#description of the world just shifting a tiny bit with that simple action i just had like pangzi-focused chills bc he really does

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 13. every child.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). mature themes related to child abuse/neglect. mentions/descriptions of past CSA and CSM. medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.somewhat evil!Tony Stark (eventually)

[Steve]

When I wake to the gentle rays of the morning sun pouring in through the window and onto my resting face, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Feeling the warmth of something settled in my lap, I look down to find Girl still sleeping in my arms comfortably. Remembering the events of the night before, I realize we must’ve fallen asleep snuggled up together, just like this.

Birds chirp gently in the distance as I shift slightly, doing my best not to wake the sleeping child on my lap. Girl is still tucked away into my arms, her breaths steady. Not sensing any restlessness in her slumber, I smile softly to myself. I’m so glad. I know that she needs all the restful sleep she can get.

One of her little hands has found its way into mine, allowing me to hold it carefully, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. Reaching a free hand up, I begin to smooth down the young girl’s hair that’s strewn about so messily beneath her. As I do, depressing thoughts begin to run through my mind of how she’s never been touched safely like this, how no one’s ever been there to take care of her.

As I continue to run my fingers over the child’s messy locks, she shifts positions slightly against me, her eyelids beginning to flutter. Continuing to stroke her hair, I decide not to say or do anything too drastic yet; the last thing I want to do is startle her awake. Turning a bit further towards me, Girl’s mouth opens as she lets out a silent yawn. It’s a simple action, but somehow, it brings me comfort. That she’s just peaceful, for now. Just existing. No tears or anxiety to occupy her in this sleepy state.

Girl’s eyelids flutter a few more times, and before I know it, they’ve fluttered right open. Big green eyes peer straight into mine, the nature of her gaze reminding me of a baby animal, something so pure and precious that I can’t help but instinctively feel the need to wrap her up in my arms and protect her from any harm that might come her way. Blinking her long sets of lashes once, the little girl just looks at me, completely unaware of how tightly she’s wrapping me around her finger as she does so with such innocence.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I murmur softly, tucking a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. With the sunlight pouring in from the window hitting the child’s face, I notice for the first time that there are tiny freckles dotting her cheeks. For the first time since meeting her, the thought occurs to me that she’s unmistakably adorable, even more so with her cheeks filling out a bit more and her injuries less noticeable now, thanks to the care she’s been receiving from Bruce.

“Steve,” is Girl’s response, a hint of relief hidden in her voice. “Still here.” As if maybe she thought I would abandon her.

“Of course I am,” I reassure her, “I’m not going anywhere.”

As I continue to run my fingers through her long brown hair, I feel her slightly leaning into my touch, causing my heart to swell in my chest. To think that such a short time ago, she was that trembling little body stuck in that poor excuse of a prison cell, blindfolded and chained up by her wrists, ducking away from anything and anyone who tried to help her, blows my mind. Sure, she still has trauma responses; that’s just how she’s hardwired. But now, here she is, laying in my lap. Leaning in as I physically comfort her. Glad that I stayed with her through the night. I couldn’t be happier for her, or prouder of how far she’s come.

“How do you feel?” I ask gently, hoping that the rest she gained through the night has maybe helped with the sickness she was feeling earlier.

“Little better,” the girl tells me. I smile at her.

“Good, I’m so glad.” As she continues to gaze into my eyes, nothing but softness and affection held within her expression, it occurs to me that this is maybe the first time she’s been able to look at me and hold eye contact. Previously, she would always drop my gaze as soon as it met hers, but now, she’s looking at me so… fearlessly. Like she can just face me openly, like she might even trust me.

When I move my hand from Girl’s hair to her forehead, she flinches slightly, but it’s just barely enough to notice. As soon as she realizes that I’m just checking her for a fever, she relaxes again. “You don’t feel warm, which is another good sign. Sometimes we just gotta sleep stuff off,” I tell her. “Believe me, I would know,” I add with a chuckle, “I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping.”

Tilting her head slightly, she offers me a look as if to ask what I mean. Continuing to smile at her gently, I laugh at myself a bit in my head for forgetting. Clearly, Girl has been sheltered her whole life, so naturally she doesn’t know my infamous story of being pulled out of the ice, or any of the other Avenger’s stories, for that matter. Which is kind of refreshing, in a way, to meet someone who doesn’t assume they already know everything about you.

“Oh, that’s right, I’ve never told you the story before. Well, I guess I better tell it to you now then, huh?” I ask enthusiastically, trying to catch her interest. Girl looks up at me curiously, seeming to be catching on. “It’s a great story, my favorite, actually. It’s the story of the time I became a superhero.” At that, the little girl’s eyes light up instantly, causing me to smile softly down at her once again.

“Let’s see,” I begin, not sure how to start it off. “Well, I wasn’t always this strong, or good at fighting bad guys. Actually, I used to be pretty small and weak. I got made fun of a lot, was always gettin’ picked on. But then I met some amazing people, some really smart doctors, and they gave me some super cool medicine that made me the way I am now, much stronger and faster and all the things I needed to become to help fight bad guys. And I fought a lot of them, believe me, all while helping to rescue innocent people along the way. But then, one time, the plane I was in got damaged really bad. And I was headed straight for the ocean. So… I ended up trapped way underwater. And I froze down there! For a really long time, until I was discovered and, well, thawed, I guess,” I explain, trying to use very simple and broad terms that she might understand better. Girl’s eyes widen at the story, seeming impressed.

“F-F'oze down there?” she asks in disbelief. I nod with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, and it really kinda was.” I admit with a chuckle. “So like I was saying, I was asleep for many years down there. But my body didn’t age, due to the whole- well, being frozen thing. And boy, was I in for a shock when I woke up and suddenly it was the future.

Girl looks at me for a few moments, the expression on her face almost completely unreadable. She opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates, causing me to soften my gaze at her as I try to show her it’s okay for her to say whatever it was she was going to before she grew nervous. "You-… so, you’re… a-are you really old?” she asks. Her question makes me laugh, and once she sees this, she relaxes substantially.

“Well, sort of. Yes? But not really,” I struggle to form an answer. “My ageing paused during my time in the ice. So, I was brought up in a very different time period from right now. That was a really long time ago. But me… I wouldn’t say I’m really old. Though, if you ask Tony that same question, he’ll call me an old man, so maybe don’t bring it up,” I joke.

At the mention of the scientist, Girl noticeably freezes up, and I can feel her tensing in my arms. “Hey, sweetheart,” I hum, my voice dropping to a soft murmur as if I’m suddenly talking to a toddler. Running my hand up and down her arm in attempts to soothe her, my heart breaks as the little girl slowly begins to tremble. “What’s up, sweetie pie?” I ask worriedly. “What’s so scary about Tony?”

Girl looks down at her lap, the eye contact she had held with me for so long now completely lost, as if it had never happened. I wish I knew what it was about him that makes her so particularly wary; I can’t tell if she’s just that way with all men, and I’m the exception, or if something’s happened that specifically makes her fearful of Tony. When she doesn’t answer my question at all, I sigh sadly, not knowing how to coax a response out of her.

“Tony’s a good man,” I tell her. And while in the past we’ve had our fair share of conflicts, I truly mean the words that I’m saying. “He’s a lot of fun to goof around with, and he cares about you just as much as I do, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” But I can tell my words do little to assure her.

Wanting to turn the focus off of something that obviously makes her uneasy, I shift her in my lap so that I’m sort of cradling her, her back supported by one arm while her legs are held securely by the other. Gently, I begin to rock her from side to side, and I can feel as her body begins to relax into me, the attempts to comfort her thankfully working.

“My mom used to hold me like this when I was small,” I say softly. I don’t remember much of my mom or my dad, but I do remember that I would be held just like this.“ I don’t know why I’m telling her this, but for some reason, the words just seem to be flowing out of my mouth before I can even stop them. "It always made me feel better, even though sometimes it felt silly as I was growing older. But that’s okay, right? Everyone needs to be taken care of. Every child deserves to have someone who’ll hold them.”

Girl’s big doe-eyes look up at me once more, yet another different expression embedded within them that I can’t quite decipher. The best word I can find to describe it is… longing.

“What’s up, doll?” I ask, wanting to know what I can say or do that will make her feel most safe and cared for. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Then, she shakes her head, and her eyes fall back down to her lap.

“You can tell me,” I encourage her, but at this point, it seems like she’s more or less shut down. And all of a sudden, my heart sinks in my chest, as I’m finally able to read the words that were written all over her face just a few short seconds ago, as her soul was staring straight into my own. I don’t know what makes me so sure that I’m right, but I just know that I know; I know what she was going to say.

She was going to ask if I could be that for her. If I would be the one to hold her, even if she felt silly for it, or for wanting it. And it just ruins me inside, that she’s been so broken down, so alienated that she can’t even bring herself to ask to have someone like that for herself.

Leaning down to plant a kiss on her head, I repeat the words into Girl’s hair as I continue to rock her. “Every child,” I say again, and again. “Every child.” And I pray that she knows I mean her, as well.

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[xcziel]

Aaaaaa like, the very first line!!! it's so beautiful and perfect ...

With the gossamer shock of a bubble popping, Wu Xie burst from dawn-touched stillness into chaotic light and noise.

is it wrong to think someone is maybe getting a little into their pangzi-week feels?

Something in him settled with the touch, present and past realigning themselves with the smell of leather and the warmth of solid muscle. It was impossible to be lost in then around Pangzi, who was such an overwhelming force of now. 

this is such a relatable thing, am i comforting them or comforting myself that i'm at least offering *something*?

Wu Xie kept one hand on his shoulder, a useless comfort that probably did more for Wu Xie than for Huli. 

aaaand there goes the knife in right under the ribcage ...

Zhang Qiling finally met his eyes. The grief that lingered there was a well-worn thing by now, the edges rounded and softened by being passed between the three of them. "I don't have enough memories to get lost in."

!!!! iron triangle feels!!!!

We're going to fix it," he told him firmly, pushing the force of his certainty at him, because if Zhang Qiling was retribution, Pangzi was reckoning, and Wu Xie, of all roles, found himself forced to be their restraint"

god, so much of this i love to pieces but most especially the kind of hushed, intimate urgency of the little ... tableaus, i wanna say, where eveuthing is carrying on but the characters are carving out these little spaces in the narrative to communicate the really important things, it's such a physical feeling of a break in story i just... it's SO great

Intersection - Fox of Nine Tales

Chapter 17 is up at AO3!

[charmedseoull]

House of Cards by sugamins Review (contains spoilers)

This review discusses an 18+ work. Please read at your own discretion.

House of Cards by sugamins is an exhilarating thriller that is jam packed with moral questioning and an affirmative grasp on adult content. Its descriptions are laced with accuracy from an author who pays attention to every tiny detail.

When reading House of Cards, I was enraptured by its concept and storytelling. The Neo-Seoul setting is painted as a bottomless pit of drugs, sex, and violence. Readers and characters themselves feel helpless to where the truth of what happens beneath the eyes of society is shoved to their faces involuntarily. I adored the way the story sucked you into this world that’s loosely based on our own reality. There’s many quotes and observations from the characters that can eerily remind you of reality’s own issues.

Many fanfics don’t tackle these larger than life subjects, at least in a way that is this satisfying and coherent. House of Cards deserves its spot as the second most read English work on Archive of Our Own. Its writing, although wordy, fleshes out moral concepts in a way that isn’t romanticized or dismissive. There are multiple times when reading this fanfic where I had to stop and process a line or phrase. This fanfic is an experience of true entertainment that deserves a read when you have time to truly observe it.

In the beginning, its protagonist Kim Taehyung offers a point of view and introduction into the gangster world that readers can follow closely. Readers develop with Taehyung, witnessing him spiral into the world and eventually become desensitized to it. He loses a part of himself when he is in Haedogje Pa and at the end of the story is no longer so set in his moral beliefs. House of Cards brings up the same questions again and again: What is right? What is wrong? Can something be both? These questions are simple, but the situations the story puts Taehyung in allows us to question the true answers to them. The story frames these questions and concepts in a way that isn’t contrived as well with sugamins having a solid vision of where the story will go with them. Park Jimin is a character that has these moral questions thrust upon him unwillingly. In the story, he is but a victim to the entire world of Haedogje Pa. Unlike Taehyung, who chose to enter the world on an undercover mission, and Jeon Jungkook, who was born into the world as its rightful heir, Jimin did not choose to enter the world. He was stolen off the streets against his will. His perspective in the story introduces a contrast that engages readers to question the roles of each character.

Kim Taehyung is our protagonist with no real antagonist except society itself and a character that’s built up towards the end but eventually killed. However, Taehyung does bad things. We’re supposed to root for him, but he tortures a man, kills another, and threatens one that we grow close to as readers heartlessly. Then, take Park Jimin. As readers, he gets all our sympathy as an involuntary participant in the world. He’s taken advantage of sexually and never has something genuine happen to him. Hidden agendas plague the characters with our protagonist himself having an extensive one that works to take down the entire gangster world. Jimin never has a hidden agenda. He seeks love and comfort, indulging in designer clothing and an exotic animal as a pet. Even with all the luxuries around him, he doesn’t live for those. He lives for the knowledge that he cared for and safe. Readers themselves don’t come to terms with that until the end of the story. 

The one genuine thing that happens to Jimin is in the second to last chapter. Here, he’s the breaking point of the entire operation and has to deliver the hard drives with evidence to convict Jungkook. There’s this heartbreaking moment where he’s in the penthouse apartment by himself, downing pills and trying to gain the courage to go through with his actions. It’s a moment that hurts as a reader as we’ve witnessed his struggles and have gotten to understand his backstory. There is deep pain and trauma within him, but then he does it. He enters into police custody with the hard drives and exits the world of Haedogje Pa. In that scene, this is where the genuine thing happens. One of the side characters named Sungah comforts him in this hard to read moment. She offers him a plushie and he denies at first, but then accepts it. There’s a tonal shift in this scene that takes us out of Haedogje Pa and back into reality. It's a sobering effect that affects the rest of the chapter with the eventual arrest of Jungkook and end of the operation.

The dialogue in House of Cards is impactful as well. There’s so many lines in the story that hit and invigorate me. Sometimes they drive me up a wall with how wrong they sound or they strike a nerve and push me to the ground. If House of Cards were a television show, I can imagine the camerawork and music playing as characters say things. The most powerful lines have to be at the beginning and end of the story. In the beginning, they set the tone especially all of Kim Namjoon’s lines that, if you follow and know BTS, are filled with wisdom and experience and warning of what’s to come from the story. Then in the end, the lines act like they are closing a book or flipping a page. They make readers move on from the story which has given them more than enough to ponder in its 25 chapters.

I’m a skimmer to a fault when it comes to stories. Long descriptions of scenery and appearance bore me and that’s just the reality of what I like as a reader. However, I found House of Cards’ wordy writing grasping me by the throat and keeping my eyes glued to each word. I absorbed every detail voraciously because it kept it so interesting. If you skim, you miss out on all these tiny details in the descriptions or nods sugamins puts in the story. The BTS members’ habits like how Taehyung licks his lips is put into the story seamlessly where you don’t recognize it. Usually I notice those things, but House of Cards makes those habits and nods its own. 

I could do an entire breakdown of House of Cards’ writing conventions and details, but I don’t want to keep you here all day. This story is wonderful. It’s deep, rich, and captured my attention like no other. That comes from someone who's been inhaling novels since a young age and studies them to no end. House of Cards is not only a fanfic, but it is an experience. 

