#not because i put effort into it but because its not my badly drawn style

[badlydrawnyttd]

different from what i normally do here but idc have a sketchy keiji who i drew blushing for no reason in particular (that’s a lie it’s because im gay)

anyways @dailykeiji you’re obviously the number one keiji enjoyer here i won’t contest that but can i be like. in the top five at least. i need him.

[thatrickmcginnis]

JAMES TENNEY, Toronto 1989 + 1991

I hadn't heard of James Tenney when I was assigned to photograph him for Musicworks, a local art music journal, by Nancy, my old editor from Nerve magazine. (It's still around today.) Tenney was born in New Mexico and studied music with Carl Ruggles, John Cage, Harry Partch and Edgard Varese, and was a peer of Steve Reich and Philip Glass, performing in their ensembles. His work would be grouped in with movements like minimalism, process music, electronic music and plunderphonics, but in the '80s he was teaching composition at York University here in Toronto, which is where I photographed him, during and after one of his classes. I knew as soon as I took out my camera that I had a lot to work with - Tenney had a striking, rugged look, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the blackboard with its musical staff and the metal chairs stamped with "Music Dept". Tenney must have liked the results, because I have a record of him buying two of my prints a couple of months later.

My first portrait shoot with composer James Tenney was made during an uncertain time in my career, when my apprenticeship had ended and I was trying to make a living and establish a photographic style. By the time I had my second shoot with Tenney, precisely two years later, I was more confident and technically capable, and booked the session at my Parkdale loft, where I hoped I could achieve something more ambitious than our first shoot. I already knew that Tenney had a great image - a kind of Marlboro Man look that I wanted to accentuate even more with harder lighting and starker compositions. Of course my earlier pictures were an inspiration, and side by side they give some sense of how much my work had moved forward in two years.

My client for my second shoot with composer James Tenney was EAR magazine, another journal devoted to left-field and avant-garde music that had been publishing since 1973. If you don't remember the late '80s it was an exciting time if you were into weird, difficult music; there was a whole new audience for this sort of thing, from jazz to noise to oddball classical and art music, and EAR had become a glossy monthly with offices in New York's West Village above the Ear Inn. When I got my assignment to photograph James Tenney it had a sponsorship deal with Absolut Vodka, which helped pay for a series of CDs that would come with the magazine. Since I knew I was shooting the cover - my first ever glossy magazine cover - I decided to go all out, shooting with cross-processed slide film: it produced a look that seems very "period" to me now - high contrast and bright primary and secondary colours, and I had put a great deal of effort into mastering it.

I was very proud of the results, and of that cover, but unfortunately the magazine was going through ultimately fatal financial problems that would see it go out of business by the end of the year. It was the end of what I remember as an exciting time, culturally, and if I'm honest I still miss the excitement I felt during that period, which provided inspiration when I needed it badly. James Tenney's work is still studied and performed, and as a teacher he was a mentor to a whole generation of younger composers. He died of lung cancer in California in 2006.

[aceofshitposts]

I saw that you like CATS the musical. What are your thoughts on the movie?

AAAAH AHHAHA oh man oh boy y'all should BUCKLE IN cuz it's a ride

my simple thoughts? it's entertaining if only because it butchered the stage show so badly in an attempt to idk modernize it? Well, modernization is one part of it I think. The other part I'll go into below lol. I don't necessarily hate some of the more modern renditions of the songs (mostly the ensemble sets like Jellicle Song for Jellicle Cats) but then others are just... so poorly done it's insulting.

I've said this at the end of this whole rant too but I'm gonna put it up here in case people don't (justifiably) wanna see me go on and on about it:

The movie wasn't made for fans of the musical. It was made to make money and I believe they choose, at least partially, to do that through making it the weirdest and worst possible adaptation they could so that people would want to go see the train wreck. Which, really, worked! It was all people could talk about for a good while so like... Goal achieved, I guess.

A MUCH MORE COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT cuz i don't wanna. flood your dash with... this

ALRIGHT SO. Most of my friends know I'm actually a huge fan of new adaptations of things. I love remakes (provided the people making it are coming at it with some form of heart and not just... cash grabbing which is more often the case) I love seeing other peoples interpretations of characters, or changing settings. It's one of the reasons I like American comics so much, getting to see different writers takes is fascinating.

I think musical movies can be wonderful ways to introduce people to a stage show that might have been unavailable to them otherwise! Chicago, for example, is one of the BEST musical to movie adaptations in my opinion. It kept the heart of the show, it's funny and the song numbers are done really well.

There are of course other famous examples, such as Grease or Bye Bye Birdie. Hairspray was also a wonderful take. These are simply off the top of my head, there are of course more.

CATS in particular has a history. If you go through my CATS tag you may see a few posts from @catsnonreplica which posts photos from non broadway productions of CATS! It's a fascinating read and I love, love, love looking at the other interpretations of the characters! CATS is a musical full of fun and wonderful characters if you take the time to see past the ridiculousness haha and the Korean and Japanese runs of CATS especially have some of my favourites.

How does this relate to the movie, I hear you say well. As you might has noticed the movie's interpretations of the characters is........ lackluster at best and downright uncanny valley at best.

CATS is, at its core, a ridiculous thing. I will fully admit that! But it's fun, it's entertaining and if you pay a little attention you can actually get the plot. (Honestly I don't understand when people complain it has no plot but that's a whole other rant for another day)

The movie was... obsessed with this idea of like... semi realism? Like obviously, as a fan, I think they should have leaned into the over the top character designs but instead we got...w ell:

Bombalurina:

Demeter left and Bomba right. Demeter was actually cut! From the movie which is. upsetting lmao.

Macavity is one of the worst offenders for me:

Macavity was... I wish I could know what the hell they were thinking there cuz it's even in his song? Ginger cat??? THAT IS NOT... A GINGER CAT...... but I digress. I would show more examples but I think you get the point.

So. We've butchered the characters appearances. Okay that's fine but what about their personalities?

ALSO BUTCHERED.

There's... there's a lot to unpack here. Just for context: the Jellicle Ball happens once a year and the Jellicle leader chooses a single cat to be reborn into a new life. In the stage play all the cats who are nominated for this honour are on the older side (Jenny-Any-Dots, Bustopher Jones, Skimbleshanks, Gus The Theatre Cat, and eventually Grizzabella) AND are always nominated by another cat. Not themself, unlike the movie where they all seem to nominate themselves.

Jenny-Any-Dots went from a doting grandmother figure who's celebrated for her selfless volunteering and tireless work into a conceited, vain younger cat who is obsessed with fame.

It's an incredibly strange dichotomy. I don't doubt some of it isn't the result of the uh people playing the characters honestly. I do think some of them did the best they could! I don't really blame Jason Derulo, for example, for Tugger. And honestly, Tugger was probably closest to his stage version (while being a trouble maker, he's shown to show Deuteronomy an immense amount of respect)

Speaking of Tugger! This will bring us to one of the biggest grievances with the movie and that is how they handled Mr Mistoffelees.

So... Ugh. So. We have Victoria as the pov character, which imo is like whatever in the grand scheme of things, and then we have Misto who they have decided will be get live interest cuz... Of course. Misto is shown throughout the musical to be awkward, unsure of himself and well. Really, kinda incompetent. Which is Wild cuz in the stage show he might be aloof but he's fairly confident in his powers.

So, Old Deuts gets kidnapped. In the stage show Tugger is the one to bring Misto forward! It's really quite sweet, imo, and I'm showing myself as a Tuggoffelees shipper here, but again Tugger is previously shown to be pretty conceited but then here he is boosting and hyping up Misto to bring Deuteronomy back. My friends and I have lovingly dubbed this the boyfriend hype song.

SOMEHOW. The movie manages to make this, easily, the MOST BORING number in the whole thing. Which, again, WILD. Misto awkwardly stumbles through his whole song, which again is... Boasting of his supreme magical powers which movie Misto clearly. Does not have or believe to have. The song, to me, feels super awkward and unnecessarily drawn out in the movie which sucks cuz it's one of my favourites in the show.

The declawing (heh) of Mr Mistoffelees actually reminds me strongly of how they changed Gaston in the live action Beauty and the Beast movie. He's gone from a beloved figure in the animated movie to someone so disliked in the town that Le Fou has to pay people off to say nice things about him. It's just. Wild character choices were made!!

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat is probably my favourite in movie non ensemble number. It feels the most... Genuine? Compared to the other nomination songs.

Other problems include but are not limited to:

The inconsistent size scale of the CATS which throws me off constantly.

The weirdly overt sexual overtones added to MANY of the songs (Jenny and Bustopher being the worst)

This is just a personal gripe and opinion but I don't like that they used the UK version of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The American version is both better known and tbh way more fun. Teazer's giggle? Adds ten years to my life every time.

Victoria's added solo song, Beautiful Ghosts, while I like the song as a song it doesn't fit the style of message of the musical. In the movie she's singing directly to Grizzabella who's being an outcast for years that she should be grateful she even has memories of being part of the tribe?? What?? But I know they had to add an original song to be able to be nominated for awards in like the Grammys n shit (which is why all musical movies will have an original song, fun fact!!) kinda funny they went to the effort though considering........... I don't think anyone could have genuinely believed CATS 2019 was gonna win anything but golden rhaspberries.

Movie Mr Mistoffelees has made repeated appearances as my sleep paralysis demon

The various cut characters, shout outs to Jemima, Demeter and Jellylorum especially

Bombalurina being a henchman to Macavity rubs me the wrong way

God I've written... So much. You probably get it by now haha. Like I said at the beginning, I try to go into any adaptation with an open mind but... Let's be honest, this movie wasn't marketed to people who are fans of the musical.

It was marketed, and made, to make money. And they choose to do that through, I think, intentionally making the worst possible version ever. Bad press is still press and the more outrageous people said the movie was the more people wanted to go see exactly what kind of train wreck it was.

Which is a disservice to the stage show, honestly, and all the people who've worked on it over the years.

But what can we do, right?

And besides all that, I do... Still own the movie version and I do still rewatch it on occasion. It is entertaining even if it's in a train wreck kind of way. I usually end up watching the 1998 version, then 2019 and then various tour runs that are on YouTube. (I highly recommend the 2016 tour, it's very good)

So in conclusion. It's fun (?) to watch. I enjoy picking things apart and doing analysis (if you couldn't tell!) so like... I don't hate it?

It did what it set out to do, I guess, and I can't fault it for that but. It's not a fair metre with which to judge the stage show imo. But I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, haha.

Jazz hands. I'm more than happy to elaborate or just chat about CATS if anyone wants! I grew up listening to the Broadway CD since I was a toddler so it's been! A very long standing obsession haha. Probably the only other thing on par with CATS is my obsession with Jurassic Park which I've also been a fan of since I was 3 (but that's a whole story in and of itself)

[mist-sly]

Sing of the moon

Chapter One: Coffee talks

This is a Wolfstar MMA AU that's on AO3 that I have been writing. However I'm gonna start posting it on here too because its easier for me to kept track of what I wrote. Any ways Hope you enjoy!

It was the biggest fight of the year. The middle-weight title on the line. Millions of people watching around the world. The champ, Sirius Black facing one of his biggest rivals, Severus Snape. It was a long overdue fight, the two constantly targeting each other on social media and making comments to the press.

The hype had been real. Every press conference was another layer of added tension and anticipation to the fight. No one wanted to miss it. Sirius was athletic and had every technique known to fighting in his arsenal. A predictable fight many had said. Others argued that Snape’s slippery, submission style could be enough to beat the champ.

Either way, it had drawn the attention of everyone. Even those who shied away from the bright lights of UFC. It lured those who lived in the shadows of the fighting scene.

A large flat screen TV had been set up in the old underground stadium. A crowd of fighters all gathered round to watch, each one sitting on some old create or broken chair. “Its not looking good for him wolfy,” said a teenager with dyed grey hair. He was sitting cross legged on the floor. The TV screen reflecting of his blue eyes. “Ill say. Every punch Black is receiving is drawing blood,” a big, bulky red-haired man said. He scratched at his beard and looked over to his left staring at the young man who was sitting back on the old, patchy red couch. The young man’s eyes darted around the screen, zoning in to one thing specifically as Snape aimed a body shot. “You see something, don’t you wolfy.” The other fighters dragged their eyes away from the screen to look at the young man.

Remus Lupin sat forwards, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands covering his mouth and nose as he stared at the TV. Remus’s golden amber eyes narrowed right as Snape connect a light jab to Sirius face. He watched as a small cut formed on the champ’s cheek, drawing blood. He drew his hands away from his face showing his frown.

“There’s always something with an opponent like Snape,” he said in a low voice. The camera angle changed on the screen. A close up of Sirius’s face, enlarged for everyone to see. One eye was swollen shut, the other turning a mix of blue and purple. You could not see where cuts began, and trails of blood ended.

