her the rites and her heritage, in hiding.) This grabs the attention of the Mystics and they are at her house within a few weeks. The Mystics are very powerful people who you absolutely cannot refuse or they’ll pretty much kill your whole family. So she is offered a marriage proposal and has to take it to save herself and her family. This is when she is introduced to her soon to be husband, Amun.

Geena: I loved Mehr, and Tasha Suri does a good job of using Mehr’s character with her lineage as a way to comment on colourism and caste (since the book is set in a place that is essentially the Indian subcontinent). But yeh, Kae hit all the plot points, Mehr’s constantly told to hide her amrithi self but she dgaf and does what SHE wants… though this does lead to the Mystics showing up like Kae said. I think part of the history of the Ambhan empire is that they essentially “colonized” the amrithi, and the mystics had a huge part of that since they (we learn later) use the Amrithi to harness the daiva and their powers and guide the success of the ambhan empire. SO, Mehr is forced to accept this arranged marriage, even though her father HATES that the mystics are taking away Mehr’s ability to make her own choice. Ambhans generally consider women property but when it comes to choosing marriage partners, women are given free reign to make a choice, so her dad is furious when the mystics insinuate that Mehr HAS to accept. 

Mehr could’ve said no, but she thinks about it and realizes that if she doesn’t go along with the mystics they’d ruin her dad and this would ruin her younger sister’s life too. Our girl says ‘family over everything’ and jumps into the marriage, another amrithi boy (both characters are like 19 I think??). But right after the boy, Amun, is furious and Mehr can’t figure out why until he points out that now they’re bound for life!!! Mehr can’t STAND his ass, she’s like “okay but I didn’t want this either bitch” anyways this is a very slowburn type of story. Mehr quickly learns what it is the mystics do and she’s basically like “o shit.” SO LIKE, we learn that Amun has been under the mystics since he was a kid, and he essentially had accepted his fate that ‘I will live and die working for them’ but then Mehr shows up and learns everything, and our girl is quick-witted and isn’t about to take shit lying down. I LOVE how she essentially is a beacon of hope, even when her mother abandoned them and she was stuck with a shitty stepmom it didn’t stop her from embracing her roots and living life how she wanted. AND!!! Despite her stepmom’s threats she didn’t say away from Arwa and taught Arwa almost everything she knew. Mehr had rules laid out for her but she was like “lmao fuck that” and did what she felt like doing.  She’s also really sweet, she learns all about Amun and manages to befriend other people under the mystics, which backfires but you kno. You win some, you lose some. Mehr is truly that bitch and gave Amun hope, and together they fought for their freedom. 

ALSO, I should add that I like how Mehr doesn’t make dumbfuck decisions like everything that goes wrong isn’t necessarily her fault (other than her few slip-ups rip) but like she isn’t a dumbass so I found solace in that. 

→ Amun

Kae: Amuuuun. Amuun. Amun. I liked him a lot. He’s just this very quiet, handsome young man who is TRYING HIS BEST. He like, initially stays away from Mehr because he is resisting an order from the Maha. Basically, if the Maha tells Amun to do something, he HAS to do it, or he starts to suffer. It’s because when Amun was first forced to join the Maha and his religious cult, Amun had to take a vow (which is very literal and serious for Amrithi and is literally carved into their skin) to always obey the Maha. Amun has his own way or obeying the Maha. He rebels in the smallest way he can and I don’t think he even realized how much he was rebelling. It was just natural to him. He does what the Maha asks of him but in his own way. But yes, Amun was very standoffish towards Mehr. He was kind of afraid to get close to her because neither of them wanted to get married, but for Amun, it was a vow he was instructed to do. For Mehr, it was saving herself and her family. So he teaches her the new Rites she has to learn to perform in Dreamfire storms, etc. But eventually, they start to talk and actually enjoy each others company. Amun is comanded to sleep with Mehr, but since that’s isn’t exactly a ~specfic~ order, he has been sleeping with her… But like, literally just sleeping beside her in the same bed. That’s it. But TECHNICALLY, he is doing as he was commanded. See? Our boy finds loopholes because HE SMART. AND HE DRINKS ‘RESPECTING WOMEN JUICE’. We stan a legend. SO YEAH THE MAHA FINDS OUT ABOUT THIS. MAHA IS PIIIIIISSED. So he literally says to Amun, “fuck your wife.” and him and Mehr are close and this point and Amun is literally killing himself by not doing this direct command because he doesn’t want to hurt Mehr. He doesn’t want to force her to have sex with him. He is literally losing weight, sweating, getting sick. All of it. And Mehr is like “Listen… I love you. I really do and I don’t want you to die. So like, just do it. It’s okay, I’m giving you permission.” AMUN OUR SWEET BOY IS STILL SO HESITANT BECAUSE HE DOESN’T WANT TO DEFILE HER. BUT HE IS DYING SO LIKE, HE HAS TO HAVE SEX WITH HER. IT’S EITHER FUCK OR DIE. THE WORLD FUCKS U EITHER WAY SO MIGHT AS WELL. 

Geena: WHEN….. WHEN THE MAHA TOLD HIS OLD GENERAL DUDE “YOU WATCH AND MAKE SURE THEY DO” I WAS SITTING HERE LIKE…. BRO…. BRO WHAT……… AND THE GENERAL WAS UNCOMFORTABLE AND EVERYONE WAS UNCOMFORTABLE….. AND like everyone is eating the Maha’s ass at this point and it takes Mehr forever to convince the general guy to be like “couldn’t you just wait at the end of the staircase and listen instead” god that was so awkward.

Kae: I’M GLAD YOU MENTIONED THAT PART. Yes, it was extremely uncomfortable for everyone in this situation. Including the readers asdfghjkl;. But like, The general agrees and waits outside. Mehr and Amun are making the best of their situation and well… They make LOOOOVE. And it’s actually really sweet and not a bad scene. He was gentle with her and they made their own vows to each other to make such a harsh, forced moment, a moment of their own. Amun is just a sweet, quiet boy who is very much in love with his wife and he just gets caught up in shit. But we love him. 

Geena: I ONLY WANNA ADD ONE THING, which is that the condition the Maha had laid out was the moment that Amun slept with Mehr, Mehr would be forced to follow every single order from the Maha too. So all of Mehr’s “Friends” feel bad for her because she’s being forced to sleep with Amun, who they think is this hulking man who’s rude to everyone (he has reason to be bc they all treat him like a monster). And Mehr can’t handle her man being slandered and she’s like “EXCUSE YOU, BUT THAT MAN IS SOFT™ AND HASN’T TOUCHED ME” and one of her “friends” is like.. “O worm?” and basically snitches to the Maha. Also, I love how Amun is written, he doesn’t have a perspective of his own but we still get to see what drives him and why he is the way he is, like his past and what his dreams had been. Amun is like a dark skinned Thor but like more depressed sdkfjndsf 

WAIT UNREALated to Amun  kinda, but when the whole book went without cussing and near the end the Maha was like “AMUN I WANT YOU TO FUCK MEHR” I LOST IT….. Tasha’s editor was like “You may say fuck…. But only ONCE” like that donkey kong meme.  

AND ANOTHER THING, the ending with Mehr and Amun had me like clutching my chest. They manage to defeat the Maha and essentially free any future Amrithi from facing the same fate as them, but they realize that the dreamfire dance is important to keep the gods and daeva appeased. Mehr steps up saying that she’ll stay in like the Maha’s place and perform the dance and teach any Amrithi willing to listen, and Amun says he’ll stay with her too. BUT!! He had also said that he wants to do nothing more than leave that place and travel far away from the Maha’s influence, and Mehr essentially tells him “Amun, you gotta go live your life, I refuse to tie you down with me.” and up until the last page the reader is like…. O shit…. He’s going….. AND that’s so sweet of Mehr to say because she knows that Amun only has bad memories of the place and it’s overall traumatic for him so even though she loves him she doesn’t want to tie him down. BUT!!!! AMUN STAYS ALL BC HE’S LIKE MEHR IS HIS LIFE!! And together they stay and train Amrithi, and the place that had once been used to imprison and enslave Amrithi is made into a safe haven for them. 

Kae:  boom yes ur were right. I got caught up because it was so cute. But like, he goes “I don’t want to travel. I want to be with u” and she’s like “NOOO LIVE UR LIFE DON’T STAY CAUSE I WANT U TO” and he’s like “but i want to court u like we talked about” and she's like “BOY WE MARRIED” and he’s like “Yeah, but like, I want to court you every day. Like if we were normal and didn’t get forced into this. Anyway, I love you a lot, but we should do this right” and she gets all flustered and shes like “WHEW. IM GETTIN’ HOT. ENOUGH COURTING FOR TODAY.” 

The Bad:

→ The Mothers

Geena: Kae mentioned earlier than Mehr has had two moms, her real one and then the stepmom that she was forced to deal with after her mom left (see: abandoned) her. As much as her stepmom was an asshole to her, she did her absolute best to be a good mother to Mehr’s younger sister so like… I guess she deserves SOME rights. BUT…. THEIR BIRTH MOM? AN ABSOLUTE TOOL. We end up meeting Mehr’s mom after Mehr runs away from the Maha, turns out she’s been acting as chief for a tribe this whole time??? And wasn’t missing or dead…. Just out here…. Travelling with her tribe…. Not giving a shit about her daughters… And when her mom learns that Mehr is under the Maha’s control her mom is unsupportive in my opinion, and I was ready to fight her. Mehr asks for her help but her mom is like :///// sorry my tribe comes first :/// and anyways I was v unimpressed and her mom’s excuse was like “oh your dad gave u a life better than I ever could” like that doesn’t mean shit when Mehr didn’t have anyone to lean on in her life (like her stepmom could give two shits about Mehr…. Imagine getting ur period for the first time and your stepmom is just like ‘yea idc’ so u gotta sit there with ur cramps all sad with no one to hug you, bc all the servants think you’re weird).  Tasha Suri does a great job at writing varying levels of shitty parenting so there’s that lmao  

→ Kalini 

Kae: So now we have, Kalini, AKA BOOOOTLICKERRRRRR. Kalini and her sister whose name escapes me at the moment, were ~rescued~ by the Maha when they were kids or whatever. So she is his self proclaimed right-hand woman. 