Its adult themes are written with care and I love every bit of its story direction. Its ending is the best part where all this build up pays off in a way that’s unsatisfying. I love that dissatisfaction. Do Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook truly love each other? In the words of sugamins herself in the interview I did with her, “I didn’t want House of Cards to be seen as a romantic story when I created it. If readers see it that way, they are more than entitled to their own interpretations. I cannot tell them how they can interpret my art, that is not my role as the creator.” 

This fanfic is a must read if you can handle its themes and are of age to read it. It's a heavy read though and even if you go into it with the intention of keeping it casual, I assure you that its writing and world will suck you right in. I love House of Cards and I can’t say that enough.

-

Thank you for reading this review. You can read House of Cards here. You can read the interview I did with sugamins here. Then, of course, feel free to follow me to see more of the work I do.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 21

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso and Annabeth have an important encounter

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! It’s time for some Annabeth action. Just a fair warning, since next Friday is the Christmas day and the Friday after that the New Year, I am not sure when I'm going to be able to post again. Be prepared for at least one week's break, possibly even two. But don't worry because more is definitely coming.

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!

Calypso is the bolded text and Hazel the regular in the texting part.

Words: 2300+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Getting Leo to talk to her again was a huge weight off of Calypso’s shoulders, but there was still more to be done. Annabeth still kept to herself during the history lectures and Calypso didn’t want to force her to talk; she felt Annabeth should be the one to initiate it. From what Calypso had heard, Piper had tried to talk to her earlier, but so far Calypso hadn’t noticed any significant changes in Annabeth’s behavior. When she walked into the lecture hall that day, she noticed the blonde girl on the opposite side of the room, focused on her book. Letting a small sigh out of her mouth, she went to her usual seat pretty far from Annabeth.

Since the lecture wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, Calypso decided to use the time by checking her phone. When she opened her WhatsApp, she considered for a moment to whom she should text. Her first instinct told her she should contact Leo, but she imagined he was probably busy going to his own lecture at that moment, so she ended up scrolling through her other contacts instead. Noticing that Hazel seemed to be online, she started typing to her.

10:05: Hi, Hazel

10:05: Hi there! Was just thinking about you!

10:06: You were? How come?

10:06: Frank just texted me that on his morning jog near the campus today he had run into someone he had apparently recently met somewhere (he didn’t tell me where exactly).

10:07: and they had talked for a while.

10:07: At some point Frank mentioned the guy’s first name was Leo. I’m pretty sure it was /the/ Leo!!

10:08: How can you be so sure? I’m sure there are plenty of Leos around this campus. It’s not a rare name.

10:09: no but hear me out. The description matches with what you’ve told me. He said he’s a mechanic with a dog and when I asked Frank what he looked like, he said ‘dark hair, scrawny, eyes look like there’s some mischief going on in that head of his all the time but he’s not actually that bad when you talk to him’

10:09: I admit that does sound like the Leo I know

10:09: I told you! What a small world it is, apparently the boys we’re interested in know each other!

10:10: Still feels so weird when you put it that directly. You’re the only one who knows so far. So please, if you somehow happen to see him as well, don’t say anything.

10:10: Alright, I won’t. But what are /you/ waiting for? If he’s anything like the boys in our art class I’m sure he’s all over you by now.

10:10: Hazel!

10:11: Sorry, sorry. But you did talk to him after that… situation you had?

10:11: I did. We’re good now. Thanks for the advice the other day, by the way. It did help.

10:12: Ha, so you’re saying I gave you good advice. Could that mean that maybe you should also reread what I just said a moment ago?

10:12: Sorry, I gotta go. Something came up. TTYL!

10:13: Calypso!!

10:13: That’s so rude :P

Calypso hadn’t lied, though. She had noticed someone sneaking from the other side of the hall to the seat behind her, and that someone happened to be her friend to whom she hadn’t properly spoken for several weeks now. Trying to stay on her seat as neutrally as possible, still watching her now dark phone screen, she waited for Annabeth to start the conversation.

There was a tap on her shoulder. “Cal…” she finally heard Annabeth’s familiar voice say.

“Yeah?” Calypso asked tentatively, slowly turning on her seat to see the speaker.

“I think we should talk,” Annabeth stated, sounding more like her usual self.

“Um, sure,” Calypso answered but didn’t have time to say more when the professor stopped her, starting the lecture. “After this class, OK?”

“Right.” Annabeth nodded. Then she turned her focus to the professor, but Calypso noticed that not for long. She started doodling something into her notebook and was tapping on the floor with her foot, a habit that Calypso had noticed was very familiar to Leo, especially when he was nervous. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Annabeth also had dyslexia and ADHD like him. The information seemed to come to her so naturally… but before the Percy incident, Annabeth had revealed that especially when she had been younger she usually had had to read the textbooks at least 5 times before she had finally absorbed what she had read. Later on, with the help of a teacher that actually understood her learning disability, she had learned some other methods that seemed to help her. One side of Calypso thought that it was relieving to see Annabeth show signs of weakness because usually she seemed so good at everything she did that it was mildly intimidating.

Soon Calypso realized that she herself had trouble focusing on what the professor was explaining while thinking about what she should tell Annabeth after the class. What could she say that she already hadn’t in the previous time? That she absolutely hated Annabeth’s boyfriend’s guts? That her flatmate made her feel weird things when they were in the same room so there was absolutely no need to be jealous?

Once the lecture was over, Calypso packed her things and gestured to Annabeth that they should have their conversation outside the lecture hall. They were walking silently until most of their fellow students had split into their own directions and found a quiet spot by the windows. There were some armchairs spread around the corridor to make it seem more comfortable and the girls sat down on two of them.

“I take it you may have changed your mind about me,” Calypso said directly once she had settled on her seat, feeling there was no need to tiptoe around the topic.

“I… yeah,” Annabeth started, and for a brief moment Calypso thought she showed a tiny bit of fragility. Suddenly she realized that maybe Annabeth wasn’t being her usual confident self, because she wasn’t that great at dealing with her feelings. Things like maths, chemistry and physics were simple to her because there were certain rules that needed to be applied. But the human mind was harder to read, Calypso knew that much. “Sometimes I think there are two different Annabeths: one that is very protective and jealous when it comes to the people she cares about, and then there’s the rational Annabeth who tries to yell to the other one that she is being ridiculous. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

Calypso shook her head. “No, I think I can understand why it bothered you. I hate keeping things from you, but I promised to myself… I mean, it is safer to not get you guys involved.”

“But… why? What could happen?” Annabeth asked, folding her arms.

“I’m not going to go to details but my father… I’m sure you have figured out by now that he is not a nice guy. When he doesn’t like someone, or someone tries to get into his way… Good things don’t usually follow that. And I mean it. There is a very good reason why I moved this far from my previous home. To be honest, I would have liked to go all the way to Greece but that just wasn’t possible.”

“So you’re saying that your father is what you’re afraid of? And he could get us - I mean your friends - into trouble if you shared too much information with us?” Annabeth collected the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Basically, yes. But please, don’t ask more. I may already have said too much,” Calypso said worriedly.

“Don’t worry. My lips are definitely sealed,” Annabeth reassured her.

“Thanks.” Calypso hesitated a bit. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Annabeth nodded.

Calypso shifted a bit on her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “If I’m honest, I was not expecting you to forgive me that whole Percy thing that easily. What changed your mind?”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have some very good friends who managed to persuade me.” Annabeth gave her a playful smile.

“Huh? Who?” Calypso knew that Piper had talked to Annabeth but she didn’t know there were others as well.

“First of all, Percy convinced me that there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. I’m not going to tell you how he did it, but he can be pretty sweet when he wants to. Besides, between you and me: Seaweed Brain just can’t lie to me. I can read him like a book.” Annabeth’s smile only widened as she said that.

“OK.” Calypso didn’t think she wanted to hear more about that topic.

“But that wasn’t all. Piper also talked to me,” Annabeth added.

“What did she say?” Calypso asked curiously.

Annabeth’s eyes started sparkling mischievously. “A lot of things,” she started, “but she reminded me of some events that happened before Percy’s arrival that evening.”

“I don’t understand you now,” Calypso pretended to be stupid even though she was already guessing where Annabeth was going with her statement. “What events?”

“I don’t know…” Annabeth tapped her fingers against her forehead. “I think hugging, cupcake sharing and flirty bickering was involved. Keyword: think. I guess the people involved know more about that than I do.”

“That was… that was just us being friendly!” Calypso rushed to deny. “And what was so flirty about our bickering? We do that all the time and I’m not trying to…”

“Relax, Cal,” Annabeth stopped her. “It just kind of reminded me of me and Percy. But if you say so…”

Calypso groaned slightly. “Fine, you won. Again. Maybe… I may be starting to like him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He probably doesn’t like me back. And it wouldn’t work out for various reasons. I… When I moved here, I really thought I could just forget about everything that happened in my past and start to live my life. But it turns out that my past is still following me and stopping me from forming functional relationships. Besides… none of my former relationships worked. I may have been a kid back then but I made some bad decisions and it wrecked my self confidence. I don’t want to get hurt again and I also don’t want to hurt Leo. He has a very good heart, despite his weirdnesses…”

“Calypso, I know from my own experiences that ghosts of your past can be hard to fight. I have had plenty of family issues of my own in the past and they have probably influenced my later decisions, I admit that. But you seem to have taken an attitude that you have to deal with it alone. But you don’t. Let us help you. Maybe I can’t speak for all of us but I know I’m not afraid of your father. It is always possible to fight if you just come up with a good strategy.”

“This is probably a weird comment but that sounded like something I’d imagine the goddess Athena say. Are you sure you’re not her? Or related?” Calypso attempted to joke.

“Last time I checked, all of us were regular people,” Annabeth chuckled. “I admit I’m probably not quite as advanced in the greek mythology as you are although I have studied some of it, of course. But your question reminded me of this book series I read as a kid: Peter Johnson and the Olympians. The characters in it were children of Greek gods and I always wished that I’d be like one of the main characters who was a daughter of Athena.”

“Ooh, I read that series too!” Calypso said enthusiastically. “It was kind of cute although now that I know more about history and Greek mythology, not all the characters are quite like I picture them in my head. But I appreciate the effort to make the mythology more known to young readers.”

“Right! I agree.” Annabeth nodded before realizing they had gotten pretty far from the original topic.  “Sorry, we got a bit sidetracked here. I seriously do hope that you’ll let us help if needed. I myself am gonna try to be more patient and let you do it on your own terms, though.”

“Thanks, Annabeth. Um, about that Leo part, though…” Calypso felt her cheeks heat again and she wanted to curse her silly mind for reacting like that every time she thought about her flatmate. “Would you please be kind and keep it between us? I just really am not ready to deal with that yet…”

“Fine. I’ll let it be. For now. But maybe think about it. Who knows, you could be surprised by what might happen…” Annabeth said mysteriously.

“What do you mean?” Calypso frowned.

“Like I said, there are people who are ready to help you carry your burden even though you’re too absorbed by your issues to notice that. That’s all.”

“O-kay,” Calypso said suspiciously, wondering what Annabeth’s statement implied.

“You should know that one of the people who talked with me was Leo. He said he had noticed that you were feeling pretty down since the… incident and that you seemed to blame yourself for everything. And that you also felt very bad about not being honest. That’s what really opened my eyes and made me decide that I need to get over my grudge that doesn’t even make sense. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Logically thinking, you should be the one who’s mad at me.”

“That Leo…” Calypso was so focused on that part for a moment that it took her a while to register what else Annabeth had said. “Um, sorry. To be honest, I think the Calypso from a couple of years ago would have been mad. But my priorities have changed and I also realized that Percy is way happier with you.”

“I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge, though,” Annabeth said.

“Life’s too short for that,” Calypso shrugged.

“I guess so. So, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Calypso confirmed, giving Annabeth a genuine smile. Some hope had risen in her heart again and she made a mental note to thank a certain mechanic later at home.

[letterboxd]

Touching the Void.

Searching for cinema that soothes? Ella Kemp suggests it could be as simple as looking for a film poster with a white background.

How many weeks has it been? When did any of us last go blindly into a cinema and take a chance on something new? Film-watching in the time of Covid-19 has changed. The immediate and never-ending news of the world is frightening. Is it still, and more than ever, okay for me to sink into movies to alleviate my mood, just for a bit? How is that even possible when the world has come to a standstill?

We are forced to adapt, and it has taken some time for my attention span and emotional capacity to adjust. But I think I might have found a solution, and I have the meticulous list-makers of Letterboxd to thank. It was Izzy’s list of comfort movies that first lit the fuse. Specifically, the second, third and fourth row; films including Billy Elliot, Clueless, School of Rock.

Fifteen stark posters, speaking one truth: We are vulnerable and nervous. What we need is a film poster with a white background to assure us the movie exists entirely to serve and soothe us.

Part of Izzy’s ‘comfort movies’ list.

List-making on Letterboxd has never been more prolific. Pandemic movies, overdue filmography catch-ups, comfort movies galore. Everyone categorizes and logs their watches differently, but Izzy’s pattern speaks to me with an epiphanic answer. I’ve always admired successful color-coding, but now I see its crucial function.

As I scroll for distraction, for something guaranteed to be good (because I cannot and will not be subject to any uncertainty I can avoid), I see the rainbow. The pale blues of Studio Ghibli, Wong Kar-wai’s passionate reds, the pastels of Netflix Original breezy romances. Like some kind of cinematic ikebana, countless Letterboxd members have mastered the art of arranging film posters. There are standouts: the staggering oeuvre that is Gordon’s chromatic roundup of favorite posters; the comprehensive color-graded history of women directors via their best posters, courtesy of Vanessa; and the penchant for beige in the year 2015, as spotted by Letterboxd co-founder Matthew Buchanan.

A selection of Gordon’s favorite movie posters.

But when I see these 300 examples, color-coded by typography and accents by Sera Ash, I recognize that white movie posters are the ones most likely, in this very strange time, to take care of me. I see it in three distinct filmmaking periods: Disney animations from the 1940s and 50s, the video marketing for cult comedies of the 1980s and 90s, and the alternative marketing materials of my favorite films of the 2010s. Each poster is straightforward and inoffensive. It captures the story, but never dares to impress or intimidate beyond basic description.

A 1975 re-release poster for ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ (1937).

In 1937, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs announced the birth of Walt Disney’s feature-length empire. While its original theatrical poster is also mostly white, it is represented on Letterboxd by a 1975 re-release poster depicting a peek through the keyhole: a curved triangle framing Snow White, the dwarves, and the two sides of the jealous queen, against a vivid green forest. In the bottom corner, a castle. To the left, the title—her name in red cursive, theirs in black. These simple images come together to present an elementary summary of the ingredients within. The white frame showcases the seminal animation craft without suggesting the viewer diverts their eye anywhere else.

This technique was common across other animated titles, collected in lists like dantebk’s Disney animated classics. Pinocchio toys with the hyperreal relationships between characters alive and wooden, human and animal—but does so on a plain canvas, so that the magic remains within reach. Dumbo, Bambi, Cinderella, Peter Pan—each follows suit. Whether with the mustard yellow of a circus tent, the faint sketches of grass tufts, the gold dust of an enchanted fairy godmother or the ink blue of a midnight starry sky, these colors (indicative of each defining scene-setter or mood-maker) only pepper a blank background, and so make their significance ever greater with the most sporadic touches.

A selection from dantebk’s list of Disney animated classics.

Live-action knockouts from these decades—films like The Shop Around The Corner and The Red Shoes—embrace painted recreations of their protagonists (Margaret Sullivan and James Stewart as festive lovers in the former, Moira Shearer as a tortured ballerina in the latter) and use the color red as a signifier of romance, against a plain white page, to set the mood. Slashes and splashes of red have been used to create a vibe in genre cinema for many decades—a trend deftly chronicled in this list by Rocks.

