#bold and brash? more like not looking to smash

[astroaquarium]

Signs on the House Cusps series: Part 1 Aries-Virgo

Aries on the 1st: you come across as being headstrong, determined, and a go geter! you are an open book, and are unapologetically you.

Aries on the 2nd: you take your finances very seriously, and are likely very good at saving money. You are open and honest about what you value.

Aries on the 3rd: you were a leader in school in front of your peers/and siblings. Your voice might be quite brash or loud.

Aries on the 4th: in your family, you are the leader or the dominant voice. Your home life might have been aggressive in terms of living arrangements or relationship to your family in either a positive or negative way.

Aries on the 5th: you might enjoy sports as a passtime, and/or the gym and excersise. You might look at dating like its a sport or a competition. Your children might have Arian qualities.

Aries on the 6th: your routine is very fast paced and on the go. You don’t like to sit still, instead you smash through your daily to do lists. You are blessed with a good fighting immune system.

Aries on the 7th: you are attract dominat romantic partners, who take the lead in the relationship.

Aries on the 8th: your sex drive is very healthy and might have a high libido. You are most likely very dominant in the bedroom.

Aries on the 9th: you might have very strong religious or spirtiual beliefs or very strong beliefs against this. you might like to study or be interested in the human body and human movement.

Aries on the 10th: you might have a career in sports, managment/leadership, medicine, or emergency services. You like to be seen as a leader in the workplace.

Aries on the 11th: you are a very supportive and encouraging friend, you push them to be better.

Aries on the 12th: you keep hidden your feelings of anger, rage, and passion, as these feelings scare you.

Taurus on the 1st: you come across as being very calm, cool, and collected. you are traditionally beautiful.

Taurus on the 2nd: you love the finer things in life and that is what you get when you set your mind to it, although you may have a tendancy to procrastinate and indulge.

Taurus on the 3rd: you have a beautiful soothing voice. you likely have a good relationship with your siblings.

Taurus on the 4th: your family may be very nurturing and supportive, you may have found memories of your upbringing.

Taurus on the 5th: you may enjoy winning and dinning frequently, you might like to cook or bake in your spare time. Your children may have been a breeze to take care of.

Taurus on the 6th: you may procrastinate daily tasks and chores, you like taking things slow and need freqent naps.

Taurus on the 7th: you attract beautiful romantic partners, who may be slow, stubborn, and materialistic.

Taurus on the 8th: you are very sensual being, you crave touch and tantric sexual encouters. You may die a very peaceful death.

Taurs on the 9th: may be interested in or study the arts or art history or even beauty therapy.

Taurus on the 10th: seen as very beautiful and lusted over in the workplace. this is a model placement. may also have a career in the arts.

Taurus on the 11th: very caring friend, maybe a little bit lazy in checking up on them at times, but you care so deeply for them. You dream of a better world.

Taurus on the 12th: you hide your femininity and vulnerability, this scares you.

Gemini on the 1st: you come across as very chatty, socialable, and fun. People trust you easily!

Gemini on the 2nd: you may like to gamble (money, and valuables). Your values might change frequently.

Gemini on the 3rd: you are very easy to talk to, you may talk very fast and be super chatty. You are likely the most talkative out of your siblings, and have very open communication with them. Such a wordsmith!

Gemini on the 4th: may have grown up in a very intellectually focesed family. You probably keep in contact with your family regularly.

Gemini on the 5th: you might like to write in your spare time. Your kids might be chatterboxes.

Gemini on the 6th: you hate routine and prefer to do things on your own watch. You might have ups and downs with your health, but you may recover from illness quite quickly.

Gemini on the 7th: you attract chatterboxes and intellectual types. Your romantic partners often challenge you mentally.

Gemini on the 8th: you might keep your thoughts to yourself and be reluctant to share. You are quite changeable sexually, and are open to most things.

Gemini on the 9th: you might love to study, and even be an eternal student and find it hard to narrow down to just one thing, as you are always changing your mind.

Gemini on the 10th: you might be seen as a becon of knowledge by work collegues. You may have a career in journalism, the media, academia, or performing arts.

Gemini on the 11th: you are the chatty friend. You have big ideas ans dreams that are always changing.

Gemini on the 12th: you keep your voice hidden, you dont like to speak up for yourself because you might be scared of others judgement.

Cancer on the 1st: you come across as extremely sweet, shy, and affectionate. People can feel instantly protected and close to you.

Cancer on the 2nd: you hold your finances very close to your heart and may be inclined to spend and put value on centimental items over others.

Cancer on the 3rd: you have sweet, soft voice. you may have been very shy in school. you are likely the nurtuer of your siblings.

Cancer on the 4th: you had a very wholesome upbringing, maybe slightly sheltered? your relationship with your family is very warm and personable, you love your family.

Cancer on the 5th: you might like to cook, knit, or create art in your spare time. Your children may have cancerian qualities.

Cancer on the 6th: your routine is very dependant on how you feel. if you dont feel like doing something chances are you wont.

Cancer on the 7th: you attract romantic partners who are nurtueres, people who will take care of you and dote on you.

Cancer on the 8th: you are the ultimate lover and nurter. your death may be very emotionally painful.

Cnacer on the 9th: you may be interested in studying childrens studies and/or primary or early childhood care and teaching. You may also be interested in studying the culinary arts.

Cancer on the 10th: you are the mum of your workplace, your collegues come to you for emotional support. You may have a career in psychology, primary teaching, hospitality, or nursing.

Cancer on the 11th: you are the mum friend. you have dreams of being loved and nurtered by those you care about, you crave affection.

Cancer on the 12th: you hide your emotions, these are what scares you most, as you dont even understand them yourself.

Leo on the 1st: you come across as confident, loud, and bold. people gravitate towards your boldness.

Leo on the 2nd: you have over the top taste, and love luxuries of life. You value people and things that give you the most affection and praise.

Leo on the 3rd: you might have a loud, warm voice. you might have a very fun, and full relationship with your siblings.

Leo on the 4th: likely the golden child of the family, your family likely adores you and showers you with praise. alternatively you could of had a lot of pressure to perform and meet high standards of your parents and been more of a trophy than a child.

Leo on the 5th: you might enjoy the performing arts, and/or music, you might be very into performing for others in your spare time.

Leo on the 6th: your routine is very egocentric, you do things on your terms to suit yourself. you need to have fun in your day to day life. blessed with good vitality, health wise!

Leo on the 7th: you attract bold, egocentric, and life of the party type romantic partners.

Leo on the 8th: you are a lion/lioness in the bedroom, and demmand to be praised and have all attention on you!

Leo on the 9th: you might be very religious and/or spiritual! you might study performing arts, business, or legal studies.

Leo on the 10th: your work collegues see you as someone of high authority and noblbility. you may have a career as a lawyer, actor, politician, ceo, or entreprenur

Leo on the 12th: you hide yourself from others, as you aren’t really evern sure of who you are, this scares you.

Virgo on the 1st: you come across as a bit standoffish, intellegent, and practical. People come to you for real no bullshit advice.

Virgo on the 2nd: you are smart with your money and know how to budget. you value practicality and logic over everything.

Virgo on the 3rd: you might have a soft but stern voice. your relationship with your sibling might be a bit cold, or maybe just avergae.

Virgo on the 4th: your family might have been strict and/or very traditional upbringing. You may have felt a lot of pressure to stand up to perfectionistic expectations.

Virgo on the 5th: may like to write and journal in your spare time, you might also love to excersise and find healthy recipes.

Virgo on the 6th: very organised routine day to day, you love structure!! very health concious, you make good healthy choices and your body rewards you for this.

Virgo on the 7th: you attract very detail oriented, perfectionsts as romantic partners, who have a knack for picking you apart and wanting to better your life.

Virgo on the 8th: you might keep your thoughts to yourself. you are likely to be very kinky and sexually expressive.

Virgo on the 9th: you love to study!! you might go on to study journalism, media communications, history, health, or even medicine.

Virgo on the 10th: your seen as very organised and together in the workplace, your collegues can always count on you. you may have a career in naturopathy, medicine, health care, nursing, journalism, or communications.

Virgo on the 11th: a very wholesome friend, who would bend over backwards for others, you put your friends before yourself always.

Virgo on the 12th: you hide your thoughts and ideas, these are always changing and seem almost out of reach for you and this scares you.

[incorrect-deltarune]

I’m putting all my livestream comments on this and I’ll edit as we go. Enjoy!

Toby Hawk, Pro Skater

What’s better than this, three dads being dudes

Rip to ThreeDads

“Time to start the real game like real gamers”

Asriel canonically buds with a reluctant Burgerpants

Toby really said, “ha, you thought”

“So embarrassing with your mom loves you…I hate when that happens”

“Alphys’ square glasses were based off John Eggbert…no one needed to know that”

Worms

“This is all off the cuff bad jokes”

This panel really does have such dad energy

“I wanted people to be unsure here” yeah toby, i thought I was about to be murdered! Didn’t help it was halloween

“IT’S THE BOY!”

“Please guys, it’s a boy…I boy proofed the game”

TEMMIE!!!

“Don’t say it’s bad…btw it’s bad”

I love Toby’s both love and hatred of retro video game tropes

“Is that stubble or teeth?” “It’s stubble, he says he shaves it, shows what fan you are” “YOU CAN SHAVE TEETH!”

TORIEL OH MY GOD IM CHOKING ON SPIT

Well, that’s one way to go to commercial

ALL OF SANS JACKETS AND MONSTER KID!!!

“True gamers will never touch wall and never touch grass, only game”

Toby’s drawings of character concepts is me turning in my design for art class before the sculpture is made

“This forest is based off a leaf” “…a leaf?” “Yes”

Man, who needs an incorrect quotes blog, these four are more than enough with their correct ones

“This is what the stream is all about…piss”

“How come we never made does”

“Producers, can you get me a sword, the next time they say something stupid…I’ll be ready” Toby ain’t playing around

“Give me the sword” is so omnious coming from a robotic voiced dog

“A concert asked me if they could play like 3 songs…like long elevator, and I said…bro, u do u”

“That might be his real accent, who knows…he’s still bad at it”

THEY GOT TOBY A SWORD!!!

So happy to know that Toby codes how I do

“Burn up with the rest of the garbage of the universe” gO OFF TOBY

“This special boy removes his special headwear”

ASRIEL/RALZEI PLUSHIE

“BOLD AND BRASH, THATS SQUIDWARD”

“Patrick from the new nickolodian game will wave dash and kill me”

“Respect me”

“You’re mother loves you…you might be worried because your room has no stuff but your family loves you in this game” it’s come full circle

Kris has become Tantalus

“Oh my god, it’s Sans from Smash Brothers” the power to say this statement, toby I swear

“Sans will wave dash into my house and kill me”

THE DOG ON THE BALCONY

I look down for five seconds and now one of the dad is goat dad

TOBY FORGOT HE WAS IN JAPANESE

“We’ll see you soon” owo

OH MY GOD OH MY HOD IAOABEIQLA A OENF EUA A HIT CONTINUE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

TOBY I KNOW YOURE A DOG BUT FOR THE LOVE-HES MOVING

KRIS ATE A PIE OH MY GOD

TIME LOOP?! WHAT IS GOING ON?! FELLAS?!!!

Good social distancing from Toriel, thank her

SUSIE I LOVE YOU

NOELLE I LOVE YOU MORE

MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATION?!

OH MY GOD

Thank you so much Toby and Co, it was a blast! Happy birthday Undertale and to many more!

[babygirlgalitzine]

hearts will be glowing (ao3)

for @heaintscum , ‘tis i, your secret santa for @ballumsecretsanta! i hope you really enjoy this fic and i hope you have a wonderful festive period too🎅🎄

So it goes like this: Ben hates Callum, and equally, Callum hates Ben. But as the age old proverb goes, there’s a fine line between love and hate.

It’s the build up to Christmas, and like seemingly everywhere else in the world, The Queen Vic is full of decorations, the collection of them somehow growing right throughout the month of December. It’s borderline garish as well, subtlety not a word in the landlord and lady’s vocabulary. A large pine tree sits in the corner of the pub, towering above everyone and it’s practically overbearing the whole room. To call it a tree is slightly insulting though, because it’s more red tinsel and flickering lights of technicolour than the actual tree itself. Baubles perch on the ends of some branches, bold and brash and spinning around and around in slow circles. Some have fallen off, resting on the floor alongside the fallen pine needles and broken off shards of sparkly tinsel. The bust of Queen Victoria sits on the bar, pride of place as usual - except now she’s got a red and white Christmas hat on, with the bobbling pom pom of it hitting against her face. Above the bar, a common tradition of pub Christmases of the past. Mistletoe hangs down, directly above the bar, right where the staff meet the public. Every year, they remain there, practically forgotten throughout the month of December, until it’s finally time to take them down again come the turn of the new year.

Ben walks in with his usual scowl on his face. The collar of his coat pops up, covering his neck from the blustering wind outside, though it’s probably more of a fashion statement than it is protection. The door to the pub slams to a shut behind him, the baubles on the tree spinning around quicker now in the artificial breeze it creates. A few people turn to look at him, the pub somewhat busy for this time of day, but absolutely nothing comes of it. He steps towards the bar, somehow finding a small gap in amongst the crowd of people that swarm it, waiting for a drink. He leans his body weight against the woodwork and looks down to see which of the bar staff are free.

Callum’s standing there like a spare part after putting cash in the till and Ben would be lying if he said the smirk that appears across his lips wasn’t at the sigh of the Callum standing there in his tight jeans and red Christmas jumper.

There’s a nod of a head towards Ben, and Callum notices it and sighs, knowing that he has to go and take his order. 

They avoid each other most of the time, aware of each other’s existence but blissfully ignoring it all the same. For some unknown reason, they just really dislike one another. Nobody really knows why, and to be perfectly honest neither Ben nor Callum seems to know why the other one hates them so much. Really, they’ve barely even spoken one or two words to each other, much less have a conversation.

Before Callum’s even managed to breathe a word out, Ben interrupts him, his fingers interlocking with one another as he rests his hands together on the bar in front of him. “Lager.” Ben says. Just that. No please, nor a thank you.

Callum shuts his eyes for just a second, metaphorically biting his tongue to refrain from making a snarky comment - though he’s not certain a clamp on his tongue could stop him from doing such a thing. It’s one drink, whilst the bar is busy. That’s all he needs to do. When he opens his eyes again, it’s like a whole new moment and he has a facade about him...that is, until he looks at Ben and finds him grinning at him, his eyes all dark and for some reason, it makes Callum’s nervous. He shakes it off, counting down the hours in his head until his shift is over, silently praying that Ben doesn’t stay here for the rest of his shift. “That’ll be three pound fifty.” He says, voice void of any emotion. Ben hands it over to him, a silent exchange between the two of them.

It’s when Ben turns and walks away, pint in his hand, that Callum speaks again. “You’re very welcome!” He shouts sarcastically, not caring one bit if people turn to look at them, watching their interaction. 

Ben turns back to face Callum, the natural scowl is starting to form on his face, furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes glare darkly at Callum. The pint glass in his hand is beginning to slip, the condensation of it leaking onto his hand, threatening to slide out of his grasp and onto the floor. Instead of starting an argument, he simply ignores Callum and sits down on his own. It’s not unusual for him to sit alone though. It’s not as if Ben’s a loner, because he’s certainly not. He’s actually quite popular, though his popularity mainly lies with his family, the ever expanding family tree seemingly taking over the majority of Walford. Despite that though, he’s often found sitting alone in the Queen Vic, keeping himself to himself.

The pub remains busy, possibly gaining more and more customers as time ticks by and people finish work. It gets to the point where people are standing up through different rounds, completely unable to get seats at any tables. Christmas music blares over the speakers, the same songs and rotation, and as more drinks are flowing, the louder people start to get.

Callum’s walking around the outside of the bar now, collecting all of the empty glasses and bottles, delicately throwing them into the box. He doesn’t particularly care if they get smashed or not, because Ben’s eyes have been on him all night now and he’s getting more and more fed up the longer his shift goes on. He’s collecting glasses in twos and sometimes even three at a time and he’s genuinely fearful that they’ll run out of clean glasses by the time for last orders rolls around. Some people move out of his way as he walks past them, though he still has to manoeuvre his way around most of the time. Either way, everyone makes way for him eventually, when they see the overflowing box in his left hand and his right still picking up glasses. Everyone, that is, except Ben, who’s walking towards the toilets. Ben, who deliberately goes out of his way to move closer and closer to Callum, just to get their shoulders to barge into one another. Callum completely ignores him though, thinking better of starting something that would probably end up in a brawl, knowing the rumours of Ben. Only two hours left of his shift. 

Ben eventually makes it back to his table, almost alone in his thoughts and that’s when Callum realises, if he was at all empathetic towards Ben Mitchell, he would think he looks almost sad, behind the stereotypical Mitchell mask he puts on. People are surrounding him now, maybe. His family, his friends. Yet he seems distant, like he’s not really following any of the conversations that surround him. He stands, holding his empty pint glass in his hands, streaks from the drink staining the inside of the glass. He puts it down on the bar, directly in front of Callum. “Same again.” He inquires, looking straight at Callum, and then back to the glass. Callum takes it, and refills it, passing it over to Ben without so much as a word.

Callum holds his hand out, waiting for the change to hit his hand. Ben takes the pint glass though, and lifts it to his mouth without paying. He raises his eyebrows, watching as Callum’s annoyance grows, bubbling away underneath the surface. He knows he’s got him then, hook, line and sinker. Ben pulls the glass away from his mouth, his face contorting and twisting in disgust. “That’s flat!” He exclaims, wiping at his mouth, though he’s really just trying to hide the smirk that’s threatening to form on his lips. 

People look around at them, intrigued by the continuous back and forth between them all night, some customers still around from their first initial exchange. Callum rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders as he steps forward, leaning against his side of the bar with a knowing smirk. He grabs the glass from Ben’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, taking a gulp himself. “Tastes fine to me mate.” He responds, narrowing his eyes to Ben, practically glaring at him.

Low chuckles erupt from the people around them, turning away to fall easily back into their own conversations. That infuriates Ben though, because he definitely does not like people laughing at him. Anger seeps through his body and the only thing he can think to do to get it all out is to lean over the bar and grab at Callum’s shirt, pulling them closer together. There’s a snarl on his face and he can hear the entire pub explode in jeers and cheers at the prospect of a fight. “If I say it’s flat.” Ben says venomously. “It’s flat.