Geena: She highkey wanted to fuck the Maha you can’t change my mind. She saw his wrinkly ass and was like “I wanna hit that”

Kae: LMAOOO YOU’RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. And like, she also highkey hates Mehr. She thinks that if her sister, Hema, continues to talk to Mehr, she will land herself in trouble and well, Kalini wasn’t wrong. Hema’s throat is slit and she bleeds out in front of her sister for fraternizing with Mehr. Kalini was mean to Mehr from the start, but the murder of her sister just darkens Kalini even more. She loathes Mehr. BUT, Kalini isn’t a total dumbass. She DOES recognize that the Maha is the one who commanded her death, so she holds that memory tight and uses it to fuel her. She later kills the Maha where he stands, letting him know that he is not a God, and is mortal like everyone else. She slits his throat. Boom, he dead. 

Geena: Kalini was eating the Maha’s ass but she realized he wasn’t shit at the same time. So she can have rights bc of that I suppose. 

The Ugly: 

→ Maha

Geena: now to talk about, as Kae beautifully phrased it the  “HOE ASS BITCH ASS FUCK ASS MAHA” He is truly… the nASTIEST man alive, thinks of himself as a God even though he’s ugly and probably has the body of a pufferfish (unappealing). So, he has the ability to do ~vibe checks~ and find amrithi, who he forces to dance every few months during a huge dreamfire storm so he can harness the magic and use it to fuel the Ambhan empire. He’s had Amun under his thumb since the boy was a child, and now he wants to use Mehr too…. OKAY WAIT KAE DIDN’T HE WANT THEM TO “BREED”  

Kae: YEAH. BUT AMUN SAID THEY COULDN’T HAVE KIDS BECAUSE THE DREAM FIRE RITE FUCKS THEM UP. BUT HE ONLY CAME TO THAT CONCLUSION BECAUSE MAHA WAS FUCKIN’ THE LADY THAT WOULD DANCE THE RITE WITH AMUN BUT SHE CULDN’T GET PREGGGERS. SO I JUST THINK THE MAHA WAS FUCKED UP AND NOT THEM. We will see in book 2 tho…. 

Geena: YEA!!! SO THAT WAS JUST ONE OTHER FUCKED UP THING THE MAHA ORCHESTRATED (also lmao he was shooting dust ehehhe). Along with slitting Hema’s throat and uh telling Amun to force himself on Mehr. A part of me was thinking while reading that if Amun and Mehr weren’t married and had their vows…. What he would’ve done… He was a gross old man and eugh makes my skin crawl thinking about him. Like he enslaved Amrithi and worked them until the ritual eventually killed them and ugh fuck that man he got the death he deserved… Though I kinda wish Amun had been the one to stab him dead but :/ 

Kae: Geena broke it down pretty well. We HATE THE MAHA AND HE’S A FUGLY, SKANK BITCH. He really is the worst though. He had been harnessing the power of the Amrithi people for generations, making him pretty much immortal (right or am I wrong?) until Mehr and Amun fought back and she dipped out on him in the middle of a huge dreamfire storm. Since they didn’t complete the rite, the Maha didn’t get that nice hit of Amritihi power, and he quickly began to age and get sick. This is when Kalini saw her opportunity to strike and murked his ass. The Maha was demanding, evil, VILE, and an abusive manipulator. I don’t like him. BUT THAT’S GOOD THAT WE DON’T LIKE HIM because that means he was well written. Tasha Suri does a fantastic job writing all of these characters.

Conclusion

Kae: Also, dude. Tasha wrote Mehr so well. It's why she’s one of my favourites. Like, Mehr was brave, but she was scared as shit in the beginning. She did everything she was told and we see her progress into this strong wonderful young lady and it's such a beautiful development? And same with Amun? He’s like, quiet and weird but we find out it was because he wanted to protect Mehr from the start? POETIC CINEMA. 

Geena: FUCK DUDE you’re so right, it reminds me of Sabaa’s writing a lot too. The way we see her characters flourish in tandem with each other like OOOF, I wanna write like that. Also, the romance isn’t like an insta-love type of deal, Tasha makes it very clear that it develops over a long period of time, and uughhhh everything is so natural. Speaking of, Tasha Suri’s coming out with another book set in the same universe, but this time it’ll be focused on Arwa, Mehr’s sister. We’re super excited because it happens years after this book, and Kae mentioned that Tasha has hinted at a family reunion so I CAN’T WAIT! 

[gwiiyeoweo]

Adagium was supposed to be a daemon, a powerful monstrosity the Founder King and the Oracle had sealed away. A fearsome creature that corroded everything in its wake, that burned innocent villages to the ground and held its victims under its thrall, the old texts had said.

Adagium wasn't supposed to be a man.

“What in the Six —”

“Clarus.” Regis sucked in a sharp breath and put one foot forth, eyes trained on the prisoner. “We're getting him down.”

Regis seeks out the old legends for himself and discovers there's more to it than fantastical tales of kings and daemons.

Pairing: Ardyn & Regis, Ardyn & Noctis, Regis/Aulea Rating: G

It had been a year too long.

They had all seen it coming, the looming omen that cast itself as a black veil over the entire kingdom. King Mors would die — an early death, so very like the kings before him. Just another token for the Crystal to take. Regis had steeled himself for the worst, throwing himself into the Crown's duties and to the political wolves, in preparation for the inevitable day. Insomnia had mourned the King's death — some celebrated it — but Regis had mourned for a lost father. Cor and Clarus each had their respective duties, Cor struggling with his switch from Mors to Regis and Clarus bearing the full weight of his own father's heavy mantle.

And while his friends had done the best they could to keep each other afloat, Aulea, dear sweet but fierce Aulea, held him through the nights where his grief and the Crown's weight proved just a pound too heavy, and carefully chipped away at the massive burden until Regis could carry it again.

Only when the council was cowed, having elected Clarus in their ranks a monumental relief, and Niflheim temporarily abated beyond Lucis’ borders — the spy network reported them to be occupied with some scientific discovery and their King's ailing health — did Regis remember an old story hidden away in his father's belongings, a whimsical tale of the Founder King and his ascension to the throne. But beyond that, he remembered his father's near mania of securing the islands off Galdin Quay, going so far as to station guards on Angelgard.

A monster was sealed in there, apparently, and it was their duty to keep it that way lest destruction fall upon their fair nation. And the whole world. Older now, Regis didn't believe in fairy tales, but the mystery on Angelgard could very well be that truth; he had spent an entire roadtrip slaying and sealing daemons, after all. Mors had placed restrictions on the island, going as far as forbidding his own son to go near it.

Now though, there was nothing left but to carry on his father's duties. And with Niflheim pulling back their forces from Lucis’ borders, he'd need to use this window of opportunity and pay a visit soon.

The sun dipped just below the horizon. With Clarus at his side, they stepped off the royal vessel, the ride from Insomnia to Galdin to Angelgard surprisingly tame and enemy-free. Cor had been right; whatever it was, Niflheim was too busy cooing and marveling at their scientists’ invention, a concern to mull over at a later time. The guards who had once been stationed here were absent, died during the invasion from what Regis had heard. He tipped his head toward the rusted remains of old weapons scattered across the dirt and stone, silently thanking them for their service. Behind him, he heard the faint rustle of fabric and the ring of steel as Clarus paid his own quiet respects.

The ancient walls moved easily enough, responding to the Ring and the royal magic in his veins, the stone crumbling and scraping as it parted under Regis’ outstretched hand. He paused at the edge, where the weeds and dry sprouts of grass ceased and gave way to old architecture, to the entrance of a timeworn prison and a daemon's coffin. He hesitated, feeling the dim thrum of magic wafting through the corridor. Sealing magic, he knew, but the minute elements woven into it had him concerned and doubting.

The design of the magic had decayed over time, over two millennia if he was correct, but this wasn't a seal to lock away a simple demon; from what he could tell, by the sixth sense that was bred into the Caelum line, the foundation of it all took its origins from old arts made to imprison criminals and outlaws — humans. There was a darker secret here, not just a children's tale of righteous kings taming evil monsters.

Regis breathed in, nerves made steady, and started down the stairs when Clarus placed a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Hold now. Where do you think you're going?” There was a lilt of amusement in his voice but an admonishing hint in his eyes and raised brow. “Last time I checked we're just strengthening the seals, not daemon slaying. Cor won't be happy to know he's left out.”

“I believe there's more to it than a locked away daemon.” He turned his gaze over his shoulder, glancing down at the hand for a moment before looking at Clarus. “I only ask that you trust me.”

Shaking his head, Clarus withdrew his hand to lightly set it atop the hilt of his sword, a modest longsword compared to the great chiseled blade hidden away in his King's Armiger. He leveled a look at Regis, his eyes only half admonishing in the way he often shot at Regis in their younger years — and still did. “I'll do my job as Shield, Regis, even if it means following you and your stupid ideas.”

Regis nodded his head and offered a smile of thanks; for all their teasing and goading and heated arguments, he’d forever hold that piece of infinite gratitude, Shield or not. It’s all that took to light that flame in his step again, to push him over the small cracks in the stone that so seemed like deep chasms and craters in the earth’s crust. Funny, how he had set himself forth with such ferocity and thunder to pick up his father’s legacy and an entire kingdom, yet this tiny stone prison was enough to wedge all doubts in his chest. But he would press on, discover the answer to this ill aching in his chest and the throbbing uncertainty beneath his skin.

He followed each careful step, Clarus trailing at his heels, letting the dying sunlight and the growing unease guide his way. He followed the flowing cracks, remnants of Ramuh's judgments made in shattering electricity. He followed the old runes, markings of Old Lucian borrowed from Solheim's legacy, that lent their power to the binds and seals etched into the prison. He followed, until he could follow no more. Not because he reached the end and could go no farther, but because the dread in his heart turned to ice in his legs, freezing the blood in his veins and weighing his feet like solid blocks of ice.

Clarus was the first to break the silence with a hissed curse.

“Adagium.”

Regis’ whisper came so softly, lost in the waves that gently crashed against the island and in the cry of gulls above, but it was a roar in his ears that even drowned out the rush of blood in his skull.

Adagium was supposed to be a daemon, a powerful monstrosity the Founder King and the Oracle had sealed away. A fearsome creature that corroded everything in its wake, that burned innocent villages to the ground and held its victims under its thrall, the old texts had said.

Adagium wasn't supposed to be a man. It — no, he, wasn't supposed to be a man in full flesh and living skin, still breathing and alive after two thousand years spent in isolation on a deserted island. Not with heavy chains piercing into his arms and chest and bone, imprisoning him in a twisted exhibition that showcased him to an empty audience.

Until Regis and Clarus arrived. And gods, was it really two thousand years? If what little Regis could glean told him nothing but lies, this Adagium could have been damned for far longer than the texts had described.