This should not have been the outcome. A total of three rounds the fight went on for. Thirteen minutes and a gory scene that would make any viewer feel sick. Three minutes into the third round and it was over. The champ got hit and did not get back up. The group of fighters where quiet. This should not have been the outcome.

However, everything happens for reason.

~

It had been exactly thirty-seven days since he lost. Thirty-seven days of thinking how? How did he lose that fight? Sirius had gone through it a thousand and one times in his head. He was quicker than Snape. Had a harder punch than Snape and was far more intelligent when it came to thinking on his feet?

Sirius shook his head to rid him off the thoughts. He was on his daily run to clear his head, not bring back more memory’s and questions. He stopped, his breaths heavy, panting as he ran a hand through his incredibly dark locks of hair. “Shit,” he muttered as he looked around. The area was unfamiliar to him. Small shops and old building surrounding the street he had just came down. Clearly it was in the more run-down part of Gryffindor. Sirius didn’t even know there was a run-down part of Gryffindor.

He spotted a small coffee shop further on down the street. A few people where sitting outside it but other than that, the street was relatively quiet.

A bell rang over head as he entered. The smell of coffee and baked goods immediately hitting him like a bus. It was warm inside, a delightful change from the nippy autumn air outside. The walls were painted a vibrant orange, the furniture looking old giving the whole coffee shop a warm and vintage feel.

“Hi, what can I get you?” asked a girl behind the counter. She had long, flowing red hair and beautiful green eyes. A sweet and pleasant smile on her face. “Sorry, I’m a bit lost. Could you tell me how to get to the upper side oh and a coffee, black?” he asked the girl.

The girl snorted turning away from him. “An up sider? How did you end up down here?” the girl asked as she started to brew a fresh pot of coffee. “Went for a run, got lost in my head.” Sirius give the girl a smirk as she looked over at him. Her eyes travelled up and down his body, taking in his appearance.

“Guess that explains why your sweaty. What about the bruises?” she asked staring at the faint mix of yellow and brown that covered half his face. Sirius smirk dropped. The girl knew she struct a nerve but before she could apologise, the bell above the door went again.

“Hey Lils. Can I get the regular for the trio and a peppermint tea for me?” Said a young man who walked towards Sirius. Tall, Sirius first thought upon seeing him. Skinny too. He watched as the young man walked towards him. His hair was curly, a caramel brown colour that Sirius doesn’t think he has ever seen before. He wore an old orange jumper that had seen better days and a pair of grey sweats that were rolled up at his ankles. Sirius looked at the bottom on his sweats surprised, surly no one that tall would need to roll up their cloths.

The young man nodded at Sirius before standing beside him at the counter. “Three sugars wolfy?” the girl, ‘Lils’, asked. The young man nodded.

It was quiet after that. The sound of coffee machines running and ‘Lils’ humming echoing around the small coffee shop.

“Here you go Up sider. One Back coffee to go.” The girl slid the coffee over to Sirius before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Up sider?” The man asked suddenly. Sirius looked over at him. His amber eyes sparling with curiously as he looked at Sirius.

It was now that Sirius got a good look at the young man. He had handsome features, that was for sure. He had a nice jawline, not to strong and not to soft. Freckles littered his face likes stars in the night sky. He has long eyelashes that seemed to make his amber eyes brighter.

He would have looked soft, too soft, if it weren’t for the scars on his face. He had one across the bridge of his nose and another one on his left cheek going down to his jawline. The young man had a fresh cut above his right eye that was bruised.

However, as Sirius looked at the man, the man also looked at Sirius. That was not good in Sirius’s head. The last thing he needed, was for the media to know where he is.

“You shouldn’t have lost your fight,” the young man said bluntly as Lils set the piece of paper down with directions in front of Sirius. The statement had taken Sirius by surprise. So, the guy knew him, that was great but to say something like that irritated Sirius. He didn’t see Mr tall and skinny facing a world class fighter like Snape.

“Excuse me. I’d like to see yo-“Sirius started only to be cut off by the young man saying, “Snape’s gloves were loaded.” Sirius blinked at the man, “tampered with,” he added in case Sirius didn’t understand.

Sirius couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Who the hell was this guy? Some losers who clearly knows nothing. Sirius took a deep breath and looked at the man. “Look. I’m not sure how much you know after fighting but official gloves have to be worn, not to mention that the gloves got checked and nothing was off with either one.”

The man however kept looking at Sirius with those amber eyes. “That wouldn’t necessarily matter. There’s always ways around the system.” He shrugged. Sirius could feel the laughter starting to bubble in him stomach again. “Ok then. Enlighten me, how were the gloves tampered with?” The man narrowed his eyes, a darker look falling over his once soft face. ��A layer of padding was taken out of the gloves. That would have been obvious if they had not replaced it with something else. That other layer would have had to been roughly the same weight as the padding. My guess is that they used soft cast.” Sirius snorted.

Sirius knew what soft cast was. What fighter didn’t? It was an old scandal back in the day with a boxer. It had long since been forgotten though. The man continued, however. “It would make the hits harder on your face not to mention as the soft cast scratched the leather of the glove it would wear the material down.” He raised an eyebrow at Sirius to see if he was keeping up.

Sirius nodded and gestured for the man to continue, taking a sip of his coffee. Sighing the man rubbed his eyes, as if he were trying to teach a child how to read a simple word that they couldn’t quite grasp. “The soft cast would scratch against your skin and the impact of each punch would increase as the match went on because the cast would harden over time. Didn’t you notice when you were fighting, how the first hit was not hard but still drew blood? How as the fight went on Snape put less effort into each hit but was still able to increase the impact every time?” Sirius stopped drinking. His coffee cup frozen at his smooth lips. He blinked at the man as he thought back to the fight. When Snape landed his first punch, he was off balance. The punch shouldn’t have had enough force to bruise his cheek so badly, the way it did.

The more Sirius thought about it, the more he realized how much of what the tall, skinny man was saying, was true.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on the man just as ‘Lils’ brought over four take away drinks in coffee cups. “Here you go wolfy! One hot chocolate with cream for Seb, a black coffee with two sugars for Harley, warmed milk with coco powder on top for Cain and your peppermint tea, three sugars,” ‘Lils’ said happily with a bright smile. The man, ‘wolfy’, nodded his thanks and took the four drinks.

“Wait! How did you know about the gloves?” Sirius asked before ‘wolfy’ could leave. “I watched your fight. Noticed what was happening and put it together with an old street fighting trick.” He shrugged and opened the door with his back.

“A little too good to be true, don’t you think?” Sirius said with a laugh, but the young man didn’t laugh back. He shrugged and turned his back to Sirius. “If you don’t believe me then check for yourself.”

Sirius watched as the door closed behind the man. He stayed in the coffee shop, not taking his silver eyes away from the door. The conversation replaying in his head like a broken record. He turned back around to ‘Lils’ who was wiping the countertop. “Do you have a phone I could borrow,” he said in a rush. Like somehow, he would forget everything the man just told him.

The girl smiled at him and nodded. She took out her iPhone from the pocket of her green apron and handed it to Sirius. He wasted no time in dialing a number. Listening as it rang in his ear.

“Hello. Yeah, James it’s me. I need you and your dad to check something out for me……”

P.s this is my first proper time writing so I'm not the best. 

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[mahou-furbies]

Magical Girl Raising Project Limited - character design ranking

Captain Grace

An alright pirate design with enough little details that keep it from being forgettable (I especially like the anchor buckle on her belt, and the earrings and hooks on her hair). The spikes on the coat are what stands out most to me; makes me think of a Mario enemy or something. However I’m not sure how much of a Magical Girl design it is. Like pirates and frills already go together, so the well tested formula (put a miniskirt and frills on it and it’s a magical girl look!) doesn’t really do much. Maybe it’d be better if she had some cutesy detail in there somewhere? Also is that an tail again or what, or some kind of blunt hook? What is it with these unnecessary tails in Magipro designs. 6/10. 

Funny Trick

I’ve always liked Funny Trick’s look, and it’s probably because of the pleasant colour palette, unique eyes and two-tone hair (I’m easy to please with two-tone hair). The nail polish and colourful glitter on her fur are also good little details. But apart from that I guess this is only barely strange enough to be any kind of “magical” look rather than just an anime stage magician, but at least that’s pretty close to magical girls already. Also is that a frigging tail again?? At least it goes well with the hair I guess... 8/10.

Kuru-Kuru Hime

It’s a cute design, but when I think of a ribbon magical girl I somehow expected more ribbons? Like this feels like an the higher end of an average magical girl amount of ribbons? Or maybe it’s totally over the top and my perspective is just skewed since I love ribbons and want them everywhere. Either way I like her outfit from neck down, but I’m not that into the headgear, the combo of the bonnet thingy and the weird crown just sitting on top if it looks strange to me. Nice hair tho even if it could use more ribbons. 6/10.

Weddin

I absolutely love Weddin’s design. The muted and light colour palette is very appealing to me, and the dark chains break up the mostly monochrome design so it doesn’t look dull and faded and also give the otherwise super frilly appearance quite a lot of edge. There’s repeating elements (braids in her hair and veil, the same kind of flowers everywhere, flower yellow also appearing in her eye makeup) so it doesn’t get too complicated, and all of them go well with the wedding theme too. The flame... is a bit of an odd touch and I’d rather associate it with a birthday party or Christmas than a Wedding but I guess you can have candles at weddings too, and I don’t find it too distracting.

I’m not a huge fan of the lingerie like look though, but at least visible garters go with the wedding theme and she’s so covered in veils and frills that it doesn’t look so bad. Also the back train looks kind of lazy. But overall still one of my favourite Magipro designs. 10/10.

Rain Pow

A tail again! However this time I actually like it, since she has that rainbow hoop behind her it looks good to stick something through it, and at least it somewhat resembles her twintails. 

As for the rest of the design, it has zero frills and ribbons and looks more like some kind of scifi spacesuit than a typical magical girl design, but somehow I still really like it. I think the weird heart hair is just enough to pull it into magical girl territory for me so my impressions are more on the “an unique take on an mg look” rather than “not mg enough” side. Then all the rings keep the look consistent (I absolutely love the rainbow halo) and the suit itself looks alright enough. I also find it interesting how muted the suit colours are for a rainbow magical girl and even the rainbow is pretty pastel, but I figure this is a better choice than all the expected seven colours in all their eye-strainy glory. 9/10.

Postarie

Please put on some pants, that is a shirt and not a dress.

Not too interested in this one, but I find it a commendable effort on making a design on the idea of “postal delivery girl”. Still lots of repeating elements so that’s a plus, especially the back epaulette is such an absurd idea but somehow it works and its wings and the wing hairstyle add the required fantasy touch. Bonus points for the cute birds. 7/10.

Tepsekemei

An inoffensive genie design but I struggle to really have emotions towards it. Butt flower is silly and I have no idea what the things hanging from it are, but at least they’re consistent with her head decoration. Don’t care for the shoulder spikes in an otherwise soft looking design. Huge earrings and multicoloured nails are a nice touch. 6/10.

7753

Also one of my favourite Magipro looks. It feels like the design philosophy here was “gakuran jacket and some frills, and then some hearts. And more hearts! More! Even more!” and I think it’s a great way to go with when designing a magical girl. Using just hearts everywhere makes the outfit cohesive, but since they’re all implemented in different ways it doesn’t get boring. I especially like the little hearts on her hands and under the eye, and the one in her pocket.

Two-tone hair in twintails is also one of the best design elements out there and the hairstyle is quite memorable (and also manages to incorporate the heart motif) and I’m always a fan of caps too. The green eyes and the little bit of green nail polish which you unfortunately can’t see here go well with the otherwise reddish look. Maybe the hair looks a bit too clunky (I only just realised it appears to be tied in a hoop behind her) but I won’t let it bother me. 10/10.

Mana

A solid witch design, I especially love the dimensional cape and hat. I also like the huge collar with the lace detail, but I’m not sure if it works with the hat brim. Not a big fan of the hair, I think it clutters the design. The snake leg accessory feels weird and a bit out of place but I do appreciate the asymmetry and also having something dark to break up the otherwise plain bottom part of the design.. 7/10.

Gekokujou Hana

I tend not to be a huge fan of kimono-based clothes, but this one is an exception I guess. The great colours must play a part in it, and the bottom part is fun. Then the dangly decorations add the correct amount of strangeness so it’s not just a bunny girl in a mini kimono Also, another tail, but this time it’s almost a requirement and I love how ridiculously huge it is (and also repeats elsewhere in her outfit). But really I can’t think of anything to dislike about this, must be the colours and the tail. 10/10.