He just about manages to get his words out, when shrill, loud whistles burst out from all different directions and suddenly neither of them really know what’s going on, except for the fact that the whole pub now seems to be staring at them. There’s a moment where there’s a silence of anticipation and trepidation and then an unrecognisable voice comes from the other side of the room, a loud “Go on then, kiss!” booms over them and suddenly everything just makes sense.

Ben looks up and sees the mistletoe hanging directly above them, and when he looks down at Callum again, his hold on Callum’s shirt loosens just a little bit, though it still remains as a bundle in his fist. He looks at Callum, and the tension between them is palpable. A grin grows on Callum’s face, knowing in his heart of hearts that there’s no chance of Ben even thinking about going there. 

Except. He does.

And it knocks Callum for six. 

Ben kisses Callum as if his life depends on it, all heat and passion and it’s fueled by hatred and annoyance and for some unknown reason - it’s the best kiss of Callum’s life. The scent of Ben’s aftershave is intoxicating and the touch of Ben’s lips against Callum’s is everything and more. Callum falls back, his feet firmly rooted to the ground in shock and he’s got a tingly sensation in his stomach, one that matches the tingling numbness of his lips. His eyes are still shut, trying to control his thoughts, and when he eventually manages to open them again, Ben’s nowhere to be seen. His cheeks are bright red and most people have reignited their own conversations, completely ignoring what’s just happened. It’s weird. Life goes on for everyone else, yet Callum just keeps replaying the kiss around and around in his mind, the feel of Ben’s lips still so prominent on his own.

He’s still thinking about it an hour or so later when he’s walking home, the street lamps lighting up his way, frost building in the darkness. Swirls of his breath are visible in front of him and his hands are numb from the cold. Snowflakes fall around him, creating a white sheet on the floor that his feet break up, creating an aimless pattern in the settling snow. He doesn’t think about his steps, just letting his feet guide his way, because his head is just full of Ben. Callum can’t stop thinking about Ben, Ben and his silly little smirk, Ben and his deep blue eyes that somehow changes from light to dark like the flick of a switch, Ben and how he kisses so perfectly, so mind blowingly.

He notices something when he gets closer to home though, someone sitting on Callum’s doorstep, face hidden in the darkness. It scares him for a moment, a chill falling down his spine, until he cautiously gets closer and realises who it actually is.

“Ben?” He calls out carefully, trying not to disturb him. 

Callum steps towards his house, standing barely metres away from Ben now. Ben looks up, and there’s a shy smile on his face, one that Callum’s certain he’s never seen before. He stands up, softly groaning at the crack of his knees and then steps to the side, allowing Callum to move closer to the door to unlock it. There’s a momentary pause when the lock on the door clicks open, Callum opening the door just the tiniest bit. It’s almost enough to make Ben walk away without another word spoken, but then Callum breaks the silence. “Coming in?” He asks quietly. 

Ben nods softly and steps inside after Callum.

“It’s freezing out there.” Callum says, taking his coat off and putting it on the coat stand in his hallway. “Do you want a hot chocolate? Or a tea? I think I’ve got some teabags somewhere.” 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ben inquires, hooking his hands into his pockets as a way of trying to combat the awkwardness he’s feeling inside.

Callum chuckles and flicks the kettle on, even without an answer from Ben because he wants a hot chocolate himself. “Because I don’t hate you. I never have done. You just like to make my life completely difficult, but I’ve learnt to deal with that.” He explains, and for some reason, it feels nice to finally get this out in the open. They’re finally having a conversation, after so long of ignoring each other, after so long of never communicating. “Why are you here Ben? I thought it was you that hated me?” 

There’s silence between them for a moment as Ben sighs and takes in Callum’s words, playing them over and over in his mind as he tries to think of what to say. How can he admit he doesn’t hate Callum, but in fact he feels the complete opposite? In the end, he just decides to shrug by way of trying to explain. “Don’t know.” He says. “There’s just something about you, that makes me want to get to know you more. I don’t hate you Callum.”

Ben looks all shy when he finishes speaking. He doesn’t know where to stand or where to put his hands. Callum smiles, understanding Ben’s words to him, because he feels that exact way too. He feels the pull towards Ben, like a magnetic force is bringing them together. Callum walks forward, slowly, and Ben moves too, in time with Callum. His back reaches the wall, and suddenly there’s nowhere else to move. Callum’s cornering him, and Ben’s not at all mad about it. Callum towers above him, and Ben can’t help but watch him with intrigue and lust, all thoughts of trying to breathe normally long forgotten. There’s a blush on his cheeks, a redness that’s creeping up to the tips of his ears, gradually getting more and more flame like until his ears are bright red. Ben notices the freckles that litter his cheeks, right across the bridge of his nose, and his eyes - God, his eyes - they’ve got flecks of green mixing in so swimmingly with the blue, all bright and perfect and his long and fluttery eyelashes just add to it. 

Callum grins, and hooks his index finger under Ben’s chin, lifting his head up so that they’re both perfectly aligned together. He leans down and kisses him, soft and gentle and it really is perfect. Ben’s hands fly out of his pockets, letting his fingers grab at Callum’s waist, holding their bodies together, warmth against warmth. They kiss for longer this time, comfortable without the eyes of a million strangers watching them. Ben’s lips tingle at the pressure, but that leaves him begging for more. He pulls away for just a second, though they don’t entirely part, with their top lips still touching and their breaths hitting against one another. “Maybe it’ll be a good Christmas after all.” Ben comments, twirling Callum’s shirt around his fingers, finally touching Callum’s skin.

“Shut up.” Callum says, but there’s no heat to it at all, just complete and utter joy, and they soon go back to kissing.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Xhorhassian Castle Strategy: A Shadowgast fanfic

Shout out to the ETFC. I swore I wasn't going to write this...and then we had such an amazing conversation that I just had to write this because of the vibes. The Queen's Gambit is a great show on netflix about chess...which I know nothing about and I just figured since that there are no rules for the dnd equivalent dragonchess so I could do whatever I wanted lol. This is really here for the vibes.

Enjoy! Read on AO3 The hotel was a swanky joint, one of the most expensive hotels in all of the Dwendalian Empire. Essek didn’t have much use for the light and the noise...it wasn’t like they were trying to make anything easier for him and he wouldn’t have asked regardless. However, once they all got past the formal stilted manner of most Empire competitions during the actual playing, the after-affairs tended to be rather convivial and light-hearted. Most players knew each other from circuits and practice and other competitions, so it wasn’t too surprising to see players who had just been engaged in tough matches to reach each other and ask to meet up for dinner or a drink.   Essek, as a rule of thumb, couldn’t be bothered with those kinds of things and didn’t really know anyone besides. After all, he was the only Dynasty dragonchess player who had been invited to the tournament...and it had been done out of obligation rather than a sense of sportsmanship. You couldn’t claim to be running the “Dragonchess World Championship” without the top players from across the world...even if they were your political enemies. Essek was sure they would have rather had Adeen (who had come in last or second to last in the past five World Championships) just to save their glorious Empire sense of superiority. But Essek had trounced him months ago so decisively that Adeen had gone to “find himself and his play style” out in whatever backwater Greying Wildlands hovel that artists went to go and starve for their creative vision in. And so, Essek had been invited and now was on track to win. There was only one final obstacle in his path.  The Zemnian was there with the others, milling about after the day adjourned. He had finished his game quickly. Though Bryce was known for their elegant and thoughtful play on the board they got discouraged quickly. The Zemnian had made quick work of them as soon as he smelled discomfort. Brash and bold on the board, cocky almost to a fault in contrast with his placid demeanor-he played to win and was out for blood every time. He had smashed through Bryce’s defence almost instantaneously the minute the other had faltered. Essek, though he wouldn’t like to admit it, had a much harder time with Beauregard Lionett. She was the opposite of the Zemnian. Though her personality was all bluster and edges, she played a precise and precocious game-was flexible and agile upon the board. It was like trying to capture a swallow-though in the end, she had been cornered and forced to submit through gritted teeth. 

Essek made his quick escape up to his room, not wanting to be pulled into an obligatory conversation or useless pleasantries. For a while, he lay on the couch and let the tension seep out from his back. When he played he often felt numb to everything but his thoughts. It was wonderful and freeing and exhilarating. However the minute he stopped playing he would feel his stress pounding in his ears...locking up his jaw and neck and joints. It was like a residual pain that haunted his body and he did his best to just block it out. In his mind, the moves echoed there like footsteps. He could almost ignore the pain when he focused on them. Clicking into place in a rhythm of the clock and-

“Essek? We’re back,” Verin said as the door opened and revealed him and his mother. It startled Essek, but it shouldn’t have. His brother had never had a good sense of privacy. Verin set a bottle of water by the table for him, and Essek took it and swung himself into a seated position despite the complaints in his muscles. “Well? Congratulations on making it to the finals.”   “He was watching me again,” Essek sighed as he took a sip of his water and not having any time for his empty congratulations considering his only real challenge was ahead. Essek would only accept congratulations when he won. Which he would, of course, but still. He eyed his notebook where he had written down his notes the dragonchess matches from that day. He should have been studying his only real competition’s moves, he should have been mentally preparing, but the only thing he could think of was his eyes. Blue and piercing and digging into his thoughts. It was infuriating if he was being honest.  “Who?” Verin asked curiously, tipping his head to the side.  “The Zemnian,” Essek said, annoyed that he even needed to clarify.  “Why?” Verin asked, still clueless as ever. Essek tried to breathe his irritation out and settle his mind. Victory only came when your mind was as still as a pool, it was an old proverb that Leylas Kryn liked to say to him.  “He unnerves me,” Essek admitted. 

“Oh please,” his mother, Deirta sighed from where she was lounging, dramatically draping herself as if she had no time for his concern. “You don’t really believe he will beat you, do you?” 

“The reason I dislike you mother is because you are so incapable of surprise. You lack imagination. I know I don't,” Essek said as he got up with a huff, unable to be in the room with them any longer or else he was going to kill them. And he couldn’t do that...he needed them to get home.  “I’m going to get a drink.” 

His mother threw her hands in the air but let him leave from the hotel room they were occupying. He got a few looks from people as he walked down the hallway but didn’t pay them any mind. Drow weren’t a usual sight in the Empire, and he knew he had a reputation. Essek Thelyss, the young upstart dragonchess prodigy-representative of the hope of thousands of others to break through and make the Empire bend the knee in any way they could. Personally, Essek could do without it all. He wanted-no, he needed to win to satisfy his vanity and ego. But he didn’t care about the hopes of his country. Honestly, it was exhausting to pretend he did. But he didn’t want to lose, and if he didn’t want to lose then he had to put up appearances so the Dynasty would bankroll his way to competitions. 

He stood in the elevator, the other tenants hoping off on the way down. In his mind he replayed the game in his mind and visualized the moves of the game. Barbarian to C5, Monk to 4D-then the Archmage Reversal formation. If he had just put the Rogue in an offensive decision the game probably would have been decided three moves sooner- The elevator opened, and the Zemnian stood for a minute. His face was a study of surprise, as he blinked rapidly at him. Essek felt his back straighten as he held his head high and refused to give the Zemnian more than a cursory nod of greeting. The Zemnian walked in, looked at the button for the lounge that Essek had already pressed, and then stood a few steps away from him. Essek for a minute closed his eyes and tried to breathe, refusing to look at the Zemnian. The pressure in the air could have made Essek’s ears pop-the weight of his attention chafed against his flesh like cheap fabric and almost made him squirm. 

“The opening was surprising for you,” the Zemnian finally said. His voice was much quieter than Essek had expected. Essek was sure he had heard him speak in interviews before, but it was still a surprise. “You prefer the Xhorhassian Castle Strategy.”

 “Beauregard Lionett is a student of Grandmaster Dairon,” Essek said, insulted by the insinuation and folding his arms over his chest. “Expositer’s Gambit. Only an idiot would play Xhorhassian Castle against a Monk lead. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes as Obann.” 

“You studied her game against Obann?” the Zemnian asked, a quiet reflective surprise in his voice. Essek refused to turn his head and look at him. He didn’t want to see him-see his blue eyes or his rugged jaw or the lines in his face. 

“A decisive and well played match,” Essek said curtly. “I make it a habit to work through all of my competitors’ matches, no matter how unknown or new they are.”  “I see.”  “I know you see, you’ve been watching me,” Essek said as he watched the elevator buttons continue to light up as it moved down. Surely this was the longest conversation of his entire life and he was going to personally murder whoever had built this elevator for forcing him into it. “I imagine you were doing the same.”  “Of course,” The Zemnian said, and Essek was glad he didn’t bother to deny it. Essek could feel his gaze digging into his neck and it made him want to swat at his own skin.  “If you want to enjoy staring at me longer, it may be worth your time to invest in a photo,” Essek said, tapping his foot at the elevator that hit the floor before their destination. He couldn’t hide his irritation.“I have quite a few good ones in the Dynasty Times.”  “I know...I’ve seen them,” the Zemnian said. Essek refused to flush or flinch, and clenched his jaw so tight he was sure he was about to crack a tooth.  “Of course you have,” Essek said with a controlled sigh as the elevator finally hit the floor and opened. Essek took a few steps out only to turn and see the Zemnian reaching out his hand. Essek stared at him. He couldn’t have been more surprised if the Zemnian had grown a second head and started singing Marquesian folk songs. 

“I was going to meet with my friends,” he said, his expression was soft-like Essek was a slightly feral creature he was trying to soothe. “We were going to go over the matches so far. Would you like to accompany me?” 

“You mean my matches,” Essek said, unable to help narrowing his eyes. His hand returned to his side in response. “With who? Beauregard Lionett? Veth Brenatto? Jester Lavorre?”

 “As well as Fjord and Caduceus,” he said with an almost-smile. “Is it not practice in the Dynasty to do the same?” 

Essek almost grimaced. It was standard practice for groups of skilled dragonchess players to go over games and sequences and practice together. Essek never did. Standard practice to be bogged down by old players stuck in their old ways, to be told you were too young or too ambitious or too reckless or too careful. There was nothing to be learned from such sessions that you couldn’t learn on your own or from just watching. 

“Dragonchess is an individual affair,” Essek reminded him. “At the end of the day, you and I are going to face each other alone. I’ll win on my own terms.” 

“I played like that before, but I find this way more enjoyable,” he said with a tinge of humor to his tone. 

“I know you did, back when you had a different name and a different circle you ran with,” Essek said simply. “Your play style hasn’t changed too drastically-you always were a stickler for the scorched earth tactic no matter how you like to present yourself.” 

“My name is Caleb Widogast,” the Zemnian told him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“It doesn’t matter to me what you call yourself-Nine Hells, you could call yourself King Dwendal and it would make no difference to me,” Essek told him. “My only request is you meet me on the board at your best tomorrow. Show me the best you can do. If I wanted to beat a player like any of your friends, I would just play them again.” 

“That’s a big request coming from the youngest Xhorhassian Grandmaster in history,” Caleb said with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth where Essek was definitely not looking. 

“Said the youngest Zemnian Grandmaster in history,” Essek pointed out with a roll of his eyes. 

“Have a good evening, Herr Thelyss,” he said with a look that Essek refused to register as something deeper. Their eyes met, and for just a single moment Essek wondered how it would feel to be seen like that all the time. But the thought was fleeting. After all, victory came from clarity...and his greatest clarity was only found in solitude. 

“Have a good evening, Mr. Widogast,” Essek said quietly, not for an instant feeling regretful. 

And so they parted ways without a single look back. After all, Essek had his eye on the prize.

[morethanaprincess-a]

As they’ve started to become relevant in a few verses and threads, I wanted to write a little bit about some of Sonia’s extended family. Thus, here is some information about His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Duke of Neuchatel (King Alexandre’s brother and only sibling, and Sonia’s uncle) and his family.

Note: Each member of this family is referred to as “His/Her Royal Highness” or “Your Highness,” despite Arthur and Olivia being the Duke and Duchess of Neuchatel. Because they are the sole Royal Duke and Duchess (with their titles granted to them upon marriage by the former King), they are addressed as Royal Highnesses as opposed to “Your Grace,” which is how other Dukes and Duchesses within Novoselic would be spoken of and to, if a servant or commoner is addressing them (at parties, or among those in the aristocracy, they are referred to as ‘Duke’ or ‘Duchess.’ No, it makes little sense and yes, it’s a lot to learn if your muse ends up working for/with Sonia in the Royal Family or your muse plans to marry her).

Everything is under the cut, as it’s pretty long!

His Royal Highness, the Duke of Neuchatel - Also known as Arthur, Duke of Neuchatel or informally as Arthur Nevermind (his last name, like his brother King Alexandre and his niece Princess Sonia, comes from their Royal House), he is King Alexandre’s only sibling. Born two years after his brother, Arthur proved himself to be charming and charismatic at a young age. Where Alexandre was thoughtful, introspective, and considerate, Arthur was bold and captivating. He loves a healthy competition no matter where it’s found, but he still grumbles that his brother still bests him in chess. His hobbies included shooting, skiing, and, to his mother’s dismay, gambling.

Despite being ‘the spare,’ Arthur relishes in being in charge, delivering orders and having his plans executed perfectly. It made him an ideal football captain in school as well as a member of the In Utero Student Council during his final two years of high school (he chose which events he wished to engage with. They were few and far-between). He consistently received the fastest training times throughout his military training, from obstacle courses to rope climbs to assembling firearms to driving tanks. His eagerness to guide others to victory made him an asset in the Novoselic Royal Army, where he completed his obligatory two years. He married Lady Olivia, daughter of the Duke of Vaud, two years after the Royal Wedding of-then Prince Alexandre, heir to the throne, and Lady Valentina, daughter of the Duke of Ticino.

Now, he is a full-time working royal for the Novoselic Royal Family with charitable interests in war veterans and science/technology. He’s an avid fan of the national football team, luxury fashion, wine, and his collection of rare watches and sportscars. He attends every Monaco Grand Prix and keeps a yacht on the French Riviera (which, on occasion, he’ll invite his wife along. This is not a frequent occurrence). 

Before Sonia comes of age and graduates university, he is the one fulfilling many of King Alexandre’s international obligations, so he is often away from home. He prefers to travel in style (or rather, he prefers to have his entire life to be lived ‘in style.’).

Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Neuchatel - Also known as Olivia, Duchess of Neuchatel or informally as Olivia Nevermind, is the wife of the Duke of Neuchatel and Sonia’s aunt. A bit shorter and fuller in the bust than her sister-in-law Queen Valentina, Olivia could be best described as ‘meek and mousy.’ While the King and Duke have golden hair and blue eyes, and the Queen with her platinum hair and green eyes, Olivia still retains the expected (if not requisite) blonde hair of the Royal Family, though hers is a mix of dirty and ash blonde. She has round brown eyes that can make her look permanently surprised if she’s not in control of her emotions.