Suddenly there's movement, accompanied by the rattle of chains and weak coughs; he's all haggard and suddenly gasping for breath like a drowned man given but a straw. He may have heard them, heard Regis’ horrified whisper and Clarus’ sharp disbelief, or was roused through their foreign presence alone. He moved, barely, the slightest movement echoing the binds that chained him, but that's as far as he managed, his head weakly hanging and chin tipped to his chest. It's as good as an acknowledgment they would get.

“What in the Six —”

“Clarus.” Regis sucked in a sharp breath and put one foot forth, eyes trained on the prisoner. “We're getting him down.”

“Regis! This could be a trick, for all we know. A daemon playing illusions on us.” Clarus, ever the wary, his caution having  saved their hides more times than Regis cared to count. Under any other circumstance, it would behoove him to listen to his Shield's warnings, but his instincts screamed and his magic pulled. His bloodline tugged so incessantly that he thought they might spill from his very pores.

“Trust me.” Regis was already stepping over the broken stone and bricks, caring not for the dust that he kicked up. Clarus grumbled something, but he knew his friend would obey — and already had, judging by the strides behind him. Regis tugged on his leather gloves, making sure they were taught around his fingers. He set three light fingertips to the man's cheek, felt warmth and the faint magic dying below his skin. Magic that resonated with his own and chased after the familiar bond, some elements twisted and wholly different but the unmistakable Caelum framework was there.

This made no sense.

“Adagium.” Regis tried again, hoping to rouse the other and coax any sort of response.

A shudder and a breath. “... Come to end my torment?” His voice came out dry and brittle, as if he had sandpaper scrubbed down his throat; Regis wondered how he even had a voice at all. “Somnus.”

Again, Clarus cursed. Regis’ mouth fell into a thin line, his tongue dry and suddenly a foreign weight. Somnus, the Founder King. That part was true then, that the legendary king had sealed someone away.

Regis carefully felt along one of the chains, keeping great care to not pull or tug. The last thing he wanted right now, was to make a wrong move and make all of this worse. There was Caelum magic here too which, judging by the foreign traces, had once been bolstered with the aid of an Oracle. He sent his magic out, seeking to undo the binds the First had set, but was met with a fierce resistance that nearly repelled him. It was enough to force him one step back.

And also, enough to earn Adagium's swift wide-eyed stare, a golden swirl of confusion and incredulity — and grief, an overflowing sorrow that could fill the Northern Lakes of Lucis.

“Somnus?” he croaked. “You are not… Who? ”

Regis didn’t mean to ignore his question, but he kept his lips sealed shut and his brows furrowed. Questions and answers could come later; right now, he needed to find out the right magic to undo the binds. Somnus’ magic worked on a peculiar wavelength, at least in this instance, that seemed to deviate from the core of Caelum magic entirely. To keep anyone and everyone, even his future descendants and successors, from unlocking the seals. But Regis was persistent, aggravatingly so according to Aulea, and he’d pick through these locks like a thief after the Crown jewels. It almost made him feel criminal, to be breaking relic magic set by the First himself, but that only meant his rebellious phase hadn’t left him just yet.

But when he did, finally, there was a collective sigh of relief that not even the rattle of the chains could drown out. Clarus was at the ready, catching the near lifeless body that fell at the slightest give, Regis at the flank and lending his own support.

“Who — what is… Who are you?” Adagium slurred, eyes focusing in and out and fighting to remain conscious.

“At ease. Rest.” Regis slung an arm over his shoulder, hooking his hand around the man's waist. Clarus did the same, and they each tested the weight they held.

Adagium nodded weakly, now too weary to do much else but let out a soft sob and allow himself be carried out.

There was little light left, the sun having fully given way to the waning moon and her dim stars, but the lights left turned on across the ship was more than enough to lead them. Regis didn't bother to pause and seal the stone walls again, leaving them wide open as they made their way to the ship.

“So,” Clarus grunted out, laying the man across the the couch, “no illusion. And no daemon.”

Regis stepped back, dragging a hand down the side of his face and stepping beside Clarus to observe the unconscious man. “No daemon.”

If anyone else knew about the lie hidden away by the Founder King, the historians and perhaps even the media would have an absolute fit, given how his legacy had been hailed throughout Lucis. They even had a holiday devoted to him, for gods’ sakes.

“No one else can know — for now.”

“No one?” Clarus asked.

Regis shook his head, retracting what he had just said. “Aulea, Cor. But no one else, not even Titus.”

Clarus only hummed in agreement, and turned to the captain's seat. Regis ducked away to rummage through their supplies, searching the drawers and boxes. “We'll need a cover story,” he sighed, pulling out an old wool blanket and airing it out. It had certainly seen better days, but he'd rather not let Adagium shiver in the cool sea air. “Any ideas?”

“The old bleeding heart story,” Clarus called out. “You found an injured man by the wayside, after you reinforced the seals and were returning home. You, with your heart of gold and infinite grace, wanted to take the man in while I, the ever hard-ass Shield, said no but gave in to your annoying ‘I'm a king who protects his people’ rant. The end.”

Regis wrinkled his nose, looking up from where he had just laid the blanket across Adagium. “We used that excuse last time. Too overdone, don't you think?”

From his seat, Clarus shrugged and flipped a switch, the ship whirring and groaning as it retracted its anchor. “At least the Citadel will lap it up, even the paparazzi if word gets out. You want an embarrassing story instead? Something about brazen youth and foolish bets?”

Regis sighed. “The bleeding heart story it is.”

“Neither of you thought to put a shirt on him?”

Aulea brushed passed them, making sure to put an extra shove in her shoulder when she squeezed past Regis. She huffed and tossed her head, flicking her black locks behind her ear as she rolled up her sleeves and decidedly went to work. She pulled back the worn blanket the two rolled him up in, throwing the ragged thing on the floor before pinching the sleeves of the largest cotton shirt Regis owned and fluffing it out.

“And I won’t even ask why you decided to bring him to your room instead of the medical wing, because I’m sure you’ll give me a very thorough explanation rather than that shoddy short version over the phone.” She placed the shirt on the bed and leaned over the man, one hand feeling against his neck for a pulse and the other pressing exploratory fingers over his chest and ribs.

The physical glance was quick; check to see if he was indeed alive, breathing fine without obstruction, no dire bleeding wound in sight. She sent her own magic out, let them gently flow from her fingertips and seek out any internal damage they may have missed. She wasn’t sure what to expect, given the two-minute rundown Regis had told her on the phone call. The man, Adagium he was supposedly named, had been locked away for possibly two thousand years, and what sort of damage that could or could not have done she didn’t know.

But she certainly didn’t expect the gaping darkness that opened its bloody maw, snapping its jaws and trying to devour her magic. Aulea hissed, pulling away her hands and shaking off the phantom sensation. Whatever she caught a glance of, it was certainly dark. Whether or not that darkness was inherently evil was a question that still remained in the air.

Regis was quick to rush behind her, steadying her elbow in his hand while he placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. “What was that? Are you —”

“I’m fine, Reggie.” She patted his hand, reassuring him with a small smile. “I think you should be more concerned for your friend. There’s… something there. I don’t know what it is or what kind of danger it is, but it’s not exactly nice.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” Clarus muttered, rounding the bed and standing at the opposite side.

“What’s not reassuring is getting a phone call at 5 a.m. and being told the Founder King is possibly a sham,” Aulea shot back, eyeing both of the men. “And we’re going with the ‘o-dear-King-Regis-and-his-soft-heart’ story? We just used that last week. Oh and Clarus, put that shirt on him please, I’d hate for him to catch a cold right after getting freed from jail.”

“As for you, Reggie,” she said, turning her attention to the husband-to-be, “I love you, but I’m not sure I love the idea of you keeping another man in your bed. I’m sure it’s a scandal waiting to happen, but if you’ve been having thoughts on an open relationship then you really should have shared that with me —”

“Aulea, please. ”  

She smiled, more teeth and all warm mirth. “I’m kidding. But is he staying in your bed for the night? Where will you sleep? I’ll always welcome you into mine, but you know those old farts and their prude traditions on marriage and sex. Gods forbid you share a bed with your fiancée!” Her hand flew over her chest in a mocking rendition of dramatics, her lips slightly parted in a gasp.

“I may just have to risk it for tonight.” Regis pressed his lips to her temple. “Clarus, I’d hate to burden you, but there’s no one I can ask right now. Would you stand guard for the time being? Just long enough to catch a few hours of sleep, then I’ll sort everything come the morning.”

“Hmph, you’ve asked far worse of me. I don’t see how I can’t, so go get some shut-eye.” Clarus said, having just finished dressing Adagium in the shirt. The man didn’t even stir or groan during it all; he could very well be dead with how sickly ashen his skin was, his slow breaths the only real indication he was actually alive.

“Oh, what would we do without you,” Aulea cooed, pulling away from the bed and tugging Regis along with her. She made a quick stop by Clarus, sparing him a quick kiss to his cheek. “Do let us know if he wakes or something happens.”

Clarus only made a shooing motion and bid them a silent goodnight, before grabbing one of Regis’ chairs and dragging it over to the bedside.

Of the many shenanigans his King had gotten him into, this one was certainly unique. They had slayed daemons together, drove across the continent and then some, ran ridiculous errands and chased down cats for lonely old ladies. But this? Discovering some covered up secret hidden away by an ancient king in the form of a seemingly immortal man? He only hoped a happy ending waited in the end.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #196: The Terrible Toll of the Taskmaster

June, 1980

Annnnnnnd we’re back.

Sorry for missing days. When I get sick I get sick bad and also grumpy.

But now we’re back and continue with Taskmaster’s inaugural story.

He has an interesting costume.

So last times: The Avengers were having a slow day for once until a guy called Selbe burst in and asked for help. Some orderlies from the Solomon Institute of the Criminally Insane came to retrieve him but Wasp felt something was amiss and perhaps decomposed in the nation of Denmark. So she followed them back to the Institute, snuck in, and got captured.

The Avengers followed Wasp and Yellowjacket and Ant-Man snuck in, and got captured. But then they fought their way free and got captured again.

This has just been a very repetitive day for the insect-themed size-changing superhero cadre.

This time:

Taskmaster has mastered the task of thinking about how to keep shrinking superheroes captive and put the three in clamps that apparently atomically bond with the wrists and ankles so if they try shrinking, they’ll lose their hands and feet and those are important for superhero work.

Also Taskmaster talks in a very casual, colloquial way. Drops his g’s off the end of words and such. Makes him sound more muscle than the guy who masterminded a series of mook training academies but its possibly part of why people like him so much.