As far as we know, the underpinnings of digital photography began in the 1950s, and the first published color digital photograph dates back to 1972, when Michael Francis Tompsett shot a photo of his wife Margaret for the cover of Electronics magazine. Consumers got their hands on the gear in the late 1990s, but movie studios really started to make the most of sharp digital photography and stark white backgrounds for their striking posters from the late 1980s onwards. Because, never mind the multiplex, the video store is where you wanted your comfort fare to stand out in the 1980s and 90s.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986) and Say Anything… (1989) form a handsome, trend-setting 1980s pair. While the theatrical poster for Cameron Crowe’s Say Anything… deigned to include John Cusack’s co-star, Ione Skye, by the time of the film’s video release, the focus is clearly on pre-High Fidelity Cusack, as proud underachiever Lloyd Dobler, smouldering lopsidedly under the weight of a boombox. It’s the singular image of the film to this day.

Meanwhile, Matthew Broderick as Ferris-slacking-Bueller is making the most of his title activity, arms behind his head, a proud smirk on his face. Nothing else matters except that these charismatic young stars are stepping up to leading-man status. The white background accentuates the star power of these new boys in town, embracing the limelight in one fell swoop.

Star power is everything: beautiful people doing simple things against empty backdrops, because what could be more important than the regularity of symmetrical bone structure, of familiar charm? The trend boomed in the 1990s and 2000s, in films widely embraced by casual moviegoers. The sort who list “watching Netflix” as a Sunday activity on dating profiles and use the Christmas holidays to rewatch comedies they have memorized over dozens of half-attentive viewings (absolutely zero judgement here!).

The vast majority of these films have white posters. Who is your soothing cup of charm: Tom Hanks on a bench, nothing more nothing less, from 1994’s Forrest Gump? Or Heath Ledger, effortlessly cool, leaning on the brown corduroy armchair Julia Stiles sits in for the 10 Things I Hate About You poster from 1999? (The 90s harnessed the increased appeal of having two lookers just sitting and posing against a plain background, as demonstrated in this chilling list by Ashley.)

Ashley’s list of couples posing in front of a white background.

Will Ferrell had been earning his stripes as an actor for years, but he changed the movie comedy game as Buddy the Elf in 2003. There’s plenty of visual humour in Elf, but Ferrell’s coat-stand posture bedecked in festive green velvet and those tights is… enough. A white background lets the ridicule slide, just.

How many Disney series really deserve a whole movie—and one that stands the test of time? Lizzie McGuire, resting on her tiptoes with a swinging suitcase in hand, sells The Lizzie McGuire Movie like no idyllic views of Rome ever could. It’s reaching out to an audience loyal to the character, one who will follow her to the ends of the Earth, or at least to another continent. Hilary Duff could be doing almost anything on this poster and it would achieve the same effect—so long as the white background remains plain enough to keep eagle-eyed fans on the main event at all times.

It’s surprising that the star-making system only let Meryl Streep appear in a tiny box, one of four character tiles, on the poster for The Devil Wears Prada in 2006. But the design here taps into 1940s animated sensibilities, giving prominence to a devilish red Macguffin larger than the humans. It still achieves the same function—a glossy, glamorous design with the accessible sell of a quotable, star-fuelled comedy.

Red may be the color of romance and the devil; it’s also the color of comedy. Exhibit A: the 2007 gross-out comedy Superbad, whose star power—marking the emergence of Jonah Hill and Michael Cera—is used to an opposite and impressive effect on its poster. The awkwardness of these teen boys—lanky, unkempt, insecure—is what cinches the comedy. The simplicity of the poster design, with their uncomfortable posture against, well, nothing at all, further anchors their incapability of facing the world in any confident way, shape or form.

There are countless more examples, like Marley & Me, Bridesmaids, 27 Dresses (notice how the red type is replaced by pink when the film’s plot veers toward the altar). But to understand the curious and timeless appeal of the white movie poster, what happened to it in the 2010s cements its adaptable strength.

As the art of graphic design has continued to bloom, the aesthetic argument for the colorless color-block movie poster has shifted to embrace a film’s context. Consider Danny Boyle’s Steve Jobs, the enjoyable 2015 drama that provided Michael Fassbender one of the most under-celebrated roles of his career, playing the late Apple co-founder. The poster turns the canvas into a blank screen: the title is typed, the text insertion point poised, waiting for the next key press. As Jobs, Fassbender occupies the bottom right corner, in profile, thinking.

This starkness makes sense: what’s next, Steve? It offers a rare example of a poster from the past decade that fully leans into the monochrome aesthetic entirely on purpose—to serve the restrained and unequivocal need for white. (And it’s interesting to compare with the marketing narrative for an earlier film about another tech leader: observe how Jesse Eisenberg’s Mark Zuckerberg eyeballs us from The Social Network’s dark-mode poster.)

Comfort movies don’t own the white poster, of course. Jordan Peele’s Get Out toys, both in its marketing and its delivery, with the binaries of black and white. It’s deployed on-screen with sophisticated horror, and this extends to its two most graphic poster variants.

While one poster sees Daniel Kaluuya’s character, Chris, sat on a chair split vertically between black and white, the all-white poster allows only a center-frame letterbox to reveal Chris’s enormous eyes, accompanied by an all-caps type treatment. The vast expanse of white only makes the image more menacing, framing the claustrophobia so effectively. The landscape crop is a device that defines stern dramas as much as arthouse comedies, as documented by Haji Abdul Karim in their expansive list.

Haji Abdul Karim’s list of white-with-landscape-image posters.

But back in the ‘comfort’ realm, we’re seeing more and more that the marketing wants to have it both ways—the negative with the positive; the art house audience and the multiplex crowd. As genres blend, demographics collapse and audiences become more fluid, a film’s advertising needs to speak more languages.

Two ultra-comfort films from last year demonstrate this idea well. The poster for Judy sees a backlit Renée Zellweger finding her light, receiving her applause. Black is the key color, right down to the classic little black dress; the eye is drawn to the title, spelled out in red sequins. It’s showbiz, it’s drama. Though the film itself fudges a few of the more uncomfortable facts of the star’s story, it’s still honest about her addictions.

In the white-background version, which was more widely distributed, Zellweger, in a floral dress, turns away from the light. The name still sparkles, but in softened gold. There’s no less glamor, the stakes in the film are just as high, but she’s perhaps more accessible like this. The focus, as it was in the 90s, 80s, 40s, returns to the main event.

Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, too, played with dark and light. The indie queen released her previous film, Lady Bird, via design-conscious distributor A24, and Gerwig’s singular aesthetics promised that her Little Women remake would be worlds away from all the others. But when the first images for the film were released, the marketing campaign was questioned by die-hard Gerwig fans.

Both of the group posters are curiously stripped back, freezing Louisa May Alcott’s beloved March sisters in a moment. In the darker image, they gaze out a window, secure in their festive domestic bubble, but set on what’s beyond. There’s more to life, and the film, than this room. It feels more lush, painterly, certainly more dramatic.

Whereas the white poster, at first, seemed like a mistake. It took one of the first images teased from the film and just... dropped it onto a poster. The March sisters look as if solidified by clay, entirely undynamic and at odds with the fluidity and warm soul Gerwig had made herself known for in her filmmaking.

And yet, nothing matters more than these characters. Beth, Jo, Meg and Amy are holding each other, happy, each in their own favourite color, and there is nothing more to fight over. The white-poster alternative lets the 2010s viewer stay attached to the most important part of the film.

The lessons here? A white poster is a vital sign that you’re safe here. You’ve made the correct choice. Attention spans are dwindling, options are expanding, focus is difficult. The promise of a white frame tells me what matters, what is good, where I should place my time and my value. For now.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 151

Moving the patreon names a good idea but changes to structure take up more brain space than they should. I hope they keep the reminder they moved it as a substitute, at least for a while. The rest of the structure is the same and I can feel my shoulders coming away from my ears as the theme plays. I choose to interpret that as Alex saying his players being fine is his highest priority. Borb Under the sea bed🎵. 1)its great when I barely start a thought before a player says the same thing 2) we will get our musical one way or the other 3)I know they're from an improv background but it never ceases to delight how joyfully they support each other's unexpected bits. 4) Alex seems like he gets a kick out of playing up his annoyance at the musical idea more than actually being frustrated it keeps coming up. I thought so but nice to confirm. Bless this cast, it wouldn't have been a huge deal if they let Alex's description stand but its so nice they not only corrected it, they did so without hesitation and Alex seemed to appreciate the help in getting to better phrasing rather than take it as an accusation. Not that I thought he would but feeling grateful for RQ not falling into behavior I see elsewhere. Also hearing everyone chiming in; with Bryn being the one to name check the trope instead of it being on Helen to always take the lead is nice to hear. "he was very encountered" Have I mentioned lately that I love literally everything about this show? Even when he thinks he knows exactly what the party is going to do and certainly knows what he is guiding them towards Alex checks instead of putting anyone in the position of having to derail. Cel! I wonder if cis people get anywhere near my joy in Cel having that kind of control over their body. I mean its just objectively cool even without the gender aspect so I hope they at least enjoy that much. I need cancan art. Did Alex know how delighted Lydia would be with the image of being popped out like a cork before he said it? Coo coo ca chu, thank you Ben Zolf remains 200% done and doesn't bother checking the door Ben don't! 92 HP, well that would be comforting if it wasn't Zolf. Like I don't think it's actually a death wish/that he is suicidal but well, see not checking the door. He is far too comfortable with the idea of being hurt. Alex:Chill sea dude Ben: sounds of objection Lydia: chill environment neutral dude Still love Alex's set design. A person! Bryn sounds alarmed about implications of the walk ways. Cel can shield themselves. Yes Hamid can armor himself! Also casts fly on himself & Azu. Thank you Ben/Zolf. This show does get deep into moral quandaries sometimes but unless these guys are as drugged as the Kobolds they objectively need to die. The dice love us Altruism run Darn it Alex, are you hinting they are drugged against their will? Azu feels tapping their shoulder then killing them is better even if they don't have a prayer of defending themselves. Oh I see Helen has our back and is checking for mind control before we do Kobolds 2: the guilt continues. Well yes they are surprised Bryn sounds so pleased as goes through exactly how many ways the odds are in Hamid's favor. Then he rolls 6,6,5,5 on D6s for 26 damage so no kill like over kill. Watsonian explanation: emotion is at least partially fueling Hamid's magic especially anything fire/desolation aligned, and there is no way he isn't overflowing with emotion after the last few hours. Zolf is happy to let Azu handle the last one and uses his action to ask if Cel knows what (something, the equipment in this room?) does. Cel determines its a notification board for the cell cavern. So these guys were directly aware and involved with the mistreatment of the Kobolds. I officially am dropping the last tiny part of me that cared if they were drugged/otherwise forced into the work. If they were cognisant enough to read that and still did it then its time to find Zolf's old bucket. Glad the table is having fun! I wonder what the face Alex pulled looked like.  Raw terror? The equivalent of a neon sign reading "I'm screwed"? I shouldn't have implied Alex would leave the listeners out, this is a wonderful description. Helen is more thorough than I am. There you go, time to die. Oh episode name drop. That's my Zolf, killing who needs killing doesn't mean we ignore collateral damage. And Cel just invented the departures board. Zolf: not worth destroying? Cel: If you'd enjoy it Priorities Heading towards the shore I like how Alex sounds pleased they broke his dungeon Vital info for visualizing this. Poor Azu is trying to swim while Hamid & Cel are zooming elegantly and Zolf is walking because boots or no he is ungainly. Hamid enjoying flying & Azu being adorable even under the circumstances is endearing. Correction Cel is walking Lockers & propaganda posters I can't put it in words but there is a connection being made between how little these mooks care about messing up shared spaces & the rest of the mundane evil that led to them being bucket worthy. Thank you all for the taking water breathing potions I'm not sure how I feel about Alex giving us stuff for free Oh Dear! Are the mooks heading to the village? Zolf is reassuring Never over the little touches Alex has to make the world feel more real like the water proof flares Oh Cel dear, 1)you don't know that, you don't need mourn your village while they yet may live 2)what kind of trauma have they been through? "Again"? Lydia gets a quick dig in about the party not being allowed to sleep. Cel shifts into a creature who can see. ~Break~ Nevermind just enlarge person Somewhere Babs is begging for a simple answer. I don't think we got a simple answer Hamid is reassuring Cel. Something both relateable and possibly a bad sign that "don't worry they have been spending all their time preparing to kill us, so they can't be attacking your people" is legitimately both the line Hamid took and probably the most effective possible. The others help too. I love how they openly care, reassuring Cel without telling them to repress or that they are wrong to experience the emotions in the first place. Lights and colors flashing in the water. The dice seem to be favoring Bryn today. There's a fight up ahead. They all run to the fight, Cel leaves them in the dust. Hamid flies after Cel since he couldn't catch up on foot The dice do know I promise I will appreciate the set design on relisten,  but for the love of god who is fighting who? Mooks vs who? Humans Yes! Alex hasn't quite gotten there but the cast sound convinced its Barnes & Carter. Ah is Wilde with them? Did Wilde tear his hair out worrying then send back up the second Zolf was overdue? Bleeping Carter Barnes sounds like he is having fun Carter is throwing knives at people. Odd knife & dagger are basically synonyms but not getting Sasha feels 2 vs 8 Ben points out Carter stole Sasha's gimmick Ok warming to Carter will take a minute but I already like Barnes Natural 1 on bomb throwing. Thank you Alex for not being a "death by nat 1 is funny" GM Alex keeps forgetting what a bad bum Cel is. Giblet heavy day Moving quickly past possible misgendering of Cel. Best way to handle that I think, no distracting corrections but Lydia doesn't let it stand. Thank you for being safe Hamid! Hamid protects Barnes. Love the extra extra pew. Finger guns! Alex is 3rd person level stressed Cel gets out the crossbow and punctuates their correction on pronouns. I love this podcast. I really, really, love this podcast and stuff like that shows they love their listeners back. Cel: Pronouns. Are. They. Them Helen: the dice say they/them rights Not sure if dead but 13 damage against one misgendering mook Hamid continues to shoot very well in support rather than endangering himself needlessly. Azu, spotting Carter: You! You? Accidently restarted the episode when I unpaused and now my phone is acting up, and is doing strange things when I try to fast forward to where I was. The annoyance at the above is cancelled out by hearing "Pronouns. Are. They/Them" 4 times Zolf: great seeing you again I love Barnes Alex the fandom appreciates this description Ah Zolf got Barnes into the Campbell books And they attempt to flee badly Carter finally rolls decently but not impressively Cel shoots one in the neck they're still moving Hamid mutters in draconic:  this is for the Kobolds Thank you Bryn Barnes successfully seduced <Azu> Helen I love that the trained mathematician is the one who participates in dice superstition Ben! Huh patreon names still make my brain happy. Wonder if it's something deep about community or I just got pavloved by it being before RQG & TMA for so long

[vaguely-ash-esque]

Safe and Sound (Bakugo x Reader)

Hi there. So,  I haven’t written fan fiction in literal years, but I needed a break from OCs and am currently pretty much buried in the BNHA fandom. I had a lot of fun with this and getting back into the swing of fan fiction. I hope you like it!