Archfiend Pam

I believe this is the record on how little clothing you can wear in this franchise... At least she has the personality to pull that off. But that is not a top! At least it’s something new...? The wings fit the description in the story, but I don’t think these blank rectangles look very aesthetically pleasing. I like the tail best, the fur edge makes it a lot more interesting than just the usual demon tail. I don’t know, if the theme is a sexy demon girl this design definitely accomplishes it in a unique way, but also I don’t care for this fanservicey designs. Also not a fan of the hair. 4/10.

Pythie Frederica

Before drawing her for the chibi series I thought she had some kind of a helmet but upon closer inspection of course it’s a veil. But what are the horns? 

Upon closer inspection this one is also very fanservicey, in that her “dress” is actually see-through and the only thing covering the critical areas look like thin belt-thingies. At least she doesn’t look like she’s ten... But a major issue I have is the bottom part of her outfit, like how is it supposed to work? Is it one big piece of cloth, or multiple thin ones? What is the “fire” behind her? Is the dark part her hair, or the clothing, and is it supposed to be black or just shading? I do like the stars; otherwise the design gives a more mature “sexy” air, but the little stars everywhere adds a cute element. The colour palette is pleasing, but as much as I like multicoloured hair it doesn’t grant points this time, because the wiggly stray strands look very out of place here and the colour change makes them even more noticeable. 2/10.

Tot Pop

This one really isn’t my aesthetic, I very much prefer the cutesy style and there isn’t really anything ‘magical girl’ about this design. And it doesn’t really evoke the supposed image of ‘pop star’ to me either, like if you remove the guitar I’d think her theme was a prisoner or halloween. Though I don’t really know what a ‘pop star’ should look like anyway, like can’t they wear anything they want, I know Lady Gaga had a meat dress or something. But as of this design, I don’t think there’s anything specifically wrong with it, the colours are pleasing, the details are consistent and it’s not bland or boring either, but it just doesn’t do much for me because of the theme. I like the blood-stained hair and the spiky hair accessory, the long hanging part makes for a nice silhouette. Meanwhile the skulls on her shoulders feel somewhat tacked on, and in general I don’t care for piercings in anywhere else than ears. 5/10.

Pukin

And it’s a tail again. What is it with the stupid tacked on tails on every other design in this franchise? Sometimes it’s not so badly out of place, like if you have an youthful cutesy design, a fluffy animal tail can still add to the cute effect even if it’s otherwise out of place. But Pukin is supposed to be this dangerous and majestic authority figure and a cutesy tail very much doesn’t fit that image. And while we’re on the topic of animal features, the story describes that she has a feather decoration in her hair, but the way it’s drawn as a tiny feather jutting directly up in the middle of her head gives me more the impression of a character whose theme is a baby bird rather than a fantasy prince.

Now that we’ve dealt with the tail let’s get the biggest issue out of the way: I’m aware that there was a time in history when people used to wear these kind of giant ruffled collars but I really don’t care if there’s some kind of history based reasoning. It looks like your head is on a plate and it’s something I can’t ignore. I don’t feel even clowns can pull that off. There is no way getting around this.

When I first read Limited I thought Pukin’s appearance was an absolute mess and an instant 1/10, but upon closer inspection there is stuff I like about it too. She has a good colour palette, great shoes and gloves, and as a friend of multicoloured hair I welcome the yellow hair tips. The big heavy cape balances the small top and pants, and I really like the fur. Earrings go well with the pants too. The theme is a bit confused, or at least I don’t know of any fairy tales about pumpkin prince, but it’s not like I would complain about pineapple or cauliflower princess so that’s not really a problem. 3/10.

Sonia Bean

And we end Limited with yet another excellent design. I like how this manages to look kind of tattered and messy without actually being gross and dirty with the patchwork dress, dustball-like thingies, newspaper clippings and asymmetry. Even her hair looks disheveled. The headgear gives the design an old-fashioned vibe which suits her well since she’s so old. The light palette, soft design elements and ribbons give the look a cute feel, but at the same time she feels suspiciously pale, and the manic expression screams danger, like you can’t reason with this girl. She’s like a ghost of a Victorian era child who wants to play with you but you know you definitely should not follow her.

The design only works if I don’t think too much about it though, like dust is gross and newspaper paper is crinkly and not soft at all, but since we’re magical girls here I can ignore that and enjoy the image the clothing evokes. 10/10.

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

Limited average: 6,9.

[razieltwelve]

Competition (Final Effect)

When Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII finally married, the empire rejoiced. When she gave birth, however, the empire plotted.

X    X     X

“What are you doing here?” The Dia-Farron snarled.

The seer huffed. “What does it look like? I’m bringing a present for the new crown princess. We’ve foreseen great things in her future.”

“Oh, be quiet.” The Dia-Farron rolled her eyes. “You have not. You’re just here to curry favour with the empress and get your hooks into her successor. You lot are still bitter that the empress did an apprenticeship with us instead of you.”

The seer scowled. Given that he resembled his ancestor, Caius Ballad, quite closely, it was a fearsome expression. “You only got that apprenticeship because you sabotaged our offer!”

“What are you talking about? Maybe that bridge just blew up on its own, thereby preventing your team from arriving on time to make its pitch.” The Dia-Farron smirked. “And aren’t you all supposed to have precognition? Why didn’t you see that one coming then?”

“We all know there are a few of you with Semblances that obscure precognition, or did you think we missed the fact that you had a bearer of Lucky Fox on the planet at the time. What was she doing, taking a holiday?”

“You can’t prove a damn thing!”

“And we’re not going to make the same mistakes this time!”

The Dia-Farron glared. “Professor Cuddleburg can trump any present you come up with. He is the cutest and cuddliest hamster in the galaxy. In fact, he’s in the top five cutest and cuddliest hamsters of all time. There’s no way the crown princess won’t love to have him around, which means we’ve basically got one foot in the door already. If he has to stay around, it’s only natural for the empress to hire him and one of us as the crown princess’s tutors.”

“We’ve got an in with the hedgehog,” the seer replied. “Lord Hedgeborough is well aware of your scheming. He has no intention of letting you have everything your own way, and he has the ear of the empress herself.”

“Hmph.” The Dia-Farron brandished Professor Cuddleburg at the seer. “You really think that will matter in the face of such an adorable hamster? Besides, it’s not like the empress listens to everything he says. The bearer of Ragnarok is basically one of us. She’ll put in a good word, I’m sure.”

“And we’ve already approached the bearer of Saviour.” The seer smirked. “She, at least, can be relied upon to do what is best for the empire and not be swayed by an adorable hamster.”

“I think you underestimate the power of our hamsters,” the Dia-Farron countered. In her hand, Professor Cuddleburg cackled menacingly. “It wasn’t that long ago that there was a Dia-Farron on the throne. The empress might not act much like one of us, but the proud blood of a Dia-Farron still flows through her veins. She’ll make the right choice.”

“We’ll see.” The seer pointed at his eyes. “And when it comes to seeing nobody sees better than us.” He patted his pocket. “I even have a secret weapon.”

“A secret weapon? Unless it’s a victory beam, I don’t think you’ve got a chance.”

X    X     X

Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII sighed as the representatives from the Dia-Farron and the seers practically tripped over each other in their bids to reach her and her daughter first. In the end, it was the seer who succeeded after dodging a net and throwing a chair. 

“Your Imperial Majesty,” the seer announced, still catching his breath. “It is an honour to be invited to meet the crown princess.” 

Behind Averia, Claire and Jahne weren’t even trying to conceal their laughter as the Dia-Farron got back to her feet and considered firing her net gun again before thinking better of it. There was too much of a risk of hitting the empress and her daughter. 

“I am always pleased to welcome a representative of the seers,” Averia replied. “How fares the House of Ballad.”

“We fare well,” the seer replied before he offered a wrapped box. “A gift for the crown princess, Your Imperial Majesty.” 

“Thank you.” Averia nodded at Jahne to open it. In her arms, Thyra’s gaze was drawn to the astoundingly adorable hamster that the Dia-Farron was holding up like some kind of talisman. Following the baby’s gaze, the seer’s eyes widened, and he not so subtly stepped to the side to block the baby’s view before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small chocobo chick.

What caught Averia’s eye was the chick’s coloration. It was a striking purple that matched the hair colour of Caius Ballad. Thyra’s gaze immediately snapped to the chocobo, which cheeped softly and stared back at the baby.

“That is an unusual chocobo,” Averia said. “I can’t say I’ve seen many purple chocobos in my time, and he is exceptionally purple.”

“Ah, yes. Purple chocobos are exceedingly rare, but the reason this particular fellow is an even more vivid shade of purple than most of his kind is because he was hatched on a world we recently discovered had been badly contaminated by gravity Dust following a volcanic eruption. As a result, his feathers are a more intense purple, and he appears to have developed some control over gravity in addition to the usual Synergist abilities purple choocbos usually have.”

“Fascinating.” Averia glanced to the side as Jahne opened the gift. Her lips twitched. It was a tiny outfit in the authentic style of the Nsu Clan. “An adorable outfit.”

“We thought it appropriate since you are also the Chieftain of all the Clans, and we hope for young Thyra to become a farsighted and wise ruler whose reign shall be remembered long into the future.”

Averia’s lips twitched. She had a feeling it was more like he and the rest of his clan wanted Thyra to be more favourably disposed toward them.

“We do, of course, have other gifts,” the seer continued smoothly. “But we shall present them during the upcoming naming ceremony, in accordance with tradition.”

“Of course.” Averia nodded. In her arms, Thyra shifted restlessly and reached for the chocobo chick. Little wisps of frost formed, a testament to her heritage. “I look forward to it.” She glanced past him. “Perhaps you should allow the Dia-Farron representative to present her gift. She seems to be having a conniption.”

X    X     X

“That clever bastard,” the Dia-Farron muttered. “I definitely didn’t expect him to have a purple chocobo chick that’s even more purple than normal.” She smirked. “But if he thinks we’re beaten, he’s got another thing coming, right, Professor Cuddleburg?”

The hamster took a moment to unleash the full power of his cuteness and then nodded. They had a battle to win.

X    X     X

The birth of a crown princess is always cause for celebration in the empire. However, it also provides unique opportunities for the various factions within the empire itself. These factions will spare no expense in their pursuit of favour and influence with the new royal, turning the traditional naming ceremony into something close to a pitched battle.

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Never count out the Dia-Farron. The seers might have the upper hand for now, but they’ve still got a few cards to play. Plus, they’ve got an important advantage. When it comes to science and technology, nobody is better than they are. And if the princess wants to be the best, she’d have to learn from the best, right?

Incidentally, the Imperial hedgehogs are their own faction. However, they are less concerned with influencing the crown princess directly than they are with keeping any potential bad influences away. This policy became standard after the many clashes between Vanille I’s hedgehog and hamster. Knowing how close Averia VII is to Lord Hedgeborough, the seers wisely chose to seek his approval, which he granted largely to counterbalance what he knew would be powerful efforts from the Dia-Farron.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

[silasmadams]

My Problem with a “Darker Shade of Magic” by V.E. Schwab

So I’ve been meaning to talk about V. E. Schwab’s A Darker Shade of Magic. I know it’s got plenty of love behind it and its got its fair share of fans but I can’t for the life of me love this book and yes I mean only the first book because that’s as far as I read in the series. I have a similar relationship to this as I do Children of Blood by Tomi Adeyemi in that I completely understand why people like it, I just don’t. 

I’m also going to give a trigger warning that I will be talking about sexual assault, violence, and general gore so if that makes you uncomfortable give this a skip. I’ll give a trigger warning again when I’m about to speak in-depth on the previously mentioned subjects. I will also warn you when I’m about to head into spoiler territory, though I won’t be going into particularly big spoilers.

Summary

For those of you that don’t know, A darker shade of Magic is the first book in the Darker Shade of Magic trilogy by V. E. Schwab. It’s about three separate Londons, Red, White, and Grey. Red is the London with lots of magic, it’s the pretty and bougie London. White is a cesspit of violence with very little magic forcing its inhabitants to cling onto any magic they can for dear life. Their leaders are cruel and it's not uncommon for them to be usurped. Generally to get ahead in White London you need to be vile. And Grey London is our world's London roughly around the 1800s, since King George III is alive but very old and dying. So the conflict is about Black London, the fourth London that was cut off from the others because their magic consumed the people and the land. Kell an antari, a super magical person, is able to travel through the three londons and he ends up getting caught up in some big conspiracies and power grabs. Interesting premise right? I agree but the execution ehhh. Ok, let’s start first with the pros of the book.