Wasp asks who he is and Taskmaster decides the best way to show what he’s all about is ordering a squad of his trainees to try to murder him so he can show off by beating them up.

Pro-tip: If a teacher ever asks you to physically assault them, its probably a ruse and you’re going to get your ass kicked to make the teacher look good. Its the Ushan DeLucca method. That and a hefty dose of fantasy Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Anyway, Taskmaster promises ten grand to any trainee that masters the task of murdering him and then kicks all their asses.

He shows off his shield throwing technique (just as good as Captain America’s), his Daredevil-tier billy club technique, his Spider-Man-esque gymnastics, and archery that could be compared to Hawkeye’s.

And then after he beats up the trainee squad, he docks them pay for sleeping on duty while Wasp marvels vacantly at Taskmaster’s skill.

Wasp: “Th-that... that was incredible! But how -- ?”

Taskmaster: “I’d like to say I work hard at it, sweetcheeks, but t’be perfectly honest, it just comes natural. Y’see, I was born with what the shrinks call ‘photographic reflexes.’ That’s somethin’ like ‘photographic memory,’ only it’s a whole lot scarcer!”

He discovered it growing up when he would watch cowboy shows on TV and then perfectly pull off the same rope tricks he had just seen without any practice.

And it wasn’t just rope tricks, obviously. Otherwise he’d be... the Lassoman or something. He realized he could duplicate any action exactly just by watching it done. He made himself the hero of the football team by watching one pro-game.

He even considered become a superhero to make more of his special talents but realized that the big bucks were made on the criminal side of things.

But he realized that the downside to becoming a criminal was all the superheroes that all of a sudden wanted to punch you so he prepared by watching newscasts, documentaries, and anything that showed the heroes on film so he could pick up their sweet moves.

Hence why he carries around what he carries around. He picked up all of Captain America’s shield moves, Hawkeye’s archery, Daredevil’s billyclubbery, etc. Also he carries around a lasso because I guess you just don’t forget your first.

But in the midst of all this learning, Taskmaster realized something else. Being a supervillain could be lucrative but it could also get you beaten up by superheroes a lot and who needs that hassle?

So instead he decided to set up a string of academies where he could train goons for the idiots on the frontline getting beaten up by superheroes.

He’s a very pragmatic guy. He once mentioned during Avengers Academy that he just works for whoever pays the best. He’s not in it to rule the world or make the big score. He’s happy getting a continuous supply of income by providing a necessary but probably illegal service.

And his operations have been running smoothly AND secretly for years.

Then Dr. Solomon went and ruined all of that by getting superheroes involved.

Way to be, Dr. Solomon! After Taskmaster trusted you with an administrator job!

Taskmaster tosses him to the ground but says he’s a fair man and will give him a chance to defend himself. If he beats Taskmaster, despite Taskmaster just having beaten an entire squad of trained warriors and Dr. Solomon never even holding a firearm before, then Dr. Solomon gets to live.

I’d give you one guess as to what happens but you don’t even need that many.

Dr. Solomon fires some kind of gun (it was on the table with Ant-Man’s helmet so its possibly Yellowjacket’s Disruptor pistol but he doesn’t even use that anymore) but the recoil was so bad that it hit Taskmaster’s shield without Taskmaster even having to move the shield.

That’s just really bad, Dr. Solomon.

But before Taskmaster can kill Dr. Solomon, something happens to stop him.

Dr. Solomon has a heart attack and dies while complaining what a common way to die it is.

And Taskmaster just declares him a wimp.

Anyway. Now that disciplinary proceedings are done, time to get the business back on track. They need to kill the superheroes so operations can resume and age up Selbe so he can replace Dr. Solomon so nobody notices he’s missing.

Meanwhile, outside, the Avengers continue to stand around in the snow and wait.

But while they wait, Iron Man thinks some Thoughts about how far the Avengers have come.

Iron Man: “Funny, I should be thinking about the danger we may soon face -- but I can’t keep my mind off of us, the Avengers... and how we’ve changed. Use to be we’d bicker at the drop of a hat, squabble over any little difference. But now it seems we’ve hit the right combination -- or maybe we’ve just matured.”

As an example he thinks of Wonder Man, who lost nearly a decade in suspended animation, and Beast, who went overnight from acclaimed scientist to a blue, furry freak. Harsh words, Tony.

But they accept one another not just as coworkers but as friends. No matter what they look like or how they act. And he reflects that its a shame ‘normal’ people can’t learn to behave similar.

Also: while he’s reflecting on how it takes many kinds to make a fruit cup, some ants crawl over his face and obstruct his vision.

Which he realizes is a signal from Yellowjacket or Ant-Man!

Time to stop standing in the snow and Avengers Assemble!

Meanwhile, inside, Taskmaster contemplates on what to do with his captive heroes. Maybe use them as target dummies in his dagger-throwing class?

To be fair, they are all dummies. Ya dummies.

But then the Avengers make like famous X-Factor member the Kool-Ade Man and OH YEAH right through the wall.

Iron Man: “We’re the Avengers, mister. And you’re holding three of our friends against their will.”

Captain America: “Will you release them now -- or do we have to start breaking things more painful than walls?”

According to Wasp, before the helmet was taken away, he was the one who managed to signal for his ants to get help.

Taskmaster: “Well, I guess that’s just o’ matter of live an’ learn, dumplin’.”

So he signals a group of specialists he just finished training for Hammerhead. Cyber-Squad X!

Who look touch but Iron Man isn’t worried and decides to see if they can stand up to a full-intensity wide-beam repulsor blast!

Apparently they can.

I won’t lie. I love it when comics do gags like that.

Apparently one of the Cyber-Squadders X had a device that could reflect Iron Man’s repulsors right back at him. Which means there’s nothing for it but for the Avengers to get in the thick of things and scrum.

SCRUM!

... Apparently Vision shot someone in the face with his eye lasers but more than that Beast apparently makes people smell his feet as a battle tactic.

Truly the ways of superheroes are fantastical.

Selbe (remember him?) realizes that all these people are risking their lives for him (not true, they’re here for the Wasp) and decides its time he did something to help them.

He grabs a piece of rubble and KLOPPs a guard in the head to knock him out and steal his gun and blasts the stasis controls, freeing Ant-Man, the Wasp, and Yellowjacket!

Yay, Selbe!

And then Ant-Man quickly puts his helmet on because maybe all these criminals have seen his face already but god forbid the Avengers do!

Ant-Man: “My daughter’d kill me if everyone else found out my secret identity before she did!”

And the various superheroes continue to fight the Cyber-Squad X while Captain America and Iron Man break through the fight to confront the master of tasks himself, the Taskmaster.

Cap attacks Taskmaster but Taskmaster perfectly counters his moves and when Iron Man circles behind to try to sneak repulsor attack, Taskmaster fires a disruptor arrow to neutralize Iron Man.

He knew that Iron Man would circle around because its what he would have done and he masters tasks. ITS IN THE NAME.

Taskmaster: “Man, what an opportunity! I could take the Avengers on, one-on-one, an’ maybe, with my reflexes... I could defeat them all! But then again, maybe I couldn’t! There ain’t no bucks in feedin’ an ego -- an’ it’d be awful hard runnin’ business from a jail cell!”

So he kludds Cap with his shield and then kraks him with a bow and then makes a break for it. And he even closes a blast door behind him so Iron Man and Cap can’t follow.

PRAGMATISM!

New plan. He’ll run to central control and flood the entire facility with sleep gas, which will take care of everyone but Iron Man and Vision and then-

A metal woman?

At some point Jocasta snuck away from the group so she could be standing in Taskmaster’s way right at this moment. And also he doesn’t know who she is so he doesn’t know what she’ll do.

He throws his mighty shield but Jocasta just puts up a force field. So he shoots an electro-shaft to short the field out and Jocasta blasts the arrow so the electrical energy is released near him instead.

Taskmaster: “Blast you, robot! I’ve never seen you before! Don’t know what you’re gonna do next! But just gimme time, an’ I’ll --”

And then Wasp and Yellowjacket shoot him in the face.

Because Jocasta bought time for the rest of the Avengers to clean up the Cyber-Goon-Squad X and catch up.

Iron Man: “So now it’s just you and us, Taskmaster. And I suggest you come along peacefully. Unless you think you can take all of the Avengers on at once!”

Which he doesn’t think he can do. And he’s not willing to roll the dice on it either. So he makes like a Dragon Ball character and uses some magnesium flares to blind the Avengers so he can expeditiously retreat.

By the time Iron Man gets his vision back (having been fortunate enough that he had peril-sensitive shades built into his helmet, basically), Taskmaster has already gotten back to his super high tech ship which is jetting away.

Vision was the second to get his vision back, humorously enough. I mean, I find it humorous because I kept trying to capitalize the V when I talk about vision the idea of seeing and not the synthezoid.

Iron Man tells Vision that Taskmaster is gone but he has a feeling it won’t be the last they hear of him.

Anyway, back downstairs to check on the people who aren’t as good at recovering vision like Vision.

Iron Man tells the Avengers that Taskmaster got away.

Captain America: “That’s too bad. But at least we’ll be around to have a next time -- thanks to Jocasta. Lady, we’ve had a tendency to overlook you in the past, but I think I speak for the whole group when I say -- that’s about to change.”

Vision: “As one who has discovered the benefits of companionship in a similar manner, Jocasta... welcome.”

Jocasta: “‘Welcome’...? You know, I think I like that word. Yes... I think I like it very much.”

You will believe that even an android without tear ducts can feel like crying but not physically be able to!

I mean, sucks that it takes literally saving the entire team for them to give her the time of day but finally! Justice for Jocasta! Small talk and conversations and anecdotes! Give unto her your socializing!

Just please. Writers. Give her stuff to do! Don’t let this be the Falcon again except she was on the team longer and has done LESS.

That aside: Taskmaster?

I think he has a good showing for why he’s a lasting and beloved villain. He doesn’t really have the motivation to try to take over the world or become god or kill that blasted Richards like Dr. Doom but he’s not really a villain of the week like Sandman or Stilt-Man either. He has bigger ambitions than robbing banks but smaller ones than robbing worlds.

He figured out a good pragmatic way to rake in ill-gotten gains without having to go out and engage in fighting superheroes himself.

And when superheroes did get involved in his work he had the clarity to see that discretion was way better than valor. Like 1000 times better.

And his powers are interesting, if not flashy, and present a way that he can punch way out of his weight class.

Some writers take it too far where super reflexes just means he wins unless you can come up with something unexpected when really even if he can imitate moves perfectly, he shouldn’t be able to do them with the same power or speed as some of the people he’s imitating.