Description: During a fight with a villain, Katsuki Bakugo takes a side step away from combat and stumbles across someone in need of saving. (Slight fluff?) Warning: Curses Word Count: 2630

 For the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo couldn’t move. He had fought without a shred of fear up until this moment, but suddenly his feet were glued to the spot, and his hands wouldn’t move an inch. Only his crimson eyes were in motion, flickering constantly around at the chaos around him. In the process of defeating yet another pathetic henchman, he lost his rhythm. His focus had vanished.

The others were fighting hard. In the middle of it all, Deku was facing the villain himself. Because of course, he was, and it only made Bakugo angrier. From here, he could just barely see an occasional flash of green light, One for All manifested in All Might’s successor, around the corner of a toppled building. He should have been over there fighting with the damn nerd, taking on the big bad himself and bringing this whole thing to an end. The sooner the better so the clean-up team could do their work without having to worry about an ongoing fight. But Deku was taking forever to finish the job, and no matter how much Bakugo willed his feet to move, nothing happened.

He was getting overwhelmed. The panic of the moment amplified the distraction of the commotion going on around him, and though he was never frantic in a fight, he was suddenly struck with fear. Not at how it would end – he knew good and well the villain would be defeated one way or another – but at his own paralyzed body and inability to shake it away.

What was happening? He was always fearless and brave, the first to rush onto the scene and take action. And now, in the middle of a real situation that desperately needed heroes, he couldn’t so much as flinch a muscle. It wasn’t right. With everything going on, he just wanted to bolt into the mess again and light the place up. Every single villain here was going to die just as soon as he wasn’t frozen. Just as soon as he. Could. Move.

“Somebody, please help me!”

His entire body jolted. Strength returned in a flood that swept through his limbs and pushed him a step forward. Mind still off-kilter, he stumbled. Rescue wasn’t his objective, there were others who came to do it themselves. Bakugo was a fighter, and that would always be his preference, but more than that, he was a hero. And he was going to be number one someday. No good hero, no decent person, could just ignore a cry for help.

Instead of racing straight into the fight, his boots rushed to answer the call. It was difficult to pinpoint an exact location for the source, but he knew the direction it came from, and that was good enough. Closer to the fight, but not directly towards it. His eyes searched. The building. It had to have come from the ruins of the building knocked over in the fight. As far as he was aware, no one had been inside at the time of it falling, but maybe someone had been underneath when it collapsed.

The closer he ran, the more his gaze could pick out. Smoke and dust still billowing from the wreckage, wires and iron bars, crushed paneling and shattered glass. If someone was trapped under it all, he had no idea how they had survived. Maybe the voice hadn’t come from beneath it but around it. Regardless, he wouldn’t be able to do anything if he couldn’t find the person who needed help. He skimmed the debris as he ran into it. Beams, rubble, disfigured remnants of a broken structure.

There.

As Bakugo neared the base of the fallen edifice, his vision peered over the edge of a ditch that had opened deeper under the weight of the building halfway under a broken wall. Torn electrical wiring dangled from the building and hanging from them was… you. His breath hitched. There were tears drenching your face, and your arms were shaking as they clung to the black, sparking wires. Who knew how long you had been hanging here, helplessly clutching to a handful of cords to stay alive? You could have been waiting here the whole time, crying out for someone to help you. It was a miracle you had held on this long.

The moment your eyes found him, they lit up with a fire of hope that kept him in motion.

“Hey!” he shouted, voice no gentler than normal. He should have put more effort into seeming less harsh, but that wasn’t his concern right now. He just needed to get you to safety. He calculated his options; there weren’t many that would work.

He could blast himself to the wires and grab you, but your lifelines were already precarious, and any additional weight might break them completely. He could rush past and snatch you on the way, but then it was a matter of timing. If you didn’t let go at the right time, you might pull the cords and bring more debris raining down. If he told you to let go first and trust he would grab you, the timing would be fixed, but the angle he would need to move at wasn’t really possible from here, and moving into a better position might endanger you even more. There was only one option left: lean over the edge and reach out to you. And hope you weren’t too far.

His knees dug into the dirt. The soil was freshly torn up and unstable, but he nestled his legs into it as securely as he could. He met your eyes again, and without a word, his expression somehow conveyed comfort – he was going to save you – and he could see that you trusted his promise.

“Don’t swing,” he ordered, testing the ledge of dirt with some of his weight. It shifted slightly, but once it compacted, it was sturdy. “Just try to reach me.”

There was a slight nod. Carefully, you moved yourself to free one arm. The other immediately began to tremble more wildly, but you gripped it tighter than seemed possible and stretched one arm towards Bakugo. His shoulder ached with the effort of trying to reach farther than his body would let him. You were centimeters away, fingers nearly brushing his own, but still just beyond his reach. He tried again, just barely touched your knuckles, and drew back before his balance could send him tumbling over the edge.

“Damn…” he grumbled, readjusting his grip on the ground. This wasn’t fair. First, he got distracted and got thrown out of the fight just because his mind wasn’t centered, and now he couldn’t save one person because they were just too far out of reach. No. No. He was going to save you, and nothing could stop him, much less a tiny gap. “I’ll get you.”

This time. He would reach you this time. He braced himself and moved his hand out again. Further. Go further. Even more. He was so close. So close…

Crrreeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaakkkkkkk

For a split second, he watched as fear overtook your face, and then you were gone, plunged over the edge and buried beneath a billowing cloud of dust. A shout jumped from his throat but was cut off just as quickly by the rush of floating filth that shoved him away. Although his mask protected his eyes, his right arm crossed in front of his face in hopes of shielding it from being caked with dirt. A fit of coughs bubbled out of his chest, scratching and clawing as it escaped.

By the time the dust finally began to settle, he was lightheaded and dizzy. The world spun once, twice, before he blinked it away. What he had thought was a wreck before was suddenly a hundred times worse. There was nothing still standing. Instead, there was only a pit of broken pieces, a pile of rubble. And you were somewhere beneath it all. Because he hadn’t been able to reach you.

With a barely restrained growl and no hesitation, Bakugo vaulted over the edge. It would have been smarter to find a hero whose quirk was more suitable for search and rescue. Surely, there was somebody nearby who could tunnel through the debris to find you, but finding them meant time, and every moment he wasted was another moment for you to crawl closer to death. He wasn’t willing to risk even a minute away.

His only option was to use his own, brute strength and the assistance of his explosions to move the building’s remains out of the way. And as he did, everything else faded away. The villains didn’t even cross his mind, and the fight no longer mattered. Figures rushed to the pit’s edge, shouting his name, demanding to know what he was doing or how they could help or insisting he was being reckless. Reckless? No. No. Determined, wild even, but not reckless. He had to save you, and the clock was still ticking. His costume tore in too many places, dozens of cuts splattered his blood on the rocks he dug through.

Dirt sprung up and touched his eyes, and that was why they swelled with water, no matter how many times he wiped the moisture away to see clearly again. He had thought the rescuing would be easy. His best personal work was always in combat and always his first choice between the two. Bakugo had never been tasked with the responsibility of reaching out to someone to save them. In his mind, it was always the easiest part. Once the fight was over and the villains were defeated, a team would come to clean up the rest. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t simple at all.

There were lives, real people’s lives, in his hands. Someone’s life had been in his palm, and he let it slip away so easily. What kind of hero was he if he couldn’t reach one person? What kind of hero couldn’t save a single life?

“Damn it!”

Concrete went flying, smashed into pieces by an explosion that shot searing pain up into his arms. He was starting to overdo it, but a little bit of pain wasn’t going to stop him. Unbearable agony wouldn’t be able to stop him. One way or another, Bakugo was going to save you. He just had to find you again.

Another blast sent shattered rocks clattering away. There. From a heap of loosened stones and metal rods, he caught sight of a hand. Still reaching. Still begging to be saved. With renewed strength, he clawed away the rubble, clearing air for the person buried underneath until finally, he could wrench you out of the mess.

There were scratches and bruises littered all over your body. Some were deeper than others and red stains were just barely visible past the dirt that coated you. One arm was bent at a painfully awkward angle. Wide, frantic eyes searched your face before Katsuki leaned closer and placed his ear near your mouth. And waited. And waited…

Faint. Barely even there, but he felt a trickle of a breath brush the side of his face. Somehow, you were still alive, still breathing, though badly hurt. He swiped once more at his watery eyes, scooped you up in his arms, and trudged his way back to level ground.

An area had already been set up for the injured. So far, not many were there. Either few had been hurt, or the hurt hadn’t been rescued yet. Without a word to the ones who had gathered around the pit, Bakugo pressed forward, cradling you close, determined to keep you safe, and headed for the cleared section. You couldn’t have been in a stable condition. If only he had been quicker or formed a better plan from the beginning. If only he had been able to save you, you wouldn’t be so hurt now.

If only he had reached further.

He hated the freezing cold that appeared when a medic took you from his arms. He felt empty, and in the space that was left, hatred crept in. Over the course of three days, he thought through every moment a thousand times and came up with a thousand ways he could have done better but forgot them every time he let something else distract him. For his first real rescue, Bakugo had failed miserably. Sure, he hadn’t heard that you were dead yet, but you were injured, and it was his fault. For three whole days, he hated himself.

Until:

“Bakugo,” Aizawa’s dull drone caught him before he could make it more than a step outside the classroom.

He cursed in his head. What now? He hadn’t done anything wrong this time. No fights with Deku, he hadn’t broken anything, even his normal bitterness had been toned down, directed at himself instead of others. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What.”

         “(Y/n) has asked to see you.”

         “Who the hell is that?”

         It was torture for Mr. Aizawa to keep his eyes from rolling, but the man somehow managed. “The person you saved the other day. The one you dug out of the building’s wreck.”

         His heart thumped against his ribcage. You wanted to see him? Why? Probably to lay into him on how horrible of a hero he was. He wouldn’t take any of it, but whatever words you said would echo in his mind for the next week. Either way… he did want to see you again, to make sure you were okay. He wasn’t sure what all injuries you had sustained, just that, with a larger group of people with greater wounds, you got knocked down on the list of those who would be tended to by pro healers. Until everyone in front of you was good to go, you would have to heal on your own.

         “Fine,” he finally grumbled. “Let’s go.”

         The sun was setting by the time Bakugo and his teacher reached the hospital. A red glow illuminated the walls, streaming through every window it could reach and blaring into the boy’s eyes. Hands still deep in his pockets, he passed through the halls without so much as a glance at anyone else who walked by. Dread plunged a hole in his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had already decided to see you. He could take whatever ridiculous scolding you had prepared for him. He wasn’t scared of you.

         As soon as Aizawa indicated which door was yours, he threw it open with an unintentional blast from his palm. You looked better than the last time he saw you. The minor scrapes and bumps were nearly healed, though the worse ones were still covered with bandages. On of your arms was wrapped and tucked in a sling, but you were very much alive. The fear from his sudden entrance faded after a brief second. He would never admit it, but it was a relief to see you alive.

         “What do you wan-”

         Before he could finish the question, you had crossed the room, and your good arm was wrapped around him. He froze. The cold that had crept in when you were taken from his grasp was filled again. Uncertain of what to do, he stood motionless, unable to move, staring at you in stunned silence.

         “Thank you,” you whispered and clutched him a little tighter, “for saving me.”

         It wasn’t perfect. He could have done so much better, but you seemed mostly alright. Next time, he would do better. If not for himself or the next people who would need rescuing, then for you. “Yeah.” A loose arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Any time.”

[applegelstore]

Hey! Just wanted to drop by and say I really love your art and seeing your content! Along with the ideas you speak of sometimes. It's so nice to see because it looks like you enjoy what you do. It's an inspiration, really. I also wanted to ask, what's your inspiration? And what keeps you motivated? And this next one might be a bit personal, but do you have moments of self doubt? How do you deal with it?

Hi! First of all, thanks a lot for the ask, I don’t get personal questions about my art very often, so it’s very cool to see that some people are actual people and not porn bots, and are actually interested in the things I post!

Now for the actual ask, which I’ll totally have to divide into parts. I’ll also set a cut because it got hella long. Now, let’s go!

I have a very bad habit of word vomiting whenever I post art. It’s not only ever since I’ve started binge drawing Zesty fanart, I’ve pretty much always been like this ever since I started posting art on the internet about… 12 years ago at the very least?It used to be a lot of musing about the art itself (like, “what do you think, should I have tried this or that?” or “I had trouble with this thing” or “I actually like how whatever turned out”), which is probably due to the fact that teenage me had still a lot to learn and wasn’t afraid to admit that and ask for advice. I mostly posted my art online to get some peer advice.Nowadays, I am still aware of my shortcomings, but I don’t talk about the technical aspects of my art that often anymore. Nowadays, I have two reasons for posting art online: 1) I’m trying to make a living out of this shit, so naturally I’m trying to make as many people as possible aware of the fact that I exist. 2) I just wanna talk about the thing ™. Honestly. Never underestimate either of these points. That’s why there’s very often so much text and ranting in the tags. Because. I. want. to. talk. about. the. thing. I have an unholy amount of sticky notes on my desktop with ideas of things I’d either like to do because I think it would be subjectively cool, or because it might be a good addition to my portfolio. (spoilers: the former usually gets done like a decade earlier)I’m very glad that the sparks fly over and it shows that I love the things I love! ♥The result is novel-length descriptions for single sketches and tag vomit, though, lol.

“I also wanted to ask, what’s your inspiration?”

There’s no easy answer to that. First of all, it sounds a bit as if I was actively looking for inspiration. Which I am not. As I said, I rather have too many ideas and end up scrapping an unholy amount because even if I only do doodle shitpost sketches there’s no way I can do it all in a lifetime. I don’t know whether you had been implying that I actively look for inspiration or not, but if you did, let me tell you that I don’t. If you didn’t mean to imply that, no harm done.However, that doesn’t mean I don’t GET any. Because of course I get my inspiration from all kinds of places. I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I love going to the cinema and hearing the sounds and get eye candy (I love epic shots with the camera panning over landscapes and cool action scenes. Also, go watch The Secret of Kells, everyone). I always come out of blockbuster movies feeling like I wanna do something epic, too. I always listen to a whole lot of music, too, and there’s way too many songs that make me want to tell stories, and that plant pictures in the cinema in my head.(there was a time before Tales of Zestiria when I did original art and most of my paintings had some kind of musical inspiration lol. My stories, too).

Then there’s style and subject matter.Style first. I stopped aiming for a specific style pretty early on (like, late teens), and just accepted what came to me and works for me. The result is the weird anime not quite anime semi realism mixture that I have going, and the ratio usually varies depending on what I currently want to do. If I gave you a list of my favorite artists, you’d probably be surprised how little my own art has in common with theirs.Subject matter? WELLLLLL my original stuff comes from what I told you above, additionally, I studied medieval literature for a reason, and I loved mythological tales from my teenage years onwards. I’m much less enthusiastic about them now, but it used to influence my original art for quite a few years.…Also, I obviously like to do fanart. Like, a lot.

Also spoilers: I obviously love Zesty a tiny bit too much, because for no other fandom the streak of fanart has ever been holding up for two years and still counting without an end in sight, and I’ve never come up with any AUs, either. Usually my ideas went straight into original material, and this original material usually got top priority, but here it’s different, and I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, haha. So basically don’t wait for my original stories* until I’m either a) done with the Zesty fandom or they’ve united and kicked me out or b) I’ve actually drawn at least four more full scale elaborate illustrations, have created the four or five AUs that I keep doodling for and ranting about, and I have finally run out of steam. Bets are up what happens first.

If you want specifics, it’s always easier to determine inspiration for a particular piece than in general. It can be so many different things.