Style

Her style isn’t anything too extravagant. But that doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It’s nowhere near bad. She’s got quite a few descriptions that really draw you in. Her opening lines are damn near perfect. “Kell wore a very peculiar coat, It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible” [pg 11]. It doesn’t reveal much but it sort of tosses this thread out there for you to follow into the larger narrative. It’s got almost a rhyming quality to it, a rhythm that you can feel yourself saying as you recite the lines aloud. It gives you just enough to keep you invested but not enough to reveal anything of importance. All of the writing in this book has a similar draw to it, it’s simple and intricate all at once and it’s very precise in what it’s trying to say. When Schwab describes something in the narrative, you can imagine it very clearly. Just listen to how she describes the marketplace. "The subtle scent of flowers was lot beneath the aroma of cooking meat and freshly cut fruit, heavy spices and mulled wine. A man in dark robes offered candied plums beside a woman selling scrying stones. A vendor poured steaming tea into short glass goblets across from another vibrant stall displaying masks and a third offering tiny vials of water drawn from the Isle, the contents still glowing faintly with its light..." [pg 45 and 46]. Overall Schwab knows her craft and it’s clear that she’s confident in her writing because she should be, she’s got the technical and stylistic aspect down to a tee.

Setting

The setting is amazing, but and there is a big but which includes minor spoilers so run away now if you want to read this book. I will say that it’s a good book, it’s just not a good book to me. If you’re into other world fantasies and cross-dimensional travel you’ll probably like this. I’m into that too but the problem is that this book has a lot of missed potential for me. So if the previously mentioned description sounds interesting or if the summary I gave sounds interesting to you, leave, go read the book and come back. If it doesn’t sound interesting or you don’t care about spoilers then I guess stick around if you want.

So the premise is amazing. These three different Londons that all exist in different dimensions that only a select few, two people to be exact, can travel to are vastly different from one another. Their landscapes, their people, their overall geography, it’s all completely different, the only overlapping aspects that they all have are their names and the two travelers that can move about their kingdoms, those two being Kell, one of our main characters and Holland, one of our main antagonists.

I think Red London is overall well done, Schwab captures it perfectly. A land of flowers and joy with obvious problems and tensions but out of the three London’s is clearly portrayed as the best. So I’ve got no qualms with that.

What I found upsetting though was White London and Grey London. For White London, it was this hellscape of a city that had so much room to be this horrible torturous place and Schwab touches on it, she grazes the surface of it ever so slightly but she never manages to hit the mark completely. When you tell me White London is a grimy and gross place filled with power-hungry bastards and bitches what’s to stop me from going “well isn’t that just normal London aka Grey London but with magic?” I needed more of White London, I needed more of that seedy underbelly to better contrast with Grey London. With Grey London, we see the horrors of the land through the character of Lila Bard who has a difficult life, who needs to survive on her own in this terrible place, no offense London. I think the best way to have fixed this was to have more focus on Holland, the character that was from White London. If we were to have three POVs from Holland, Kell, and Lila, instead of just Lila and Kell, this problem could be solved. It would convolute the story because of the twist about Holland and his involvement in trying to help the twin rulers of White London take over Red London but I feel like that’s an ok thing to lose in order to gain a better understanding of White London and have a more fleshed out narrative of all three kingdoms.

Characters

I hate these characters. Ok, that’s kind of a strong word, I don’t hate them. I don’t hate all of them at least. And I know plenty of people love and adore these characters, I’ve seen the artwork and the time and effort people put into these characters and it’s all amazing but I just do not get the hype. I didn’t like them.

See, my thing is that I hate characters that don’t reach, what I see as their true potential. Which is just a roundabout way of saying that I hate characters that are boring. I mean I can enjoy a badly written character as much as the next person but the thing is that a boring character is not enjoyable for anyone, especially when you see threads of a character and know that they can be something more. Now I haven’t read either of the other two books so maybe the characters are different there, I don’t know. All I know is that I either found the characters to be boring, cliche, or just annoying.

The first character to make this most egregious mistake on the part of being boring, would be none other than Kell. So Kell is the adopted Prince, the older brother of Rhy. He was taken away from his family at a young age and brought up in the palace because he was an Antari, which again is a super magical person that can travel through the different Londons and is an expert in various other types of magic, natural or otherwise. So Kell loves his brother and he has issues with his adoptive parents because he feels that they see him only as a tool. Now, this is good, this has potential. The problem here is that we never see moments of the King and Queen treating Kell badly and they don’t even need to necessarily treat him badly they just need to drop hints of how they clearly favor Rhy. And I didn’t see those hints. As far as I could tell, both boys were treated relatively equal, Kell had a lot more work on his plate but that was because he’s an Antari, he’s the only Antari. To really drive home that feeling of isolation and of Rhy being his only real family among the royals there needs to be more memories of their childhood where the King and Queen picked Rhy over Kell and it was because of them seeing Rhy as their real son and Kell as more of a soldier. There is also the issue of Lila just dismissing these feelings that Kell has about his family not loving him but we’ll get to that in a bit. All that aside, Kell just isn’t interesting. You could replace him with a cardboard cutout and I wouldn’t know the difference. He’s just not an engaging character, he’s got the threads of an engaging character but he himself is not one. Whenever I was back to his POV I didn’t know whether to groan out of boredom or to just be glad we weren’t in Lila’s head. I decided to go with the former because Lila is fun to hate, Kell is bread, he’s not even toast, he’s bread, soggy bread. Ok, that’s enough.

Now Lila, Oh Lila. How I despise thee. I get what Schwab was going for with this character. She was the badass cross-dressing thief lady that could cut you down. Lila is an orphan that had to fend for herself after her father basically tried to sell her off. She’s got a good introduction and it bleeds into some good first few chapters. Now warning I’m about to talk about sexual assault and just general violence so skip to the next paragraph if you don't want to read that. In one of the earlier chapters, Lila comes home, her home being a docked ship that she stays at. The ship is owned by an older man who she basically pays rent to. When she gets back, the guy, Powell, asks for his cut. He’s drunk out of his mind which is also not unusual for this character. When she says she doesn’t have anything to give him today, he responds by saying he can take something else from her, clearly implying sexual favors. So she straight up fucking murders Powell "Dead. Dead... and making a mess... She crouched, wiped her blade on Powell's shirt, and recovered the silver from his pocket. And then she stepped over his body, retrieved the revolver from its drawer, and got dressed" [pg 69]. And then to cover her tracks, she sets his boat on fire and dips. "Lila stood on the dock and watched the Sea King burn. She stared up at it, face warmed by the fire that danced on her chin and cheeks the way the lamp light had before the constable.'It's a shame,’ she thought. She'd rather liked the rotting ship. But it wasn't hers. No, hers would be much better" [pg 70]. Come on, tell me that’s not a great anti-hero introduction? Because it is.

That being said, the more time I, as a reader spent with Lila, the more I realized I hate her. I mean at least I felt something towards her, unlike Kell. So the first problem with Lila is that she is the epitome of “I’m not like other girls” Every chance she gets to put down anything girly or to put down other women she takes. Or, she just jumps at the chance of being called not like other girls. Which Kell often obliges in. And, this would be ok if it was criticized within the story, if it was properly examined why she feels this way, because there could be a lot of reasons, one of which could be that she realized behaving in a more aggressive or traditionally masculine way allowed her to have autonomy and allowed people to not talk down to her but to be afraid of her. There are a lot of ways in which this could go but it didn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with liking more traditionally masculine things, the problem is the way in which Lila clearly needs to put other women down in order to feel special about herself. I also mentioned earlier about my issue with how Lila undermines Kell’s feelings of his adoptive parents never really loving him and seeing him only as a tool. Again, this could have been played up a little more and Kell could have properly called her out instead of just being the meek bread he is and letting her essentially tell him that his emotional struggle doesn’t matter cause he’s rich. I get where Lila is coming from in this scenario and I do like that she treats him like that in terms of his emotions because it’s very telling of her own upbringing. The problem is that she very clearly makes it about herself and her problems. This could have worked better if she simply dismissed his feelings, got angry at him for basically swimming in cash, and then stopped there. We should have gotten an insight into her thoughts of why she feels this way or have it implied why she feels this way, rather than have her outright say it, because in this case, when she voices that and shifts everything back to herself it feels very purposeful and mean on her end rather than it just being her natural reaction. Instead of going “oh my life was terrible and way worse than yours” it would work better if she just called him a brat, told him to shut up, and then moved about her own business. That could also add a more interesting dynamic to these characters by having Kell be the emotional one and Lila be the one who Kell has to urge out of her shell by being the emotional support. It would be a role reversal of the traditional way most romances go, and again, I think Schwab was trying to do that, but the execution of it fell flat. My final gripe with this character is that she isn’t feral enough, and if Schwab had just made her more feral, this character would fit in perfectly. What I mean by feral is, exactly that honestly. She was too put together, too suave and cool and always knew what to say. If you’re gonna tell me this street urchin type orphan in 1800s London is cool and suave I’m gonna call bullshit cause no way this girl isn’t straight up feral and ready to bite someone’s nose off at the drop of a hat because that’s what she’s gotta do to survive. I just wish Schwab had gone down this route instead of the Lila we got, but oh well. It is what it is.

I’m only briefly going to talk about Rhy, Kell’s younger brother, because there isn’t too much I have to say about him and I feel like this is already long enough as is. Rhy is basically a cut and dry trope of the rich prince boy with a heart of gold. I love that archetype so I like Rhy, but to an extent. He seems to be only that trope and that’s it. There isn’t much more to him. Though he’s not as boring as Kell or as annoying as Lila so that’s a plus. I haven’t even talked about the twins that rule White London or Holland but again this is already too long, don’t need to make it longer and they also involve a lot of major spoilers that I don't want to get into.

Pacing

I know earlier that I said Schwab’s style of writing was very well done, that she clearly had a kind of rhythm for the writing itself, and I stand by that statement but the pacing is not good. It’s all over the place, it’s either too slow or too fast or just nonexistent. I’m going to use romance as an example of how the pacing is bad and I think you can tell that with a lot of books. If they have romance in them, which if we’re being real, they probably do, then the way in which the romance plays out can often be a good indicator of pace. The relationship is wonky so the pacing is wonky. To be honest, the relationship was something I didn’t buy. It went by too fast and when Lila kissed him it felt very robotic like they were just getting together because they were the breeding pair. They had no chemistry whatsoever even as friends. As friends, they were at least somewhat more tolerable, but like romantic partners, I just didn’t see it. The stilted romance was awkward and dumb and again, there was no chemistry, they were just shoved together because they were the only guy and girl and both had a POV.  I don’t know the overall pacing was slow, and I don’t mind slow build-up books. One of my favorites, Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor is a very slow build-up book but it’s well done, it doesn’t drag. This book drags and the romance in it drags. When the pace picks up it’s like going a thousand miles an hour. When shit hit the fan in the book, I get that it was supposed to be fast-paced and tense but I was never tense while reading it I just kind of wanted the whole book to end so I didn’t have to keep slogging through it. I guess I just hoped that the ending would tie it all together and fix the pacing which is stupid on my part because that’s not at all what happened.

Conclusion

Well, that’s all I gotta say about it, I gave it three stars on GoodReads.

Buy the book here:

https://www.amazon.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Novel-Shades-ebook/dp/B00ME0TBFE

Buy it Used here:

https://www.abebooks.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Schwab-Victoria-Titan/30413099967/bd?cm_mmc=ggl-_-US_Shopp_Trade-_-used-_-naa&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDRNRjl8x-ktniE3IUmecyE1lDYlPxglxoLpBAYEt7C3ivyt9PPabkaAmTGEALw_wcB

or here 

https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/a-darker-shade-of-magic_victoria-schwab/9043358/item/16041243/?mkwid=MUQmUYQc%7cdc&pcrid=70112856192&product=16041243&plc=&pgrid=18035380632&ptaid=aud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_content=MUQmUYQc%7cdc%7cpcrid%7c70112856192%7cpkw%7c%7cpmt%7c%7cproduct%7c16041243%7cslid%7c%7cpgrid%7c18035380632%7cptaid%7caud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383%7c&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDXbz2350Y8Tse02z5fKP_TgnPIH1DXhILOWkgk260VeZzQwUCgXbEaAsH5EALw_wcB#isbn=0765376466&idiq=16041243

Or just get it at your local library.

[supergirlmelbenoist]

How Melissa Benoist got ripped for Supergirl

She's not a bird or a plane, and she's definitely not Superman! In 2015, Krypton refugee Kara Zor-El — aka Kara Danvers — threw aside her glasses and donned her family's S-shaped crest to follow in her cousin's footsteps and give National City its very own superhero on the CW's Supergirl. Back then, Melissa Benoist — the actress playing both Supergirl the superpowered alien and Kara the shy personal assistant — was best known to TV fans for her role as sweet newcomer Marley Rose on two seasons of Glee, and she also had a small role in Best Picture-nominated Whiplash.