But he’s an interesting dude and I can see why he stuck around.

Even if the way the story started wasn’t the strongest. I feel like there’s a disconnect between ‘growing a clone for free organ transplants’ and ‘super academy for training supervillain goons’ and I get that part of the point is that Dr. Solomon goofused up by spending resources on this and then got the Avengers involved when Taskmaster would have been running things on the DL forever.

But I feel that ‘growing a clone for free organ transplants’ is an interesting enough concept in its own right, even if it is now several movies, that it didn’t need to just be the opening band for Taskmaster.

And more could have been done with ‘super academy for training supervillain goons’ too honestly. I feel that its a hell of a secret to keep that all these supervillains are getting their goons from one place and the superheroes have remained oblivious.

It feels like there could have been a story in the Avengers trying to unravel the mystery of who is training these nerds and it ends up at Taskmaster.

But I don’t want to judge the comic on what it could have been. It was an interesting enough story of the Avengers saving someone who is not legally a person because the rights for clones are indeterminate in the Marvel Universe, not helped by most clones being grown to mess with Spider-Man or so Mr. Sinister has an inexhaustable supply of Marauders.

Next time, another three part storyline. But one that tangentially relates to Godzilla? Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Follow @essential-avengers because when I was sick I felt bad about not doing posts and that’s good work ethic! Reward me!

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Hey guys <3 @jeffreydeanneganstrash reached 2K followers and decided to host a Q&A so I thought I’d answer the questions <3 Congrats again on the 2K!

What is your name? Charlotte

How old are you? 21

How would you describe your cultural background? The only thing about my cultural background that I know for certain is that my dad’s side of the family are French Canadian and all live up in Quebec. My mother’s side is harder to pinpoint because they don’t have a complete family tree anywhere, probably European.

What languages do you speak? My main language is English and I know a decent amount of French. By that I mean I can read it and understand it, but trying to talk to people is much harder.

How tall are you? 5′5″

What are your best physical features? Well, I really like my hair and how curly it is. I really like my eyes too, they’re hazel.

What makes you feel beautiful or strong? 80% of the time I definitely don’t feel beautiful or strong, but I suppose the few times that I do are when I wear an outfit that makes me feel good or listening to upbeat music. Otherwise I have no idea how to answer this lol

Can you tell me a secret? I own an Oppan Gangam Style Funko Pop from when that was still a thing. I don’t know why I still keep it but he’s there lmao

Can you describe your personality by only stating the names of three fictional characters? Hermione Granger from Harry Potter, Daria Morgandorffer from Daria, and April Ludgate-Dwyer from Parks and Rec.

When did you start watching The Walking Dead? After it was announced that Jeff was going to play Negan. At the time I was up to date on the comics and I loved Jeff as the Comedian in Watchman so I figured he’d do a good job. That being said I still haven’t seen the entire show all the way through yet, just seasons 1-3 and 7-8 LOL

If you could rewrite one storyline on TWD, which would it be and why? I’m still annoyed with how slow moving the first half of season 2 was. The second half after Sophia walks out of the barn as a walker is pretty good, but I would have loved to see a bit more substance to the first half of the season, especially when a lot of characters are doing nothing around the farm or god forbid spend an entire episode trying to get a zombie out of a well to get the water when the water was probably infected anyways from the walker being down there in the first place. I wouldn’t drink that water, not sure why they wanted to lol

Was there a character whose death you celebrated on TWD? Spencer. Always Spencer.

Which character death made you sob like a small child? Merle Dixon. I mean, I won’t go into it because anyone that follows my blog knows how much I love Michael Rooker, but damn. He was an amazing character and actually began to have a bit of an arc in his development before being killed sacrificing himself to try to kill the Governor. That will always make me sad, especially when Daryl breaks down after finding Merle as a walker D:

Where would you take up residency in TWD universe: Alexandria, The Kingdom, Hilltop, The Sanctuary etc.? Honestly, the Kingdom would be pretty cool to live in. As much as I love Negan and Sanctuary, every time I see the Kingdom it just... looks like a Kingdom, you know?

What would be your weapon of choice in the zombie apocalypse? While I would probably be better off using my brain (because I’m not good at fighting at all), I’d probably use a baseball bat. I played baseball a lot as a kid so I know my way around a bat.

What would be in your zombie apocalypse bag? Probably a decent amount of food and water, a couple notebooks and pens to write things down and keep track of stuff. Maybe my lighter to help start a fire, some basic medical stuff just in case. A picture or two of my family. There’s probably tons of other stuff too but I can’t think of anything else at the moment lol

If you were a character on TWD, what would be your theme song, and why? Okay it took me FOREVER to decide on this one, but I think it would have to be “No More Mr. Nice Guy” by Alice Cooper. It’s probably a cliche choice, but as I’m a person that is kind of shy and tries to please everyone, during the apocalypse I would expect myself to turn after taking too much of that, just like the lyrics imply lol

You are the moral compass of the group in TWD universe, what would be the lesson that you would preach? As much as this is probably tiring to hear at this point, I’d probably preach more about how the group should focus on working with other groups to deal with the walkers. I mean, we know how well that’s been working out right now... LOL

How would you rather die on the show: turning into a walker or being killed by another human? I’d rather be killed by another person. I can’t imagine being turned into a walker, so I’d rather just go out by a human.

Who is your favourite character played by JDM? I still have a really fond spot for The Comedian. I loved the Watchman movie and the comic, and Comedian is one of my favorite characters next to Rorschach. Jeff portrays him so fantastically, and he was the perfect choice.

Okay, let’s spice things up: daddy kink, yay or nay? That would be a resounding Hell YEAH

If you answered yes to the previous question: do you now have one because of JDM? Not because of him, but he made me realize I’d always had one since I was in high school after looking back at all the other male characters I thirsted over. Freddy Krueger, Beetlejuice, Jareth the Goblin King, etc.

What is your ultimate JDM/JDM character fantasy? Oh man... Negan and dirty talk, definitely. His voice is sooooooo hot and I’d honestly love to be alone with him as he whispers all the dirty things he’d like to do to me in my ear... and then doing them ;)

Would you really join Negan’s harem given the choice? I’m going to be brutally honest here, as much as I’d like to say I’d be an independent woman and take care of myself, knowing who I am I’d probably join his harem if he asked. Of course he’s attractive and all, but from a survival standpoint he’s the leader of Sanctuary and makes sure his wives are taken care of. I mean, knowing myself as a wife, I’d probably get stir crazy and do something productive with my time instead of lounging around doing nothing, but otherwise I’d definitely be looking out for my best interests. Negan provides a certain level of protection and security that would be hard to come by elsewhere.

What words remind you of Negan? Charismatic, dominant, powerful.

You’re locked alone in an ATM vestibule with JDM, what are you going to do? The same would apply to whether this is a situation where he’s single or not, I’d clam up and be screaming internally while I’m stuck in an enclosed space with a hot dude. He’d probably have to calm me down before I faint lmao

If you could describe sex with Negan through a song, which song would you pick? If we’re still on the subject of Alice Cooper songs... “Bed of Nails.” Seriously, just look at the chorus and say that isn’t Negan:

Our love is a bed of nails Love hurts good on a bed of nails I'll lay you down and when all else fails I'll drive you like a hammer on a bed of nails.

If Negan had given you the choice to pick a person to die from the lineup, which character would be on Lucille’s receiving end? Everyone is going to hate me, but Daryl. From a writing standpoint, he hasn’t been interesting in a while. It’s like they give stuff to Daryl when they don’t know what other character to use.

Do you write any fanfiction, create content for any fandom blogs etc.? (If so, reblog something you’re most proud of and tag me in it!) I write fanfiction for TWD, and have written for Negan, Merle, Daryl, and Simon. Also for some of Michael Rooker’s other characters, like Yondu and Grant Grant. I’ll tag you in my favorite Negan fics I’ve written :P

Finally, what is the one thing you want your followers to know about you? Hmmmm I’m really not sure. I mean, other than the fact that writing is something I love to do so much and I’m thankful to have such lovely followers that follow my blog and enjoy the stuff I do. <3

[whimsyful-moved]

anyway, mary sues aren’t real and uncle al is gonna tell you all why

this got really fucking long so go under the cut

so let’s get this out of the way: the whole concept is bullshit, and i’m sure i’ll be told i’m reaching on this, but it’s sexist. i know that people bring up gary stus, but like. come the sweet fuck on. how often do you see that? i don’t doubt it happens, because of course it does, but the main brunt of ~criticism~ is thrown at girl characters. i would say it’s thrown at girls AND femmes, but we all know that nonbinary characters get fucking ignored. it happens to them, though, so. keep that in mind.

anyway, back on track. the whole concept is sexist, we’ve got that. it’s also obnoxious and sad to see.

when i was younger, like when i was a little ass kid new to the internet and new to writing publicly, my characters weren’t great. not by any stretch of the imagination. they were filled with idealism, they were representation for a character i didn’t get to see in media often. and by the way, i’d like to remind you that i’m white -- and if i felt underrepresented, kids of color were in a fucking representation drought. i was also a deep-in-the-closet Queer Ass, so that contributed to it, too. to top it off, i was also pretty mentally ill!! which, surprise surprise, led to some loneliness! so, think about that: a lonely ass kid who wanted something to relate to. lots of kids felt exactly like i did, and a lot of them felt worse than i did.

some of us, though, were writers. some of us turned to roleplaying or storytelling, and made our own characters to work out the complex feelings and fantasies we didn’t really know how to deal with at the time. a lot of us made... uh, really bad OCs. like, really bad. really bad. we didn’t really know how to write at the time, and we didn’t know exactly how characterization worked, technically, so we just went with our guts and had fun. we created characters that had better things going on than we did. it was fun!

until we learned the term mary sue, that is.

sidenote: i used to be that kid who hated what i thought were ‘mary sues’. whenever anyone defended them, i would get super pissed because how dare you defend someone just trying to have a good time! looking back on it now, it had a lot to do with jealousy. i was pissed they were having a good time with their writing while i worried about what other people would think of my character, to the point where i made husks who never received development, because i was too scared to develop them into something too ‘perfect.’

the original term is ‘mary sue’ -- defined as “an original character in fan fiction, usually but not always female, who for one reason or another is deemed undesirable by fan critics. A character may be judged Mary Sue if she is competent in too many areas, is physically attractive, and/or is viewed as admirable by other sympathetic characters” by Fanlore. this is the nice definition, by the way.

so, let’s look at this. this is taking a very thesis paper-esque turn but i promise i won’t break out google scholar. maybe. we’ll see. anyway.