* Although I still very, very much like some of my ideas and would actually love to do them. I just love to do low-effort Zesty fanart more XD. Shocking! But honestly, I am as surprised as anyone else that my muses shifted as much as they have, and mid-twenties me would never have guessed she’d fall into this rabbit hole in no time…

“And what keeps you motivated?”

I never… really needed to push myself to be motivated. It’s always been intrinsic. I had pictures in my head, I wanted them out. So I had to learn how, and do it. I have ideas in my head. I want to share them. I very much like this thing others have made. I want to tell the entire world how much I love it, so I do by drawing fanart. Simple as that.Positive responses (and asks like this!!) are a great motivator to POST art, but not to DO the art. The latter is intrinsic.Actually, probably TOO intrinsic. Because I keep drawing the things I WANT to draw and not those which would teach me new skills and thus help with “make money with art” thing. So I guess it’s a bit of a mixed bag, haha.I started drawing daily instead of just regularly at some point during my master’s studies, so roughly 8-5 years ago? Whenever I’m on the road or beaten by illness or bad feelings, I sometimes only manage very simple, super bad sketches, but it’s better than nothing. Luckily, it’s not like that every day (still more often that I’d like to, though).

If you’re wondering:Yes, I’ve had artblocks. Usually not in the sense of “I don’t have ideas”, but VERY MUCH in the sense of “I don’t feel like any of the ideas I have right now” and also “nothing I touch turns out the way I want it to turn out”. To all artists out there: it goes away. Believe me. Your stupid period will be over next week (to the guys out there: that’s not a joke. It DOES affect my general condition). It will be better the moment YOU feel better from whatever you’re currently suffering from.Yes, I’ve also scrapped ideas not because I didn’t like them after all, but because I tried and just failed repeatedly at executing them. Yes, I’ve had such bad times in life that I didn’t want to do ANYTHING. That included art. I just. didn’t. want. to. do. anything. Sometimes I still have these phases, but at least it no longer lasts for months straight without break.

“And this next one might be a bit personal, but do you have moments of self doubt?”

Pfft. Of course. Show me an artist who hasn’t. I’ve learned by now that you can acquire every skill you want. The question is whether you have the time and the will for it. If I had started drawing daily much earlier in life, and if I’d practiced more of the things I’m not good at instead of doodle shitposting, I’d be at an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT level than I am now. Even if I had STILL studied what I studied as I did (as I said, medieval literature, nothing art related). I’ve been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil and my parents have always been supportive, so that wasn’t a problem, I just wasn’t aware all these years that it could be something future me might want. Past me couldn’t have KNOWN. It’s okay, in a way. I can do the things I WANT to do by now. Not always as majestically as the ideas deserve, but it does the job. I don’t need to be able to do hyper realistic portraits, or hyper detailed interiors of space ships, for example. (it would be cool to be able to draw musical instruments tho. I’d love to learn 2D animation, too, but WHEN??) In short, am I aware that I’m not god and that my skills are limited in comparison to many other artists? Yes. Is that a problem? No.Do I doubt whether I can do my job, though? Very much yes. Because successful freelance artists don’t only need skill, they need to sell themselves, and I suck at that most epically. Do I miss the times when I didn’t even think about becoming better but simply drew for fun? Pretty much, yeah. Do I miss the times when I still had the ability to concentrate on elaborate, large paintings? Yes, I do. But I can’t turn my brain back to 10 year old. So I’ll have to deal with what I have now.

If you’re wondering whether I had moments of self doubt about my ideas, then, yes, very super much yes. I am convinced that the things you produce should be what YOU want to see. I want to draw what I want and tell the stories I WANT TO SEE AND READ. As I said, I’m doing it because I want these things to exist. Does it still hurt if nobody else likes these ideas? Yes, yes it does very much. It’s not even that I start thinking my ideas were bad, but that I start thinking “Nobody understands me and nobody will ever be able to like me because they don’t like my ideas, and my ideas are part of me”. Which is true, but it is ALSO true that you do not have to like every single idea some other person has to like them or be friends with them, I am aware of that, but if I may be honest here, it’s still a thought that I can’t quite get rid of, and still gets me angsty whenever I share some of my story ideas with anyone.

“How do you deal with it?”

I don’t. Ahem. Truth be told, I never really developed a proper coping mechanism for failures, and I don’t exactly like that about myself, but I still haven’t found a proper solution. As much as I stress that I do the things I do because I actually want to, I also told you that it scares me to see people disagreeing. It’s not only art related, whenever I feel I messed something up (school ie. marks, socialisation, whatever), it eats at me for days or even weeks until something positive happens (like, better marks, a compliment, anything). I don’t really like it, mostly because it starts a vicious cycle, but that’s how it is. I had surprisingly little problems with that during my university years because I had good marks, but I still mess up at least 50% of all the social interaction I do. It’s not always that easy with art, either.Story time.I remember one conversation with an artist who’s teaching art classes at my (ex) university, like, portrait drawings and flower paintings. So at some point when I started trying to live on art, I asked her whether she’d be interested in offering classes for other art styles as well, like comic drawing classes. She said she’d be interested, so I wanted to talk to her in person, but she never replied to that email reply. I decided to be bold for once, grabbed my portfolio, and went to her after one of her classes to show her what I’m doing. Put on the spot, she admitted that she didn’t reply any further because she didn’t like what I was doing. It was good from a technical aspect, but it seemed dull and uninspired to her, like something she had seen too many times already.I was devastated.I’ve always had to deal with underwhelming responses from peers and friends, too, but I also got some really sweet reactions and genuine support, so it was kind of a mixed bag, overall. I wasn’t used to that kind of harsh rejection of who I am.

Am I also very, VERY petty and jealous? Hell, yes. I get VERY jealous whenever I see people whose art is on my level or below but they still manage to make money with it, and have 10-100 times the amount of followers I have and/or get more enthusiastic responses online. It just makes me angry. The only way of coping I’ve ever found is stay the fuck away. I KNOW that it’s not these people’s fault if I’m jealous, and goddamn, freelance artist life is hard enough as it is. We don’t need to tear other apart. Surely they worked their asses off to be where they are. Heck, I’m friends with some. I keep away from those people so I can calm down and stop being angry, before I start lashing out at artists just because they get the attention they need and deserve. It’s not THEIR fault that I need money and also reassurance.

The only thing that ever worked for me to overcome any of these issues is just continue nevertheless. Keep doing what you’re doing. Remember what you love and why and JUST KEEP DOING IT. Even if you don’t see the point right now. Chances are you will see that point again. Maybe you never will. But IF you ever do, you want to make damn sure that you didn’t drop the ball in the meantime. There’s that saying that you can lose if you fight, but you can’t win if you never fight. It’s true. Be stubborn and show the world your middle finger.Spoilers: I’m teaching comic style drawing classes for the “rivaling” institute now. Always only in super small groups and it’s badly paid, so I don’t know for how long I’ll be able to keep it up, but it’s a start, right?

I hope that answered your questions!

Last remark: always remember, kids: you HAVE to produce the content you want to see yourself. Nobody is gonna do it for you unless you pay them. So. I’m doing it. Against better judgment, lol.…and watch The Secret of Kells.

[ddproductionsw77]

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love (Pt. 4)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle

Story Description: "The only thing the two seemed able to agree upon was that Abigail Adams was definitely not big enough for the both of them." Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus have hated each other from the first day of Freshmen year, but now they have to spend the rest of their Senior year chemistry partners.

Author’s Note: So, I've decided to keep Electronic Configuration rated T. I will, however, warn you guys up here in the notes whenever a chapter has the potential to stray into M territory. Again, I never write anything graphic but I still don't want to offend any of you guys! I love you too much!! Please give me feedback, like Lady Gaga, I live for the applause.

Riley sat with her knees tucked up to her chin, hugging her legs, on the bench of her classic bay window. Outside, the sky was pitch black, shifting into a gradient with the glow of the New York cityscape below. The stars were clouded behind fog and light pollution, the moon just barely a sliver of luminescent yellow contradicting to the bleakness of everything else.

She wished there would be a falling star or a comet. Something she could wish on.

How could she have been so stupid?

She’d let herself be swept up the moment, caught up in Farkle and his smile and her name on his lips. Kissing him had been a mistake. He didn’t have feelings like that for her. He’d called himself her friend practically seconds before she flung herself at him, for God’s sake!

Riley was humiliated.

She didn’t even understand her own actions. She had focused most of her time and energy over the years to academics and extracurriculars; the rest dedicated to Maya and her family. Despite being a hopeless romantic, Riley had sacrificed dating to ensure she would achieve her goals, like Columbia.

She’d had crushes, sure, one even on Farkle’s best friend, Lucas Friar, not too long ago but this was different. This, he, was all she could ever think about anymore. She worried for him, missed him, longed for the next moment she would be able to be beside him.

Riley had never felt more out-of-control in her life.

It was only going to get worse tomorrow when she had to face Farkle for the first time since her complete lapse of control and judgment. Knowing what a dick the boy could be, he’d probably laugh at her or sneer at her feelings for him…

No, A tiny voice whispered hopefully in the back of her head, He wouldn’t do that. Things are different now and you know that. You know he feels something for you.

But did he?

Farkle called her a friend, accepted her help, and seemed to like spending time with her but none of that meant he was in love with her.

Riley stopped breathing, her heart skipping a beat.

In love? Where the hell had that come from?

Because having a silly, school-girl crush on Farkle or liking him as more than a friend was one thing but being in love with him… She couldn’t be in love with him! She didn’t even know what that would feel like so obviously she was just tripping over her own thoughts and thinking too much again and wondering about things that were just… not true.

There was a light knock on her bedroom door, pulling her from her jumbled brain. She turned to the door and rested her head against her knees caps, calling softly, "Come in."

The door swung open and Riley's mother, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews, ducked her head around the wood. She had a look of confusion and concern on her face as she stepped into the bedroom, "Why are you still up?"

"Why are you?" Riley asked with a tired, teasing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. As a hard working, high-profile, New York lawyer and small business owner, Riley's mother rarely stayed up past her own teenage daughter. She was mocked relentlessly for it by her husband and children.

Topanga crossed her arms over her chest and gave Riley a look before stepping over to the bay window and sitting beside her daughter, "Everything okay?"

The brunette considered the question, furrowing her brow and inspecting her bony toes, "I need to repaint my toenails. They're chipped."

The mother looked her child over before nodding. She got up, finding Riley's favorite-as-of-late blue nail polish and sat back down, patting her lap. Without a word, Riley settled her feet into her mother's lap and watched as Topanga began repainting the nails.

They were silent for a moment before her mother prompted her again, "Anything besides clipped paint you want to talk about?"

Riley bit her cheek and looked out the window, "Have you ever done something without thinking? And it seems like now you can't fix it but you also don't really want to and... And you just confused?"

"Well," Topanga gave her daughter an amused sideways glance, "I think so but you might have to give me more than that for me to help you out, Sweetie."

"There's... this boy," The girl finally admitted, reluctantly. She felt her mother pause between nails but pressed on anyway, "I think that I might really like him but we're just friends and Friday I-" She blushed scarlet and picked at her fingernails, chipping those as well, "I might have kissed him."

A squeal erupted from her mother, causing the girl to look at her wide eyed and flush even redder. Topanga held up a hand and took a deep breath, "Sorry. Sorry, Sweetie! You're just to grown up now and-"

"Mom!"

"I know! I know! Okay, so you kissed him. Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” Riley sighed, flicking some hair out of her field of vision, “Because we could not be more mixed-matched if we tried. He’s so confusing and everything with him is like one step forward and three back and I never know what he’s thinking! And even if all that were different, he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Topanga gave her daughter a questioning look, “If you never know what he’s thinking, how do you know he doesn’t?”

Riley opened her mouth to reply, thinking back for a moment on the way Farkle’s blue eyes had seemed to crackle as he looked down at her, right before she had kissed him. She recalled the grip he’d had on her hips, how he’d practically crushed her against him.

How kissing him had felt a little like playing with fire…

She closed her mouth, furrowing her brow.

He fucking kissed Riley Matthews… and liked it. And very, very much wanted to do it again.

This was not an outcome he’d been anticipating. No educated guess he’d concocted upon first being paired with Riley could have possibly prepared him for this.

She was Riley, for god’s sakes! Farkle couldn’t have even imagined speaking to her without wanted to throttle her a month ago and now…

Well, now things were different. And confusing. And maybe even a little… intriguing?

She was intriguing, at least. 

Riley, honestly, had always seemed kind of boring to him from afar. She was the classic, sweet, smart, teacher’s pet that no one really hated but only a few really liked. People called her a prude from time-to-time and Farkle had laughed because how could a girl who looked like that be a senior in high school and never had a boyfriend?

He’d always assumed she thought she was just better than everyone else, above all the drama of dating. Farkle had thought she was a snob.

But the way she’d kissed him like she was composed of raw energy and passion. Riley had made him breathless, like she was trying to kill him, like a siren dragging him down to the deepest depths of the ocean. 

Sparks, silk, and vibrant color.

That was Riley Matthews.

She was a warmth that Farkle had never fully had in his life. His mother was chiseled from ice, after all, and his father’s distance always left the whole penthouse cold. His friends helped, sure, but they’d always seemed separate from him. Like they were too far away to hear him through the static. 

But Riley was pure sunlight and solar flare, blinding him when he looked too closely but deathly to him when they were parted.

She was soft, something he’d always thought a weakness before. Only, the more kindness and forgiveness he saw Riley give without condition, the more he wished he could be capable of that. Maybe it was how he was raised but everything had a price, even made-up ideas like love, and Farkle was still sort of waiting to see what Riley’s play really was.

But she never demanded anything in return for giving him her time or energy. Even weeks ago, when she still couldn’t stand him, she had openly and easily offered her sympathy and understanding, her grace.

Grace that Farkle only understood enough to know it was undeserved.

She scared him, honestly. She was a wild card, an unpredictable element. But he couldn’t tear himself away anymore, had either lost the fight to or just didn’t care anymore.

Because kissing Riley had felt a little like drowning in a riptide…

And Farkle really didn’t want to think too much about that.

The next morning came with a sense of uncertainty for Farkle Minkus.

It had been a while since he'd been nervous about walking the halls of his school. Once upon a time, the anxiety of that simple act had been ingrained into his daily routine but it had been a few years since he'd been that boy. Being friends with Lucas and Zay, learning to not react, over time he'd just grown into... someone else.

Someone who was not necessarily more confident but just cared less?

Caring was effort and irrational. It screwed with his head and Farkle hated nothing more than being clouded. Scientists, realists, like him had to be clear-minded and unaffected by silly emotional ties. Besides, it looked positively exhausting to have as many feelings as most of his peers seemed to.

So, Farkle didn't usually care.

But this thing with Riley Matthews, well, he couldn't really help it.

Nervously glancing toward her locker, Farkle saw that she was nowhere in sight and felt both relieved and disappointed. He hadn't wanted to talk to her or anything, didn't want to seem desperate, but seeing her would have... not been unwelcomed.

The locker beside him slammed shut and started him, causing him to smack his forehead into the door of his own. Groaning and rubbing his brow, Farkle glared at a grinning Zay.

The other boy laughed, glancing over at their third musketeer, Lucas, "I think it's about time that our boy here admits he's smitten. What do you think, Lucas?"

The blonde boy smirked and rolled his eyes, "Sure, Zay."

"Kindly fuck off, would you?" Farkle asked, closing his locker and tugging at his hair. He glanced back at Riley's locker again. She was still not there. "I am not 'smitten'. This isn't the Roaring 20s."

His two friends looked at each other, eyebrows quirked. Looking back at Farkle, Lucas sighed, "You know it's okay to like a girl, right? Even Riley Matthews."