Taking the lead of a show — especially one with such a strong legacy on-screen and off — was a big step up for Benoist, both performance-wise and also physically. So how did she get ripped for the role? Well, Benoist said that landing the part meant stepping up her workouts, not just because we tend to take our superheroes with six-pack abs and toned biceps, but so that she could keep up with the action. The self-described pacifist and musical theater nerd suddenly found herself learning how to throw a punch and how to fly. So here's how Melissa Benoist toughened up to play Supergirl, at the gym, in her fight scenes, and high up on the wires.

She made it through a full-on audition process

Obviously the CW couldn't cast just anyone as Supergirl, which meant that Melissa Benoist had to go through a rigorous audition process before she got anywhere close to landing the role. The wait was made even more excruciating because, according to Benoist, "I believe I was the first girl they saw." That first audition was in October 2014, and it was just the start. In 2015, she told Entertainment Weekly, "It was a long, drawn-out, three-month process. I auditioned around Halloween 2014 and then didn't land the part until February 2015. I went through multiple screen-tests, multiple auditions with the producing team. There was a lot."

During that extensive audition process, Variety reported that Benoist found a champion in producer Greg Berlanti. "Greg championed me the whole time and was in my corner," Benoist remembered. "Even when I didn't think the part was mine, he was always rooting for me. That support goes a long way, especially when I'm fighting for something I want so badly. His belief in me really touched me." Berlanti echoed the sentiment, saying, "If we had not found her, I would have said, 'I don't want to make this.'"

The first episode aired almost a year after that first audition, on October 26, 2015, and since then, Benoist has seen hundreds of kids in their own versions of her costume. "Every Halloween there are quite a bit of Supergirls," she told Jimmy Kimmel, so it was worth the wait.

Melissa Benoist worked on her core strength

While comic book titans DC and Marvel have both made noise about introducing more diversity to their products, one thing that all superheroes have in common are incredible abs. Benoist's Supergirl is no exception. She told Entertainment Weekly that to prepare for the role, she did "some boxing, strength training, and a lot of core work." At Comic-Con, she said that her workouts included Pilates, boxing, and plyometrics.

If you've never had cause to get into superhero shape, you might be wondering what fresh hell plyometrics are. As Healthine explains, plyometrics involve exerting your body to its maximum ability for a short period of time — for example, by jumping — to improve strength, speed, and power. They're a pretty advanced form of exercise, as Benoist found out! On CBS's This Morning, she explained, "I did quite a bit of training. We did this stuff called plyometrics, which is like jump training. And all of it was really hard — just hard things!"

And the core work isn't just to look good. As Benoist added, the core work comes in handy when you're doing the flying stunts. "I'm up on a wire," she said, "and you have to hold your entire body weight so there's a lot of training involved."

Work is a workout on Supergirl

Melissa Benoist wasn't the only cast member who had to up her workout intensity to give the action sequences the effort they deserved. Chyler Leigh, who plays Kara's adoptive sister Alex, said that the actors work really hard with the stunt coordinators to get the fight scenes just right. And those action-packed days are full-on workouts in their own right. "When we do fight scenes, we're working out for six hours, just doing the same thing," she told CBS. "We are burnt for the next few days. I think that's really where I get my caloric burn count."

Even when they aren't shooting, Leigh and Benoist try to use those periods of waiting around that happen on the set of a TV show to stay in shape. "Melissa and I try to do as much as we possibly can," Leigh said. "In my trailer, I've got resistance bands and medicine balls and things like that. I try to do it in between, but we have very little downtime." The two on-screen sisters also have a shared interest in the same workout. "I love Pilates," Leigh told CBS. "It gives such a good core foundation. When I can go, it's awesome." And you thought TV sets were all craft services and hanging out in trailers.

Melissa Benoist learned to fight from the best

Thos Robinson/Getty Images Another crucial element of being a superhero is being able to kick butt convincingly. This didn't come naturally to Benoist, who confessed to the Chicago Tribune, "I had never punched anyone! I maybe slapped my sisters when I was a kid, but I'm not an aggressive, violent person, and I had no idea how to throw a punch." To help her find her inner fighter, Benoist took up boxing. "I definitely had to learn technique. Like how to actually punch someone and not hurt yourself more than you're hurting the person you're punching. And so boxing was part of it," she told InStyle.

Fortunately for Benoist, she had access to excellent tutors. In addition to the stunt team, former karate and kickboxing world champion Lexi Alexander (pictured above) directed an episode in the first season. Having worked on Supergirl's fellow Arrowverse show Arrow, Alexander said she was excited to work on a story about a female superhero. "I realized that this is the first time I'm choreographing and directing a fight scene for a female lead. I did some fight directing for a woman here and there … but for a female lead? I've never directed a female lead in an action," she told Den of Geek.

Her directing stint was short, but Alexander said that she pushed her star "to the next level of fight choreography," and that "they've now changed [Benoist's] fight style from [Alexander's] episode onward." Benoist might still be more lover than fighter at heart, but we wouldn't challenge her.

She does (some of) her own stunts on Supergirl

Believe it or not, it really is Benoist doing some of those hair-raising stunts on the show. The actress told Variety that she likes to get involved with the action when she can, saying, "I have been doing a lot [of stunts], and I want to keep doing them. Already I've fought a male on the show. Supergirl's fight moves are boxing. She's really heavy-handed. There's some flying that involves kicking and punching mid-flight that's kind of awesome."

However, not everyone was thrilled with Benoist's hands-on approach to fights. Her mom, Julie, told her that she found it difficult to watch her daughter's fight scenes, especially against men. But Julie Benoist needn't have worried. Benoist knows her limits, and she's heaped praise on her stunt doubles. In 2015, she said of stunts, "I think they're so fun. There are some that I just can't — I really could get injured. … My stunt double is amazing. She was Jen Garner's on Alias and Buffy's. She's all over the place, and she's so cool. I wish people could see what they go through. It's insane."

Benoist's stunt double in 2015 was Shauna Duggins, whose resume includes Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the recent Star Trek movies, and 2000's Charlie's Angels (as well as many other movies and shows.) After doing 20 episodes of Supergirl, Duggins went on to work as stunt coordinator for shows including Ray Donovan, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and GLOW. She's a real-life superwoman.

She likes to get out of the gym

Although Benoist diligently puts in her hours in the gym, the Colorado-raised actress is happier getting her exercise in the great outdoors. Her Instagram shows photos of her hiking with her husband (and Supergirl co-star), Chris Wood, and their dogs, Farley and Drift. She also recalled being jealous when she found out what her co-star and Supergirl predecessor, Helen Slater, was doing to get in shape.

After Benoist recounted the boxing and core work she was doing to Slater, "She gave me this look, and I was like, 'Why, what did they have you do?'" Benoist told Entertainment Weekly. "'Oh, I went horseback riding, and fencing and doing some archery, and I was swimming.' She went through this whole gamut of awesome outdoor activities that I would love to do to train." Speaking to E! Online, Benoist said of Slater's exercise regime, "She was on trampolines a lot and dancing and prancing and doing all these cool activities for training. I wish I had that much fun."

The conflicting training schedules aren't coming between the two actresses. Benoist added to EW, "Also, she's just so kind and such a sweet, sweet woman. That's really what I've learned from her. She really is a super girl. I'm so honored that I'm following in her footsteps." She'll just have to wait for a filming break to take a hike.

Melissa Benoist has a dance background

Glee was not Benoist's first experience with musical theater. She told Jimmy Kimmel that she did "tap, ballet, and jazz class at four years old" and children's theater, even performing at Disneyland. "In front of Sleeping Beauty's Castle, we sang a Stephen Sondheim medley where my solo was 'Send in the Clowns,'" she recalled. She also studied ballet, although she wasn't a perfect student. "All the years I took ballet class … I was the one kid in class who the teacher was always like, 'Urgh, her turn-out,' and, 'She is not standing up straight,'" Benoist told Kimmel. She did better with another form of dance. In a video for Glamour, she said, "I have a secret superpower — that I can tap dance," and she demonstrated to prove her point.

That dance training comes in handy on the set of Supergirl — and not just for Benoist's part in the musical crossover episode of The Flash. Benoist said that her dance background helps her with the wire work and even the fight sequences. "With the wire work and flying, even the choreography, I grew up dancing, so that kind of came like it would if I were learning a dance routine," she told the Chicago Tribune. Plus, it keeps her and the crew entertained between takes.

She learned how to fly (well, on wires)

Melissa Benoist's favorite thing about her superhero role is exactly what you'd expect: the chance to fly. When Jimmy Kimmel asked about the best part of playing Supergirl, Benoist said, "I mean, I get to fly!" Upon further questioning, she acknowledged, "I mean it's hard work, I'm essentially attached to a fork in the air." She also told Variety just how hard it was and how she prepared, saying, "The wire work for training is mostly core work. It's mostly ab-centric — the whole area of the body that nobody wants to work out. You have to get strong. You have to carry your whole body weight when you're up in the air."

However, it's worth all the working out. "The wire work is really difficult, but so fun. And when you get it right, watching the result is exhilarating," Benoist told People. "It's a really, really cool feeling to know what it felt like, the energy I had to exert to create those flying scenes. And then the way they look is really rewarding."

Benoist got some help perfecting her flying technique. When Kimmel asked how she figured out Supergirl's flying style, she said, "There's this sort of superhero physicality school that you kind of have to go to — at least we did on the DC shows — where the stunt team will teach you to walk like a superhero. … They're awesome and they've really helped me." And that's how to look fly in spandex.

Benoist eats healthy, but she's not a dieter

All of that working out and on-set action builds up an appetite. But as a female superhero who's expected to squeeze into a spandex suit every day and have the muscles to beat up bad guys without actually looking bulked up, Benoist can't go to town on craft services. Fortunately, she's pretty into fruits and vegetables anyway. "I love supermarkets, I love grocery shopping, I love the produce aisle, because to be super you have to be healthy," she told Glamour. "And I would probably stock up on all the fruits. I love fruit."

However, she isn't about to totally deprive herself of comfort foods. In the same Glamour interview, she said, "If I could supersize any food it would be [an] ice cream Drumstick, vanilla caramel. They're so good." In 2016, she told the Chicago Tribune that she was excited to attend that year's Chicago Comic-Con and Entertainment Expo (aka C2E2) because she wanted to check out the city's restaurants. As she explained, "I've heard the food scene is incredible, and I'm a foodie, so I can't wait to go out and eat."

Benoist also said that her own partiality to the occasional junk food splurge inspired the writers to add it into her character's personality. "I love junk food, I love doughnuts, and they put that in there quite a bit," she said, laughing. "There are these doughnuts all the time." This diet sounds super.

She got ripped to show women being tough

Kevin Winter/Getty Images One reason Melissa Benoist was so invested in making sure her character could be physically impressive was because she wanted to inspire other women to feel strong and powerful. In an essay for Time, she wrote, "I think the more the show goes on, the more you see this fierceness and what women are really capable of. It puts [Supergirl] on this equal playing field. … That's so meaningful to me to help children understand that girls can have just as much fun as their male counterparts in the superhero world. It's about confidence and hope, and Supergirl really embodies all of that."

Even though Benoist also wrote that she grew up in "this really strong, feminine family," she told the Chicago Tribune, "I didn't really believe that I could be that character or play a superhero. It's something I never thought of myself as doing, but I just knew I had to go for it because there's so few female superheroes and just strong females that fight back and do it with grace and do it with love." She's also said that she didn't want the character to be a female version of male superheroes, saying, "What I think is cool is to try to bring kind of a femininity to her strength. … I do like the idea of bringing in like a grace to it. And a fluidity and kind of this femininity to flying. It's fun." In other words, Melissa Benoist is out here bringing new meaning to (Super)girl power.

[quarterfromcanon]

Breathless

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 19 - Rosé  [3,673 words]

They were nearly finished with their first glasses when Valencia circled to the topic of the wedding preparations that took over Heather’s house.

“So how's it going?” 

“All over the place. And also nowhere. It’s an avalanche of crap. There’s rare proof of results. I’m kinda worried about her.” Heather swirled the rosé and watched it settle back into stillness. “The venue’s hella pretty so I get wanting to have it there, but like, I’m reasonably sure moving things up this soon is a bad idea in all caps.”

“What she needs is a guidebook,” Valencia declared. “I had an entire binder.”

“Rebecca’s latest reference is some D.I.Y. wedding from Canada.” Heather polished off the remainder of her drink.

Valencia scoffed in dismissal. “Even those require more work than people realize.” 

“That’s what I said!”

“Plus, if the user who posted isn’t from anywhere near your hometown, then you can’t count on their resources to be applicable to you,” Valencia expounded. “Hell, if they’re from another country then I’m sure it’s even worse. They’ll have access to different shops and venues, not to mention the help of their families and friends. You can’t copy and paste their circumstances. It won’t come out the same. Guaranteed.”

“You gave all that a lot of thought,” Heather remarked.