Olivia is a gentle, soft-spoken woman whom, since birth, has been raised to take her place in Novoselic’s aristocracy. As a child, she loved embroidery, piano, and ballet, but was forced to give up the sport after her teachers insisted she was ‘too chubby’ to continue. From then on, she took up tennis and gardening as hobbies, with the latter carrying on well into her adult life. After marrying Prince Arthur and becoming the Duchess of Neuchatel, Olivia’s interests are, first and foremost, their two children and raising them to be the future Duke of Neuchatel and members of the Novoselic aristocracy.

She spends far more time at home than her husband, though she participates in every official engagement and function the Royal Family asks of her. She is a popular choice to be featured in documentaries and interviews, such as recorded tours around various Royal estates. Her philanthropic efforts are focused mainly around agriculture, animal conservation, horticulture, and children’s charities, and when she becomes of age, Princess Sonia and her aunt often share the duties for animal conservatory and children’s charity efforts.

While she does eat meat, she eats very little of it and tends to choose more fish and plant-based meals. She supports organic farming and hydroponics, and is the host of the annual Novosonian flower show. When she is able to go and invited, she loves to attend Wimbledon.

His Royal Highness, Prince Liam of Neuchatel - Also known as Liam, Prince of Neuchatel or Liam Nevermind, he is Sonia’s eldest cousin on her father’s side and four years younger than she is. A bit taller than his cousin and far more muscular (if not stocky), Liam is brash, loud, and generally unafraid to speak his mind in most matters. If there’s quips being slung in the Royal Family, he’s one of three possible suspects (the others are Queen Valentina and Prince Arthur).

Liam likes to be active and to have a good time, or a good laugh. During Princess Sonia’s first year attending the annual Masquerade Ball, he and some school friends from In Utero Primary School let loose a flock of makango into the ballroom, causing a great uproar when the animals took a dip in the champagne and chocolate fountains and scurried up skirts and trouser legs. Since then, Queen Valentina tends to frown whenever he’s discussed.

He’s not the biggest fan of school, though he has some talent for mathematics and statistics. Languages, literature, and history tend to put him to sleep. What he does like is physical fitness and sports, and won’t hesitate to try most athletics (ballroom dancing, and most types of dancing, are exempt. He hates these). He is primarily a polo and rugby player, but he enjoys football as well and likes to watch boxing and racing. Like his father, he enjoys being part of a sports team, though not necessarily leading it.

Upon graduation, he elects to attend university (or rather, his father tells him he’ll be going) and fulfill his obligatory military service during the school holidays (mostly so he doesn’t become mixed up in his usual partying crowd). While he wanted to be properly deployed, most of his military responsibilities involve defense, particularly at the Novoselic border. He’s frustrated by this and finds it difficult to focus, so during his holidays he’s often found in Spain or Greece, wherever the it-crowd has designated the coolest spot to see and be seen. And like his father, he quite likes luxury goods, expensive liquor, and sports cars. He’s also known to be quite handsome, with his mother’s ash blonde hair and his father’s blue eyes (otherwise known as the ‘Nevermind Blue.’ Sonia’s father, uncle, and Sonia herself all have them, as well as Liam). 

Generally, if anyone’s going to appear in the tabloids, it’s usually Liam, and the Royal Family’s PR team has quite a job making sure anything incriminating never sees the light of day (or the light of a screen). His parents wish he’d settle down and actually have a real, meaningful relationship (that looks good in the eyes of the press and the people), but there’s no one special in his life. His charitable interests involve fitness and sports organizations, and he’s present at as many matches as he can. He loves when he’s sent to the Olympic Games to represent his country in the audience and in interviews.

His Royal Highness, Prince Samuel of Neuchatel - Also known as Samuel, Prince of Neuchatel or Samuel Nevermind, is the brother of Liam and Sonia’s cousin. He is two years younger than his brother and six years younger than Sonia. Where Liam is muscular, Samuel is not: however, he’s a good four inches taller than his brother, with long, golden hair (which he usually keeps tied back) and brown eyes (his mother’s). Samuel was one of the earliest targets of Liam’s jokes and jabs, and therefore he’s a bit quieter and considerate when it comes to his comments. Thoughtful and polite, he’s the ‘spare’ of the family and his parents worried he would grow up with a very thin skin. He didn’t take to athletics or military training nearly as easily as his brother Liam (though he took to video games: they bond over Mario Kart and Smash. It was a harrowing moment in Liam’s life the first time Samuel beat him at both). 

Samuel is also an excellent student: history and art are his favorite subjects, though he gets exemplary grades in everything at In Utero. His hobbies and passions include visual art (he likes to sketch and paint) and playing the violin, and during the summer months he enjoys fishing. He’s very well-read and enjoys attending theatrical and musical productions as part of the Royal Family. Several of his drawings have been framed by his mother or King Alexandre and displayed in various Royal homes. He’d love to have something hung (besides a portrait of himself) in the National Gallery one day.

Upon graduation, he both chooses to attend University (seriously, he couldn’t get there fast enough) and to serve in the armed forces by joining the Novoselic Royal Air Force. Thus, he learned to both drive a tank and fly a plane before he could drive a car. Samuel loves flying for both work and fun, deeming the air to be the only place his family can’t chide or tease him. After his obligatory service, the Royal Family keeps a small, private plane for his singular use.

As he will not inherit the Dukedom (that will go to Liam), Samuel is both career-minded and a full-time working Royal. His charity work and proposed policies revolve around the arts, from new museums to theaters and productions to educational and grant opportunities. He is always working to add more cultural exhibits to every city and town in Novoselic. 

It is often said by the press and public alike that Samuel acts more like they’d expect from the future Duke than Liam, a comment that never fails to upset the entire family. 

[tcnks]

THE ROOM IS ON FIRE AND SHE’S FIXING HER HAIR—

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“Sometimes he looked at her and thought, Gosh, I wonder what’s underneath all that anger, all that hard glossy armor? Maybe there’s just an innocent, wounded little girl in there who wants to come out and play and be loved and get happy. But now he wondered if maybe that little girl was long gone, or if she’d ever been there at all. What was under all that armor, all that anger? More anger, and more armor. Anger and armor, all the way down.” — The Magician’s Land, Lev Grossman. 

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Nymphadora Patagonia Teodora “Fabiola” Black Tonks. Or, understandably, just Tonks. One of the most excruciating moments of a young Tonks’s life was the dissociative experience that came from hearing Professor McGonagall read her entire name aloud (Baptismal name included, as if they didn’t have enough to deal with, though her dearly departed Godfather’s addition had thankfully not made the cut) stony-faced and with suspicious volume, at the Sorting Ceremony. It was a humiliation that took years to live down, which is probably why a repeat offense at her Auror Academy graduation ceremony broke down her last, tired, moments of resolve. Only her nearest and dearest can get away with anything other than just Tonks these days.  NICKNAMES: Dora. Peuchen. Dorita. Estrellita. (An increasing array of absurd petnames that she bears with varying levels of grace.) AGE: 29 BIRTHDAY: April 6, 1973 GENDER: Demigirl. PRONOUNS: She/They BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood. SPECIES: Metamorphmagus (Wixen).

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Andromeda Dorea Tonks nee Black. FATHER:  Edward “Ted” Álvaro Sepulveda Tonks

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Daniella Pineda BUILD: Small but athletic. HAIR: Variable.  HAIR COLOR: Variable. EYE COLOR: Variable. SKIN COLOR: Variable. DOMINANT HAND: Left. ANOMALIES: (Everything) Tattoos; a mish mash of stick’n’poke, magical and non-magical tattoos that have been amassing over the years. SCENT: Roasting coffee beans, oranges, cinnamon, honey. ALLERGIES: Unemployment. Children under the age of four. FASHION: Eclectic. Entirely dependent on her moods.  NERVOUS TICS: While she’s gotten much better at controlling her Metamorphmagus abilities over the years, it still takes a tremendous amount of effort to prevent her emotions from influencing them. This means that there are definite tells to be found in her appearance as to what her mood is, particularly in times of high emotional stress. The rule of thumb has always been that the darker her hair is, the moodier she is.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: A flat located above Dogweed & Death Cap, Diagon Alley. BORN: Porthmeor, Cornwall. RAISED: A cottage right on the waterfront, Porthmeor, Cornwall. PETS: None that are hers, specifically. She recently gave a dog to her parents in the hopes it might absorb some of their attention. CAREER: Former-Auror. Current Head of Security for Club Raven. EXPERIENCE: Auror’s Academy Graduate, 1994. Eight and a half years as an active duty Auror before suspension.  EMPLOYER: Cavalier Avery. POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Light.  BELIEFS: Alastor Moody was (and still is) the greatest auror of their time. That blame falls as much on the shoulders of those who fail to take action as those who commit the crime. That neutrality really isn’t an option when there is a choice to be made about human rights.  MISDEMEANORS: She is an officer of the law. FELONIES: .. In the name of the law? (No.) DRUGS: She really does care about her career. SMOKES: Has never once made it through an entire cigarette. ALCOHOL: Yes. DIET: A steady diet of leftovers that her father’s filled her freezer with.  LANGUAGES: Spanish, English. A creative combination of both. PHOBIAS: She is terrified of losing her abilities or the prospect of failure. HOBBIES: Finding trouble wherever she goes. Fixating on work. Annoying Moody. Terrorising her cousins. TRAITS:  + Vibrant / - Tactless: Loud. Energetic. Brash. Annoying. There were many ways in which Tonks’ existence could be quantified, but subtle was not one of them. Over time Tonks has taken to wearing her loud reputation like her own coat of arms; her very best and worst attributes flaunted with a deliberateness that seems almost too knowing, too on the nose, to not be covering for something. Arrogance and recklessness, hot-headed impulsiveness and a particularly caustic brand of wit wielded with a blunt charm that she’s grown increasingly fond of throwing in the face of the people who would whisper behind her back about just where here loyalties lie these days. The flippancy with which she greets the world, like she’s in on the joke that the rest of the world hasn’t quite caught the punchline of, only seems to grate on those who wish she’d treat the importance of her position with a little more respect. Tonks lives her life at full volume, with little regard for the opinions or delicate feelings of others who would ask her to reign it in, just a little, for their own comfort. + Driven / - Reckless: Nobody could ever say that Tonks did not possess an iron will, when it came to the things she wanted in life. Underneath all that vibrant glossy armour she wears like a warning sign, Tonks’ honourable qualities lurk: she may not always enjoy the banal, everyday routine of being an Auror, just as she may not think much of the people in charge, but Tonks is dedicated and steadfast in her job and worked tirelessly to get there. She has proven, time and again, a willingness to make the hard choice and put the greater good over her own reputation or honour. It takes a certain kind of steel to say precisely what is on your mind, to act even when duty and honour and all those boring noble virtues they try to instil in young Aurors tell you not to. She has never lacked for that sort of courage: the kind that requires a certain amount of defiance and a whole lot of audacity (and the willingness to circumvent every rule of authority, when your real loyalties and values are tested). Tonks has been forging the steel in her spine since she was old enough to frustrate her parents with her own headstrong opinions on what she wanted from life and how that differed from their hopes for her, and if she did not flinch (often) beneath her father’s gentle disappointment than there was certainly no one in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who could make her cringe. And that was the truth of it: what people called boldness was only a matter of knowing what you wanted and being unafraid of what it would take to get it — and there was no length that Tonks was not willing to go to in order to do what’s right. + Insightful / - Nosy: If there was one thing that Alastor Moody taught her during those long years in the Academy, it was the value of deeds over words. The department may have been overrun, of late, with those too preoccupied by political ambitions to see the bigger picture and be willing to ruffle feathers, but Tonks has always been more insightful than she’s given credit for. Her knack for reading a room and the intentions of the people in it had been honed by her naturally suspicious mentor and years spent studying faces intently, all their little quirks and shapes, in order to recreate them in the mirror. For better or for worse, when put into a tight corner Tonks does not falter and she does not hesitate. Those who would call her impulsive would probably be correct, but she vastly prefers decisive and while her approach doesn’t always end well, she’s resourceful enough to almost always land on her feet running.  The talents of a fighter, however, are not the talents required of a diplomat and lately her propensity for digging her nose into things that the higher ups have deemed off limits have landed her in hot water within the department. While Tonks has always considered her talent for thinking on her feet, acting decisively without wasting time on the buffering, to be her strongest asset, she fears that in order to return to the job she worked so hard to get, it will be inaction that is required of her this time around. Trading her autonomy for one man’s whims again is not something Tonks relishes the idea of, especially when there are dire consequences for turning a blind eye to what might be coming.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Porthmeor Cove, Cornwall. SPORTS TEAM: The Holyhead Harpies / La Rojas. GAME: Quidditch. Football if her dad is the one asking. MUSIC: Smashing Pumpkins. MOVIES: Jurassic Park (for sentimental reasons obviously.) FOOD: The free kind. BEVERAGE: Coffee.  COLOR: Varying shades of pink, magenta and red.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Hufflepuff. WAND (LENGTH, FLEXIBILITY, WOOD, & CORE): Red Oak, 13 3/4″, Bendy, Dragon Heartstring. AMORTENTIA: Woodsmoke, Jasmine, Bourbon, Honeysuckle. PATRONUS: Jackrabbit. BOGGART: Herself, without her abilities.  Barty Crouch Jr.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good. MBTI: ESTP-A MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur  ENNEAGRAM: Seven ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Enthusiast TEMPERAMENT: Choleric. WESTERN ZODIAC: Aries.  CHINESE ZODIAC: Ox. PRIMAL SIGN: Hippopotamus.  TAROT CARD: The Chariot, The Hierophant. TV TROPES: Blue Collar Warlock, Revisiting the Cold Case, Boisterous Bruiser, Allergic to Routine,  Heroic Resolve, Old Cop/Young Cop. SONGS: Sabotage - The Beastie Boys / Reptilia - The Strokes / Tonight, Tonight - Smashing Pumpkins / I Am The Highway - Audioslave / Time to Pretend - MGMT.

[musesoiree]

     so i cracked open smash ultimate because i wanted to just take lucas’s moveset by the frames to see what kuma would focus on showing him when it came to teaching him stuff, but i thought i’d look at ness’s stuff just because i was curious to see the differences between them. now im gonna post some probably not interesting things that i find interesting because im a nerd.

lucas typically uses two fingers, pointer and middle, for his pk moves, but ness only uses one, pointer. makes me wonder if there’s a difference or if general preference.

lucas doesn’t punch, like, at all. the only thing that could be considered a ‘punch’ is his side tilt, but that turns into a more slap-like hand gesture before it comes anywhere close to connecting. he’s a very kicky boi. ness only punches with the first two parts of his jab so neither of them are particularly punchy but that’s still more than lucas’s zero (0)

we all know this one but ness’s psi particles are circular while lucas’s are hexagonal.

ness’s smash 64 art radiates “your motherfucking life ends thirty minutes from now” energy and i really don’t like it.

ness’s model stretches out like fuckin silly putty during his double jump and it’s weird and i dont like it please dont slow motion this kid’s double jump.

ness uses less pk moves because he’s got his yo-yo alongside his bat, makes me wonder how he’d do without his equipment since all lucas has is a stick and a snake. 

kumatora still didn’t show lucas how to fuckin blow himself up btw, that was all ness. she was like “duster was nice enough to lend you rope snake, he should be fine enough with getting you on the platform when you’re sent flying”. and then ness showed up like “have you tried SeLf DeToNaTiOn” and that’s how he got his recovery. 

i’m overly intrigued by the hand motions that the kidses use when doing their pk moves, because ness shoots his pk fire out with his finger, but lucas full on kamehamehas that shit. my brain wants to say that lucas’ moves are a touch more forceful because bold and brash aka kumatora taught him how to do them, but that’s just me thinking.

their psi magnet is interesting. ness holds his around his body but lucas holds his out in front of him. makes me think that kuma showed it to lucas like “yeh it’s meant for turning foes’ energies into your own strength but you can also use it to knick people if you wanna. everything can be used to keep your opponents on their toes if you’re smart enough” while traditional poo was like “it’s. for healing. just use it for healing.”

[bnhascribbles]

A Plan

Bakugo x Hero!Reader

Request: Dialogue Prompts (31, 53, 65, 73) for “my boi Bakugo”

Words: 1.5K

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

“Piss off!  I can handle these asswipes by myself!”

If you’d only heard Bakugo, his voice as brash and thunderous as ever, you would’ve assumed that he had everything under control–that he wasn’t actually about to get ripped to shreds by two goons from Watchdog’s gang.

Your first mistake had been letting the agency split the two of you up in the first place.  Sure, you were of more help in rescue situations and he was better at making the baddies go boom, but you and Ground Zero were still a team; You had each other’s backs–you fed off each other’s energy.  So yeah, you should’ve said “hell no” when they’d put you on patrol in different wards.  Maybe then he would’ve been able to focus on obliterating the six-foot-tall man-mutt hybrids instead of alternating between offense and rescue.  Thank God you’d at least had your phone on, or else you might’ve seen the news alert a few minutes too late.

“Hey!  Over here, you overgrown poodles!

Both villains turn and face you, although one still keeps a clawed hand curled around Bakugo’s neck, pressing him further into the pile of rubble beneath him.  Your partner writhes despite the thick trail of blood seeping down the side of his forehead.  You’d expected him to use your distraction as an opportunity to get a shot in–to free himself.  He doesn’t; There are no explosions, only shouted curses and a low, ominous, rumbling sound.

His palms had probably run dry.  

Well, shit.

As two pairs of predatory eyes begin to bore through you, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you should have thought this through a little bit more.  It wasn’t like you could breathe fire or punch them into oblivion with super strength.  Your quirk was barrier for fuck's sake; What were you gonna do, shield them to death?  The best you could hope to do was buy time for Bakugo to get some juice back and blast these guys into oblivion.

As the larger of the two mutts hunches over onto all fours–growling and poised to strike–you decide to do what you do best: Talk shit.

You force yourself to smile, to fake arrogance despite the cold sweat clinging to the back of your neck. Bakugo always said that if you really wanted someone to make a mistake, you had to piss them off first.  

“I can’t understand you.  Sorry, but I don’t speak bitch.”