Farkle chuckled, "You make it sound like I've never dated before. Remember, I had a girlfriend for two years."

"So, you do want Riley to be your girlfriend?" Zay sang, knowingly.

The young genius clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his eyes, "I don't."

"Oh," The boy nodded, tapping their other friend on his arm. "I mean, I guess that's good for Lucas. Right, Lucas?"

Both Farkle and Lucas looked at Zay in confusion.

After a moment, a look of realization passed over Mr. Perfect's face and he cleared his throat, nodding, "Uh, yeah!"

"What?" Farkle asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lucas shrugged, "Well, Riley's pretty cool and since you don't like her, I was thinking about asking her out. You wouldn't mind, right?"

Of course, Farkle thought while digging his nails into his palms, Of fucking course, Lucas was interested in Riley.

It made sense, from a Darwinistic standpoint, for Lucas to be interested in Riley. They were both optimists, both bright and shiny people. Two supernovas, lighting up the galaxy together like Hera and Zeus, while he and Riley... they were opposites.

The only connection between them was the natural attraction of unlike forces; Farkle knew that. He knew that even something as bright as a quasar could be consumed if it passed too close to a black hole. He didn’t belong in Riley’s gravitational belt, but perhaps Lucas did.

Objectively, it made sense.

It was at least a hypothesis worth testing.

Still, ice pierced his chest because the idea of Riley Matthews with one of his best friends; it made his stomach curl. No, it made him want to punch Lucas, to sock him right in that Mr. Perfect smile of his until all that Southern Charm was long gone and moving on.

See how Lucas liked being beaten down for a change…

Confident, cold, uncaring; it was how his mother always played it and maybe Farkle was a bit more like her than he liked to admit. Unclenching his jaw and forcing his hands out of the fists they'd locked themselves into, Farkle shifted his book bag on his shoulder and shrugged.

"Do what you want, Lucas."

Farkle really wanted to punch his best friend... But he wished that he didn’t care at all even more.

Riley fiddled with her Breast cancer pink pen and tried desperately to focus on the AB Calculus equation before her. It was one of those problems that, between the formula and the proof, took up an entire notebook page. She had thought she'd solved it but her answer didn't match the textbook.

"Hey, Riley!"

The brunette turned her head up, smiling as Lucas Friar approached her desk. It was a work day and the teacher, Mrs. Armani, had left them to their own devices with the simple instructions of staying quiet.

Sitting up, Riley drummed her pen on her thigh, "Lucas!"

She guessed that they were friends now, right?

He was Farkle's best friend and since she had still managed to postpone speaking to the genius, she assumed that they were technically still ‘friends' as well. Riley tried not to think about the pathetic crush she’d had on the Texan back in freshman year, but her cheeks still tinted pink.

Lucas came to stand before her, glancing over his shoulder before setting his notebook down on her desk and leaning down, into her space. Startled, Riley jerked back and laughed, nervously, as the boy smiled at her.

“Sorry,” Lucas gave her back some space, resting his elbows on her desktop, “I just had a quick question.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Riley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Well, I mean, I can try to help but Farkle took AB last year s-“


“Not about Calc, Riley.” The boy smirked and Riley could feel herself blush. She wasn’t used to such direct attention from someone so, well, attractive. Besides, maybe Farkle… so not the time, Matthews.

Shifting in her seat, the brunette nodded, “Oh! Um, okay?”

Lucas licked his lips and sighed, looking over his shoulder again. Craning her neck a little, Riley could see Zay standing in the doorway of the classroom, gesturing wildly to his friend. Giggling, the girl narrowed her eyes as Lucas whirled back around to look at her, “What are you two up to?”

“Would you like to go out with me? Thursday night?” Lucas shot out, startling the poor girl for about the third time. Riley’s lips parted slightly, eyes widening in confusion. The Texan cleared his throat and slowly looked up to meet her warm, brown eyes, “It’s the start of the long weekend, so…”

Go out? With Lucas Friar?

At fifteen, Riley would have been staring at the boy, mouth open like a whale and a grin so big on her face it might have split it. She would have nodded and chanted ‘yes’ and walked on clouds for the rest of her life. She’d have gone home and doodled ‘Riley Friar’ until her notebook ran out of pages.

So, why did she feel nothing but dread at being asked now?

Because you wish it wasn’t him asking.

Swallowing, Riley bit her lip and gave Lucas an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry but I can’t. There’s just…” She glanced down at her fiddling hands and shrugged, “Something else going on?”

Lucas looked oddly relieved and nodded slowly, “Yeah! I get it, Riley. No problem! Just let me know if you happen to change your mind, okay?”


“Sure,” Riley agreed, smiling politely as Lucas made his way back across the classroom.

He was a very pretty boy…

But he didn’t make Riley’s heart race.

God, why couldn’t life just be nice and have Farkle ask her out instead?

The moment had come and Riley was still completely unprepared.

Stepping into the chemistry classroom seconds before the bell rang, the brunette was both relieved and disappointed to see Farkle already copying notes at their usual table. She felt a hand pat her back and gave Maya, who had a smug smirk on her face, a glare.

Making her way to her seat, Riley shakily set her textbook down on the table and glanced over at Farkle, “Minkus.”

The boy paused in his writing for just a second before continuing on as if she hadn’t spoken. Riley’s stomach rolled, the bundle of nerves in her gut making her eyes water. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, “Your weekend?”

Farkle shrugged, silently. He still hadn’t so much as looked at her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why had she kissed him? Why, oh why?

Still, even if he didn’t like her, he could at least… talk to her? Right?

Riley started one last time, “I actually thought a lot during mine. About what happened last week… Or Friday night… Or between-“

“Matthews, I’m trying to work so that we can actually pass this assignment and get out of each other’s hair so would you please?” Farkle cut her off, finally dropping his pen to look right at her.

The girl swallowed hard, eyes burning. Get out of each other’s hair… But Riley really liked Farkle’s hair. She could remember gripping on to it and the feel of down feathers between her fingers as he took her lower lip into his mouth and clasped her hips.

Blinking and bewildered, Riley tried to keep herself calm.

Maybe this was just one of those mood swings Farkle always seemed to be getting into. Maybe he’d had a bad weekend at home. Maybe it wasn’t really her and it was just bad timing. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

“Planning on being a dead weight all period?” Farkle’s voice broke through the fog in her brain and made her snap to attention. He had finished copying the notes and was glaring at her blank paper.

“No!” She snapped, coming back to herself as irritation flared to life in her chest. “Planning on being a dick all period?”

“You’re right, Matthews,” The genius shot her a sarcastic smile with cold, icy blue eyes, “I am a dick but at least I don’t throw myself at someone and then run off the second a better offer comes along.”

Riley stared at him, dumbfounded. How did he even know about Lucas? And what did he mean ‘run off’ when she had turned the other boy down? And all in hopes that he would get the courage to ask her out himself, for fuck’s sake!

So, Farkle thought that little of her?

That she would kiss him and then go out with his best friend days later?

Well, fucking fine. He wants to be right about every damn thing? I’ll let him be right!

Biting her lip and glaring at her paper, Riley shook her head. Anger boiled in her blood and in that moment, she just wanted to make Farkle feel like shit for once. He did it so often to her, it only seemed fair.

Leveling her chin and checking to be sure Mr. Hudson wasn’t paying attention but Farkle was, Riley called lowly across the classroom, “Lucas!”

The boy, a few tables ahead of them, turned around questioningly. He glanced at his best friend, who sat tensely beside Riley, before quirking an eyebrow to the girl who’d summoned him.

Smiling in a way that looked painfully rehearsed, she said, “I changed my mind. I’d like to go out with you Thursday.” She glanced at Farkle from the corner of her eye and found him watching her with those cold, calculating eyes. “Turns out that ‘something else’ was really nothing.”

“Oh,” Lucas nodded slowly before grinning uncertainly, “Great.”

And with that, Riley Matthews began copying her notes down with a well-hidden sense of dread in the pit of her stomach and a quiver in her handwriting.

Changed her mind?

Changed her mind…

Changed her mind!

Farkle couldn’t get it out of his head. Riley had said she had ‘changed her mind’ and wanted to go out with Lucas.

Meaning that she’d originally turned Lucas down and Farkle had assumed the worst of her. 

Could he really be blamed for that? Most of the people he’d met only had the worst of themselves left; it had always been difficult to believe there was a human as fundamentally kind as Riley. So, he’d made an assumption based on past behaviors and solid reasoning and, yeah, he’d gotten it wrong but should that really cost him any chance at…

At what?

Because Farkle hadn’t been exactly lying that morning when Zay had asked him about Riley and used that word, girlfriend. Farkle didn’t want Riley Matthews to be his girlfriend; he didn’t have time or energy or motivation for a girlfriend.

He just knew he liked her. He just wanted to be with her and have her all to himself and kiss her like she’d kissed him on Friday. Completely different.

Not that it matters now, you asshole. A real stellar job there, Minkus.

While the ‘changed her mind’ part of Riley’s words had stung and made him want to sink into the Earth, it was the last thing she had said that really cut to the bone.

That ‘something else’ was really nothing.

Was… was he the ‘something else’? And subsequently, the nothing?

Had Riley actually, in some cruel twist of fate or destiny or whatever it was idiot’s believed in, had some kind of feelings for him and now she didn’t? Was that how feelings like this worked? One second you had them and the next you didn’t because you were offended? That didn’t sound right.

And that didn’t feel right, Farkle realized as he glanced over at a fuming Riley again. Riley had offended him too and he was still very… fuck it, smitten with her. Maybe…

But no, because Riley had said that he was ‘nothing’. His mother had told him that a few times after one too many glasses of wine. He’d documented it in his own notes, trying to prove his theory about being a living black hole. Farkle knew Riley was right, just like he knew he shouldn’t care and should stay rational and unemotional.

Only, Farkle still wanted to drown in Riley Matthews and he knew that wasn’t rational.

Aren’t these two just so fucking FRUSTRATING!?!?! Like, just bang guys, for real. Everyone wants ya to… Haha, anyway… I hope you guys like this update and are interested to see how this little triangle/totally-not-gonna-work date drama goes!

[themediareviewer]

The Rules of Ever After

By Killian B. Brewer, 2015. Fiction/comedy book.

This will be a bit of an odd entry, but what is this blog if not a union of the common and the odd? This book was lent to me by one of my friends, who guaranteed the story was right up my alley. And I have to admit, I do have a weakness for stories that break the rules right from the start. You know what I’m referring to, right? Those stories that made Peter Pan grow up, those TV shows that decided to follow the villain instead of the hero, or even those movies that decided that your “true love” might be someone who raised you, instead of the one you want to marry. In short, I like stories that, right from the getgo, throw a bit of chaos into my otherwise predictable world. That is why The Rules of Ever After (2015) had me intrigued from its very premise. 

Now, it’s pretty hard not mentioning any spoilers while reviewing this book. However, I will try my best to keep the description pretty superficial and the plot points as vague as possible. 

Personally, I find that the best part of this book by far is its willingness to embrace the different and the absurd. Why are there Rules that one must follow in order to live happily ever after? the book seems to ask us. Why can’t everyone and anyone be happy as long as they are not hurting someone else? I find that those are very fair questions, and although Brewer hammers them a bit too forcefully at times, I found it almost added to the book’s comedy. Look at these rules! Look at how ridiculous they are! it screamed. And with such ridiculous rules, ridiculous actions (and just as ridiculous counter-actions) ensue. As much as this is not the type of story for everyone, I found its quirky humour to fit very well within my broad taste of humour. And it helps that it seemed like the author was having great fun considering all the ways in which he could manipulate and distort the old fairy tales.

Now, I have heard a lot of people complaining about studios like Disney who make very simplistic stories, with caricatural characters and blunt messages, but here’s my take on it: These stories (this book included) belong to a new generation of fairy tales, one that has evolved with our ever shifting values and moral compasses. When Aesop and LaFontaine were first making their stories (which are now famous classics of literature), they weren’t striving for “realistic” stories, I don’t think. There aren’t that many hares that go around racing turtles, or mice that set lions free, or scorpions that travel on turtles’ backs… Not as far as I know, at least. The point of these tales was often to pass very simple messages to their readers, who were often younger and had to have big notions boiled down to their simplest possible form. When I read “The Fox and the Crow” (Aesop) for the first time, I didn’t particularly care about the Crow’s backstory, neither did I ask myself if the Fox had a family or if its siblings were currently fighting for the family’s heirloom. The fact that contemporary fairy tales have become considerably more detailed than Aesop and LaFontaine’s, should be celebrated in my opinion, not admonished for their simplicity. Not all stories have the same objective, and we as readers, should respect that. As such, I feel that Brewer’s point wasn’t to make a master piece of literature per se, but rather introduce a few messages of acceptance through his book. And that is always a noble aim in my opinion. 

Now, when it comes to the actual “literature” of the book, Brewer does an acceptable job. Most of the main characters are very clearly the “good characters” and have plenty of redeemable qualities that forgive any of their flaws. I would go as far as saying that the author almost helps these characters to be all-too likeable. Sometimes, he would make one of his characters do something terrible, and then conveniently decrease the consequences of the character’s actions to zero. Now, wouldn’t it be wonderful if all the good people in the world had their flaws and mistakes erased by some benevolent author? Well, Brewer definitely seemed to think so, and he didn’t seem to shy away from some plot manipulation to get the ending that he wanted for each of his characters. Personally, I do tend to find these “cheats” a bit tiresome if overused, particularly because, if there is a happy ending, I want to feel that the characters have earned it. So when an author seems too present, i.e. he’s making things too easy for the protagonists, the reader might start feeling bad for the poor antagonist who is basically fighting against the All-Mighty Author who wants him or her to fail. I do concede that I don’t mind reading stories where good things happen to good people, but I feel that The Rules of Ever After walks a very thin line between respecting karma and imposing it. I almost wish the characters had struggled a bit more throughout the story, but I suppose that, since the book never seems to take itself too seriously, it doesn’t call for an all too serious ending.

The dialog is a good part of what makes this book enjoyable. As I mentioned above, the characters are quite likeable, which ends up making their conversations likeable and entertaining, too. There are simple bits like:

“Actually, Phillip, we don’t spend a lot of time hanging out in gambling halls and taverns.” “Even if some of us have asked nicely,” James mumbled.

The idea is simple; while one character is proudly stating that they aren’t hooligans, the other admits that it’s not for a lack of trying. Contrasts often make for the strongest humour in my opinion, and this book is full of contrasts! It’s not necessarily the most well-versed dialog but it definitely gets the story going and it brought quite a few grins to my face.

Finally, I should mention the writing, because it is an important aspect of this book. Now, we all know that there are some authors that get stuck describing things a bit more than necessary. The rule of thumb from creative writing teachers seems to be that, if you’re not making the reader think, laugh, or learn something new about the characters, you probably shouldn’t be dwelling on it for too long. (Dickens is probably laughing at that as I write it.) This is, however, a “rule” that Brewer breaks, a bit to his loss. It was difficult to get through his prose because of how clunky it could get, particularly during action scenes. Often, I felt that if I read only the dialog of a chapter, I had more than enough information to understand the story. Not only that, but when I did skip the description, the pacing of the story was actually quite good. Add the description though and any momentum he had built in the story was instantly gone. Take this  section for instance: (**warning, spoiler for the following three paragraphs**)

“‘You want to change all the rules when you are king? Well, you cannot be king until this one is dead!’ Cauchemar screamed as she pointed to King Henry. ‘We shall see about that!’ Flinging her arm toward the king, Cauchemar shot a wave of brilliant blue light across the room at the old man. King Henry lifted his arm in fright; his jaw dropped open. As the light hit him, he toppled to the floor, his arm frozen in front of him and his face seized in fear. Phillip’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at where his father had fallen at his feet. The king did not move; his eyes stared blankly. ‘You killed my father!’ Phillip screamed. He dropped to the ground and grabbed his father’s frozen body.”