“After a decade and a half with Josh, it was way more than thought. I had every piece in place except for the groom.” Valencia downed her wine and set it on a coaster. She shrugged. “Turns out, he didn’t paste so well, either. I still have the binder, though.”

“Really? You didn’t, like, burn it or throw it in the dumpster so you wouldn’t have to look at it again?”

“I was tempted,” Valencia conceded. “My hand was literally over the trash more than once, but I always kept myself from dropping the book. I did a lot of work rounding all that up, damn it. Why waste years of effort and attention to detail? Something useful ought to come out of what I went through. He could change my reality, but I didn’t want to let him take my dreams.”

“Good for you.” Heather raised her empty glass in approval.

“Can I show you everything?”

Heather freed her hands and adjusted her cardigan. “What’s that?”

“The binder,” Valencia clarified. “It’s still in my bedroom. Would you mind looking through it with me?”

Heather’s pulse quickened. The subject matter and the woman who wanted to discuss it struck her as a dangerous combination in light of recent overnight scenes from her subconscious. This was exactly what almost convinced her not to knock on Valencia’s door, but there was no retreat now. She could see how badly Valencia wanted to share what she had made. Heather didn’t have the will to deny her that wish. She traced the stem of the wine glass. “Yeah, we can do that. I’m game.”

Valencia disappeared through the open doorway. Heather accompanied her but stopped near the threshold. Valencia was already on her hands and knees beside the bed, rummaging underneath it. She faced opposite from the door and Heather was momentarily transfixed by the curve of her friend’s jeans. 

She averted her gaze, but the places it landed after that were not especially helpful distractions. Valencia’s mattress looked comfortable and warm in the patch of sunlight pouring through the shades. The picture they took together on Labor Day was at the edge of Valencia’s nightstand. Its presence made Heather’s heart skip a beat. She raced through a surprising number of thoughts in the span of seconds -- why that particular photo received a place of honor, why it was kept within view of where Valencia slept, what she might think or feel while looking at it -- but then Valencia’s words interrupted Heather’s reverie.

“Sorry,” Valencia apologized with a grunt. “It went too far last time. I shoved it against the wall.”

Heather blinked a very different mental picture from her mind and focused on the out-of-reach binder. “Do you want some help?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Valencia moved out of the way. She gestured for Heather to give it her best shot.

Heather joined Valencia on the floor and dropped onto her stomach. She crawled under the bed with her head tilted to the side and tried to extend her arm far enough to catch the spine of the binder between her fingers. Her duster caught on the metal of the frame. She had to pry herself from its clutches. Heather exhaled her vexation. “Hang on.”

She scooted in reverse, shed the cardigan, then resumed her pursuit of the elusive item.

“Almost... got it...”

“Girl, your entire back is out right now.”

Heather paused and realized she could feel the air of the room against a rather significant amount of skin. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“It’s all right. I can fix that for you,” Valencia offered.

“I’ll be done in like two se--”

Heather’s eyes widened as Valencia’s fingers curled beside her rib cage to slide the shirt down where it belonged. When Valencia’s knuckles brushed her waist, Heather twitched involuntarily and bashed her ear against the underside of the bed. She hissed with a wince. 

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

Heather pressed her palm against the injured side of her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just figured something out, though.”

“What?”

Heather reemerged. She flipped to a seated position. “I’ve been coming at this from the wrong direction.” She propped herself up with her hands flat against the floor and put her legs under the mattress. Heather inched forward to gingerly search with the toes of her boots until they tapped against the binder. “Uh-huh. This’ll do the trick. Wait for it.”

Her shirt crept up her stomach as she strained to gain purchase. She couldn’t be certain because it was so fleeting, but Heather thought she saw Valencia’s gaze linger over her abs.

“Got it!” she announced. “So, now I’m just gonna...”

Heather crab-walked with the binder between her feet and finally brought it out of the shadows.

“Yay!” Valencia clapped. She hefted the tome into her arms. THE WEDDING BOOK was emblazoned across the front. She sat beside Heather and they leaned against the wall next to her closet. “Are you ready for this?”

Heather patted her thighs. “Put it here.”

They shared the weight of the book, half across Heather’s leg and the other on Valencia’s.

“Wow, it’s really heavy.” Heather lifted and lowered her kneecaps several times. “I could get a good workout with this. You weren’t kidding about having everything. I think you might be, like, the Tolstoy of wedding planners. That’s how many pages this thing has.”

Valencia laughed. “Well, I do like to be thorough.”

Heather licked her lips. She broke eye contact to look down at the first sheet. “Oh my god. Is that a table of contents? Wait, wait. Let me check the back. Yep, there’s an index, too. It’s a legit numbered and annotated book.”

Valencia elbowed her. She arched an eyebrow. “Are you finished commenting on my formatting?”

Heather hid a smile. “Take it away, Tolkien.”

Valencia rolled her eyes but her lips turned slightly at the corners. “So, the first few scans are actually before wedding prep begins. Layouts for engagement announcements, good locations for the accompanying photo shoot, recommended nearby photographers with their contact information, outfit inspo, and so on.”

Heather nodded and tried to concentrate on the assembled elements, but she was repeatedly drawn back to the person who had put it all together. Valencia spoke with obvious authority on the event. Bright enthusiasm came through in her voice. Her hands slid lovingly over every accumulated image and article of information. Heather herself had never so much as considered a style of dress, so she admittedly could not relate to the extensive construction of the fantasy. She hadn’t ruminated on post-nuptial domesticity, either, unless she counted the fictional scenario from her sleep that night during the Santa Ana winds (which she had been actively blocking out of her memory ever since). All that considered, however, the longing behind Valencia’s features caused a sympathetic pang in Heather just the same. 

Even though Valencia was over Josh, the fact remained that she wanted this. The gown, the veil, the ceremony and tradition of it, the gathering of loved ones, a devoted partner to share her life with -- it all brought her such audible and visible joy to imagine. Heather frowned. As they neared the end of the binder, she leaned her head against Valencia’s shoulder. The statement got caught in her mouth, slamming against deliberate resistance and uncertain implications, but the truth was more important than her insecurity. “I really hope you get your dream someday, V.” 

Valencia rested her cheek against Heather’s hair. “Thank you.” They remained that way for a brief while. Then Valencia closed the book with a resigned sigh. “Now that I’m looking at it with a new perspective, I think I’d probably scrap most of this. The vendor cards can stay, but the rest of it? Too much was for someone who’s not a factor anymore. Josh’s parents, his friends, his sisters... I knew they’d all be there determined to hate me, so the reception was where I was hoping to turn things around. It probably wouldn’t change their opinions much, but at least they’d be having a good time and not glaring from their tables. They’d end the night with fond memories, if nothing else. I’ll admit, the wedding itself was mostly for me, but you know what? I’m not a factor anymore, either. Or, at least, who I used to be isn’t. I’m... different. But maybe that’s not so bad.”

She looked down at Heather, who lifted her head and froze when they locked eyes. Valencia studied her vulnerable expression and became suddenly apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I completely dampened the mood. I was supposed to be helping you get away from weddings, not bringing them to you. Can I get you more wine?”

Heather concealed her disappointment with a forced smile. “Sure. That sounds great.”

“Awesome. Come on.” Valencia departed in the direction of their abandoned glasses. Heather uncomfortably shifted to cross her thighs. She took a deep breath and stood to follow her host. Though it happened without a conscious decision, Heather’s head turned for a parting glance at the bed before she left the room. She internally berated herself for that.

___

“Your ear is bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Right there.” 

Valencia tried to point but her depth perception was no longer trustworthy. Her finger sank deep into Heather’s curls.

Heather snickered. “Missed.”

Valencia snorted. “Yeah, a little bit. It really is bloody, though, but like... dry.”

“Probably from your bed.” Heather took another drink.

“Aww! Is that what happened? Well, let me at least get some Neosporin for that.” Valencia shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Dude, you can’t even poke my ear right. How are you gonna put medicine on it?”

“Very carefully.”

They giggled. Heather leaned against the counter while she awaited her companion’s return. Valencia came back a couple of minutes later with an excessive dollop of the ointment on one fingertip and a circular bandage on the other. 

“Okay. This is going to be interesting. Don’t move.”

Heather swept her hair aside before she complied. Valencia rested the edge of her palm against Heather’s cheekbone to keep it steady. Her eyes squinted in concentration. A pink hint of tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth. Heather’s shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. Valencia gave her a teasing shove with the other hand. 

“That counts as moving.”

Heather tried without success to look serious. “Sorry.”

Valencia shifted her palm in a motion reminiscent of the hand on a clock, advancing by degrees, until at last her finger came into contact with the area of injury. “Hah! Nailed it.”

“Cool. I’ve gotta say, though, I’m not at all optimistic about that bandage.” Heather cast a wary glance at the plastic.

“Yeah, me either,” Valencia agreed. “Wish me luck.”

“You? I’m the one who’s gonna end up with adhesive in my hair.”

“Fair point. Good luck to you, too.”

“Comforting. I feel so much better about letting you do this.”

Valencia’s brows drew together. “Shh... You’re distracting the healer and she’s got a very important job to do. This is life or death stuff.”

Heather pantomimed zipping her lips.

“That’s better.”

It took several attempts including a couple of near-accidents involving stray strands, but then Valencia cupped Heather’s ear with both her hands and somehow managed to fold the bandage across the top.

“Ta-da!”

“Brilliant work, doc.” Heather plucked a sunflower out of the vase on the counter. She passed it to Valencia. “Job well done.”

Valencia blushed. She accepted the flower and put it immediately back in the water with the rest. “I’m very respected in my field.”

Heather inclined her head solemnly. They lapsed into silence, but then Heather tapped both hands against her denim shorts. “I should probably go home. I can’t avoid it forever.”

“You’re not going to drive, are you?”

“No, no. I walked. I’ll just head back the same way.” Heather ducked into Valencia’s bedroom to retrieve her cardigan off the floor.

“By yourself?”

“That’s how I traveled, yeah.” Heather clumsily shoved her arms into the sleeves.

“Not this time. I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Let me get my jacket.” Valencia grabbed the article of clothing in question and, with some difficulty, added it to her ensemble. She pocketed the key ring and tapped her fingers against her sides. “Off we go.”

___

Valencia wasn’t sure at what point during their stroll Heather talked her into taking the long way around or why she agreed to it, but eventually she realized they were in a part of West Covina she didn’t typically frequent.

“Where are we right now?”

“Getting close to my homework spot.” Heather walked up to a sign and pointed. “The Municipal Park.” They rounded the curve of the sidewalk. Heather gaped in amazement. “V, look! It’s empty. This never happens in the middle of the day.”

She walked across the vacant earth in long strides. Valencia followed at a distance. “Where are you going?”

“On a nostalgia trip. C’mon.” Heather approached the jungle gym.

“What does that even mean?” Valencia watched while Heather reached overhead to grasp the first beam of the monkey bars. “Are you sure this thing is made for adults?”

“Technically, no, but the metal portions will still support my weight.” Heather bent her legs at the knees to verify. “And I am gonna make good use of that sturdiness.”

She shucked her outermost garment again, but tied the sleeves around herself to keep track of it. Valencia stepped back so she had room to move. The crossing was more complicated since Heather could not easily judge the span of each transition, but her arms seemed up to the challenge of bearing her body aloft for a longer stretch of time. Valencia watched Heather’s biceps shift beneath her skin before she had to suppress a shiver.

Heather misjudged the next switch and whacked her knuckles against the bar. “Ah, fuck, that hit a vein.” She dropped lightly to the ground. “What did you do on the playground when you were little?”

Valencia counted activities on her fingers as she tried to remember. “Jump rope, hopscotch, four square... Oh, and one year our classroom got a couple of Skip-Its. The teacher had to schedule out turns to prevent fistfights.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Skip-Its. I completely forgot about those things. So fun, but the counter hitting your ankle hurt like hell.”

Valencia nodded and chuckled. “So many bruises.”

“What about the stuff they’ve got here?” Heather prompted. “What would kid Valencia have ended up doing in this park?”

Valencia noticed the ladder to the lookout. “Well, I used to hang upside down sometimes. My legs were always stronger than my arms.”

“Do it.”

Valencia headed toward the bars without further consideration. “This is a terrible idea. You are a bad influence.”

“When I’ve been indulging in substances? Sometimes. But I’m a good spotter. I’ll stand directly in front of you. Try it.” Heather planted her feet firmly and waited.

Valencia ascended a few rungs, locked her calves across the other side, and started to lean backward. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.” They both winced as she uncurled her spine with great caution, but then her back straightened and she dangled vertically above the ground. “Wait. Nope, nope, nope. The world’s not supposed to start moving without me. Catch!”