PART ONE: TOO TALENTED

competent in too many areas. see, even when i was bitter fifteen-year-old, i kind of didn’t get this one. how many people have you met who were only good at one thing? off the top of my head, i can name, like, zero. even shitty people tend to be good at more than one thing. sometimes, these things can be related -- like if you’re good at guitar, you might be good at another instrument, like piano -- or they can be completely unrelated -- like, someone is amazing at makeup and is also a chemist. people tend to be good at a lot of stuff. i know of a fuckton of people who can sing, draw, write, play an instrument (or multiple instruments), are funny, can dance, and the list goes on. these are real people, by the way. i used to have a friend who was a gymnast, a singer, a piano player, an artist, a painter, amazing with animals, great at making friends... and she was good at all of these things, guys. if a real person can be good at a fuckton of things, why can’t a fictional character?

oh, right. because heaven forbid girls be good at more than one thing at a time.

there are so many multi-talented guys in media. i’m sure you can all name at least one savant male character. there are girl savants, too, but uh... everyone usually hates them. not shocking.

if real people can be filled with talent in multiple areas, so can a fictional character. so can an OC. it’s not unrealistic -- it’s ~unrealistic~ to have someone be good at one fucking thing.

PART TWO: PHYSICALLY ATTRACTIVE

this one is a fucking riot, because it’s so arbitrary. sorry, what is too physically attractive? like, come the fuck on. this one pisses me off the most because it’s not about how the OC looks, it’s about the fact that other people acknowledge it. if you have more than one character -- god forbid, more than one CANON character! -- acknowledge your OC’s beauty, she’s a mary sue. you’re thrown into the depths of mary sue hell. even if they don’t get together, which is a sin above all other sins, sorry, but you’re already done for. they already had a passing thought of “oh damn, she’s hot.”

now, yes, i will say that reading paragraphs of clothing descriptions and of how gorgeous a character is is boring as fuck. i get it. why do you think i have yet to read the odyssey? 

but i have an idea for you. it may blow your mind.

who fucking cares?

i know. how succinct. who fucking cares that someone is writing some elaborate fantasy? who. cares. out of all the things in the world, that is hurting people the least. let someone write a whole eighteen paragraphs about how much naruto wants to bone their OC or self insert. who is it hurting? absolutely no one. who fucking cares, m8. who actually cares.

also, if you don’t think my gay ass is always gonna call all of my OCs hot, you’re wrong. do you think i pick these faceclaims for your sake? no. it’s because i want to look at a/ubrey p/laza as much as possible. duh.

PART THREE: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

“viewed as admirable by other sympathetic characters.”

what in the sweet fuck does that even mean. okay, i know what it means, but abstractly: what does it mean?

oh wait. i know.

it means that if ANY OTHER CHARACTERS LIKE YOUR CHARACTER YOU CAN EAT GARBAGE

sorry fucko, does good ol uh. does good ol johnny bravo have a poster of your OC on his wall? is your OC in any way remarkable? does your OC have a storied history that would lead other characters to know about your OC? sorry, but it’s just not realistic.

the first rule of OC making is to be miserable. remember kids, if your character isn’t acknowledged by a publishing firm or animated on your favorite cable channel, your character is basically not real. keep this in mind, because it’s the reason why CANON CHARACTERS CAN NEVER EVER EVER KNOW YOUR OC.

EVER.

EVER.

for some reason, this is the crime people hate the most. in roleplay, you shouldn’t assume your character knows another character unless you and the other mun have talked before. you also shouldn’t push relationships onto other characters.

but OCs are the only ones who people assume will do this, because why would a canon ever do something so silly? they won’t they it, but it’s because people view canons as artistically superior to OCs. obviously. it’s really funny, because in the past, it hasn’t been OCs who pushed shit onto me. i know, right? i, a lowly OC maker, has been treated badly by a canon writer -- it’s kind of like saying that i, a peasant, was pursued by a king.

in fanfiction, though, this whole rule is extra silly. there’s only one writer, usually, so no one is getting treated badly. but if an author writes that their OC is perhaps more famous than the main canon character, that’s basically the worst, because no one can be BETTER than the canon main character. people will throw a fit about this. i’ve seen it happen. you probably have, too.

oh, and it doesn’t have to be so major. even if your OC is tangentially related to a canon character, it’s still bad writing. OCs are, like children, meant to be seen, not heard. except they’re not meant to be seen, either, they’re meant to appear briefly and leave as soon as possible. that’s a good OC.

it’s really funny -- it’s not considered bad to have harr/y p/otter and d/raco m/alfoy be secret lovers for the entirety of the series in your fanfiction, but throw in an OC better than h/arry (or h/erminone) and suddenly we need to start being realistic, guys.

PART FOUR: THE CONCLUSION

mary sues aren’t real. stop calling things mary sues, stop targeting OCs all the time, and if you care so much about bad writing, why not be consistent with it? some of your (and my) shows have fucking garbage writing and character development, but people are still able to love them, somehow. it’s transparent as fuck when you only target small creators and not huge businesses who are making money off of your so-called “dedication to good literature.”

to the OC creators reading this, you don’t have to be scared of making a character who is ‘too perfect.’ have fun. if you want to make a self-insert, do it. if you want to make a character who is completely fantastical, do it. you’re allowed, and it’s okay to just have fun with writing. you’re allowed to love your characters. your creations are just as worthy as published creations.

anyway. i’m tired of writing this, and i’m gonna just. slam that post button. this got uh. really long. anyway bye

[cloudybookash-blog]

Book Review: The Broken Eye by Brent Weeks.

Genre: High-Fantasy (supposedly ‘pre- industrial’)

Goodreads rating: **** (4 stars).

Read: 13/02/2017 – 19/02/2017.

The Review:

Are you a big fan of the Lightbringer series? So am I. Which is why, it saddens me to have to say, I think the third instalment of this series is suffering something akin to ‘second-book-it is’.

Warning: There could be spoiler for the previous books (The Black Prism/ The Blinding Knife) beyond this point. There will be no spoilers for this particular book though.

Synopsis: With Gavin lost and presumed dead the Chromeria faces a new prism elect. The political throws of the Chromeria rear their ugly heads and the sinister lost Order of the Broken Eye take advantage of the chaos to infiltrate places of power.

Obviously, as a book suffering ‘second-book-it is’ there was a lack of action and movement; lots of filler in the disguise of irrelevant world building; and character development that (I feel) should’ve happened sooner in the series. And to top it all off – as someone sensitive to such topics and forms of exclusive writing styles, a blatantly weakened female presence.

Let’s start with the action – there is none. Oh yes, lots of political movement, spying and the odd ‘Specials’ class for the Blackguard inductees. But, for the most part the only well-paced, pertinent action happens within the last 100 pages of this 800-page book.

I assume all the political tip toeing is set up for the next book – The Blood Mirror. Heaven forbid none of it ties in with The Blood Mirror, I’ll fucking riot. And, I’m all one for political exploration in books, just not in such bulks without anything in-between.

Don’t get me wrong, this book starts off strong. Our Blinding Knife has transformed into a weapon unrecognisable to what it had once been with a threatening promise to the world as we know it. Gavin is being spoken to by his god, but like all good anti-heroes – refuses to listen. Karris is put in charge of an international spy ring. Teia is being inducted into the Order of the Broken Eye. And Kip is on some island going insane in the best way possible.

But all this potential is ripped down by the fact that we have like five chapters from Gavin’s POV. Possible two os which focus the minimal amount of attention one can to the Blinding Knife. I know a lot of people have issues with Gavin becoming a prisoner to circumstance in this book. My issue lies in him not thinking anymore. His once brilliant mind can hardly focus on anything other than –

“Gavin’s every day had a similar rhythm. Pull. Twist. Push. Twist. Pull. Up, down, life circumscribed in ovals of work and rest and transition from one to the other”

Or –

And now, though he could call up their colour and stories and sins and attitudes if he tried, he saw each one of the drafters differently, he pushed them back, away. They became only a name and a sin to be shrived.

Illi Alexander. Gossip.

Loida Moss. Poisoner.

Tinsin. Rebellious.

Tahlia. Envy.

Bell Sparrow. Seductress.

Li-Li Solaens. Wight.

Xenia Delaen. Wight.

Myla Loros. Wight.

Pelagia Breeze. Spy.

Meghida Talor. Hatred.

Tahrith Khan. Greed.

Edna Wood. Sloth.”

And so on and so forth - 42 TIMES. Such blatant filler. Tossing in names and one worded stories of irrelevant people that will never come back up in the story. Few select names were expanded on (not counted in the 42), but only one had any insight into Gavin as a character. The fact that he isn’t whirling around in his head trying to figure out the Blinding Knife just seems so out of character, to me.

Then karris, once mighty Watch Captain White Oak – one of the greatest archers of the Blackguard. Now stripped to Lady Guile – made to wear rich dresses, powders and her hair in lavish styles. All of which hinders her at some point in the story. And, she develops maternal desires while she pines for her lost husband. Don’t misunderstand me here, I like a good female character who personifies femininity – just not when said character spent two books being expressed as the polar opposite. Plus, a strong female character should thrive in said femininity instead of being constantly thwarted by her own fucking dress. Especially seeing as Karris was trained in the most prestigious, elite fighting force in this world.

The thing that pissed me off most about Karris in this book is the act of excusing her rape. I’m not going to quote it because I’m lazy af and it just isn’t fucking worth repeating. But the book spent a chapter with Karris excusing her rape for something she ‘needed’ or something that was the ‘best’ alternative. Obviously, rape is such a sensitive topic and to have a character as strong as Karris raped was a star in the night. A role model for other victims. But having her preform a 180 degree turn, expressing that her rape was ‘deserved’ in some form is an absolute blotch in this book.

The we have Teia, the Blackguard inductee – former slave whose previous status has always been concerning. Trained by previous owners to be violent, sneaky and simply put – morally grey. Teia falls apart at the slightest challenge. She’s too busy thinking of the suddenly thin so therefore more attractive Kip. Or being used and abused by powers above her. Both Karris and Teia – the strongest and only female characters in this series are belittled to nothing but pawns and love interests.

Finally, Kip. He showed the most promise and, if I’m being honest he’s the only characters I feel stood up to his potential. There were a few set-backs, I won’t lie –

“He [Kip] wanted her [Teia] to be free, but he’d still wanter her to owe him, to be eternally grateful, to be somehow therefore subordinate. He wanted her to be free, but he wanted to decide for her how she should use her freedom.”