It’s a very clear description of the action… But perhaps too clear? Now, had this sequence taken place in fewer sentences, I feel it could have been much more striking and even shocking! Something like:

“‘You want to change the rules little prince? Well, you cannot be king until this one is dead!’ Cauchemar shrieked as a blast of brilliant blue light crossed the room and hit King Henry in the chest. His body toppled to the floor — his arm lifted in fright, his jaw frozen in an eternal scream. Phillip dropped to his father’s side. ‘You killed him!’ he screamed.”

(***end of spoiler***) 

Now, writing is incredibly hard, and it’s sometimes frustrating to describe an image that is just so clear in our minds. I am not saying that the writing on the second version is better, but I wanted to illustrate how much room there was for some editing.  Brewer could have trusted his own words a bit more, and given the readers a bit more room to interpret his descriptions. That could have really lightened the prose and made for a much better (and shorter!) read, I think.

In conclusion, this book was a “sweet” find — you know, one of those stories you read when you have a few minutes to spare, and when you leave, 5 minutes later, you have a tiny grin on your face? — The dialog made me laugh, the characters were quirky and the themes gave me food for thought. In other words, it was an endearing and pleasant surprise — though maybe not one for everyone.

[disrepairhouse]

Chapter 34 - Updating

When Metal Sonic told RK to test his new leg to ensure it was working properly, this wasn’t what he meant.  He watched with equal parts ‘I told you so’ amusement and irritation while the large red echidna stood and tapped his foot impatiently, going through the endless sea of text messages and voicemails from the human woman down the street.  RK hadn’t wanted to put it off too long after he got all the updates on the return home since they both knew full-well that she would show up at their door before long, likely with questions (if not demands), and RK needed to be prepared to deal with her.  However, he hadn’t expected there to be quite so many.

They started out simple enough.  A quick ‘just making sure this number works’ that turned into a frantic confirmation of Chaos’ awakening and eventually Itara’s return home with Metal and Ned.  He heard in great detail about the state Itara was in when she returned home via said voicemail, he was grateful to Ned for taking her to a hospital so quickly. However, what should have been the end of the voicemails only continued into more concerned messages that questioned where he was at, if he was okay, why he was taking so long to return home, if he knew that Itara was home, that she’d tried to wait for him to ‘wake up’ at some point, and eventually devolved into repeated texts of the same ilk. Apparently, she got tired of talking -RK didn’t think that possible- and decided to test whether texts would work.

He was going to pretend he never saw those.

He couldn’t get out of her knowing he had a phone number to call him by, but at the very least he could pretend his ‘phone’ was basic enough that it didn’t receive texts.

Once he was finally done going through and deleting every message from Lynda, making a note to let her know he at least received them at a later point, he reached up to rub the side of his head.  At least everyone was home safe and in one piece. Mostly.  He dragged the news about Kipper and his disappearance out of Itara after he finished sharing files with Metal and was overall wholly unsurprised with the doll’s actions.  He knew he hadn’t been sticking around just for the amusement, but the idea that the psychotic little doll was now out there running around with half of Itara’s powers would have been cause for concern if there weren’t much bigger concerns.

The news about Chaos was one thing.

The news about Gaia was another.

The idea that Solaris might follow suit was a universe of trouble all its own.

But there wasn’t much they could do about it in the meantime, either.  For now, it was better to focus on their own recovery and worry about the Gods later, maybe even let someone else deal with it entirely.  If no one managed to wrangle Chaos and Gaia back down, then he would worry, but for now he just wanted to check that his systems were running, that Metal didn’t run off to try and fight Sonic again, and Itara was as okay as she could be.  In addition to Kipper, she also told him about the journal and her mixed feelings about it and that concerned him more than the physical injuries.

At the moment, she was resting in her room, listening to music in an attempt to keep herself distracted, but later he planned to have another talk with her.  However, even his plans to discuss current issues with Metal were brought to a short stop as a knock came from the front door.  Metal disregarded it, as he had been since the last conversation with Lynda, but RK knew better and headed for the door to answer it.  He was hoping to have longer to prepare before his next conversation with the human woman, but no such luck, it seemed.  Best to get it taken care of and done with, he supposed.

However, it wasn’t an eager strawberry blonde behind the door once RK opened it, as he had expected.  Instead, the ever-irritated, and equally shocked, Susan stood on their doorstep, her stance impatient as she looked ready to leave if he hadn’t answered right that second.  The two exchanged glances for a split second before the surprise fell away and Susan crossed her arms, “So you are home, after all.  We were beginning to wonder.”  Metal moved into view behind him, gaining a quick glance from the woman before she refocused on RK, “Lynda said she was having a hard time getting in touch with you.”

“I noticed.  I only saw her messages a few moments ago, so I haven’t had the chance to get back to her just yet.  I was… recovering, from an incident, but I’m getting caught back up now.  What can I do for you, Susan?”  He had planned explanations for Lynda, but he wanted to keep interactions with Susan minimal, especially now.

“Well, I’m glad to see you up and about again,” though neither RK nor Metal were fooled by the vague attempt at pleasantries, “I assume you’ve heard about what’s going on in Station Square and Spagonia?”  RK gave a short nod.  “And the announcement from Soleanna?”

That one, RK hadn’t heard.  He glanced back at Metal, who shrugged in response.  It was the first he had heard about it, either. They turned back to Susan again and RK questioned, “what announcement?��

Susan studied them suspiciously, but explained, “I’m surprised you didn’t hear.  The Royal Family made a statement the other day about the events and how they plan to respond to it.  In addition to increasing more physical defenses, I guess they’re moving the Solaris Festival up a few weeks and adding an extra day of events.  They’re hoping to ask for the Sun God’s protection from everything that’s going on.”  She didn’t sound overly convinced of the usefulness of such measures and her normal bitterness never left her tone, but she kept at least those comments to herself. Instead, she added, “Which is the reason I’m here.  There’s a meeting at my house for the neighborhood so we can discuss the situation and the festival.  I suggest attending.”

“When will it be?”

“An hour or so.  I didn’t have a number or anything for you so I wasn’t able to call ahead of time. You know which one is my house, correct?”

“Yes.  I know.”

“Good.  Then I’ll see you soon.”

She hardly waited for a response before she turned on her heel and strode back down the driveway.  Metal and RK watched her for a minute but shut the door and turned to one another to debate the situation.  “I forgot about the festival,” RK hummed, “I don’t think it’d be wise to skip the neighborhood meeting, but perhaps it’s best to keep Itara away from the festival.” The two bots glanced down the hall towards the open bedroom door, listening to the unusually loud music that echoed through the house for a moment before RK shook his head, “Even more so than usual, considering her current state.”

“She had to realize Mephiles was only out to use her eventually,” Metal scoffed, though hadn’t looked away from the hall just yet. “For someone so apparently smart, it sure took her an awful long time.”

“She knew all along.  She was just playing ignorant.  Willful ignorance at its worst, really.”

“Organics.”

There was a moment of silence before RK moved for the lab door, “in any case, I’m going to go look into that announcement and see what all was covered.  Can you let Itara know about the meeting and ask if she’d rather stay here or come with me?”

“I suppose.”  RK nodded and headed downstairs while Metal crossed the living room to look in on the tiny hedgehog.  She was curled up in the middle of her bed, staring off with a music library of some description open on the laptop in front of her.  It was unusual for her to be doing anything other than playing games or messing around on her phone, but he supposed both those items were broken and lost in Spagonia so perhaps this was her best next option. The list of songs on the open playlist was relatively short and, after looking their names up, he realized most were from video game soundtracks.  One or two were background themes for the simulation game she played with the others, one was a level theme from one the games they had for the console in the living room, but a couple were boss themes for games they didn’t own, so far as he was aware.

The one she was listening to was one of those boss themes. It was intriguing to listen to for some reason and before Metal realized it, the song ended and he found himself ever so slightly disappointed.  It switched to one of the background tracks for her simulation game and Itara gave no indication that she even registered the sudden, drastic, shift in tone and pace. Metal thought it important to inform her as perhaps she hadn’t noticed.

“Hey.”  She jerked from the unexpectedly sharp tone and unnoticed appearance and stared over at him, wide-eyed.  Before she could fully register his presence, he commanded, “turn that other one back on,” and with a slightly uncomfortable shift, “and turn it up.”

Itara stared for several seconds, but slowly nodded and reached over to switch the song back, turning the volume up a bit.  Once she had done so, and finally zoned in enough to realize the strangeness of the request, she eyed him again with her usual alertness.  “Wait, what?”

“There’s going to be a neighborhood meeting at that Susan woman’s house in an hour regarding what’s going on lately,” Metal informed her, distinctly ignoring the strange stare he was receiving, “RK wanted to know if you planned to go with him or if you’d rather stay here.”  He debated whether or not he should mention the bit about the Solaris Festival but decided against it.  If she went, she would find out then, and if she didn’t it wouldn’t concern them, anyway.

He watched curiously as a world of uncertainty spread across the little hedgehog’s face, watched as her gaze shifted down and away from him and her brows pulled together, as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, before she finally sighed and dropped her head.  “Y-Yeah… a-alright, I guess I… I’ll go,” she stammered, shifting uncomfortably as she reached over to pause her music, much to Metal’s dismay. The requested song hadn’t ended but he wasn’t going to say anything about it this time.  Instead, he followed her down to the lab after she asked where RK was at and contemplated whether or not he should go with them.  The idea of having to deal with Susan for even another second, in a house full of humans and their skewed view of current events sounded agonizing, but at the same time, he wanted to keep an eye on RK. The other bot was still experiencing glitches with the upgrades.

Once RK explained what he’d learned about the announcement and the ongoing state of the other two gods, the three prepared to deal with the meeting down the street.  Both Metal and RK had to change clothes to keep their various robotic parts hidden and Itara had to change out of the pajamas she hadn’t changed out of since they arrived home.  Unfortunately, RK’s usual outfit was beyond repair due to the battle and subsequent flood, leaving him with either the extra camo sweats he kept around for just in case or the outfit from New Year’s.  Damn.  He liked that jacket and he doubted he’d find boots like his old ones so easily again.

With a final check of information, as well as stories regarding what happened after the attack on the museum, RK lifted Itara up onto his shoulders where she quickly got comfortable, and the three headed down the street.  The sun was still a couple hours from setting but was dipping below the tree line beside their house.  Spring was in full swing so the days were getting longer and the snow was long gone, much to Itara’s relief, but there was still a decent bite to the evening air. RK noticed that the grass in their lawn, specifically, had grown a fair bit compared to the neighbors and wondered if he should take care of that sooner rather than later.  The snow had only recently melted completely yet it seemed the rest of the neighborhood wasted no time in trimming and redecorating their lawns.  What once was a clump of snow in Lynda’s yard had slowly melted and revealed a two-foot garden gnome statue, which she’d already surrounded in much smaller gnomes and fairies.

The walk down to Susan’s was silent amongst the three, each lost in their own thoughts, but once they reached the house in question – a two-story house that sat at the far end of the street on the opposite side, facing down the dead center – a significant amount of chatter and clamor built up past the white paneling.  RK hesitated a short moment to prepare himself to deal with all the questions likely to be flung his way and continued up to the door, pressing in the small red button that served as a doorbell.  The clamor inside hushed slightly at the sound, though it was brief, as the lock clicked and Lawrence, Susan’s husband, swung the door open.

“Ah, there you are.  Come on in.”  He wasn’t nearly as off-putting and scathing as Susan, but he wasn’t a friendly face, either.  He hurried them in and before RK had even enough time to scan the packed room, the ever-prescient strawberry blonde shot over from the opposite side to greet them.

“RK!  You’re back!” Lynda half-screeched, concern and relief written all over her unusually make-up light face.  She reached for his hand, nearly stabbing herself on the elongated claws had RK not shifted them before she could, and continued, “I’ve been so worried!  Sparky said you came back and were just resting but I hadn’t heard from you for so long I just didn’t know what to think! Thank Heavens you’re all okay!” She shifted her gaze up to Itara at this, honed in on the wrapped arm and frowned, “How are you holding up, Itara? What happened?  Are you alright?  Simon has been awful worried about you.  He’s just in the other room with Camilla, you should go see them.”

Itara’s face dropped at the mention of Camilla, but kept her mental comment to herself as she glanced away from the human woman. Instead, she forced out a wary, “I’m… fine.  I’ll be fine. But sure, I’ll… go say ‘hi’ to Simon… I guess.”

“That’s for the best, the adults have a lot to discuss,” Susan interjected, impatient as always.

Itara shot her a quick scowl while RK pulled her up off his shoulders and set her down.  “Be careful of your arms, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” she sighed and gave another small wave to Lynda as she followed the directions towards the other ‘kids’.  As much as she wanted to know what all they were talking about, she did at least want to see Simon.  She had to tell him her handheld was lost, after all.  Once she was down the hall and headed for what was apparently Camilla’s bedroom, taking in the extravagant details and decorations of the two-story house along the way, her ears perked once she heard the ‘adults’ begin whatever meeting they were having.  She could still hear them just fine, heard Lynda pull RK and Metal over to the rest of the group and offer them all manner of drinks, then Susan berate her for derailing the conversation.  Then they finally got into talk about what had happened.

Itara stopped listening at that point, both because she knew better than all of them what was actually going on and also because she reached her destination.  Camilla’s room, even at a glance, was easily twice the size of her own bedroom and much, much nicer.  Not that Itara cared, she liked smaller spaces, it was easier to reach things if they were closer together.  But the excessive extravagance, from the clean white walls, to the lace bed covers and multiple pillows, to the silver accented furniture reminded Itara of another room she tried to avoid thinking about and froze her at the door for several minutes.

Camilla and Simon were sat in the center of the room, on a large, round rug, homework packets tossed carelessly beside them, deep in conversation about the same topic as the adults two rooms away. Though their conversation was far less serious in nature as Simon was rambling about fighting the beasts that were still running rampant while Camilla vaguely humored him.  It wasn’t until Simon motioned widely with his arms and his eyes happened to follow one of them that he realized they had company.

“Itara!  You’re back!”

The exclamation drew all three of them out of their thoughts and put their attention on Itara, who shuffled uncomfortable under the gaze. Camilla said nothing and made no movement towards her, but Simon bolted to his feet and ran over, moving to grab onto her much the same way Lynda had done to RK until he noticed her arm in the bright blue sling and stopped short.  “Oh, jeez, are you okay?”

Itara shook her head, less as a response and more to focus in, as she explained, “I’m fine.  I just… ran into trouble.”

“I’m so glad you’re back, though!  When I heard you got separated from everyone on the trip, I was afraid something real bad happened and then Sceira came over and looked all upset, asking where you lived.  What even happened?  I heard those monsters AND Robotnik attacked the university!”  As he battered her with concerns and questions, he pushed her over to the rug Camilla was still sitting on, which created an awkward moment where the two made eye contact before looking away again.  “Tell us what happened!”

Once Simon took a moment to breathe again, Itara sighed and looked briefly between them.  She and RK had discussed what they would tell people who asked about what happened, but for some reason she almost felt like telling Simon the truth.  In this one instance, she was grateful for Camilla’s presence, because she knew she would never reveal so much to her.  But the thought that Sceira had actually been upset about her going missing, and even went to the trouble of bring her stuff from the hotel back for her, continued to catch her off-guard.  RK had explained how her suitcase got back home, but she still didn’t want to believe Sceira of all people could be worried about her.