Heather flinched when Valencia’s legs kicked past her face, but she dove forward quickly enough to secure a supporting grip against Valencia’s middle. Valencia felt Heather’s fingers graze just below her chest and her stomach clenched. She adjusted her jacket and cleared her throat, but she couldn’t step away from the embrace until the vertigo subsided. “Thanks,” she murmured once her surroundings returned to normal.

“Told you I’d be ready.” Heather hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. She wandered toward the swing set. “Did you ever play Spider?”

Valencia tilted her head. “Did I pretend to be a spider? Was that a thing?”

Heather regarded her with amusement. “No, dude. On the swings. I’ll show you.” She cautiously lowered herself onto a seat. “Now you climb on, and one of your legs goes on either side of me.”

Valencia’s eyebrows lifted. Sweat prickled over her pores. “You want me to what now?”

“It’s tricky even when you’re sober but it’s fun, I swear. I can help you get started.” Heather crooked a finger and beckoned. “Please? With one person it’s just, like, regular swinging.”

Valencia bit her lip. “Okay, but don’t you dare drop me.”

“Cross my heart and, well, hopefully none of the other stuff. I’m only twenty-six.” She tapped the chains on the swing. “Hold onto these while you put the first leg through. It keeps you steady. Kinda. Also, lead with your left. That way, the dominant leg is still supporting you.”

Valencia adhered to the instructions. She still swayed dangerously, but Heather was able to stabilize the shaking of the swing enough to restore balance. The second leg-up was even more hazardous. Valencia yelped and threw herself forward with the motion of the kick. Heather’s feet slipped from the dirt. They had to hold onto each other to keep from tumbling backward as the swing careened in no particular direction. Heather’s forehead touched Valencia’s clavicle. Valencia panted with relief that they had survived the takeoff and tried to ignore the way Heather’s proximity tingled at every point of contact. She gave her friend a subtle push.

“What happens now?”

“The next part doesn’t exactly look like the real thing because actual spiders don’t move like that, but it’s the only way to get the swing going, so that’s how it works. You alternate leg movements. Like, I hold mine out while you curl yours under, then you extend yours while I pull mine back. Get it?”

She demonstrated both. Valencia peered cautiously over the side to watch. “Yeah, I’m good. Full speed ahead.”

Heather grinned. She began the process, and Valencia followed her lead. The swing started to move in a recognizable arc.

“It’s working!” Valencia cried excitedly.

“Yep. Ready to kick it up a notch?” Heather’s smile became an adventurous smirk.

Valencia felt butterflies, which she willfully attributed to the rush of their successful endeavor. “Always.”

They picked up momentum, shouting and laughing harder the higher they soared. Valencia leaned away a bit more than she intended. Fear swooped into her gut when her torso pitched backward. Her co-pilot’s arm was around Valencia’s waist before she even had the chance to explain her panic. Heather held fast and eased the swing’s tempo back to something slow and easy. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

When they were nearly to a stop, Heather’s grip returned to the chain links. Their fingers accidentally overlapped, yet she did not adjust her hands to remedy that. Valencia became acutely aware of how little distance stretched between them. Heather’s eyes met hers, but Valencia had to look away. Her gaze fell instead to Heather’s mouth. Unbidden, the Santa Ana dream she’d vocally dismissed at the time resurfaced. 

Would Heather’s lips be as soft and sure against her own as she had unintentionally imagined? Could they fit together that perfectly, tangled into one form until nothing else mattered?

Was it her skewed perception, or was Heather angling closer?

Valencia forgot to breathe. Intense heat built between her thighs. Her heartbeat accelerated so frantically that she couldn’t perceive any other sound.

“I’m glad you taught me that,” she blurted. Valencia’s face burned at the evident strain in her tone. Although she did not know if the undercurrent had been one-sided, a small part of her hated that she had been the one to break their connection. 

Heather blinked. “Yeah, it’s a classic.”

Valencia tried in vain to disengage without aid, but in the end it was impossible to get back on her feet without Heather. The lack of personal space seemed altered somehow, awkward and fumbling. When they were both standing once more, Heather untied her cardigan and pulled it onto her torso. She strode beyond the park perimeter. Valencia hastened her steps to match the pace.

The pair returned to the cement path, walking without talking. Valencia’s insides felt leaden and they twisted with compunction. Her feet were equally under strain, so heavy in the state of remorse that she tripped over a break in the blocks. “Sorry,” Valencia mumbled after Heather turned to check on her. “I’m still a little unsteady, I guess.”

Heather modified her speed until they traveled side-by-side. She offered a reassuring nudge that lifted Valencia’s spirits in an instant. “It’s okay.” Heather’s smile was affectionate and patient. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

[fraidycat-art]

Can you help me understand Corrin’s dragon form? If Corrin took off their armor, would the armor not appear on the dragon as well? How the hell do the arms work?? Are they bent like a horse?? Or just straight up backwards human elbows like it looks?? And the face? An egg with Horns and movable lower jaw?? How do you bite? I mean maybe this is just a partial dragon form? Because they get jaws in their half-state during crits (from their arms)

Can you help me understand Corrin’s dragon form?

yes but we’re gonna need this.

If Corrin took off their armor, would the armor not appear on the dragon as well? 

I mean, from how I understand, its a very real possibility. Proceed with warning because every dragon!corrin model is different i cannot make that distinction loudly enough, their differences are mostly skin-deep but on the sm4sh corrin model, there is a clear difference between flesh and scales - all in places that aren’t easily analogous. This makes it easy to group them when drawing, though!

The long neck, the tail, and the upper thigh/hips are particularly noteworthy for your idea. They are clearly muscled. You can also see it partially on the wings, but the torso plates stretch to it. Its particularly possible if you want to explore that area! I think that armor-swap versions of the dragon would be rad as hell.

How the hell do the arms work?? Are they bent like a horse?? Or just straight up backwards human elbows like it looks??

WELCOME TO MY SPECIAL HELL. This keeps me up at night! This very question has ruined me. That’s been the question every single time that I’ve drawn dragon!corrin (hence why I’ve drawn so many lately) but I think I’m finally settling on an anatomy that lets me rest. They are bent like a horse, and Corrin tries to move like a horse, it is not horse anatomy, but he is not structured like one. I’ll explain.

First off, let’s look at corrin with human-ish anatomy. Two arms, two legs. Normal stuff.

I use this most of the time, it allows for the front legs to twist enough to meet what Corrin does in cutscenes. The elbow is possible in theory, I try not to think too hard with this - its a simple re-arrangement at the elbow so that the radius lifts upwards. Up until rececntly, I really liked using this - its easy to remember and put my fucking soul to rest. Its really good, without collarbones the shoulder can be twisted any which way - the beauty of a girdle! I figured this was as close to what the actual inspiration was… until I really, really started thinking about why everybody thinks about horses first, and why human arms just… didn’t work. So come with me down this garden path, and look at this corrin with horse legs.

Horse legs are beautiful. They are nice and straight, they bear weight, and they have many points of articulation perfect for motion. Corrin does not have that, Corrin has one major joint and a wrist. See that horizontal bone under the scapula? that’s the radius, together with the scapula that makes the shoulder and the armpit.

However… corrin does not have a visible shoulder. Corrin also does not have an armpit. There is ribcage and then there is leg. That keeps me up at night. I had no explanation! Everything above the tibia and fibia do not exist in corrin. Every animal has that, but It just doesn’t fit! But… it works. When you look at corrin, you see a leg, and you see something along the lines of a horse. Here’s the kicker: there’s a reason you think of horses - despite everything.

for context: Here’s Spirit, an animated horse and source of my artistic inspiration! Dreamworks put a lot of time, effort, and money in order to animate Spirit as anatomically correct as possible. As you can see, it has the correct knee bend for Corrin, but it has a definite shoulder and armpit. So… why are we all thinking about horses when we see Corrin?!? He doesn’t have those!! He also doesn’t have hooves, or even a pastern! This was the first thing that ever struck me about Corrin - I’ve seen those legs on horses before. I’ve seen those legs a lot and I screamed every time I saw them. So why? Why are we thinking about horses when we look at Corrin?

Horses in anime are animated while extremely simplified. It saves on budget, but this means that it trickles down into manga - and eventually into regular art as well. Now take a look at Corrin again…

… I know… I know. Some dude in the design chair saw a huge quadrupedal animal, thought about horses, and drew the anime budget horse leg. Its actually a really prevalent trope! Corrin’s weird legs have been incorrect horse legs this entire time, right under our noses. I know dude - it flies in the face of all comparative anatomy, its wrong, no animal has hind legs for front legs. So the more you think anatomy for Corrin, the more misguided you become. So with this in mind, I personally threw anatomy away - yet it came back and hit me in the face again. Yeah you could get away with human arms for front legs, but… if we’re going for what the inspiration was…. if we’re cutting to the bone…

The front leg is a human leg with the toe bones re-arranged and stretched into a hand. It works better than human arms, in my opinion, as the extremely stout palm on the hand suddenly makes sense. The heel bone gives something for the thumb to anchor to. There is a tibia and fibia for rotation. There is a KNEE. A god-forsaken real knee. There is no scapula. There is no radius. There is, however, a brand new ball-in-socket joint in Corrin’s ribcage, which will wake me in a cold sweat once a month - but by god - THERE IS AN ANSWER.

As well, the human-leg-for-front-leg theory allows for the chest fuckery that the 3d models display. In both Sm4sh and Fates corrin is able to rotate the leg outwardly from the body to a truly startling degree. I briefly played with the idea of a two-hipped dragon. Corrin is a disaster and I love him. 

A note on the hind legs: Its the same mystery, but not one as enthralling as the horse connection. its another artistic trope found in folks who are just starting with animals (particularly cats and dogs) to have the femur and tibia+fibia all curled up like that w. elongated metatarsals - this makes the hind legs INCREDIBLY LONG, however it happens to match what our eyes see in an animal’s sillohuette.

(note: yes, corrin’s thighs are incredibly beefy as a dragon.) This isn’t fully extended in my opinion! with the human arm theory, I couldn’t tip the ribcage upwards due to the scapula, but I’m not joking when I say that Corrin can likely rest his whole body on his chest without losing touch of the ground with any limb. The hind legs are gigantic, but the proportions are too far away from a rabbit’s to be used for hopping. This is why in most cutscenes, animations, ect of Corrin he usually has his hind legs parked behind him or to the side of him. They’re too long! Corrin’s resting state for his hind legs is a crouch.

(pictured: corrin’s beefy dragon thighs. note the wide stance and parking! intsys why… i dont understand… why is the dragon thicc? to be analogous to corrin? is corrin thicc?!?)

TL;DR: Corrin’s legs do not have a comparative anatomy to any one singular creature, mostly due to its complete reliance on artistic tropes instead of actual anatomy. That doesn’t mean we can’t make sense of it with bones, however.

And the face? An egg with Horns and movable lower jaw??

Egg is a strong word for the shape Corrin’s face is. The sm4sh model is generous, face on and left-to-right, the head is so close to being spherical that it might as well be. north-to-south there’s a bit of a hump on the topside due to the exposed spine, it thins out near the nose just a smidge - but its a very, very slight egg shape. My rule of thumb is to just draw a rounded neck, pinch the end just a touch. There’s no notable jawline under the faux-jaw, thought the throat-latch may hang. If anything the base of the ear-tendrils could create one if need be but? for the most part, I really do just… not draw a head. 

if it looks like a ding-dong, you’re doing it right.

(see what i mean about how round it is? bonus: peep those front legs! posed as human legs would be, startled animals are stilt-legged. and the hind legs, as you can see, are struggling to exist.)

The jawbone is layered under the antlers. It hinges where the droptine from the eye meets the jawbone. I made the jaw a little long here, but the tooth area of the jaw never rests against the head. It doesn’t touch the head at all! Well, except for maybe near the jawline - again, just so I can sleep at night.

How do you bite?

Make no mistake - in reality Corrin cannot actually bite anything if he tried! A bite requires a scissoring of teeth, and Corrin doesn’t even have molars/carnassials - if he did, he could at least apply pressure from his head/neck and force it over the teeth but no... If he had an upper jaw, he could use a hatchet-style bite, but as-is the only effective bite would be more like a toothy uppercut. Note: both sm4sh and cutscene corrin detail the outline of teeth! however, heroes and game-model corrin do not.

the top of the ‘eye’ is longer than the bottom of the eye! This is true for every model of corrin. However, the actual size of the ‘eyehole’ is variable. Heroes corrin has a massive eyehole, sm4sh corrin has a very very tiny one. The actual antlers are a story for another day - they’re simpler than they look, but tough to explain.

I’m hopefully going to be making reference sheets for corrin! There needs to be more corrin in the world, and if i gotta pave that road… SO BE IT.