It pounces, and you roll to your left, avoiding the impact by a few inches.  You’re better prepared the second time it lunges, throwing up a barrier at the last possible moment.  It hits the wall hard–the air echoes with a distinctive crunch that you can only hope meant it’d managed to smash in its snout.  As the villain clutches at its face–a mess of blood and drool–you concentrate and form a cube around it, trapping it in an invisible prison.  It snarls, bashing at the enclosure in a frenzy.  The tightness in your gut tells you that you’ll be able to keep it up for fifteen–no, ten minutes tops.  Hopefully, that’s all I’ll need, you pray, turning your attention to the beast’s buddy.

"Yo, Lassie!”

It keeps an eye on Bakugo, but bares a set of very sharp teeth in your direction.  Your partner is still putting up a fight–kicking, biting, cursing–but his captor still has sheer size working to its advantage.

“Fucking leave already!”

You disregard Bakugo’s insane demand; Frankly, you couldn’t care less if your rescue shattered his ego.  Even if it did actually came from a place of caring for you–not wanting you to get straight-up murdered–couldn’t he see that you were trying to save him?  God, sometimes it felt like his head was full of rocks.  Short-tempered, loud-mouthed, insanely-attractive rocks.

Right–not the time.

“If you’re gonna kill him, then you'd better kill me first.  Otherwise, I'm gonna kill you.”

When the creature finally shifts its gaze away from Bakugo, you don’t miss the way the blonde’s eyes go feral.  His struggling intensifies, and you know that you’ll have to work extra hard to keep your foe’s attention.

“Wouldn’t you rather run home and hump your big boss’s leg?  I’m sure you’d enjoy that much more than sticking around here and getting your ass kicked.”

The next few seconds happen so fast that they seem like a blur–a memory playing out in real time.  The villain turns to face you.  Bakugo is lifted high in the air.  You sprint towards him and, on impulse, your arms shoot out in front of you.  You would create another barrier, throw the beast off-balance–after all, that was all you could do.

Before you can fire up your quirk, there’s an explosion.  The force of the blast sends you flying backward, landing unceremoniously on your ass.  As you sit there trying to catch your breath, the hot air feels like it’s scorching your insides.  Coupled with the smoke, it makes for a positively painful experience–complete with watery eyes and a whole lot of wheezing.  Still, none of that mattered right now; Ground Zero was back up and running, baby.

You can’t be sure how long it takes for the street to reemerge from beneath the blanket of smoke.  All that you know is that once it finally does, Bakugo’s standing right there, his stern voice contradicting his battered appearance.

“There were at least three times you should’ve died back there.”

“Only three?”  You reply, voice dripping with sarcasm.  “I hope that number includes you nearly barbecuing me with that last little blast.”

“Joke all you want, but that last ‘little blast’ is the only reason you’re not actually dead.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”  He extends a hand out towards you, and you take it.  “You shouldn’t underestimate what a person is capable of doing to protect someone they care about.”

***

Thankfully, Bakugo at least has the patience to wait twenty minutes–letting you fill in the officers and reporters–before chewing you out.

“Next time, be more obvious with the fucking signal.”

Okay, you understood that he was speaking perfect English, but it might as well have been gibberish, because you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Signal?  What signal?”

“The signal dammit.”  He growls, doing a god-awful job of using his words, as always.  He holds his hands out in front of him like he’s going to set off two explosions from his palms, presumably mimicking your “signal.”  He stares expectantly, growing noticeably more irritated when your confused expression doesn’t fade.

  “That thing you did with your hands that told me to go apeshit!  It almost looked like you were trying to use your quirk.”  

You blink, mirroring his position, finally beginning to understand.  The source of the misunderstanding: He thought that you were smarter than you actually were.  It was an odd problem to have, but then again, everything about your dynamic with Bakugo was odd.

“That’s because I was trying to use my quirk.  Bold of you to assume I had an actual plan.”

The look of sheer disbelief that passes over his face is more amusing than it should be, given the fact that you’ve basically shattered any faith he has in your competence.  Still, when he begins to walk away from you, you follow hot on his heels.

“What?  Not gonna yell at me for doing something so reckless?”  You ask, prodding.  He sighs, but doesn’t respond.  It’s not enough of a reaction for you.  “Come on, this is the perfect opportunity to call me an idiot.”

"You already know you’re an idiot.”  

You pretend to pout, and he rolls his eyes and peers back over his shoulder.  When he sees that the news crews are out of earshot, he runs a hand down his face, grumbling through his palm.  

“But you're also my idiot, and I like you better when you’re in one piece.  So don’t pull stupid shit like that without a plan."

He’d obviously meant to scold you.  You should’ve nodded your head and promised that it wouldn’t happen again–should’ve vowed that you’d stop relying on dumb luck and just run when he said “run.”  But let’s be serious, you couldn’t promise those things; Hero work was unpredictable, and you weren’t the sort to just sit by and watch things happen from the sidelines.  Plus, his little speech gave you something far juicier to cling to.

“Awww, you like me Katsuki?”

The edges of his cheeks flush to a faint shade of pink.  “Drop it.”

“You’re the one that said it first; I’m being perfectly reasonable in asking.”

“You really wanna die?  Keep talking and see what happens.”

“So what ‘piece’ of me do you like the best?”

He clenches his jaw tight.  “Oi, you’ve got a lot of nerve today, don’t you?”

You link your arm with his and grin wide.  He shoots you a dangerous look, those fiery eyes issuing an unspoken warning.  Unfazed, you lean into him, not caring when his sweat dampens the outer layer of your sleeve, nor when the distinctive click of camera flashes starts up from somewhere behind you.

“What can I say, Katsuki?  You make me feel invincible."

[magicplanetanime]

Let’s Watch HeartCatch Pretty Cure, Episode 1

I fully admit, I am a recent convert to the Pretty Cure cause. It’s not like I was never interested--I’ve loved magical girls since I first saw Sailor Moon as a kid--but it never quite seemed like the right time. I eventually picked up the currently airing Star Twinkle Precure at the start of its run, and I’ve been loving it! It’s a great series, and I highly recommend it.

It is also not what this blog is going to be about for the forseeable future. I’ve decided to take the plunge into the 49-episode Heartcatch Precure, and I will be using my blog over the coming weeks (and months?) to liveblog the experience.

I was interested in Heartcatch Precure for several reasons. Mostly the art style, and some whisperings I’d heard about one of the main characters. Nothing really prepared me for how the series starts though. To provide some context, Star Twinkle, the only Precure series I’m really familiar with, starts on a pretty lighthearted note. So I was really not expecting what I got out of the first scene here.

Because Heartcatch starts with someone dying.

Episode I - “I’ll Change! I’ll Show You I Can Change!!”

I took my first screencap 14 seconds into Heartcatch, and I say that without shame. The show looks absolutely gorgeous--even moreso in motion, I may end up forcing myself to figure out the arcane art of the gif recorder to fully convey what’s going on here visually. I expect this to drop off at some point, anime are often prettiest in their earliest and last episodes after all, but still, it’s one hell* of an introduction.

This introductory sequence captures a battle between the mysterious, beautiful Cure Moonlight, and what is presumably her evil counterpart. I knew nothing about any of these people watching this sequence and it was absolutely enthralling. The art strikes me as kind of Utena-influenced? I may be drawing off of a limited knowledge pool, though.

Moonlight is killed by her assailant, and the lone Precure’s last wish is that her fairies find successors worthy of succeeding where she failed.

No joke, this is a gutsy way to start a show aimed at kids. Children have capacity for the full spectrum of human emotion, and I do appreciate when a kid’s series treats them with the respect they deserve. Is it still for girls in gradeschool? Sure, but, right off the bat, Heartcatch seems genuinely interested in telling a story in the heroic tradition.

All this before we’re even introduced to our actual protagonist. Who was dreaming the scene we just saw.

I have a deep, genuine love of mahou shoujo protagonists. In my mind, none have ever done anything wrong. But this girl? This girl’s extra great, I can tell. Look at that character design! She’s so round!

Before we can learn much else, this girl (who we’ll shortly learn is named Tsubomi Hanasaki) arrives at the end of a roadtrip, and at her grandma’s house. Cut to OP.

The OP is very pretty as well, and seems to not-quite-spoil quite a few things. I want to give a nod to the fansubbers here (if you’re going to yell at me for piracy you should quick google “Precure, watch legally, English” and see how far you get) for the lovely subtitling done with the OP song.

Cut back to the episode and after a brief title card thanking the show’s sponsors (the only one I recognized was Yamaha, I suppose this was prior to the Precure brand’s partnership with McDonald’s) we get the long and short of Tsubomi’s backstory.

More importantly, we learn something that’s kind of surprising. I’ll let Tsubomi speak for herself here.

The general rule of thumb in magical girl series (including many of the other Precure shows), the character associated with colors like red, pink, and magenta is the brash, energetic one. Tsubomi being reserved is an interesting flip of that trope, she seems rather bookish, and is prone to embarassing herself. There’s a really funny bit just after this where she spots a 4-leaf clover in a flowerbed and asks it to grant her wish that she become more outgoing and friendly. Then she realizes she’s doing this in front of a bunch of people on her way to school, and, flustered, hurriedly scurries off.

Tsubomi introduces herself to her class. Trying to put on a bold face but failing, and then, after writing her name in a barely-legible size on the blackboard, this happens.

And that’ll be our second protagonist. This is Erika Kurumi, who is charming in her own way, and if I can confess, the main reason I became interested in this series, for reasons we won’t get to for several more episodes if I had to guess.

Tsubomi is a very relatable lead, but Erika even in these few introductory minutes, seems like a character a lot of young girls would identify with too. I know this was sometimes me as a young’n.

Random aside here, their teacher is quite nice too, and also pretty easy on the eyes in a soft butch sorta way. Is this how I know I’m getting old? Being attracted to anime characters’ teachers?

In any case, the (unintentional?) teasing leaves poor Tsubomi a little flustered. Though she quickly recovers when her class seem genuinely happy to get to know her.

Then it turns out that the only free seat in the classroom is next to Erika, to which Tsubomi’s reaction is, well, I’m not sure I could fish up an apt adjective for this particular splash screen.

The two have some lovely interactions during class. Including the shot that’s currently serving as my banner over on Anilist, but mostly, they banter, and the classic “clashing personalities” device is really put to good effect here. It’s almost a given that they’ll become close friends later on--possibly quite soon--but for now, you definitely get why they wouldn’t jive with each other.

10 minutes--goodness, we’re only that far in and I’ve already said so much--into the episode, we get to the main conflict. Namely, well, once again, a screencap summarizes it better than I could.

Erika is the last remaining member of the school’s fashion club, and needs someone else to join it. She attempts to recruit Tsubomi, who isn’t having it. Something of a rift having sprung between the two, they end up walking the same way home.

Like, all the same way home.

In a delightful convenience of plot, Erika and Tsubomi are neighbors.

A surprisingly pumpin’ pop-rock track swells in the soundtrack as Erika drags Tsubomi next door, promising to help her with the personal change she so desires. Erika’s the daughter of fashion designers, and it shows.

Still, despite her little smile here Tsubomi stands up for herself and tells Erika to basically cut it out. We’re also briefly introduced to Erika’s older sister Momo, who lightly scolds her younger sibling. As sisters do.

Erika, realizing she’s caused an issue, has something of a temper tantrum after Tsubomi leaves. All this miniature kid-drama, charming as it is, is enough to make you briefly forget that you’re watching a magical girl show, and a series as esteemed as Precure can’t have that, now can it?

Smash cut to these little ones.

These are the fairies that Cure Moonlight was beseeching in the intro. There’s no telling at this point how many years later on we are, but the evil Desert Apostles seem to still be at work, and the fairies seek out one Cure Flower, to alert her to their presence.

Below, Tsubomi is hanging out in a field, getting some fresh air after the earlier awkwardness and musing on the recurring dreams she has about Moonlight.

I think dear reader, that we all know the answer to that question.

The fairies, in distress and fleeing from the Desert Apostles, promptly do something they could not get away with on a similarly age-targeted show on American television, and hide by jumping down Tsubomi’s shirt. Which leads to a pretty dang weird segment where Tsubomi hides the fairies from this lady.

By….well, you can see the picture. This manages to be reasonably funny and only a little uncomfortably weird.

The Desert Apostle lady comes across Erika, sulking in a nearby park, and we get an immediate demonstration of how the whole “sad person-->monster for the protagonists to fight” flowchart works in Heartcatch. It is to the show’s credit that despite not really “showing” anything (remember: kids’ show), the transformation from person into a flower manages to look *incredibly* uncomfortable. Erika shouting her lungs out doesn’t help.

And about here, any even mildly-seasoned watcher of mahou shoujo series will know, is where things start to pop off.

To her credit, Tsubomi does try diplomacy.

But it doesn’t really take.

So we’ve got Tsubomi and the fairies being pursued by a vengeful, possessed, mustard-colored muppet doll. Something we learn is called a Desertian. Bonus points: being powered by Erika’s “flower of the heart” means that she yells half-coherent jealous nonsense about her sister.

As far as starter monsters go, this is a pretty effective one! It draws on an inner life of a character we already know a bit about, so the struggles that she faces that are reflected in the dolls ramblings make sense. There’s also some exposition here about heart flowers being separated from their hosts weakening the Great Heart Tree, the thing Cure Moonlight was defending in the opening scene.

Tsubomi promptly outdoes several anime airing at the time of this writing, and takes a brave stance against magically-induced slavery.

And then, the magic starts.

There’s some brief beating around the bush in a bit of the self-effacery that’s become common in the genre, but thankfully just enough to be charming and silly instead of over-the-top and forced.

But Tsubomi has the right idea.

And it’s here that I thank god for both youtube and the Pretty Cure fans that have gone before me, because there is nothing that needs to be seen in motion more than magical girl transformation sequences.

There is no one cooler than a magical girl who’s just transformed for the first time, and I firmly believe that in my maiden’s heart of hearts.

With Tsubomi’s first transformation into Cure Blossom, the episode ends, on quite the cliffhangar! I’m sure both Blossom and our pal Erika will be alright in the long run, but goodness, talk about a great first impression!

I didn’t really expect to devote this much text to just one episode but it was so impressive it was impossible not to. I’m really looking forward to the rest of the series.

I doubt all my posts will be this long, and I intend to combine multiple episodes into a single post in the future. Especially when we get to filler, since it’s hard to fill almost an entire day’s worth of video footage without putting in at least a few time-killers. Still, I’m loving this so far.

Tsubomi is a great protagonist. As someone who was also pretty shy and bookish in middle school, I really feel like a lot of girls must’ve really looked up to her. It’s a hard thing to measure, but I wonder just how many little girls she helped be just a bit more confident in their daily lives?

Such lofty musings aside, I’m excited to get to the next episode. Until then, you can peruse the promotionals after the final cut here. See you soon!

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If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy my other anime-related writing. I have a weekly anime column at The Geek Girl Authority, and write occasional full-series reviews for Anilist.

If you wish to support my critical endeavors, you can support me on Patreon or Ko-Fi.

I can also be found on Twitter.

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*I don’t think many actual kids use tumblr, but I will attempt to keep swearing to a meaningful minimum, just in case~

[queensofrap]

Most Misunderstood: Iggy Azalea's American Dream    

he early reality of Amethyst Kelly is difficult to imagine. There was once a small home in the tiny Australian town of Mullumbimby, made of red brick, cemented by mud and laid by her father's careful hands. Her mother would spend her days emptying trash bins at a motel as a vacation rental cleaner, a path Amethyst would eventually follow at age 14. Water didn't always run, clothes were never new, and bathrooms were separated from the home by a muddied path. It's a tale of immensely humble beginnings, a hemisphere away from the life she would come to inhabit as Iggy Azalea a decade later. And while her origins are unfathomable for some, it's Amethyst's American dream that remains universal.

I first witnessed a glimpse of that dream in the fall of 2011. It was through a cracked iPhone screen, held casually by my friend. "You have to see this bitch," she announced, flicking her perfectly coiled locs and turning up the volume. "She's every-fucking-thing!" There, on the screen, was a tall, curvy woman with ice-blonde hair and creamy incandescent skin. She was surrounded by two brown cheerleaders in matching green uniforms, strutting in towering heels and rapping furiously: My world, rhyme vicious/ White girl team, full of bad bitches. Immediately, I recognized her: this confident, eccentric girl who didn't fit into preppy white hierarchies. While others girls were quoting lines from Mean Girls, imagining themselves Regina George, she appeared as someone I knew. A girl unruly and self-possessed, always late to class, always blasting D4L. I could see her crafting beats with her knuckles and strolling into class hours late, another detention slip placed on her desk. We were sold.

If "My World" was the bait, "Pussy" was the hook, line and sinker. Iggy, Iggy/ Pussy illy/ Wetter than the Amazon/ Taste this kitty! Her accent was thick and affected, reminiscent of our cherished childhood favorite Diamond from Atlanta's Crime Mob. The "Pussy" video was a Boyz N The Hood homage with ATLien pastiche. There were ice cream trucks and babysitting, front porch posing and concrete runways, sherbet-colored pants and shredded shorts. And we weren't the only ones taking notice of Iggy and her ways. Seemingly overnight, our private cafeteria secret had become a viral phenomenon.

“ Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch.“

Press came quickly, grand and bold. The New York Times suggested that "all this proximity to blackness characterizes Iggy Azalea as a person who is no stranger to black culture and communities, suggesting it's no anomaly for her to rock the mic." The Los Angeles Times described her flow as "brash and aggressive," while Complex decided that she was ready to "really make her mark on the game." Classmates had her image as their screensavers and sprawled across their Tumblrs, and were dropping her name in new music debates. She performed at small venues in Atlanta and cars across the city boomed with Never not better/ Law should ban it! A few months later, when "Murda Bizness" featuring T.I. dropped, her dream was actualized. She was not a one-hit wonder. She was a star, poised to rise.

There are many forgotten Iggy freestyles from that era. In one, she raps over Chris Brown's "Look At Me Now," prophesying her divisive nature. In another, titled "Home Town Hatred," she reflects on her time in Australia and her desire to leave. Over Kanye West's ominous "Hell of A Life" beat, she details how industry executives told her to dumb it down. But it was her 2011 "D.R.U.G.S." freestyle that first illuminated the parameters of her ignorance.

Reflecting the industry's tendency not to look at things too deeply, at first the song went unchallenged. (It would be a year before its lyrics were critically examined). In fact, Complex covered the freestyle, commending her craft and comparing her to fellow white rapper Yelawolf. The following January, Iggy signed to major label Interscope, tweeting, "Get used to me + Jimmy [Iovine] smashing shit, cause that's the plan."