“I…”  She shook her head again and explained, “I just… when the monsters attacked, Sparky and I ended up separated from everyone and while Sparky tried to fight them off, I tried to find somewhere to hide.  It was chaos-,” well, no, it was Robotnik, “I got caught up with some of Robotnik’s badniks and ended up further out from everyone.”

“Did you actually see Robotnik?”

A shudder ran down the hedgehog’s back as she thought about the response.  She did far more than see him.  “I… yeah.”

“Whoa.  Is he really that scary?  Like, I’ve heard a lot of stories about the guy, but I heard you mobians really have a history with him.  Sonic fights him all the time, right?  Is he the only one of you guys who do?  Is he really that special?”

Once again, Simon bombarded her questions she only half wanted to answer but she sighed with slight amusement and annoyance. They really had no idea, did they? But she wasn’t going to explain the entire history of Sonic and Robotnik’s rivalry so, instead, she changed the subject and asked about the festival.  “You guys heard about the festival changes, right?”

“Oh, yeah.  That’s pretty crazy, I don’t remember them ever changing the date before and we’ve gone to the festival every year I can remember,” Simon responded as he reached up to rub his head, “hey, I just realized.”  He looked at Itara again, “you’re new to our school, but are you new to the area?  Have you ever been to the Solaris Festival?  Do you know about Solaris?”

Itara almost scoffed.  She wanted to be bitter in her response, but knew it would be suspicious and took a deep breath to calm herself before responding, “No, I’m not new to the area.  I’m… very well acquainted with Solaris.”

“Oh, that’s right, you like history stuff, right? Did you do a lot of research on him or something.”

“…Something like that.”  She shifted uncomfortably as she suddenly regretted bringing the festival up. She wanted more information on the subject, but she should have realized it would bring conversation to Solaris. She didn’t want to think about him right now.  Luckily, Simon was a well of continuous topics today and shifted once more.

“But the fact that the festival is gonna be a day longer is kind of cool.  Camilla and I were just talking about what we’re going to do for it.  Our families usually meet up for it and we all watch the lighting of the torch together.  My mom and I play a lot of the games they have set up, too.  Camilla’s family usually sticks to the ritual stuff, though.”

Games?

Itara’s interest piqued again as she looked between them curiously.  She’d never paid attention to the festival outside the lighting of the torch, since it was the part distinctly designed for Solaris.  “What kind of… games?”

“Oh man, all kinds!  I thought you weren’t new?” Simon questioned, an eyebrow rose.

“I’m not, I just… never paid attention to the rest. I guess I… also stuck to the… ritual stuff.”  Camilla eyed her curiously, only for a brief moment, before she looked away again. She hadn’t said a word since Itara appeared and was going through a great bit of trouble to do so.  On the one hand, Itara was curious as to why, but on the other hand she still didn’t much like Camilla so the longer she remained silent, the better.

Simon went quiet, as well, when she answered.  She worried, for a moment, that she may have said something suspicious and he had caught onto her lie.  There was still a lot of everyday situations she struggled with and while they had lessened a great deal since hanging around Simon, they still existed here and there.  However, her brief moment of concern came to a close as Simon got excited again, smiled widely over at her and clapped his hands together.

“You should come with us this year!”

“What?”

“We should all meet up at the festival, the four of us! Sceira goes, too, we sometimes meet at the snack stalls.  The four of us should meet up and Sceira and I can show you and Camilla the more fun side of the festival!  We can eat snacks and play games and watch the performances or… listen to them, in Sceira’s case.  There’s this big dance before the main performance where you can join the boat dancers and they’ll teach you parts of the dance, it’s fun!  I heard there’s gonna be even more stands than any year before because of what’s happening, a lot of places that don’t normally take part are planning to, so there’ll be even more to do!”

Itara and Camilla exchanged brief glances at his suggestion before they returned their attention to him again, neither looking all that sure of it.  In Camilla’s case, she wasn’t sure whether her parents would allow her to break away long enough to go do something fun with her friends.  They were always strict about the festival events, with a full schedule including meet-ups with other members of the community.  Itara, however, wasn’t sure she wanted to go to the festival in the first place.  For the first time in her life she wanted to keep her distance from her father and going to an event specifically planned for him, calling for his help and his protection, sounded like a panic waiting to happen.

Then again, a night out with her… friends… sounded fun.

As much as she didn’t like Camilla, and Sceira was on thin ice, she did at least like Simon.  Plus, maybe Tobi and the others from the game night would be there, too. Speaking of which.  She turned a sharp eye on Simon, who crippled under her sudden gaze with a quiet what, and sat up straighter to accuse him, “You told Tobi about my gaming.”

Simon turned red in the face and gave a short, guilty laugh as he reached up to rub his head.  “Whoops, you found out.”  Her glare sharpened but Simon only laughed again as he straightened up, himself, “Ah, c’mon Itara, it’s not like it wasn’t obvious, anyway.  How’d you find out, though?”

“I… he….”  She glanced towards Camilla, one of the distinct names on the exceptionally short list of people that could not learn of their game night, even though it was long since over and a parent had broken it up that night, anyway.  But she shook her head and explained, “I’ll tell you later. The point is, you traitor.”

“Sorry, sorry.  But hey, more people to play with, right?”

She frowned as she remembered one of the reasons she agreed to come to the meeting, “…About that...”  She wondered if RK would get her a new handheld.  Not to mention all the games they had to rebuy now.  She didn’t think they could get them all at once, even if they got used versions, but she at least wanted to get that first simulation game again.  Not to mention she needed a new phone, too.  What she didn’t know, however, was how pointless it would all be soon.

[thehallofgame]

Review: Dragon Age 2

Release: 2011

My Rating: 8/10

              Dragon Age is a series that inspires some passionate and very divided opinions. Dragon Age 2 embodies that. Developed in a painfully tight two-year window, Dragon Age 2 aimed to get a sequel to Dragon Age Origins ou as soon as possible and, also, to tell a different, more intimate sort of dark fantasy story. The game was ambitious in what it attempted to accomplish in a minimal development window and it succeeded in some areas, but not in others. Dragon Age 2 managed to be a character-driven, politically intense and truly dark narrative told over the course of a decade but it also took place almost entirely in one city, reused the same maps and assets endlessly, and relied far too heavy on using waves of enemies to make combat encounters difficult.

              The game begins during one of the most important events of its predecessor, the dacking of Lothering. The main character of Dragon Age 2, Hawke, and his family, are refugees fleeing the blight. With a little bit of help from new friends, and draconic intervention, what remains of the family survives to begin a new life in the city-state of Kirkwall. Kirkwall, part of a collection of city-states known as the Free Marches, is a former center of the slave trade. It’s grim, dark, crowded, violent, and the Hawkes have to build a home there. What follows is the intertwined story of a city in social collapse, a refugee’s rise to fame and their relationship with all the most powerful players on the local political scene.

              Framed as a retelling by Hawke’s close friend Varric, the story of the Champion of Kirkwall is designed to be taken with a grain of salt. As one of the companions Hawke gains earliest in the game, it is established right away that Varric Tethras is a dwarf with a heart of gold and a penchant for grossly exaggerated story-telling. That can excuse a lot of nonsense that takes place in the game but not all. The narrative structure of Dragon Age 2 is vastly different than its predecessor. Instead of a tale of a hero overcoming a singular, huge threat, Dragon Age 2 is broken into a prologue and three arcs, each of which chronicles Hawke’s journey through a major life event or political shift in the city.

              Hawke’s companions are a ragtag group of warriors, rogues, and mages each representing different political and social backgrounds. Their relationship to Hawke swings wildly on a bar from friend to rival in response to actions and dialogue choices the player makes with each party member in the party. All the companions have a great deal of interest and depth to explore, and with one companion quest for each of the three acts of the game, the player gets to see a lot of that depth. It’s a shame, then, that the relationship building is boiled down to what is essentially a point-based system. The player has to be constantly mindful of what threshold they’re at (but of course, there’s only a visually represented bar and no numbers, so the player can only eyeball where they stand) because not exceeding certain percentages of friendship or rivalry can result in party members abandoning the party, or a romance the player was interested in pursuing not beginning despite the player’s best efforts. It doesn’t help that the game is slightly glitch-prone and sometimes certain events just don’t occur for no discernable reason.

              Meanwhile, customization opinions for the player character are markedly decreased since the first game. The player is still free to play as a male or female hero, but they now must be human. There are also pre-built faces for Garret and Marian Hawke that can’t be re-created in the actual character customization engine, so if you were interested in tweaking anything about Garret or Marian’s face without changing it entirely… you can’t. The player can also choose one of the three standard classes for Hawke: Warrior, rogue or mage. However, as both the game and the Hawke family history are heavily invested in the conflict between brutal church led segregation of mages and what happens when people are desperate to be free, it makes a great deal of sense to play Hawke as a mage. There’s no reason not to play as the other classes, but the mage route adds the most personal stake in the narrative to Hawke.

              Each of the three classes begins the game with access to several branching skill trees. Many of the skills have come over directly from the first game, but the new presentation makes them easier to identify and use. Each of the trees is composed of complementary techniques that form a magic or fighting style. As they level up, each of Hawke’s companions will unlock a tree unique to them and their story which contains their most powerful techniques and strongest abilities. Hawke will eventually be able to choose two of three possible specialization trees, though theirs are more generic and most are specializations ported directly from the first game.

              As abilities are gained the player will probably want to map them to the tactics system, because while the player can switch between characters during combat, nobody has time to manage four characters during real-time RPG combat. Based again on a tiered, priority based system, new options and more specific toggles make the tactics system better. It is still inherently limited by being a simple if-then statement based system that relies on the player to organize actions correctly so that they’ll trigger in order of priority (i.e. you probably want to have healing moves be command 1, rather than below any sort of attack move). It’s not a very adaptive system, but unlike in Dragon Age Origins, I didn’t experience any instances of abilities activating incorrectly. More abilities, such as area of effect techniques, can now be used without worry through the tactics system.

              Before getting into combat, a quick word on the inventory and equipment system. Once again, the player is gonna get a lot of backtracking in. traveling back and forth to the store to sell the literal junk (seriously, junk is now an item category) that clogs the small inventory space. Every character has a slot for two rings, one necklace and one belt that all provide stat bonuses and other conditional effects. They all, except Varric who has a special weapon, can have their weapons switched out and customized with runes to deal extra or elemental damage. However, Hawke has the only armor in the game that can changed out, and as every class can only equip certain item types, most of the armor Hawke finds in the field is useless and has to be sold. Meanwhile, each party member ‘dresses themselves’ in a signature outfit/armor that Hawke can find upgrades for in the field as well as enchant with runes to increase its effectiveness. Every single character has the same body type as every other member of their race and gender. This isn’t so egregious for elves, dwarves or quanari, but for humans it’s downright obnoxious. All the men in the game have tiny hips, broad shoulders, and six-pack abs. All the woman have comically large breasts and walk with an exaggerated hip-sway. The worst example of this is a party member named Isabela. She’s well beloved, and for good reason, but her design is ridiculous. She wears thigh high boots, a thong, and an under-bust corset with just enough excess fabric to cover the bottom half of her breasts, her crotch and her bottom. As a curvy, female, martial artist I have it on good authority any warrior worth their salt would not fight in this. I don’t care that Isabela’s character “justifies it”, video game characters don’t get to dress themselves. She’s a pirate captain and expert duelist before she’s a sex object, even in her own in-game descriptions of herself. I frankly find the way she’s dressed, and the way some fans defend that choice, insulting. Please forgive the outburst, but I believe it’s relevant and worth discussing.

              To return to the subject at hand: combat. Faster paced than Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age 2 uses snappy auto-attack animations and flashy lighting effects to achieve dramatic combat encounters. Left clicking an enemy will cause a character to auto-attack them until one of their abilities is activated. Whoever the player is controlling will not use their tactics system, and instead, the player will have to trigger their abilities by mapping them to the number buttons or by selecting them manually. Once used, each will be unusable for a short period while it cools down. Luckily, the player will soon have plenty to choose from, and it will be the extent of their stamina/mana pool that limits them. It costs either stamina or mana to use any ability, and in long battles, the reserves will quickly run down. HP, mana, and stamina all have consumables that can restore them, but they too have cooldowns, which incentivizes resolving combats quickly.

              Combat becomes the core gameplay mechanism, as due to the small map sizes, both exploration and puzzle solving aspects become minimal. Each chapter has a strong core story, and most of the companion quests are also strong and add plenty of depth to the off-time. Unfortunately, most of the game’s other side quests don’t hold up. Many of them are simple fetch and/or slay quests in the same repetitive environments, fighting the same enemy types. It’s really obvious padding, and the game didn’t need it. Maybe without it, the game would’ve been significantly shorter, but that may well have been a good thing for those exasperated with Dragon Age 2.

              This game is deeply flawed but not inherently bad. Where it really stumbled was not meeting fan’s high expectations of a follow up to Dragon Age Origins. Bioware shot themselves in the foot three times over on this one with the short development time, changing the scope, and changing the core feel of this game. While set in the same world, with the same gameplay, and the same core themes, Dragon Age 2 doesn’t feel like Dragon Age Origins and that disappointed a lot of people. I think the story and the characters, my favorite grouping in any Bioware game, is more than worth those changes. Not everyone does. I wholeheartedly insist that Dragon Age 2 is worth at least one play. Trust me. Though the game itself doesn’t always play like a triple A title, there’s something so alive and so endearing about these characters that they’re not worth missing over some clunky mechanics.

 The Exiled Prince (🆗): I really want to like this DLC, or more accurately, this new party member. Sebastian Vael is an archer, priest and former prince of a nearby city-state that has recently suffered a coup that eliminated his whole family, save him. His character, focusing on both the politics of the Free Marches and the point of view of a devotee to the dominant religion, feels like it fills a niche in the party. Likewise, it’s nice that he also adds a new romance option for a female Hawke. Yet, despite these things, Sebastian doesn’t feel as fully realized as the other characters. He’ll often refuse to go on story-missions, presumably because he wasn’t written into them, and also seems to have fewer or less interesting party-banter than other companions. The idea for the Exiled Prince was good but, unlike the DLC character Shale from Dragon Age Origins, Sebastian doesn’t slide into the story and instead remains something of an outsider.

Legacy (👍🏻): This is the best DLC that came out for Dragon Age 2 by a long shot. Its story actually contributes to the world-building and advances the overall plot of the Dragon Age world. Perhaps too much, some have said, because the villain introduced solely in this DLC becomes the main antagonist of Dragon Age Inquisition. That aside, however, the Legacy DLC provides much-wanted expansion on the story of Hawke’s dead father and a chance to reconnect with any surviving Hawke siblings after they’ve parted ways. It’s also long, has some decent but not punishing puzzles, and a solid, twisting and turning story.

Mark of The Assassin (🆗): Considering the most major selling point for this DLC was the fact that nerd-show-staple actress Felicia Day lent her voice and likeness to it, I wasn’t expecting much from Mark of the Assassin. To its credit, it’s more fun and meatier than expected. The basic premise is that Hawke gets talked into going on a jewel heist at a high society party in the French-themed empire of Orlais. The only thing of consequence that occurs is some expansion of the Qunari belief system, which makes this DLC entirely skippable. Especially because an eye-roll inducing stealth system and a story that encourages you to miss the best rewards for the mission all conspire to make the DLC occasionally irritating despite fun combats and some truly funny gags and side quests.