I know. -Vomits-. The only issues I have with his character is his association with females. He can’t even look at one without falling in love with them and subsequently reverting back to his patterns of self-hatred. On one hand, it’s endearing, to see him struggle with his own image, on the other hand – this struggle is undermined by every character and their mother gushing over his sudden weight-loss/ muscle gain.

There’s points in this book where you learn about the way a city or satrapy used to be 16 years (or more) ago. Zero relevance to the story. Or watch a member of the Order carrying out a routine assassination that again, has zero relevance to the story-line. Chapters with one-off POVs that bring no new information. Character simply talking for talking’s sake or worse – creating tension for tensions sake. All of which could’ve been summed up in a five-sentence paragraph so the story could focus on better stuff. Or, you know, move on with it!

So why not give it a one star rating, you ask? Well, if Blood Mirror disappoints I will be. But, first reason – Kip.

From our weak willed, sheepish boy from Rekton. To a young man stading up to Andross Guile in front of the whole Spectrum. His words become more assured, his lies come quicker; easier. And he develops his resourcefulness to creating and thinking up new ways to incorporate luxin. His own POV carries the type of thought processes I’d expect, and have seen, from Gavin.

“He was hitting the damned thing as hard as he could.

No, he was hitting as hard as he could muscularly. Magically, he should be able to hit harder.

[…] He remembered the wights in Garriston, leapfrogging from roof to roof, shooting luxin downward as they jumped, using the kick to extend their jump. It was the same concept that worked for Gavin’s skimmers and sea chariots. But bother of those interacted more externally. They didn’t have to, did they.

[…] Here goes nothing. He stood with his right foot back, twisted, snapped, and as his right foot came up, he shot green luxin out of it.”

Safe to say, Kip’s developing some of Gavin’s magically focused experimental yearnings. Throughout the book, he talks well beyond his years, offering advice and orders, talking strategy.

The only saving grace for the female characters – both Karris and Teia, is that they at least lock into challenging positions of power by the end of the book. Hopefully that means their futures promise badassery and strength.

The last one hundred pages are the greatest. Full of musket firing, experimental luxin, escapes, deaths, sabotage, hexed, and plot twists. The last one hundred pages feel more like the first two books. Quick paced and constantly moving. The characters don’t rot their personalities like they did during the books idle inaction. Information and developments in those last pages promise a fantastic story in Bloor Mirror.

I go forth excited, but wary.

[no-depression-for-vampires]

I don't want to be disrespectful, but I don't understand your issue with sherlock and "queerbaiting." I'm all for representation in media, however, realistically not everyone is gay. John has said multiple times in the show that he isn't gay, and he was married to a woman. Two men are allowed to be close friends without having to satisfy a tumblr-worthy homoerotic fantasy. As I said, I fully support representation, but just because two characters aren't gay for each other doesn't make a show bad

Oh fantastic Now its not bad enough I get this. I would usually be nice about this but I’ve lost all fucking patience. 

Number one- There are more than one ways to skin a cat- there is more than one way to be attracted to the same sex. Its called bisexuality. Look it up honey.How many times do people have to say this to antis like you.

Two- the fact you put queerbaiting in quotes clearly means you don’t think its  a “thing” so let me tell you this darling, as someone who’s been in two fandoms of TV shows who have made a potential romantic relationship between two lead characters a marketing tool that has kept them going ( one for almost 9 years) it is very much a thing to dangle a relationship to desperate LGBTQIA people like me who use fiction as their escape from a life of living in the closet (lest you get arrested due to a law straight from Victorian era)

 Even those people who can be openly out in other more permissive parts of the world but are more or less invisible due to hetero and cisnormativity that still pervades this shitty world  TV shows like Supernatural and Sherlock have basically told them “oh you can write what you want in your dark little corners just as long as you know that you’ll never see a character that you emote and empathise with as a confirmed queer because as much as we like to call ourselves “progressive” we still don’t think “people like you” deserve too much airtime and if you ask us about this at cons we will mock and humiliate you or straight up break your hearts because god forbid we actually do anything other than lip service or crumbs of subtext.

“A tumblr worthy homoerotic fantasy” ‘I’m all for representation in media” do homophobes like you have a template message that you use to mock people ?

I’ve had it with all of this shit . Fuck off from my blog please.

[hcrsegirl]

╰☆╮MUSE 46 — wait, is that cerise “reese” du pont? is it just me or does the twenty-one year-old look exactly like abigail cowen? last i heard, they still weren’t over being exposed by the sentinel. according to the app, they can be credulous & turbulent, but i’ve also heard they're intrepid & audacious. can’t be too sure, people have a way of surprising you. all i know is that they remind me of vape scented smoke appearing in the middle of lecture , filming viral tik tok’s in public , the brushing down of a horse , forgetting a pencil but remembering to bring the juul to class & drinking homemade moonshine for barbie movie drinking games. honestly, the broadcast communications major should try to keep their head down. after the events of last semester, i wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. ╰☆╮

wow hey hi hello!! i’m kaya and this is my lil crackhead, reese!! this got really long because i never know when to shut up but if you want to plot pls hit me up here on tumblr or on discord at medieval 4loko gang#5402

P A R A L L E L S

gigi ( booksmart ) , keanu reeves ( always be my maybe ) , serena van der woodsen ( gossip girl ) , kirby anders ( dynasty )

T R O P E S

hard-drinking party girl , cloudcuckoolander , the trickster , upper-class equestrian , fleeting passionate hobbies , naive animal lover , fearless fool , playing with fire , parental neglect , fantasy-forbidding father

S U M M A R Y

born and raised in wilmington, delaware on the du pont family ranch, reese learned how to ride and compete on her family’s thoroughbreds. she’s a seasoned equestrian who typically competed in eventing and throughout the years had accumulated a series of ribbons and trophies between dressage, cross-country, and show jumping. definitely was a horse girl growing up and tbh still is???? definitely not the type to eat grass anymore BUT if given the chance she will not shut up about them.

a veterinarian before marrying into the du pont family, reese’s mother had their ranch doubling as both a home and veterinary clinic where the kids would help with the animals and keep them company. this caused reese to develop a soft spot for them, one that contributed to her going vegetarian at the age of 12 and eventually vegan at 15. it was also this love of animals that led her to wanting to help the environment they lived in and so her parents put her in girl scouts and eventually her love for the outdoors would cause her to join steinhardt’s outing club.

while her mother, eleanor, also helps out with the du pont family business of breeding thoroughbreds as well as run her clinic, her father, pierre, is a chairman of dupont, a conglomerate who got its start in the black powder market before expanding into chemicals for agriculture, materials science, and specialty products.

he was the type to have HIGH expectations for his family, expectations that reese never met. not that she cared to. definitely not a daddy’s girl, she’ll be the first one to call her father out for being a pompous douche straight to his face. probably quoted this to her father during a thanksgiving toast of “what are we thankful for this year”.

the black sheep of her family, even at a young age she could be found stirring up some trouble and almost always dragging one of her siblings or cousins along with her. a rebellious child who didn’t like being put into a box, she lived in a fantasy world of whimsy, often playing make-believe much to her father’s chagrin. she believed in all things fantastical from fairies to mermaids and while pierre tried to stifle those thoughts, they stubbornly remained.

even through her teenage years she’s held onto the firm belief that barbie lore is real. no one knows if she actually believes that or if it’s all of the drugs and her love for the movies getting to her head, but when confronted about it she will always be adamant that it’s a legitimate form of history.

speaking of history, her concept of it is slightly skewed?? def has weird beliefs of what communists are?? like you’re an android user??? suddenly she thinks you’re a communist????

tbh you could probably tell her something about anything and she’ll believe you without a hint of doubt. research?? she dunno her!! you could say the moon is a government con-job and she’d think it’s a fact??? super gullible and it’s a mess

i guess now would be a good time to preface that she’s dumb. stupid. an idiot. the list goes on but when i say she’s lacking brain cells… i mean it. the definition of head empty, she probably has a bunch of rocks where her brain should be sdfgh. but really, she can be innovative when she wants to be but academically she just doesn’t care to do well. in high school she ditched classes more often than not and was probably the kid smoking under the bleachers.

but where she lacks in intelligence she makes up for in brawn??? def the brawn over brains type who was a jock in high school. competed for her school’s equestrian team but also was on the fencing and archery teams. she once begged to be put into archery lessons after seeing the princess diaries 2 and fencing just came along not too soon after. she also used to run track and play soccer but those two sports ended after her senior year of high school although she probably still plays for the steinhardt’s intermurral league as well as any athletic competitions her sorority, tri-zeta ( zeta zeta zeta ) enters.

definitely the jack of all trades type except she’s passable at a whole bunch of things but good at none of them. probably can change a tire but it’ll need to be changed again soon. can bake a cake but it’ll be a little dry. the list goes on. she’s just very curious and picks up a lot of things but gets bored of them easily so she changes to the next thing.

okay i know i said she could bake a cake but she really…can’t. like with supervision she probably could but she’s impulsive and following directions for that many ingredients??? impossible. she just gets tempted to toss everything into a bowl and wing it and she does that every time. she can however make rice krispy treats. especially if they’re suppose to be edibles dfghj. but ya, don’t ask her to cook bc she can. not.

a stoner and overall drug connoisseur, she’s probably most known for being that kid who forgets to bring their backpack to class but don’t worry!! she remembered her juul!! has a collection of juuls on her person at all times. definitely that party girl who shows up hungover to class whenever she did bother to show up.

calls herself an entrepreneur because she used to sell edibles and other drug-related things and definitely was that tweet where she would give discounts if you signed an environmental petition or went to a protest.

has never said no to a dare EVER. you name it and she’ll do it. and if you dare her to drink cow titty milk or eat a piece of meat she’ll do it but it just makes you a dick dfghj

gets bored easily and tends to lash out and do something chaotic because of it?? the type to spontaneously light a couch on fire because she felt like it. a mild pyromaniac who once learned how to make a molotov cocktail. she can’t do it well. at all. but the one time she did try was also the same day she realized what a dumpster fire looked like.

i’m also not saying she’s out here to ruin your life for her own whims but like home girl has ZERO boundaries for anything. if you want to say she was a homewrecker in a past relationship??? honestly full send because it probably was her. morally she’s chaotic neutral and doesn’t care to be good or evil, she just wants to live her life of chaos and whatever happens happens. it should also be noted that she’s selfish. she puts herself first and others second always.

god someone pls try to start a fight with her. she’d either pat you on the head and ignore you OR go feral and just…foam at the mouth and bite you. probably claims to have gingervitis which is where she like…sprays vegan whip cream into her mouth and just… attacks you. for fun.