In February of 2012, she landed the coveted cover of XXL's Freshman Class issue: an annual declaration of hip-hop stars poised to break big. Between up-and-comers French Montana and Future stands Iggy in a lush green fur. She was the first woman to ever grace the cover — a backhanded achievement. For many, XXL is a bastion of hip-hop excellence. To be a cover star and stamped with their approval was to suggest an imminent dominance. If Iggy could be shot, styled, and photographed for her buzz, where were the black women who broke the boundaries, paved the lanes, and inspired her craft?

It was Harlem-born musician and artist Azealia Amanda Banks who first articulated concern about Iggy's image and her space within hip-hop. On Twitter, Banks wrote, "Iggy Azalea on the XXL freshman list is all wrong. How can you endorse a white woman who called herself a 'runaway slave master'? Sorry guys, I'm a pro black girl. I'm not anti white girl, but I'm also not here for any1 outside of my culture trying to trivialize very serious aspects of it."

Media outlets immediately crafted Bank's criticism into a heavily publicized rap beef, thrusting Banks into the insidious stereotype of bitter black woman. The line Banks referred to was a re-interpretation of a Kendrick Lamar lyric on Iggy's "D.R.U.G." freestyle. In Kendrick's 2010 track "Look Out For Detox," he raps, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway slave. In Iggy's version, she says, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway/ Slave master/ Shittin' on the past/ Gotta spit it like a pastor.

Conversations surrounding the lyric lacked necessary context. Journalists missed questions and painted simple proclamations. In October of 2011, Banks had tweeted, "how sexy is iggy azalea?? It's kind of ridiculous…*tugs collar to let out steam*." In January, she wrote "Iggy Azalea's hair looks really great in her new video. How long do you all reckon that hair is? 40" in? By March 2012, the dream was dented, with Iggy being called out as misappropriating at best, racist at worst.

She issued a heartfelt apology, which fell on mostly unsympathetic ears. Two months later, Iggy was dropped by Interscope. Her debut album, The New Classic, stalled indefinitely. But still, there was room for redemption. In April 2013, Iggy signed with Mercury Records, a UK subsidiary of Universal Music Group. After recording new music in England, she returned stateside, armed with a completed album and a firmly set 2014 release date. During press runs she's tested: asked if she's an imposter; if her body is enhanced; if the cringe-worthy assumptions about her mentor T.I. are true. Old tweets were dug up, which made the disdainful murmurings worse. She's asked to freestyle on Sway, but instead inexplicably recites a line from her own album. Her music begins to change, becoming less lyrically explicit and trap-influenced, and more poppy and prim. Now a Complex cover star, she fumbles when asked about her divisive rapping accent. She's quoted saying, "This is the entertainment industry. It's not politics." Soon enough, that statement would no longer be true.

In 2012, political discussions had begun to dominate all forms of media. The slain lives of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis became proponents of combustible change. Movements like Black Lives Matter materialized, refusing silence or forgetfulness of the innocent and slaughtered black people, churning hundreds of American murders into global narratives. Each case, though singular and specific, represented the transgressions of America's not-too-distant-past and its perpetual present. If there was once a time when innocent victims could be smudged from history and their murderers left unscathed, that clock no longer ticked. Images of callous violence circulated more than music. Cellphone and camera footage displayed women being beaten, children being shot, and men being strangled. Language seemed to shift, relegating all ignorance to silence; expanding itself to capture the expansive feelings of others. And at the top of the same year, "Fancy" was released. Like lightning, Iggy's dream merged seamlessly with reality. She was now a star with a verifiable hit.

With her Clueless themed video for the inescapable track, 2014 became the year of Iggy's art. She held the number one spot on Billboard's Hot 100 for seven consecutive weeks. She luxuriated in the second spot too, appearing as a featured artist on Ariana Grande's "Problem." Billboard claimed Iggy tied with The Beatles and attached her name to the legacies of Mariah Carey, Missy Elliott, Lauryn Hill, and Nicki Minaj. She was now booking prime-time television spots — appearing on Good Morning America with Charli XCX — and on the covers of grocery store aisle magazines. Forbes declared her "Hip Hop's New Queen of Rap" and she was nominated for four Grammys. Simultaneously, America's racial rhetoric and division began to feel claustrophobic. In early February, Yvette Smith was murdered on her front porch. In August, Michael Brown Jr. and Ezell Ford were shot and killed. November was the month Laquan McDonald and Tamir Rice became portraits of unfinished lives. In July, Eric Garner was placed in an illegal chokehold, his last words becoming a symphony of unbearable sadness. The dichotomy between a world callously slaughtering black people on one end and rewarding a white rapper with success and visibility on another was dizzying.

What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you?

By 2015 the dream dissolved completely. Iggy was accused of racism, cultural appropriation, minstrelsy, and ignorance, becoming the perfect conduit for whiteness and all of its horrors. Her silence during racist events was considered complicit. A world tour was canceled, and neither a follow up album or a Top 10 hit reappeared. In 2016, she announced Digital Distortion, her sophomore album that was ultimately held after three singles — "Team," "Mo Bounce," and "Switch" — and a leaked music video. This year, Iggy released "Savior" with hopes of a refresh.

To some, she was an untalented white supremacist Barbie, infiltrating a space crafted by black people and laughing to the bank. Her dream — an innocent one of music, money, and acclaim — had become grotesque. To others, she was an iconic legend who was just easily projected upon. Now a refracted mirror for public opinion, a line was permanently drawn: black or white — no in-between.

But for me, there's always been a gray area. In art, in music, and in life, there is a space where the eye can shift inward to ask and answer questions. What might it look like for a young girl in Australia to re-discover life through hip-hop? What did it look like to want to manifest a world of make-believe, to create art once unseen? What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you? What do you do when you can't separate criticism from hate? When each day you're bombarded with projections based on media machinations? What does it look like when your dream comes true, when it's finally real, only for it to be mocked? To me, it's a perfect portrait of America.

At The Roxy Hotel, in New York City, I sat with Iggy Azalea. We spoke about her life, her dream, her craft, and her upcoming music. She was thoughtful and articulate, eyes glinting with Gemini humor and intellect, deeply apologetic and severely misunderstood. This is what transpired.

Can you take me back to your childhood? I read that your hometown is called "The Biggest Little Town in Australia." What was it like?

I still don't know why the fuck they call it that. It was a really small town, incredibly rural, but there's a looser, less stereotypical element to it. There were a lot of crystals and hippies, weed smokers, and horoscopes. The town was split between this hippie, carefree fairy spectrum, or conservative farmers and their crops. My parents were on the fairy spectrum, but I went to public school. Everyone there was straight-laced with names like Amber and Stephanie and there I was as Amethyst, with platform shoes, and immediately it was like, Okay, bitch prepare to get bullied.

What were the students like?

There were two schools. One was private and more artistic, and that's where all the people that could be considered carefree and more imaginative were able to go. The public school was very sterile, very conservative. The private school was expensive and my family had no money for that, so I went to the public school and I was miserable. These were the children of bricklayers whose parents drove tractors and guys who played football on the weekends. I got teased for everything. Literally everything, there was no winning with those kids.

I'm ignorant to Australia — I've never been — but there is the classic stereotype of the tanned, athletic, white Australian. When we think of whiteness, we often forget its specifications, even the types that are lauded and coveted. For instance there's the archetype of the popular blonde. You were tall, pale, and curvy…

Oh my goodness, yes! And I was never that girl. Not even anywhere near that girl's posse. I never fit in and there was a time I really tried to fit in. I remember getting teased because I hadn't shaved my legs yet. I was only in sixth grade and I had never even thought of something like that. They would call me "monkey" everyday. One day I got my mom's razor and shaved my legs thinking it would finally be over and it wasn't. There was always a new thing. My hat. My mole. My weight. All of these things now seem so dumb, but I didn't do anything like them and there was no appeasing those kids.

When did you first think of leaving?

I always knew I was going to leave because I knew I didn't belong with any of the people that lived there. I only decided I wanted to go to America when I visited the states with my grandparents. I was 11, and I remember seeing all the showgirls in Las Vegas, all their sparkles and rhinestones. They were the most fabulous girls I had ever seen. I had only seen something like that on TV, and it blew my mind. Then we went to Hollywood, and there were all these wig stores and the Star Walk, and just seeing all the ways people dressed, how they styled their hair, the color of their wigs, I wanted to be able to do all of those things. When I wanted to dress like this in Australia, I'd get shitted on. But coming to America and watching people put on a show, watching them being ridiculously fabulous, no one was doing that where I was from. Nobody was even wearing high heels in Mullumbimby.

When did you put the plan in action?

That happened when I really started to get into music. I was insanely confident, with the kind of deluded grandeur that I think you need when no else believes in you. I thought I was good at it even though in retrospect I was bad still. I was about 14 and that's when I started writing music. I'd go to open mic nights and take the bus all over the city. I'd go to battle raps, I'd get booed. There was a sound audio engineering school, called SAE, and the first music I ever recorded was there. From 14 to 16, that's when the plan formed. As soon as I started writing, I knew music was what I had to do. Even if I wasn't a rapper, I thought I could be a sound engineer or a writer. I just knew I wanted to be involved in music. And I knew I had to get the fuck out of where I lived. It was suffocating me. I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America, and that's where I had to go and that's where I thought people were going to accept my wild thoughts. I tried Sydney and Melbourne and they just weren't it. Nothing else was.

"I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America."

Why Miami first?

They had a SAE campus in Miami. I thought I would be able to get in and get a student visa. I saved up enough money to live there for a couple of months, but I didn't have enough to live and go to school, so I ended up not going.

Next was Houston. What was that like?

I only lived there for a year. This producer found my music through Myspace, and he said if I was ever in Houston to let him know. Then he told me all the people he produced for, and I was so excited because I really loved Rap-A-Lot records, so I went. I met him and he was really cool. We recorded a bunch of songs and we would go to Metropolis. It was in a strip mall and everyone would just hang out in front of their cars, and inside one side was reggaeton and the other was a Slim Thug record chopped n' screwed. The plan was to give the DJ your cd and hopefully he'd play it, which they never do. Then you'd hangout in the parking lot until someone has a fist fight and then you go home. Those were my nights there. Just absorbing everything. I made some friends and then Hurricane Ike hit. Most of my friends were moving to Atlanta because their homes were destroyed. I went too.

How were you making money?

Two of my friends introduced me to their sound engineer and his girlfriend would come to the studio and drop him off lunch. She and I ended up becoming roommates. I told her how I had gone to Thailand before and how fascinated I was with the hair. How you could get in bundles and stuff. She said we should save up money to go and then bring it back and sell it to salons. So we saved up and went on our last dime. She had just graduated college and was working at Bank of America and we went out there and got a bunch of hair. When we came back we sold it super quick, wholesale, to all the salons. It was insane. Technically, even though I didn't have a work visa it isn't illegal if you invest in someone's business. So she registered it as little corporation under her name and I invested in it.

There's this idea that there was "Fancy" and then boom — immediate success! But there were a lot of setbacks.

Obviously there are years that people don't know about. I was in Atlanta for nearly two years just writing for people. I was doing so many writers camps for other known artists, just trying to get my spot. That's why there were a lot of pop demo references that came out. Everyone accused me of wanting to be a pop star and that wasn't something I've ever been interested in. I would write pop music with other people and try to get it placed. I've always rapped. Even the video that came out of the pop song, that was just some shit I did with my friend. We were playing.

The wildest thing is that there are so many reports that I used to be a model and that's always been strange. Just last week on my Spotify profile my bio says, "Iggy Azalea was a high profile model before she became a rapper." When?! I would have loved to be a high profile model, but last time I checked I'm a fucking size eight. What the fuck runway or editorial model do you know that size? There's so much of those kind of rumors that have a mind of their own now.

How did you end up in LA?

The music I was making in Atlanta, I started putting a couple of songs online. They didn't have anymore than 300-400 views. I still don't know how the fuck they found me, but an A&R at Interscope messaged me. He told me he had asked his girlfriend at the time, "Who do you think is cool?" And she played him my music. I was skeptical but he ended up being legitimate. He said I should move to LA and as soon as my lease was up, I went.

When I moved there they put me with a bunch of people. They were trying to help me make connections, but they didn't really understand what I was doing. I met these guys who make up "D.R.U.G.S." about a year after I moved to LA. We'd record in their garage. YG was there. Mustard was there before he was DJ Mustard. Ty Dolla $ign was there all the time. That's where I made Ignorant Art and put out "Pussy."

That song was such a success, Interscope must have been happy.

I had gotten to the end of things with Interscope and was at the point where I felt like since they didn't understand me, this would be a "fuck you." As soon as I put out "Pussy," they called me and said they totally understood the vision. It was a "what the fuck" moment. For nearly a year I had been trying to explain it to them, and suddenly when I did it on my own they want me? I don't think they truly got it, I think they just saw the numerical element to it.

Were you signed to Interscope yet at that point?

I finally had my meeting with Jimmy Iovine after that, and they wanted to sign me. The problem was my A&R wanted to manage me. Interscope, at the time, was working on an in-house management team with LMFAO. They wanted me to sign a document that literally detailed how signing would be a conflict of interest. They gave me two options: sign or leave. I had so many potential deals with other labels but in the end I chose Interscope. We got all the way down to the agreement and, the day of, the deal was dead. Completely done. I had bigger offers, better offers, and I stayed to be loyal to the people who helped me when I was in Atlanta.

What happened?

That was a Jimmy situation and it had a lot to do with Azealia Banks. They wanted to sign her and it became a conflict of interest. Once that happened, everyone wondered why I wasn't signed, why Jimmy didn't want it, and it brought into question my worth as an artist. No one wanted to fucking touch me at all. I couldn't get a deal anywhere after that. Before this I could've asked for a fucking elephant, a Ferrari, four monkeys, and a million dollars — after there was nothing. People wondered, What was wrong with Iggy Azalea? That's how it works with these things. I was done.

What'd you do next?

I had to go to England. I got new management based out of the UK and went and recorded a bunch of music in Wales with a few producers from America. I recorded "Work" and most of The New Classic there and went and shopped a deal in England. They were the only place that didn't give a fuck about what had happened in America. I signed to Mercury Records and after putting out my music there, I came back to America to get upstreamed through Universal Records. I put out five singles through Def Jam before I ever had "Fancy." I toured with Nas before "Fancy." I toured with Beyoncé before "Fancy." I toured my own tour in Europe and North America before "Fancy." I had done five tours before I ever made "Fancy." "Fancy" was truly the last attempt. Not for me to quit music, but for the label to quit me. They had given me four video budgets, none of them exceeded their expectations, and "Fancy" was their last hurrah. For them it was like either this works or it doesn't, but we're gonna put the album out and see if it sells. I decided to do something left and do Clueless, and it worked. Luckily, we had so many attempts before that with the label and this one worked.

What was that moment like?

I was really happy and surprised. I've always known the art I make is pretty left. I didn't expect it to connect. Music has changed a lot from when I first started, but at the time, my music was considered left. There was a lot of monumental success from "Fancy" that I didn't anticipate. All these people were discovering my music and suddenly I'm doing shows with 6,000-7,000 people. It was way more than I ever imagined. I thought I'd be doing basement shows or college parties and even that was so cool to me. I thought I had fully made it! I didn't think beyond that. To see brands that I knew, magazines, all of these mainstream fixtures, people, and media embrace my music, I never could have dreamt that.

When "Fancy" gained such visibility, the media seemed to adore you. Billboard said you tied with The Beatles and bested Michael Jackson. Forbes declared you "Queen of Hip Hop." What were your thoughts during that time?

It was very strange. I never said I was the queen of rap, I've never even thought that. I truly think it was like a great white hope, similar to the film Rocky. All of these people were championing me and branding me these things because of their own projections and not only were they outlandish, they were all incredibly premature. I had just started and there was this influx of, "Queen of rap! Queen of the world! Best record ever! Song of the century!" And so everyone starts saying, "No she's not, fuck her! She has some fucking nerve!" And all of those are things I never said.

What were your thoughts when you were then nominated for four Grammys, including Best Rap Album and Best Record of the Year?

I remember sitting at the Grammy's praying to God I didn't win, literally crossing my fingers, hoping there was no media frenzy. I didn't ask to be nominated. I don't even think I deserved nominations. People were so frustrated with those headlines and all those articles became attached to me personally. People assumed that's how I saw myself, or how I thought of my music. It's never been that. There was this element of trying to humble me, a moment where it seemed like, "Oh this bitch thinks she's this? We're gonna fucking show her that she ain't shit."

Did you ever anticipate that side of fame?

I've always known that I'm controversial. I love to move the needle. Things like "Murda Bizness," yes — I'm going to put toddlers and tiaras in a music video and I know many won't understand it. Or with "Pussy," yes there is a child and I know it pushes buttons. But I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing. I knew I would always come with controversy, but that was a different kind of controversy. I didn't anticipate that. I didn't even anticipate the success. I didn't think that would be the thing that made it all come crumbling down.

"I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing."

What is your biggest regret during that time?

I wish that I would've handled criticism better in the beginning. I knew I was polarizing. I aim to be polarizing, sometimes too polarizing where I've pushed the limit too far. When I first got here, there was so much I thought I understood that I really didn't. I've really had to learn a lot of things by being here and having friends and seeing things play out in real life. Especially in the last few years in culture and how far conversations have come, I look back and cringe.

Like what?

Things like the Kendrick lyric, something I profusely apologized for and have learned from. That wasn't okay. It was insanely ignorant. That wasn't an experience to toy with. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, specifically with that line, like fuck, I hate that I said it. There was so much criticism that came with "Fancy" and I wish I would've handled it better, but it felt very thick.

Everything was coming from every angle. My success. Being worn out. Having lawsuits. I had five different court cases and all of that factored into my responses. It was hard to decipher what criticism was valid and what criticism was just hate. Even with Azealia, we've since spoken and in retrospect, I'm sorry that I trivialized the way she felt about her experience as a black woman navigating the music industry. She and I have our own history and beef about other shit, but when she went on the radio and spoke there was validity to it. Those were her experiences that many others could relate to and I can't take those away, but at the time I thought it was her saying 'fuck you' and trying to hate on me.

You felt what she said was valid in the end?

There were so many critiques she made that were valid. I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked. It created a situation where it looks like I'm unable to be accountable, or I'm unable to accept criticism, that I'm tone deaf, and a fucking idiot. I felt like I had to defend myself against everyone, and that attitude didn't work in my favor. I wish I didn't give impulse responses and say things that made it worse. I was just popping off shit, and I wish I would've thought before I spoke. The problem got so big that I didn't know how to handle it, and I just thought I'll just go away and wait until it blows over or gets better. But it won't just get better, I have to acknowledge it and have conversations about it because otherwise it seems like I don't give a fuck or I'm not ready to take accountability.

Why do you think you weren't able to hear the criticism at the time?

I think when you're an artist and you're just starting out, especially as someone who isn't American, there's a difficult line to walk. I came here when I was 16 and people don't seem to understand that that time period truly defines who I am. They don't get that a lot of these things are my genuine influences, the same way they were informed and influenced by their surroundings. I really did live here. I lived in apartment full of people from Jamaica and after work we'd battle rap by the pool. I really did have friends that were involved in illegal activities. I was actually in the south, recording with Dem Franchize Boyz, listening to Outkast, Dungeon Family, Field Mob, Crime Mobb. And that seems incredibly hard for people to swallow. People think I should rap about Australia in an Australian accent but I'm 28-year-old woman now. I can't rap about being 10 and living in Australia. That never inspired me. My time in America, my time in those cities, were when I really started having life experiences that were worthy of going into my music. It all happened here in this country.

"I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked."

On some of the leaked tracks for Digital Distortion you didn't seem afraid to acknowledge it. Tracks like "Middle Man," "7Teen," and "Elephant" were incredibly aggressive and direct. What happened with that era?

For the record I love Def Jam, there are a lot of people that I truly respect and like. The problem I had during this time was that I was preparing to address how I felt. I had gotten so pop, and when you have success as a pop artist it makes the label a lot of money, so they pushed me to keep churning out hits. They pushed for more branding money, more endorsements — that's their job. And I made the conscious choice to go along with it because I was making a lot of fucking money.

But in doing that I think I isolated a lot of my original supporters. I also stifled myself creatively because I wasn't making the kind of music I wanted to make. If I wanted to make endless hits, I would have been making pop music from day one. I just lost my passion. I didn't feel motivated in the studio. When I told them I was going to make an album, I sat there with the president of the label and told him that his 10-year-old daughter is probably not going to like the songs. I said, "She's not gonna want to come to the concert," and I could see a look of pure horror etched on his face. The expression of, "Fuck, the money maker is going to make some weird, non-radio album."

They weren't backing you up.

There was no support in my decision. They couldn't understand it unless it fit into a radio format, but I knew I would never have success again unless I connected with my original fans. That's what I knew I needed for me to have authenticity and for me to feel passionate. Not only that but for me to just endure life. Everything was falling apart and I need to love the music I'm making and truly believe in it. When I delivered the album, they wanted to know where the radio hits were. All they wanted to create were songs like "Switch." And those songs are great, but pop records don't work without a foundation. Those big songs are supposed to be cherries on top, not just a roof with no house. Pop records are like Skittles, they taste really good but if you eat too many you'll feel sick. They're not a creative meal. Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch."

Can you tell me a bit about this new era — Surviving The Summer?

Releasing "Savior" was incredibly therapeutic for me. It felt good to have a record where I can talk about depression, and just let down all my cards. It's completely different from a lot of the other tracks which are heavily rap.

Who are you collaborating with?

I'm working with Detail. I'm working with Pharrell. There's still going to be those unexpected Diplo elements like my early mixtapes. I'm really taking it back to that place. I started with Digital Distortion, but that was really aggressive and angry. I'm not in that place anymore. I'm happy. I know my fans want me to rap and I want to give them that. I want to give them the hard shit that they love, the shit that's different, that moves the needle. I hope people will support it.

From your rapping accent, to your pop accolades, you're constantly criticized for being inauthentic — specifically within the hip-hop realm. What do you think, ultimately, of those debates?

The way I've always felt about music is that I never approached anything as partial to a genre. There's never been a sense of this is a pop record, this a rap record. Even with the way music is today, there are so many melodies and variations to any song, any genre. I think a big part of the judgement in those things — not exclusively for me, but for most women in the music industry — is misogyny. Do you know how many men are on pop records? When they do it, it's rewarded and they're considered smart for reaching a bigger audience.

People like to pick and choose the rules. We bury things that don't give our theories sense. Everyone does it, it's human nature. I feel like with me, there's a lot of reasons why people are trying to invalidate me. Is it not authentic because I make pop music? Or is it because I'm from Australia? What about the fact that I've been here for 12 years? What about white rappers who are saying the most absurd things about hip-hop, but in the club everyone's singing their songs? Other rappers are allowed to do the things that I do — even things I would never even think of doing — but it's okay because they have likability, or a different perception attached to their image, or a fucking dick. People are misogynistic. It is what it is.

"Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting."

Do you feel like you're a new artist now?

Yes, 1000 percent! It's almost harder now because when you're new people have no preconceived notions about what you are or what you represent. When you become mega successful and you go mainstream, no longer is the sky the limit. It becomes, "Oh she's mainstream, she's had a Steve Madden deal, she's on Cosmo," and the art becomes dissected in a new way with more eyes. But I like it. Sonically, when I'm in the studio, it's fun approaching music as a new artist. Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting.

[epickmovie]

MOVIE REVIEW: “Justice League”

Watch free movies and TV shows online - Since 2008, the Marvel Cinematic Universe has shrewdly enacted and methodically executed what this website has long referred to as a purposeful blueprint of interconnection and common goals. Save for fair calls of repetitiveness, their route has been a smashing success of safe simplicity. Warner Brothers’ DC Extended Universe might be drawing its plans with an Etch A Sketch when compared to the MCU blueprint. Good and bad comes from that.

Creating a work of art on an Etch A Sketch is challenging and risky. Choosing to be different by turning their dark and brooding drawing knobs, DC operates with a commendable boldness not to play it safe. In the words of a certain ocean demigod to be mentioned later, “I dig it.” However, the screenwriters, filmmakers, and execs involved do not have Buddy the Elf’s skill on the Etch-a-Sketch. Like the rest of us on that tricky toy, screw-ups and errors happen often and stick around until the artist gives up and shakes it clear.

Sticking with that analogy, Justice League comes across like attempted course correction done on that Etch A Sketch. The artist, or artists in this case, are trying to retrace old paths and smooth over past missteps with redrawn swirls, lighter hues, and a fluffy cover-up we call comedy. That effort on the cinematic Etch A Sketch indeed changes the initial picture, but only after unnecessarily tedious effort and some remaining messy results.

A world without Superman following the events of Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice has devolved into a hotbed of escalated global terrorism and cold fog of international mourning. The Batman (Ben Affleck) has encountered a winged Parademon scout of the returning warmonger Steppenwolf (performance capture by Ciaran Hinds) while continuing the good fight on the streets and rooftops of Gotham City. The ax-wielding agent of Apokolips feeds on fear is in search of unifying the planet-purging power of three Mother Boxes found on Earth that eluded his grasp ages ago after being cast out by a unified army of men, gods, demigods, Lanterns, Amazons, and Atlanteans.

Carrying their own regret from the loss of the Man of Steel, Bruce Wayne and the returning Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) take the arriving forces as an call to activate their plans of putting an alliance together to combat the threat. A globe-trotting first act performs expositional shorthand to introduce and bring together Barry Allen’s spectrum-pinging speedster The Flash (Ezra Miller) who can apparently only be addressed with speed puns, Arthur Curry’s rough and belligerent Aquaman and heir to the Atlantean throne (Jason Momoa), and Victor Stones’ conflicted and connected Cyborg (Ray Fisher). Supported from the sidelines by the likes of Alfred Pennyworth (Jeremy Irons), Lois Lane (Amy Adams), and Commissioner Gordon (J.K. Simmons), this crew of champions is outmatched and searching for leadership.

LESSON #1: TAKING ON LEADERSHIP — Batman is not a leader. He’s a loner working in the shadows as a vigilante for twenty years. Wonder Woman could be a leader. She is a heartsick and untapped symbol that has hid from public view for a century. In the absence of Superman’s exemplar figure and shouldered strength, both are thrust into a leadership role and the associated burdens that come with that role weigh on them. Both have to step up and the two lean on each other in an effectively aware relationship conveyed by Affleck and Gadot.

On many levels, it is plain to see that public backlash from Suicide Squad and Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice filled studio ears, leading the WB to throw a home improvement warehouse’s worth of kitchen sinks to attempt to lighten up the bleak and brash trajectory of the existing DCEU. The Flash, Aquaman, and Cyborg constitute reinforcements for that cause, yet deserve greater establishment than they receive here to endear themselves as equals to DC’s Big Three. Each brings a unique, but thin, character dynamic of quirk. Only Momoa’s Aquaman carries a slight amount of stature worth exploring in a future solo film (coming from horror director James Wan in 2018). The real Hulk-level showstopper, scene-stealer, and main event gamechanger for Justice League is Henry Cavill’s reinvigorated and worst-kept character resurrection secret.

Young cinematographer Fabian Wagner (Victor Frankenstein) turns up the dimmer on the camera’s colors and veteran composer Danny Elfman (Batman, Spider-Man) returns to the world of superheroes with a boost of musical sprite from the previous heavy operatics done by Hans Zimmer. Though appreciated in their attempts, when combined with egregiously substandard special effects for a film of this importance and budget, the aesthetic elements of Justice League feel like a step down from previous polish. They add to the Etch A Sketch’s messy lines.

The course correction slant continues into film’s narrative swings from the serious to the silly. For reasoning, look no further than the well-documented behind-the-scenes challenges of emergency substitution and reshoots. The concoction of styles between credited director Zack Snyder and his fill-in and credited co-writer of Joss Whedon might as well be steak sauce poured on ice cream. The flavors of Snyder’s meaty machismo for explosive bangs do not mesh well with Whedon’s penchant for playfulness. Their respective stamps on scenes are incredibly obvious and even obnoxious. Heroic frivolity was needed but too much of Justice League is discombobulated.

The substantial saving grace for Justice League is the fun factor. No matter how scattered the Etch A Sketch gets, the film moves well and spreads out its action pacing choices. The film hits on some truly shining moments of giddiness for the action junkies and fan service crowd. Snyder’s overused slo-mo was traded out for few more spinning displays of Whedon’s kinetic teamwork. Without the clunky dialogue in the way, that’s the one aspect where the directorial blend works to complement the talents.

LESSON #2: HOORAY FOR TEAMWORK — In terms of conflict and resolution, nothing too abstract or complex looms over Justice League. This is a rallying call for good old-fashioned teamwork for a greater cause. These heroes are stronger together and better for the shared experiences than standing alone, nothing more and nothing less. Simplicity aside, there is a dearth here for something more dauntless and audacious that resonated the cores of Man of Steel, Wonder Woman, and Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice.

One has to wonder what a straight Snyder film of all steak or a straight Whedon version of all ice cream would look like for Justice League. The results would be very different with Snyder’s take furthering the established boldness and Whedon’s representing shaking clear the Etch A Sketch. Each would work in their way and be films well worth seeing. Chopped and combined though, it’s a bit of an entertaining mess that will divide astute and casual audiences to a sizable degree. The almighty dollar will decide the final question of whether the DCEU will stay the course or look at their outdated Etch-a-Sketch, give up on the doodles, shake it clear all the way, or even cast it aside to upgrade to a new toy altogether.

[lj-writes]

Finn does not give a fuck about your idols

Star Wars: The Force Awakens established the male lead Finn as an antifascist, anti-authoritarian hero, and he is justly celebrated as such. I don’t think people talk as much, though, about his relationship with authority and legends in general: Specifically, that he does not trust authority and has no use for legends.

This makes Finn a different kind of hero, one who is not only anti-authoritarian but anti-authority. He is not like Luke who was all starry-eyed about the Jedi and his father. He is not even like Rey who filled her starved soul with dreams of heroes, or Poe who grew up surrounded by legends. Finn also stands in contrast to the main villain, Kylo Ren, who turned his back on the heroes of the Rebellion and Republic only to bow down to idols of the Empire and First Order.

Finn’s closest predecessors are Han Solo of the original trilogy and Jyn Erso of Rogue One, especially Jyn who was the traumatized, world-weary outsider before she threw in with like-minded comrades in the Rebellion. With Finn, however, I believe the ambivalence about choosing a side is portrayed as not only a reflection of his trauma but also a healthy reaction to it.

This hesitation about the Resistance puts Finn in a fascinating position in the Star Wars universe and opens a whole new window into the nature of political thought in the Star Wars franchise. Here’s how:

It’s no surprise that Finn, abducted and abused by a totalitarian dictatorship, is hurting to the bones and angry as hell. We have watched him try to run to the ends of the known galaxy to get away from the First Order and, when Rey was taken, fight back with fire in his heart. We cheered as he threatened one of his abusive authority figures and threw her in the actual dump; we watched as he charged, untrained, at  one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy.

However, turning away from the First Order didn’t mean Finn bought in to the Resistance. He worked with them, certainly, and fought for them. He befriended a Resistance pilot and traveled with, then fought alongside, a former Rebellion general. He is the Resistance’s ally, no doubt about it.

But Finn, even when he was risking his life with them and for them, was not of the Resistance. He did not trust them any further than he trusted and perhaps would ever trust any kind of authority. The Resistance was useful to him in helping him get Rey, but it had its own purposes that did not necessarily include him, a newcomer with a personal agenda.

So Finn did something that, out of all his other bold and heroic actions in the movie, strikes me as the most breathtakingly reckless:

[image description: Finn says in a Resistance strategy meeting, “I can disable the shields but I have to be there. On the planet.”]

He looked Leia Organa and the whole Resistance in the eyes and lied to their faces. He got in on their crucial, universe-saving mission by misleading them into thinking he knew a way to disable the shields when he didn’t, just so he could go back for Rey.

The brash deception flabbergasts Han when he found out about it. Han, who considered himself just the kind of charming rogue who could bs his way out of any tight spot and run away laughing, found himself faced with the real deal and could hardly comprehend the magnificence of an actual rogue in action.

(And let’s be real, Han was never as roguish as he liked to think he was. Guy could not charm his way out of a paper bag, he was always at his best when he hit hard and straight. He was always a paladin who fancied himself a trickster.)

Some racist shitheads have found this lying on Finn’s part incomprehensible, his motives impossible to understand, and cast him as a compulsive liar. Some even blame him for Han’s death.

Finn’s motivations really aren’t hard to understand once you look at his story and character as a whole, though. After a lifetime of repressive conditioning that he had just managed to escape, why would he trust any kind of authority again so soon, if ever? It would defy logic if he did trust Leia and the Resistance enough to lay all his cards on the table believing they would do right by Rey.

No, after a lifetime of gaslighting and abuse Finn trusted only those who had proven themselves trustworthy, and even then he exercized caution when they might have power over him. I’m sure he trusted Poe, and for that matter Han and Chewbacca to an extent, but he also knew they were Resistance and withheld the truth from them when necessary to achieve his goals.

Because if there was one thing Finn would never again do in his life it was follow authority without question, whether they be First Order or Resistance. A lifetime of betrayal had seen to that.

This is what makes Finn a different kind of hero in the Star Wars universe, one not immediately committed to a cause but rather one wary of all causes. It was Finn’s own moral compass that led him to resist the First Order and his own internal voice was what he would follow, not yet another organization that touted itself as the ultimate good.

Finn’s story is not about bouncing from authority to authority trying to find external validation; he has catapulted himself from servitude into freedom, and will remain suspicious for a good long while of anything that looks like chains.

Finn’s anti-authority, or at least authority-critical, stance goes even further than not immediately choosing a side, however. Did you get a look at how he treats the shibboleths of the Star Wars universe? His response to Luke Skywalker’s name? “Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Meeting Han Solo? “Hey, Solo.” Being personally thanked and praised by Leia Organa? Polite for all of three words–”Thank you, ma’am”–before moving on to what she can do to help him.

And his response to the Force itself, the power that connects all living things and ties the universe together?

[Image description: Finn tells an angry Han, “We’ll use the Force!”]

Yup, the power that binds the universe itself is, to Finn, just a helpful sidekick that will fall in line because he said so. Also note that Finn makes this brassy statement while calling Han “Solo” yet again. 😂

All this adds up to a character who has no use for authorities, legends, or gods. He’s had gods pushed on him since he was a tiny child and look what they did to him. In a universe dominated by divine lineages and larger-than-life heroes Finn stands out as a free man, unbeholden to any faction and singularly unimpressed. I suspect he will remain that way even if he turns out to be from one of those lineages himself.

What will Finn’s status as an iconoclast mean for his future story? One unexpected result of refusing to follow may be that he may attract followers. This is implied in the commentary on Rose and Finn’s relationship, where she looks up to him as a hero when he just wants to get out of the fight and fly away from it all with Rey. In smashing idols he has become idolized by many, and he is going to have to make a choice what to do about it.

It’s also interesting what this conflict of authority and individualism will mean for Finn and Rey. Throughout TFA Rey was consistently more awestruck by legends than Finn was. She will have her own disillusionment to face, however, as the new promo materials indicate. Finn and Rey’s conflict in TFA over their next course of action, whether to stay or leave, was never quite resolved because they went their separate ways before her abduction threw them into crisis mode. With the immediate crisis resolved, how will they work things out? How will they choose, and what will their choices mean for their relationship?

Seeing Finn as one of the few true free agents in a galaxy far, far away opens a whole new window into this fascinating character and the ongoing story. More than any other character he personifies the Balance, not swayed to any cause other than that of freedom and morality. His choices will shape lives and the universe much as in The Force Awakens, except in the next movie the stakes will be even bigger.

[mereth]

Space Week day 4 (Sic itur Ad Astra 4/7)

For @yoistargazers 

Day Four. the empty spaces in-between - cosmic latte or endless void, either way the emptiness is far more vast than the pinpricks that punctuate it. what drifts in the dark?

To read in AO3

Viktor looked through the window, staring at the empty space on the other side. The starship-his starship- wasn’t moving so instead of the tiny white-ish pinpricks that signaled hyperspace travel he usually saw, there was only darkness. A vast dark void where nothing could be seen. Viktor sighed making a face. He had always wanted to travel through the stars, to command his own ship and lead his crew to unknown places in space. But what he hadn’t know was that, with that dream, came a lot of things he’d learn to endure but never like. It wasn’t the responsibility, he was captain he was responsible for his ship and his crew and he saw it as a duty and an honor. It was the endless bureaucracy, the hoops they had to jump through to get missions more complicated than everyday research.