WOW ALMOST FORGOT but she’s a big larper!!! loves to go to the ones that are historical-esque where she can be an elf ( because she has a collection of elf ear tips dfghjk ) and acts as a knight/ranger by using her ACTUAL fencing, archery, and equestrian skills. she learned sindarin ( elvish ) for this but also she’s a big lord of the rings fan in general so it just worked out. her character’s storyline is her acting as her cousin, taay’s, protector but she has been known to enroll in a few competitions regarding any of her three skills.

currently selling moonshine alongside her roommates of trap zeta ( also known as the residents of the moonshine & roses subplot ) and so if you saw her running around with stolen pressure cookers, that is why !! making your own alcohol is illegal, but selling it??? even worse so they only sell it to trusted customers and anyone vetted by their usual customers. they probably have secret passwords and shit just like the prohibition period.

speaking of trap zeta, with the exception of fraternities on greek row, they throw the biggest parties. their jungle juice??? fire AND strong but also, they keep it in like....these dispensing chugs with a key so the only ones with access to fill them up or trap zeta themselves. they also have a stripper pole ( or two ) around their living room so like...ya get lit, get twisted, go off ig.

let it be known that their sorority, tri-zeta, is actually known for their stellar amount of community service but after the residents of trap zeta moved in together their sophomore year, the rep for partying started to increase and that’s why the home of muse 46-50 is nicknamed trap zeta. reese has probably been sent to standards way too many times and only got in and is still in bc her mother is a very generous alumni of steinhardt’s chapter of tri-zeta. 

a broadcast communications major, she’s a social media intern for steinhardt’s barstool page but most importantly has a whole tik tok account alongside her roommates dedicated to their college antics. think the hype house except it’s not pg-13 dancing and rly just their crackhead, drunk antics. might eventually make a playlist of tik tok’s that are probably posted on their account, we’ll see.

okay so you know the whole exposing of secrets from last semester??? reese doesn’t usually get mad but rn she Big Mad. like not only are they be scrutinized by the dean but their sorority is too and suddenly tensions are high between tri-zeta bc if trap zeta gets caught they all suffer and their chapter will be shut down and it’ll be a whole ass mess. atm she suspects their customers and even their somewhat rivals, the drug dealers of the ludes plot, but does she suspect anyone from the house??? no not rly

you can find her  stats page here and a wc page here

you can also find her pinterest board here

i also have a reese playlist here and a trap zeta playlist here

[bakechochin]

Book Reviews - War for the Oaks

War for the Oaks - Emma Bull - I’ve been up in London fairly frequently recently and I’ve confirmed something that I’ve long suspected; I have a crippling need to always spend money in new and exciting book shops -> Waterstone’s at home is common fare now, but you show me a Foyle’s or god forbid give me freedom to shop with the Folio Society and I’ll have spent fifty quid before I even know what’s happening; I knew of this book’s existence prior to my impromptu regrettable Foyle’s spending spree, but it wasn’t until I’d found it in this new and novel book shop that I actually bought the bloody thing - This book is beautifully written, managing to capture the perfection and beauty in every minor thing with some pretty fucking sweet metaphor, from simple character descriptions to the very entertaining to read music-playing segments - The fey in this book are easily some of the fucking coolest I’ve seen in a long arse while, because it’s got everything that I want; a variety of diverse and somewhat fucked up forms, part of a pretty much entirely unknowable society, and what this book does especially well on is the fantastic fey dialogue, all antiquated and otherworldly and shit -> Like contrast this book with other books like The Invisible Library or The Copper Promise, wherein all the fantastic otherworldly beings have boring and trite human dialogue and act just like regular geezers, and you can see where I’m coming from when I say that this book fucking aces the sheer alienness of the fey - There are some pretty cool urban fantasy tidbits in this book, with some great intermingling of fantasy and reality; I found it quite funny how the phouka pretty much just looks like Prince, and I’m a great fan of some of the intertextuality banter in this book, like how the antagonist takes the garbs of stereotypical Disney villains (it reminded me of Media taking the forms of Bowie and Monroe in the American Gods TV show, or Incubus taking the form of Jareth the Goblin King in Kill Six Billion Demons) - I liked how in this book there was limited reliance on fish-out-of-water tropes; the protagonist just kind of goes along with all this supernatural magical bollocks quite easily, and whilst there is a bit of the usual hackneyed ‘you need to adjust to our way of life’ sort of bollocks from the fey characters integrating into human society, it didn’t go on for long enough for me to start hating it - The ending, whilst resolving everything rather quickly and anticlimactically, was pretty fucking cool; wankily written as it was, there’s nothing that makes me happier than magical band battles (a lesson I have learnt from such quality reads as Sing No Evil and the Scott Pilgrim series - yes I’ve noticed that the references to other stuff in this review are rather eclectic) - I’m not really too fond of most of the characters to be honest; our protagonist Eddi is the best one out of the lot because she’s competent and human and generally alright (if seeming like a bit of a heavy-handed personification of some trite ‘girl power’ message), but all the other characters are just wacky funsters or boring stereotypes, and to be honest I didn’t even think that they absolutely had to have stayed around for as long as they did -> My main complaint with the characters is the phouka, who the book insists on sexualising; they start off by describing him as unsettling and manic-featured and pretty damn threatening, and a bit later on he’s described as a mischievous trickster scamp, and whilst both of these character vibes could make for an interesting relationship between Eddi and the phouka not based on romance, soon enough he’s being described as gallant and saucy and it’s really not what I had in mind -> In fact shit he’s not even the only saucy gent lining up for Eddi’s affections; fuck’s sake, I’m having flashbacks to The Invisible Library with this procession of hunky boys who I didn’t ask for marching in and flaunting their boyish charm and perfect hair - Not wanting to spoil too much, but all the phouka’s talk about having a secret nefarious agenda has little to no fucking payoff, and if it wasn’t for the characters spouting some half-arsed nonsense about ‘oh don’t worry, plans for bigger things have been set in motion, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens!’ I would have forgotten about it entirely, so good job Bull for notifying me of an instance you bollocked up - The book does include a fair bit of radical fey war malarkey, but it’s not the best at describing events on a grand scale (which I suppose can be attributable to the first-person perspective, but even still it’s a bit disheartening when the first dramatic battle between the Seelie and Unseelie courts is built up at length and then when it does happen we get to see like five seconds of battling before our protagonist fucking runs away and meets a pond monster or some shit) - The twists in this book really lack any sort of impact; they have little to no buildup, and are just kind of said as flat-out facts, and then never have any real relevance or consequences later on (besides the obvious predictable plot events that are necessary for plot progression and artificially raising the stakes); you might think that all the human characters would be a bit surprised to know that they’re surrounded by fey entities, but no, they just roll with it, and that’s fucking that - 7.5/10

I have a load of other book reviews on my blog, check that shit out.

[to10nl-blog]

Film Review: Beauty And The Beast

Genre: Fantasy, Musical Director: Bill Condon Cast: Emma Watson, Ian McKellen, Emma Thompson, Ewan McGregor ToTen Rating: XXXX A live-action remake of the 1991 animated Disney Classic. Years ago I came in contact with a director who was interested in making a short film about the background of the witch from Hansel & Gretel. He told me that no one was interested, and one person even laughed at him. Who would ever be interested in a fairytale character’s background? Well, my guess was that actually many people would be interested. Not long after, the tv show “Once Upon A Time” started and was a hit. So Disney decided to give it a go in film theaters with “Maleficent”, and success again. After that, they stopped telling familiar stories from another angle, and just did live-action versions of their cartoons. I find that a loss, but it’s not hurting their box office. Beauty And The Beast even goes all the way by including the songs from the original animated feature. They’re great musical compositions, so no harm there. It’s not a 100% copy, of course; there are some updated jokes in there, a few changes to some details, and a character who’s now gay – well, it’s suggested that he’s gay, which was enough for one Alabama cinema to refuse to show the film. Because, God forbid, the children should be exposed to such inuendos in a movie about bestiality. But the best part, in my opinion, was the production design. The Beast’s castle is a gorgeous dark, gothic piece of art. I’m not sure how much of it was physically there and how much was added later in post production, but it looked seamlessly to me. It’s very believable that one could be held prisoner there and not mind it that much. All in all, a very good adaptation. Now, since I have your attention, I would like to say something about the source material. This is a story about how true beauty is on the inside. And it’s told through a tale in which an attractive witch disguises herself as an old woman (which is unattractive per definition, then?) to mess with an attractive prince because he’s become an a-hole person after having been forced to grow up with an a-hole father. For some reason the sexy incognito witch is surprised to see the a-hole be an a-hole about giving her shelter in his castle. So she reveals herself for the hottie that she truly is, and then curses him to look like a beast. And his innocent staff members are dragged into it by being turned into furniture. In other words, the witch herself was being kind of a bitch, which, with the fact that she’s good looking, so far means that attractive people are douchebags. Cut to a short skip in the future, and everyone’s forgotten about the castle and the prince. Enter Belle. In this tale of “looks are not important” the main character is a pretty girl whose name even means “pretty”. But hey, she reads books and sometimes invents stuff, so almost everyone in town thinks she’s a nutter. Except the hunk, but he’s not just an a-hole, he’s an evil and dumb a-hole. The pretty girl-who-reads-books ends up being held prisoner by the beast. He quickly falls in love with her because she reads books and isn’t afraid of him (not that he’s very scary to begin with), and she likes him in return because before dragging her back after an attempt to escape he fought off wolves that were about to eat her. In other words: the guy who got turned into a beast because he was superficial is into the chick who is slightly more intellectual than others, and the hostage falls for her (supposedly) disgusting captor because for a moment he was being, like, totally heroic. And then in the end, as we all know and if not at least knew was coming, the beast is turned into his handsome princey self again. They get married and live happily ever after. The tale about inner beauty is all about how two sexy peeps fall for each other quite easily. It would have made more sense if they had cast Kristen Schaal as Belle, and if the Prince was an old man by the time he was returned to his former self and she was still into him. But I guess this tale about inner beauty reaches a bigger audience if it’s told with two lookers in the lead. Aaaaanyway. It’s a good film. It’s very pretty to watch. Beauty And The Beast is in Dutch theaters from March 2017. Rating: XXXXX – ToTen Top Triumph XXXX – Fantastic Feature XXX – Good enough to spend your money on XX – Close, but no cigar X – Make like a kangaroo and Skip It

Words: Terence Shea