Viktor knew those missions were important. But he had always wanted to explore and that mean reaching for the unknown. He had always dreamt with stars and exploring, finding what was there and nobody had found yet. That was the main reason he had smashed through Starfleet Academy and his internship, brash and fast like a comet, breaking records and boundaries like it were a hobby: youngest intern (along with Chris) in an Exploration vessel, youngest Terran to have graduated in both Command and Science tracks, captain of his own ship at 24…all he had done had been with a goal in mind: to become a captain and travel through deep space to whatever laid on the other side.

People had always talked about how bold he was, knowing since he was a teenager with his first internship that he wanted to explore space. To go to the end of the known stars and keep going through the space nobody knew about (yet). Spatium Incognito.

He just knew, felt, that there was something out there he had to find. And he was decided to do it. He had recruited a crew with the same wish to see what was out there. People from every corner of the universe with good marks and experience and that something else nobody knew what to call.

People called it boldness, usually, or recklessness if you asked captain Feltsmann who had been his boss before he got to command his own ship. But it wasn’t that. At least not just that. All his crew from the lowest rank to the highest, from Engineering to Science to Command had the same drive: to find out what was there. He could see it in Phichit Chulanont’s eyes when something he had never heard before appeared in his communication console; he saw it in Chris’ expression while they charted the ship’s course glancing from the corner of their eyes to the areas of space labelled as ‘unexplored’; he felt in his Science officer expression of wonder every time he looked at simulations, the stars’ light reflected in his glasses.

They all had it and they had shown Command they were ready for it mission after mission. But Command hadn’t agreed, giving them more research or close exploration instead of what they yearned. Viktor sighed looking at the void, he had lost count of how many times he had looked at the seemingly empty space while waiting for the Command’s massage with their new mission. He had learnt after a while to not hope, to accept they weren’t going to deep space while sadness kept sneaking in. But he had promised himself this was the last one before asking for a reassignment. There were a limit to the number of times he could see his dream near his reach to have it stolen again. Perhaps he should try as a space pirate. At least there’d be less paperwork.

A ding at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Enter,” he said without turning. He figured it was Chris coming to drag him from his own head.

“Captain,” the shy voice made him turn and stop. There was his usually shy Science Officer, nearly jumping out of his skin and with the same expression he had when he looked at the stars.

“What is it Lieutenant Katsuki?”he asked. “And I have told you time after time that if I’m not on duty I’m Viktor.”

“We got the message from Command. I was the higher officer in the bridge and it got sent to me and I saw the requirements for the scientists under me…”

“Katsuki. Yuuri.” Viktor interrupted gently his officer’s babble, trying to not hope too much about the new mission. But if his normally unflappable officer was so excited..what if.. “What is it? Where are we going?”

“IOK-1, in the Coma Berenice constellation.” Yuuri smiled widely, his happiness so infectious Viktor could feel himself smiling. “It doesn’t have a common name.”

“Because nobody has been there before.” Viktor concluded. They had gotten it.  They were going into unknown space.

Viktor laughed happily and hugged Yuuri for a second before moving and trying to be professional again. His big heart-shaped smile and his officer’s blush the only proof of what had happened.

“Announce the good news to the crew. Wideship announcement.”

“Shouldn’t you do it?” Yuuri asked nervously. “You are the captain.”

“And you are my second and the one who got the message. You do the honors. You deserve it.”

For all answer Yuuri bowed his head nodding.

“Tell the alpha crew to join me in the command room. We are going to do a lot of work before our shift.”

Yuuri nodded, smiling before leaving. It’d be a lot of work but Viktor was sure nobody would mind. The stars waited for them.

[reduxroyal]

What are you thoughts on fire emblem heroes so far? And who's on your team?

lol okay buckle the fuckle in kids this is gonna be a ride

(also thank you for this ask and I’m sorry you’re about to get way more info than you probably wanted)

We’ll start with the short answer, so people who aren’t really here for a fucking Fire Emblem history lesson can dip:

Heroes is a fun little game that is honestly a good test to see if you’d like proper titles because the mechanics are identical. They use smaller versions of the original maps, and even pull a lot of the classic music. It’s fun, it works, and there are some nice nods to the older games. My team is Lazlow, Tiki, Niles, and Frederick, all four star or below because the gotcha gods hate me.

Here’s the long answer. Like, really long answer.

Fire Emblem is, historically, not what we’d call a raging success in the US. The first six titles were Japan-exclusive. So from 1990 until 2003, nobody in the US really knew or cared about Fire Emblem because there were no fuckin games for them to play. So what happened to change that?

Melee. Melee happened.

Marth and Roy (for whatever fucking reason I still don’t know why) were on the roster of the 2001 fighter Super Smash Bros. Melee and boy howdy were they popular. You may remember that all of their voice lines were in Japanese, and that’s because they literally didn’t have English voice actors, because there were no English Fire Emblem titles. To be fair FE didn’t use cutscenes at that point so there were probably no voice actors period but like whatever.

So Roy and Marth become like, overnight sensations, and that coupled with the success of Intelligent System’s other tactical RPG, Advance Wars, prods Nintendo to give it a shot and release Blazing Blade internationally for the GBA in 2003. Blazing Blade is the story of Eliwood, Roy’s father, as well as Lyn and Hector, two other big names in FE lore.

But Blazing Blade only sells so-so. In fact, over the next eleven years, Fire Emblem hits a slump, both in Japan and abroad. Titles like Sacred Stones (the first video game I ever played) Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn (why would you put a tactical RPG on anything other than a handheld literally why why why it makes no sense omfg) and Shadow Dragon (which is a rehash of the first game, Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light) all do pretty mediocre.

So now the year is like 2010-ish and FE’s not picking up it’s lost revenue or interest, so Intelligent Systems starts planning what is essentially going to be the franchise’s finale, and that’s Fire Emblem Awakening. Intelligent Systems pulls out all the fuckin stops to make the best game they possibly can so it will be a proper last hurrah. If Awakening didn’t sell well, Fire Emblem was going to be shelved forever.

Awakening, of course, due to many things like good advertising, the right platform, a really fucking solid game with cool new mechanics, likeable characters, a decent plot, and fucking gorgeous cutscenes, becomes the best-selling game in Fire Emblem’s twenty-three year history. Which leads to the somewhat awkward question of what the fuck do you do when the thing that was supposed to be your franchise’s finale becomes the most popular installment of the whole goddamn series?

Well, if you’re Nintendo, you try to recreate it.

That’s what Fates is: a recreation. They (understandably) want to make that magic happen again. So they put together the same artists, a lot of the same voice actors, and everyone’s favorite marriage-to-child mechanic (that just does not make sense in Fates okay I’m sorry I love it and I’m here for it but we all need to agree that it just doesn’t make sense) and Fates does pretty well. Fire Emblem’s back in business.

But you’re left in this curious situation where more than half of your fanbase is only familiar with two out of fourteen titles, so it’s hard to decide where to go. Awakening and Fates are not traditional Fire Emblem games. They are so very, very different in so many ways. The pace of the games, the length of the games, the unit-recruiting process, roster size, the way Support works, even the buying and selling and acquisition of weapons like…there’s just this huge gap. How do you bridge it?

A…mobile game, I guess?

Which like don’t get me wrong, Heroes’ shortcomings have nothing to do with its platform. Like I said before: it’s cute and it’s competent. My issue lies more in the marketing of the game.

I’m sure we all remember the polls that went on to decide which Fire Emblem greats were going to be playable characters in the game, right? And you could pick anyone. Literally anyone. It didn’t matter if they were only apart of your roster for a map and a half. It didn’t matter if they were an enemy unit. It didn’t matter if they were some like, random archer you got in the third chapter so you could learn about ranged attacks. You could vote for any character from any Fire Emblem game, period.

Except, that means it’s essentially boiling down to a popularity contest between twelve practically unknown or rarely known Fire Emblem titles and the two newest, best-selling, fan favorites. Which isn’t upsetting so much as it is, like, dumb? Like of course the majority of people are gonna vote for Chrom and Camilla, that’s what they know. One of the best Fire Emblem characters (in my opinion) is Prince Innes, from Sacred Stones. He has a hilariously arrogant attitude, is bold and brash, and a sick fucking sniper who constantly insists he should be on the front lines and not in the back of the party with the rest of the ranged attackers.

Innes, of course, didn’t make the list. Because ten out of the chosen twenty male heroes were from Awakening or Fates (that ratio is 13:20 for the ladies if you were curious) So this game that was intended to like, I don’t even know, revive interest in old games or at least make them relevant, ends up not really doing that at all. Especially because out of the first eight chapters (that’s as far as I’ve gotten) four of ‘em explore the worlds of Awakening and Fates.

What about Path of Radiance? What about Sacred Stones? What about literally anything besides the last two games in the franchise because it’s not that I don’t like those games, it’s that you promised me a game that embraced all of Fire Emblem, and this ain’t it. Also you went to the trouble of giving Eirika official art and she’s not even a character you can draw what the actual fuck is she in this game or nah

BASICALLY (we’re almost done you almost made it) I think it will be interesting to see how Fire Emblem: Echoes plays out. Echoes is a remake of Fire Emblem Gaiden, a 1992 Japan-only exclusive that I, personally, know nothing about, but can tell you with relative confidence that it’s not like Awakening or Fates because nothing in FE is like Awakening or Fates. It’s coming out in May of this year and like…I’m really curious to see how the “newer” (and by the way newer does not mean in any way that you’re like less of a fan. I don’t care if the only Fire Emblem game you’ve played is Awakening, I’m just fucking glad you’re playing Fire Emblem, let’s be friends) fans will like it. The official description for it is: “Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia recreates classic Fire Emblem gameplay with a modern twist, mixing in exploration of dungeons crawling with enemies.”

I have never played a FE title that had a dungeon of any kind, unless you count the Tower of Valni from Sacred Stones. I don’t even know what that means in the terms of a tactical RPG but like, I guess we’ll see. 

tl;dr I like Fire Emblem a whole lot and will always be bitter over Eirika’s bullshit outfit in Awakening’s DLC

Thanks for reading!

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

Hi! I’m back again! And at this point lots of things have changed in regards to this post! Most notably: Heroes has added lots of older Fire Emblem characters to the game (including Innes which makes my earlier complaint look really dumb) and Echoes came out and it’s genuinely one of the best games I’ve ever played, and easily one of the best games in FE’s franchise.

Here’s the thing that past me writing this post didn’t get: newer fans are just as invested as old fans, they just don’t have as much to be invested in yet. I can prattle on and on about Sacred Stones and Binding Blade and Shadow Dragon and all the titles I’ve played, but newer players (under-fucking-standably) aren’t going to go back and play games with bad graphics from the late 90′s and early 00′s, so they just hang out with the titles they have played, which for some people, is just Awakening, or just Fates.

Echoes was universally adored by the fanbase. There were a couple times I saw comments like “well, where’s the avatar unit?” or “why can’t I marry other units and have kids?” and like, I wanted to be mad, because those aren’t staples of Fire Emblem, but if anything it’s Nintendo’s fault for making two games back-to-back that promoted the hell out of those features. How could someone who only played Awakening and Fates (which is the majority of this game’s base) know any differently?

And Heroes has really done well with bringing in more characters from other games. Every single game in the franchise (even fucking Tharcia 776) is represented by at least two characters, and they’re always adding more. I think they’re genuinely doing the best they can to please everyone, and the only people throwing a fit are "older” fans who think they deserve more because, what? They’ve put more time in? They’ve somehow “earned” it?

Nintendo is a business, and businesses rely on popularity to fucking succeed. That’s just how it works. Like it or not, the realistic faces of this franchise are characters like Lucina, Ryoma, Corrin, Camilla, and Robin. That’s just how it works. Characters like Math and Lyn will always endue because they’ve been built up as legends, but now there’s so many new characters, and so many new fans, so of course things have to change and the attention has to shift.

And new fans are picking up the old characters just as much!! Characters that haven’t gotten fanart in a fuckin decade are suddenly getting a bunch of attention, because a new fan pulled them in Heroes, didn’t know who they were but liked their design, and went to town.

tl;dr - you aren’t more important just because you’ve “been a fan” longer, it makes complete sense that Nintendo would shift the focus to games like Awakening and Fates, and if you’re waiting for a certain character to show up in Heroes give it some time.

That’s all for real this time.

Also my new team (if anyone cares) is Innes, Leo, Azura, and Raven. I don’t want to talk about how much money I spent trying to gotcha twelve year-old video game characters.

I, uh, I just really like Fire Emblem.

also for all the Path of Raidance and Radiant Dawn fans who sent me asks saying those games were the highest-selling games for their consoles: you’re wrong, and here are the fucking receipts

[lunapaper]

Album Review: Vukovi (Self-Titled)

It’s been quite the wait since their first EP It Looked So Good On Me… in 2011, followed by 2012’s …But I Won’t Wear You Again and Sweet Swears, but Glaswegian quartet Vukovi have finally unleashed their full-length debut. Bold, brash and brutally honest from start to finish, it goes straight for the jugular and refuses to let go, blending infectious rock brilliance with lively pop hooks. But underneath those spiky riffs and rowdy melodies, there’s something rather dark that lurks throughout Vukovi’s self-titled record.

Opening track ‘La Di Da’ recalls an abusive relationship, with frontwoman Janine Shilstone’s howl deservedly manic and strained as she tries to break free of a cruel lover (‘Hate me/Hate me/Waste of space/I wanna know/Tell me to my fuckin’ face’), as does the nostalgic fuzziness of ‘Prey,’ misleading with its anthemic build-ups as Shilstone soon discovers her knight has an ugly heart beneath his shining armour (‘This time you’ve gone too far/Cold, crazy, cruel creature/We all know what you are’). ‘I’m Wired’ describes Shilstone’s struggle with severe depression, a stark confessional set against the steady drive of guitars, drums and flaring synths before exploding into a feverish chorus that further deepens her anxiety. ‘And He Lost His Mind,’ in stark contrast, is a cautionary tale about drugs in the music industry, becoming more and more unhinged in a wildly spinning carousel of demonic riffs and rapid-fire drums as the rockstar dream inevitably turns into a nightmare.

Among the most heartwrenching tracks, though, are ‘Wander’ and finale ‘Colour Me In.’ ‘Wander’ (based on the suicide of a friend of Shilstone’s younger brother and an anagram of Andrew) has a sweeping instrumental filled with the wistful tremble of guitar, the soft sparkle of keys and the bleak crunch of riffs that add another layer of darkness to such a tragic tale, filled with immense regret as Shilstone pleads ‘You would’ve got better/Could’ve done it together/And you’re mother’s never/Gonna see you better.’

‘Colour Me In,’ meanwhile, is Vukovi’s rare romantic ballad (‘Couldn’t count all the ways/That I’d die for you…’). Shilstone wears her heart on her sleeve with a beautifully breathless vocal amidst a dusky slow dance of guitars before its majestic chorus soars, a desperately-in-love modern rock track up there with the likes of Paramore’s ‘The Only Exception’ or ‘Wonder Sleeps Here’ from fellow Glaswegians Twin Atlantic.

But Vukovi’s heartbreak can just as easily turn to revenge, with such delicious anger helping to fuel the album’s highlights. ‘Weirdo’ is an anthem for the lost, the bullied and the ‘damn peculiar,’ a futuristic stream of synths woven through blistered waves of riffage and drums that feel so goddamn euphoric Shilstone even laughs at one point during the song, while previous single ‘Animal’ promises karma most fatal for one unlucky customer (‘I'm gonna smash the light in your/Soul, soul, soul/You'll suffer like I suffered for you/You'll burn, burn, burn’). ‘Target Practice,’ written in response to a terrible review, proclaims ‘Watch me as I hang out to dry/Get your money’s worth in.’ Fans will notice the brand new sheen this track has compared to the …But I Won’t Wear You Again EP version, exploding with more colourful guitars and a more luminous vocal for Shilstone, though the gritty, snarling feel of the original is somewhat missed.

But it’s the utterly brilliant ‘Boy George’ that provides the best statement of who Vukovi are and what they’re capable of. Like ‘Target Practice, it’s also received a shiny makeover, which is a little jarring as someone who really loved the rough and ready vibe of the original and has listened to it almost non-stop over the past couple of years.

Shilstone unleashes an all-out assault against the ‘budget groupies’ and other ‘clowns,’ the kind who probably wanna suck your dick for Twitter follows before they inevitably try to dig up ‘receipts’ on you on Tumblr (#problematic), proving once again what we already knew about the music industry, that it’s shady, it’s shitty and it’s riddled with nothing but amoral puppetmasters, hangers-on and those who Shilstone says ‘[climb] up the ladder” the wrong way [...] It sets a terrible example.’ It’s Vukovi at their filthy, sarcastic and sinister best, firing off one brutal line after another that leaves little to the imagination – ‘Your ego's blinding, wasted little childish mind/You're such a sucker of ass it makes me sick I cry/Tactless envy you crazy little dick magnet, you're nothing special’ - and it’s pretty refreshing to hear a band state so bluntly that they refused to be fucked with, it’s almost frightening.

Even with some of the grit from previous EPs filed back, this record makes for a fine debut. Under the guidance of producer Bruce Rintoul, the instrumentation is tight and the energy never wavers, applying a stadium touch to the quartet’s scrappy, rambunctious sound. Continuing Glasgow’s great tradition of good, honest rock, Vukovi’s debut has a whole lotta heart and a whole lotta balls. Long may they both grow…

-Bianca B.

[lotornomiko]

The Sacrificial Maiden Overhauled Chapter Two (Still some violence to make it a NSFW read?)

A slow burn kind of romance, Rufus Alicia pairing. Both caught and rescued by a man, a God, who claims to know her by another name, she is a veritable prisoner up in his home in the heavens, past and present at war, her reality versus his memories, and a deal that may cost them both more than they could ever imagine. The revamp of My Sacrificial Maiden fic.

Chapter Two: A Rufus POV

The village lay half in ruin, its buildings on fire, things overturned, smashed, and outright destroyed. The devastation had spread to the fields, the harvest that these people had spent all year working to grow, and the crops not yet picked in danger. Such needlessly cruel havoc, it was worse than anything he might have expected, and yet so completely in line with the malevolent nature of Nifleheim. That brand of evil, it made his fingers tighten on his weapon, his anger such that the man was almost sick with it. That blaze of fury, it bubbled up inside him, a majestic surge of power shooting outward, the light of it spreading slowly but surely over every inch of Coriander.

As potent as it was heady, that use of the power of Creation inside him, Rufus watched as the fires were put out in an instant, buildings rapidly restored, things rebuilt and righted, down to the crops that was so necessary for these people’s survival, it was to his lasting pity that this same power couldn’t right the wrong done to villager’s souls.

It was not that there was a limit to Creation’s power, so much as they were laws that governed just what could be done. A promise that not even God himself could break with, the lives once lost cast into the cycle of rebirth and ruin, souls either reborn or so wholly destroyed that all trace of them were removed from existence.  It was more than a death sentence, that, it was a complete annihilation of a person’s being, such an extreme act reserved for only the most vile of sinners and the most desperate of sacrifices. Rufus had born witness to both suffering that fate, that of the mad man who had blasphemed against the entirety of the world, and that of the brave women who had let themselves be destroyed for the chance to stop him.

Five souls in all had been lost as a result, sinner and saints alike, and with them, balance and order had been restored. Creation itself was saved, the world and its people no longer in such imminent danger. Their every day struggles continued, eight of the nine varied realms content to maintain a lasting attempt at harmony, with only Nifleheim determined to destroy all chance at peace. With Hel as their leader, the demons, monsters, and that of the damned, all strove to steal every bit of existence that they could, to spread their despair and greed to all. Coriander was just the latest in their bid for dominance, and yet it angered him all the more, Rufus aware that these senseless acts of violence, had finally had a true purpose behind them.

Meant to strike a most personal blow to the God who ruled over all of Creation, this unforgivable act had been meant as a trap. Even knowing this, Rufus had still come, discarding Freya’s concerns, putting himself and the world in jeopardy to right the wrong done in the name of catching God. He had been called foolish as a result, deemed needlessly reckless, and far too human in thought. He had argued back that those same faults as she saw them, were what had allowed for God’s benevolence to extend to all the realms, and not just the heavens alone.

Furious as Freya had been, the Goddess has not been able to argue against the truth of that. Creation was thriving, ALL of it, such peace and prosperity the likes of which had never been known under Odin’s thoughtless tyranny. The world itself had become like a paradise, food and resources plentiful, whole nations thriving, Creation remade to be what SHE would have wanted. Freed from the cruel manipulation of the Gods, their mad schemes and blatant toying, it was what SHE, Alicia, had sacrificed her soul for.

“Alicia...” The name and the memory of her, never failed to bring him pain, it and a desperate longing spiking through him. Such bitter sweet hurt, that of a heart never fully healed, Rufus had and still suffered a wealth of varied emotions, the unresolved feelings of a love that had never truly had a chance to be. Now wasn’t the time to slip in to the melancholy over what he had been denied, that poignant loss something to be set aside for a time better spent righting the wrongs of this past night.

“Report.” He said to the sudden presence besides him. The soul, an einherjar, had dropped to one knee, head bowed in a kind of reverent respect that wasn’t easily cast aside. The awe and esteem placed on him, was something Rufus still wasn’t used to, and even less liked, but old habits died hard, more heroes than not resisting the break of tradition.

“Only a few stragglers remain on the outskirts of the village.”

“Good, see that they are caught and returned to their mistress’ stern embrace.” A pause then, Rufus trying to keep the beat of his heart from betraying him. “What of the girl?”

There was a noticeable flinch as reaction from the kneeling einherjar. “Missing.”

He couldn’t stop the surge of unease, the panic and the worry, the alarm bells going off in his head, as the God turned to focus fully on this bearer of bad news. “What do you mean she is missing!?” A different kind of power spread out from him, colored as it was by his spike of emotion, its spread across the village instantly confirming his einherjar’s words.

“Shit!” Rufus swore, already on the move. The einherjar hurried to his feet, following after the God, but there was no keeping up with a man as desperately motivated as Rufus now was. His long strides pounded down pavement and dirt, Rufus passing through the heart of the town, to get to the outskirts, where fighting still took place. It was the heaven’s warriors and it was the scourge of Nifleheim, the damned souls of human sinners not yet ready to give up. Engaged in that bloody and violent combat, no one paid real mind to the cloaked figure who had entered into the midst of the battle.

A rising urgency within him, Rufus began pushing aside einherjar and blasphemer alike, his power still out there searching. Passing over each person, tasting of their soul, and finding them lacking, he continued his frantic quest, until at last before him, stood a demon, it’s malevolent eyes a crimson color that marked it as one of the undead.

Immediate was both their reactions, the demonic creature’s claws going for the God whose weapon rose to block the blow. Sharp tipped nails scrabbled over metal, the divine lance sending off sparks of power that had the monster screeching in pain. With a strong kick out of his right leg, Rufus sent the undead fiend flying back, the momentum only broke by a tree in its path. Its snarl cut off short, to find a glowing arrow in its face, the divine energy slowly but surely burning a hole into the creature’s cheek.

“Where is she!? Where have you taken her!?” His voice was more frantic than commanding, the hand that held onto the bow and the arrows, visibly shaking.

Even so wounded and in pain, the demon still took the time to taunt him. To mock him with a twisted smile, claws grabbing at the arrow head embedded in its cheek. “Hers will make a ripe soul for Hel’s feast.”

Another arrow flew, this time pinning a hand to the bark of the tree. The undead fiend howled in pain, the divine energy pouring off the metal, burning its tainted soul little by little. “She is an innocent!” Rufus was the one snarling now, drawing the attention of einherjar and damned alike. “Free of Nifleheim and its Queen’s grasp!”

Coughing up blood and saliva, the demon spat in the God’s face. “Believe that all you like...it won’t spare her soul from going under.”

Near blind with his rage and with his desperation, a third arrow was unleashed, and with it a horrible, grating sound, that of the monster laughing. It set Rufus off further, Gungnir transforming from bow to lance in an instant, the divine weapon suddenly at the fiend’s throat. Even that didn’t stop that mocking noise, Rufus wanting answers, and wanting them now.

“You have lost.” That piercing laughter continued, the demon brash and bold as it locked eyes with the God. “So what will it be? Creation or the girl? Which one will you see damned for all of lasting eternity?” A smirk then. “Surely God would not be so selfish...to sacrifice the good of the all for one single, solitary soul...” A pause, the smirk growing all the more grotesque. “Ah but we mustn’t forget, that this one is special…”

“Damn you...”

“I’ll extend to you Hel’s invitation.” The demon spoke over him. “You’ve not much time left to accept…”

“Oh I’ll be there.” A hiss followed by the pressure of his arm pushing down on the divine lance. “But old Hel is in for a surprise, if she thinks I’ll give up the world OR the girl!” The monster’s mocking laugh was cut off by its head being severed, the narrowed eye malice of it’s expression captured for all eternity, as it fell free of the body, and rolled to a stop against the God’s foot. He stared down at it, still so angry and full of so volatile a need, Rufus bringing his booted foot down to smash the offending face to bloody pieces.

Turning swiftly, he looked at the gathered einherjar, saw that most if not all of the damned had been subdued by them. Such a miserable and angry lot, their hostility and wicked ambition was radiating off them in waves, the group defiant to the last, and clearly intent on causing more trouble should the slightest mercy be shown them.

“Kill them.” Came the cold order, but it was not the God who had given voice to the command, but that of a Goddess.

“Freya!” Surprise was in his voice, along with a wary hostility, the two a pair that weren’t on good terms under the best of circumstances. “Have you come to stop me?”

“Yes, from being more foolish than usual, you idiotic God!” A emerald colored glare met his, the green clad Goddess standing in mid air, with her hands on her hips. “Honestly, do you ever think things through!?” She gestured wildly with her arm, encompassing the newly restored village. “Unleashing God’s miracles with little regard for the target it paints...”

“Coriander was a target long before that..” He countered, Rufus bristling despite himself. “Freya, they know...” He gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Not only that, they HAVE her.”

“Yes, I know...”

Those clipped sounding words raised his hackles, his glare narrowing further as he raged and glowered at the Goddess. “What do you mean, yes, you know…!?”

“Why ELSE would I be here!?” Tensions escalated with that, Rufus feeling very close to throttling the Goddess.

“Well then you understand what I HAVE to do.” It was his tone that was terse, Rufus barely in control of his rage. “And WHY I can’t let anyone stand in my way…!”

Sudden was her reaction, the gold glint of ether the only thing that lingered in the space the Goddess has just been occupying. In the span of the millisecond that it took einherjar and damned to blink their eyes, the lady Freya had gone from her lofty position in the sky, to standing right before the God. That divine energy gleamed upon her hand, followed by a loud slap of sound, the blonde haired woman in green having struck the man’s face.

It was a slap so hard that he actually staggered back, and the sound that escaped him was shocked at best. That nonsensical noise, it and the look that he gave her, were the only reaction he seemed capable of, Rufus doing an open mouthed gape at the Goddess. Freya’s lips pressed together, the woman’s emerald colored eyes looking stormy with her anger.

“You are always such a fool...I fear this side to you will never change, no matter how many more centuries may pass...” She shook her head, and took another step forward, briefly touching fingertips to his weapon, Gungnir. “Coriander may have been ONE of their targets, but never forget that THIS and the power to wield it are their true goals.”

That power came with more than just physical strength, all of Creation’s knowledge stored within, every last rule and responsibility bound to a single choice. To do right by the world, or to do wrong by it, and never had this God wavered with that particular indecision before, Rufus having always wanted to be the direct opposite of his tormentor and predecessor, Odin. It was to his and the realms’ detriment, that the single, solitary element, that one soul in particular, had been found, HERS the only thing in existence that the God might be willing to damn the world to never ending darkness for.

With that thought he could barely meet the gaze of the emerald green eyes that bore into his, the weight of her stare not just one of consideration, but one of daring, the Goddess expression and manner so like that day of a few hundred years ago. That time, on the very tops of Yggsdrasil’s branches, she had put forth a challenge, willing Rufus to prove himself worthy of the power he had been about to claim.

The stakes weren’t much different now, as it had been then, Creation itself seeming to hold its breath, Rufus knowing the one and only answer that could satisfy the goddess, was a promise he could not give.

“I will be careful...” He stated instead. “I don’t intend to give up my power OR the girl’s soul, to the likes of Hel and her minions.”

A great breath expelled out of the Goddess, the sounds so exasperated and weary, Freya taking a step back. “Then you best hurry.” This change in attitude seemed to stagger him as much as her earlier slap had, Rufus just staring at her, flabbergasted. Was it a kindness that had the golden haired Goddess choose not to comment on his slack jawed response? He’d never know for sure, the green clad deity speaking.

“Her innocence buys her soul some measure of protection.” Freya continued. “But there are ways to work around even that.”

“Ways?” He croaked out, barely able to comprehend what she was implying.

“To drag a soul worthy of the heavens down into Nifleheim’s dark abyss.” clarified Freya. “Evil magic,  a long forbidden ritual, that can disguise the purity within...” Her green gaze was troubled, as though the Goddess was doubting herself in telling him this. “It will take time to cast, to make the sacrifice ready for its descent….”

“Sacrifice!?”

“No living creature may tread foot upon the underworld that’s not demon or divine....” She fixed him with a look. “You should already know this...” A shake of her head, a kind of promise in her eyes that foretold that the lecture he was to receive would be put off only for this one time.

“Head to the forgotten temple...” Her arm raised up, ether dripping off one single finger tip. “Those abandoned ruins are perfect for the desecration that must be committed there.”

He has so many questions, might have even owed her his apology, but above all else, amid the many varied emotions he was feeling, the urgency and the desperation, and that thin bit of hope that he’d make it in time, was a sliver of gratitude.

“Thank you.” He said and meant it, the gold orb of divine energy flying free of Freya’s hand. It shot off in an arc, zigzagging past people, marking the path the God needed to follow. A glow accompanied its travels, the light turning faint when it slipped through the trees, and into the depths of the forest.

“We will finish up here...” He nodded, but barely took to the meaning behind those words, a growing sense of urgency worsened, Rufus innately knowing that to lose track of the ether trail would result in a slim window closing, the soul that he was so desperate towards saving, perhaps lost for good. He took off running, the cloak clasped in place over his shoulders, flaring out, and with every step taken, he seemed to fly, moving with the grace of a divine, and a speed that was unnatural to any other of Creation’s beings. His surroundings seemed to blur around him, his focus narrowed down to the one aid Freya had lent him, moving as it did, with sharp zig zags over and around tress, past the startled creatures of the forest, to climb higher and higher up a mountain, until abruptly a drop was upon them, the arc of gold light shooting down into a valley to come circling around what had to be the ruins of a temple.

His expression grimly determined, Gungnir obeyed an unspoken command, shifting from it’s natural form, to that of the shape of his preferred weapon of choice. The polished silver gleamed, reflecting the light and the glow that surrounded the ruins. Save for the ether, nothing else stirred, not animal and certainly not damned or demonic, Rufus taking careful steps forward.

“Too easy...” He murmured with a frown. Did they not expect him here, or was this yet another of Hel’s traps? Whatever the answer, he had to keep moving, and then all attempt at being quiet was lost, to the sight of blood on the ground. What had started out as a few smears, soon turned into a distinct trail, as though something wounded had been dragged. He feared the answer as to what that something had been, but more than that, it made him nearly blind with fury, Rufus taking off running, his booted feet pounding the ground, and then the broken marble of what remained of the interior’s floor. Things spooked inside the temple, animals from the sound of it, both predator and prey made wary by the God tearing through their makeshift home.

The blood trail stopped just short of the flood, a room that was more filled with water than not. From across its icy surface, came a sound, that of a low monotone voice speaking, chanting some kind of nonsense out. He then plunged waist deep into the water, abandoning the cloak that tried to drag him down with its wet weight, and came at last to the deepest part of the temple. To a place that had once been the heart of a divine worship, now made a mockery of all its values, by the monsters, the demons, who played at stealing a soul.

He couldn’t see the soul in question, but he could FEEL it, both the girl and that ebb of her life starting to slip free of her body. She was barely hanging on, and the claws around her throat weren’t helping the matter, Rufus notching an arrow to his bow. Divine energy didn’t just glow on the feathered tip, it poured off it in strong waves, the God a snarling mass of fury, as he proclaimed to the gathered demons that they had NO right.

The blinding blaze of that launched arrow marked it’s path as true, the pointed tip slamming into one of the wrists of a demon. It screamed and dropped its hold of the girl, her pale and near lifeless body, hitting the floor harder than Rufus would have liked. He was beyond furious in response, arrow after arrow flying, the God on the move, nightmares rushing towards him, more than he could keep track of, his figure swarmed and swamped by that dark mass. He went under, with claws tearing into him, the pummel of fists and other appendages striking him, those fiends relentless but then so was he! With a roar, and a power that shot off him in waves, that strong surge of divine energy sent Nifleheim’s worst flying back, arrows again airborne, piercing into body after body, the God this wild thing, an unstoppable force that bit by bit made his way closer towards the altar, and the broken form of the girl who lay unconscious before it.

Not even the reinforcements that came rushing out of the shadows could make a difference, Rufus dispatching them all with an ease that was almost laughable if not for the mad rage inside him. Gungnir’s wire sang with every arrow unleashed, this room of worship lit up by all the divine energy burning apart the very essence of the demons. His own ragged breath was heard, a sign not of exhaustion, but one of wordless fury, nothing and no one able to calm him save for the life he was taking into his hands.  

“Ah….” His fingers hovered uncertain for one second too long, Rufus cursing himself, for now was NOT the time for any kind of hesitation. He was nervous all the same, whole centuries having passed dreaming of this kind of moment. A touch of any kind, his hands a kind of reverence normally reserved for only the Gods, she was then cradled close against his chest, the girl’s head falling back to give him a start of his own.

Far older than he had anticipated, the girl---more so a young woman, and with the body to prove it, marked the passage of a time he had not realized had even fully passed. To him it still felt like it had only been just yesterday, that he chanced upon the child, the soul that had inexplicably been reincarnated. But for the mortals of Midgard, time had never stopped, at least a whole ten years having passed, if not more, for this woman.

He was made stupid in the face of a beauty that didn’t so much rival that of his memories, as replicate it completely. From the sweet curve of her lips, to the honey hued color of her hair, to the thick lashes of her eyes, she was the spitting image of his Alicia. No, she was more than just her twin, branded as she was by the ever weakening soul inside her, this young woman somehow against all the odds, and the laws of providence, this was his lost love reborn!

“Alicia…” His vision blurred with a hint of his gratitude, a tear falling free. It was a miracle, one he had prayed for and given up on ever happening, this soul meant to be struck from existence. It had never sat right with him, the unfairness of it all, the idea that Alicia would be punished instead of rewarded for the sacrifice she had given.

The impossible had happened. Somehow, someway, some power higher than even that of God, having righted a wrong that had tormented him for centuries. He didn’t know who or what they were indebted to, but the grateful deity wasn’t about to squander this, their second chance. Not to Hel, and not to the young woman’s own fragile state, Rufus lowering his head to brush lips over hers.

Cold and trembling at first, the warmth of the ether on his lips began to work it’s own miracle. Her lips began to take on a heat of their own, quivering mouths joined together, and from that merging of flesh, a healthy flush began to overtake the pale skin. It was life, and it was vitality, a healing magic that brought her heart beating a stronger tempo, her chest rising and falling easier with an even breath, a soul that had almost snapped free, instead pulled back, death and damnation both held at bay once more.

Snuggled into the warmth, the young woman began to stir. Slowly at first, but then with a rising panic, her soft hands pushing at him, trying to break them free of the kiss. It was wrong of him, he knew, but Rufus lingered longer than the miracle required, enjoying the kiss in a way that was pure need of a different kind, that of a love and a desire denied for so many centuries thus.

Her hands became more and more insistent, the tension within that frame making her come off as frantic, and only belatedly would he then remember, that mortals had need to breathe. She was already half swooning as a result, eyes that he knew would be colored so beautiful a blue, fluttering to look up at him.

“Hey...” It was more awkward then he felt their reunion should be, Rufus giving the young woman, a sheepish looking grin. “It’s been a long time…Alicia…”

“Ah...” She struggled to form the words, a questioning sound at the end of them. “Alicia?” He could hear the flustered beat of her heart, the sound faster than was healthy, that frightened tempo more than any mortal could maintain, and with it, went her eyes, the blue color lost to the sudden weight slumping against him, the woman having given in to the faint.

To Be Continued…

I’m glad I took a nap in the middle of writing this. I was having SO much trouble with my first draft of the Freya Rufus scene...so much so, that upon coming back, I HATED that first attempt, and trashed it into what felt like the better read. Overall, Freya aside, I had enjoyed writing this chapter. XD

---Michelle