I mean maybe this is just a partial dragon form? Because they get jaws in their half-state during crits (from their arms)

GOD. THIS KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT STILL. I WISH CORRIN HAD ACTUAL JAWS. MAYBE HE DOES? MAYBE HE’S JUST HIDING THEM? LIKE I WANT THIS TO BE REAL SO BADLY. WHERE DOES THAT MOUTH COME FROM CORRIN!?? YOUR WHOLE DRAGON IS BASED ON BEING ENTIRELY UNNATURAL AND WRONG WHERE DID YOU GET THAT MOUTH??

[redscullyrevival]

A Monstrous Regiment of Women: Mary Russell Rundown

@sonnetscrewdriver, anything that reminds me to occasionally comment “Oh fuck off Tennyson” is a good book in my book.

Plot/Setting/Narrative

Haha, other than revisiting my own personal hell this was a good time!

I knew it would be with that amazing title. 

I love how men always try to condemn and speak poorly of women but actually make us out to sound badass.

“A Monstrous Regiment of Women” - nice!

“She was warned, she was given an explanation, nevertheless; she persisted” - nice!

HAHA dudes be wack.

Anyways.

There is a big ‘ol dynamic in this book and it doesn’t try to hid itself but because of the narrative style it’s a very sleek back and forth that can easily be overlooked among the thrills, tension, and action:

The lighting pace back and forth between Faith/Religion and Reason/Logic is hard to trace, precisely because it’s so perfectly stitched. 

Like thread holding two fabrics together we get glimpses of the characters discussing these dynamics upfront on the surface only for them to dive under the cloth and become the structurally important but unseen thread, before rising to the forefront yet again.

Over and under goes Faith and Reason, Religion and Logic (Agape and Eros!), from start to finish and it’s very compelling, very slick stuff.

What’s fascinating is how it feels like it’s all held together with those before the chapter quotes! 

What a gambit!

Especially because I’m pretty sure the chosen quotes are meant to be as humorous as they are reflective. 

I read the words of Tennyson and Shakespeare and friggin’ Knox and I’m not filled with anger or burning for justice; I laugh. They’re funny. 

What isn’t funny is how I also know these men shaped their times, that they are considered definitive and important and are apart of contemporary schooling and social undercurrents - they’re not simply far away melodrama but remain to be part of the day to day world, of my time as well as Russell’s.

The violence Russell is subjected to is unfortunately not extraordinary. 

The heroin is elaborate and a part of the Mary Russell narrative surrounding The Temple mystery as designed by King - but women being manipulated, used, and being targeted and subjected to overwhelming power? All that’s common place common day. 

You don’t read those before chapter quotes and think “Ah, women had it better when these men where alive.” And you certainly don’t read them and think “Well, it’s gotten better by Mary’s time” - and it’s the realization that the various quote’s undercurrents are still rooted into today that chills their absurdity. 

So how do we instigate change? 

Mary Russell

How do women gain ground?

Do we go to into the temples men worship?

Do we go into their spaces and ask uncomfortable questions and share our opinions, unasked?

Do we dig into the sacred texts looking for what has been changed in an effort to prove we’ve been included all along?

Do we interpret the text anew and preach our understanding?

OR do we maybe rewrite and/or add to the text and insert ourselves in?

You must see where I’m going with this.

What’s shocking is that all those above courses of action are faith based.

Logic and reason, the truth of women’s rightful place, can’t be grasped until those in power acknowledge we’re here and worth listening to and only pleas of faith can begin to breach that wall.

Which is massively fucked up and the root of all evil.

Bringing it back around, what’s also messed up is how Sherlock Holmes’ canon is exclusively understood as male.

The perception that follows the character is this: Sherlock Holmes is male, written by a man, and those of authority on the character and his stories are male and those fans who are true are male and that’s because Holmes invokes intelligence and reason and thus maleness - the notion being there isn’t anything of female worth to be found in proper Sherlock Holmes.

Barf, right?

Our author certainly thinks so.

King’s disgust for the Holmesian Understanding™ is practically palpable; not for the character of Holmes, but she does (to me) seem to distinctly turn her ire on the aura of his existence as he sits in wider literature’s mind’s eye.

And I don’t even think it’s Russell and Holmes locking lips that’s meant to be the big middle finger, although it is fun; I honestly think it’s as simple as King’s Holmes accepting, trusting, and considering her Russell as his partner in work and then, yes, in life.

Laurie King is working at turning Russell into the Logic and Holmes’ into the Faith.

I’m down with that.

‘Cause Mary Russell is my girl. 

I’m gonna read all them books. 

Sherlock Holmes

Lets stop and take a moment to really bask in the intense and amazing glory that is the throw-away-mention of Holmes’ son.

I know “canon” Holmes does not have a son.

I also know that the character of Sherlock Holmes has directly and indirectly given birth to the most characters ever committed to media’s various forms, which makes him the most promiscuous man I’ve ever read. 

For King to solidify Holmes parentage is a very big big big choice - just as big if not even bigger than having him kiss Russell and marrying her. 

Man, that must have really chapped some hides. 

Oh my god, there are folks I know who would probably burst into flames over such an “OOC” move. 

The son implies and seeds many things, not so subtly of which is that Holmes isn’t an automoton and down to get jiggy with it if so intrigued. 

What’s more sly is that King knows what she is about and knows what she is doing and is very adamant within the narrative that Holmes is secondary to her character - that Mary Russell is the protagonist and the mysteries of Holmes isn’t mystery to her and we better starting taking her narration as gospel.

So that was a fun kick in the pants. 

The romance was, you know, irritatingly thrilling.

Although! 

Holmes’ comment, of how he has wanted to kiss Mary since he met her, is a little iffy and not even entirely because she was 15 at the time (still side eye worthy though, obviously) - the issue is that his words imply pure physical attraction even when he didn’t know Mary or her at that point and I’ve been lead to believe their Grand Canyon age gap is inconsequential because their minds are wondrously in-tune and that is what connects their souls.

So that was kind of weird.

Especially from an author usually very tight in her characterizations who is meticulously organized. 

Highlighted Passages

“I am having a holiday from the holidays. I am relaxing, following the enforced merriment of the last week. An amusing diversion, Holmes, nothing else. At least it was, until your suspicious mind let fly with its sneering intimations of omniscience. Really, Holmes, you can be very irritating at times.”

Twice I hid from the sound of a prowling horse-drawn cab with two wheels. The second time launched me on a long and highly technical conversation with a seven-year-old street urchin who was huddled beneath the steps to escape a drunken father. We squatted on cobbles greasy with damp and the filth that had accumulated, probably since the street was first laid down following the Great Fire, and we talked of economics. He gave me half of his stale roll and a great deal of advice, and when I left, I handed him a five-pound note.

“I thought that man was going to punch you.” “It’s only happened once, that I didn’t have time to talk my way out of a brawl.” “What happened?” “Oh, I didn’t hurt him too badly.” She giggled, as if I had made a joke. I went on. “I had a much rougher time of it once during the War, with a determined old lady who tried to give me a white feather. I looked so healthy, she refused to believe me when I told her I’d been turned down for service. She followed me down the street, lecturing me loudly on cowardice and Country and Lord Kitchener.”

“I was grateful to that large and noisy man, however. Not immediately,” she added, inviting us to chuckle at her youthful passion, and many obliged, “but when I’d had a chance to think about it, I was grateful, because it made me wonder, Why does he want me to keep silent in church? What would be so terrible in letting me, a woman, talk? What does he imagine I might say?” She paused for two seconds. “What is this man afraid of?

“Here this man is working with God, thinking about God, living with God, every day, and still he does not trust God. Deep down, he doesn’t feel one hundred percent certain that his God can stand up to criticism, can deal with this uppity woman and her uncomfortable questions; he does not know that his God is big enough to welcome in and put His arms around every person, big and small, believers or seekers, men or women.”

“If you want to be logical about it, don’t tell me that the woman was given to Adam as a servant, a sort of glorified packhorse that could carry on a conversation.”

“That was what my loud preacher feared, to be told that he and his cronies had no more right to tell me that I couldn’t speak in God’s house than I had a right to tell the sun not to shine.”

Her attitude towards the Bible seemed to be refreshingly matter-of-fact, and her theology, miracle of miracles, was from what I had heard radical but sound. Oh yes, I should like to meet this woman.

“Men have other options. Women need the help of their sisters, and in fact, that to me is one of the most exciting things about what we’re doing, when women of different classes meet and see that we share more similarities than differences, in spite of everything. We are on the edge of a revolution in the way women live in this society, and some of us want to ensure that the changes that are coming will apply to all women, rich and poor alike.”

“The vote was a sop,” she snapped. “Granting individual slaves their manumission after a lifetime of service doesn’t alter the essential wrongness of the institution of slavery, nor does giving a small number of women the vote adequately compensate the entire sex for their wartime service—to say nothing of millenia of oppression.”

“But that’s . . . That means . . .” “Yes,” I said wryly, pleased with the effect my idea had on her. “That means that an entire vocabulary of imagery relating to the maternal side of God has been deliberately obscured.” I watched her try to sort it out, and then I put it into a phrase I would definitely not use in the presentation in Oxford: “God the Mother, hidden for centuries.” She looked down at the book in her hands as if the ground beneath her feet had, in the blink of an eye, become treacherously soft and unstable. She turned carefully to the drawer, riffled the gold-edged India paper speculatively, and put her Bible away. She returned to her chair a troubled woman and lit another cigarette. “Is there more of this kind of thing?” “Considerably more.”

“You couldn’t help but want to break his control and see what lay beneath.”

“If all these images can come from the word light, how many more from the word love, a thing invisible but for the movement it creates, a thing without physical reality or measurement or being, yet a thing which animates the entire universe. God is love. God creates, and when He sees His creation, He loves it and calls it good.”

Holmes would have done the matter by telegram, I knew, but I always prefer the personal touch in my matters of mild blackmail.

I felt reassured. If he could be rude, he was reviving.

I then turned my warning gaze back on Marie, who subsided, muttering French curses that I wish I could have overheard more clearly, for the sake of my education.

An accurate throwing arm is perhaps the only truly remarkable skill I possess.

None of that was absolutely true, but it fit the image and laid a basis for my future behaviour, which was to do whatever I damn well pleased, fine.

“The boy has a cup of tea for his mother,” she read, and repeated it, then looked up again and laughed, her eyes shining with the suddenly comprehended magic of the written word. Her teeth were mostly gums, she smelt of unwashed wool, her hair lay lank, and her skin wanted milk and fruit, but for the moment, she was beautiful. Veronica Beaconsfield knows what she is about here, I thought to myself, and took the work-roughened hand and squeezed it hard.

No slick-faced creature with a sharp blade was going to destroy my wardrobe again.

I always hated what Londoners called with such wry pride their “particulars,” their “peculiars,” their “pea soupers,” like the beaming parents of some uncontrollable and pathologically destructive brat.

Blind, stripped to my underclothing, and ill, I thought muzzily. Mary Russell, this is going to be very unpleasant.

He had already let me in under his guard, and I him. Holmes was a part of me, and to imagine myself “in love” with him was to imagine myself becoming passionately enamoured of my arm or the muscles in my back.

“These last weeks, since Christmas, have been odd ones. I have begun to doubt that I knew you as well as I thought. I have even wondered if you wished to keep some part of yourself hidden from me in order to preserve your privacy and your autonomy. I will understand if you refuse to give me an answer tonight, and although I freely admit that I will be hurt by such a refusal, you must not allow my feelings to influence your answer.” I looked up into his face. “The question I have for you, then, Holmes, is this: How are the fairies in your garden?”

The restlessness of the day before was controllable now, and the shame something to be acknowledged and not dwelt upon.

With the ponderous dignity of the profoundly intoxicated, she took up a strategic position across the street from the doors.

I could not do this. The safe was not going to open for me, not in the time I had. Tell it to Holmes, nagged a voice. Watch his brief flare of irritation give way to sympathy, understanding. Live with that, will you?

“I walked into the hall, to find utter panic, of the Oxford variety: tight voices, careful poly-syllables, a certain amount of wringing of hands.”

[ciathyzareposts]

Realms of Arkania: Blade of Destiny: Summary and Rating

         Realms of Arkania: Blade of Destiny

Germany

Released in Germany as Das Schwarze Auge: Die Schicksalsklinge

attic Entertainment Software (developer); Fantasy Productions (German publisher); Sir-Tech (U.S. Publisher)

Released 1992 for DOS, 1993 for Amiga

Date Started: 13 November 2019

Date Ended: 7 February 2020

Total Hours: 38

Difficulty: Moderate-Hard (3.5/5)

Final Rating: (To come later)

Ranking at Time of Posting: (To come later)

Summary:

First in a lineage based on the German tabletop RPG Das Schwarze Auge, Blade of Destiny is a gem waiting to be cut and polished. A party of six, comprising familiar races but original classes, stops a horde of orcs from razing the city of Thorwal by finding a legendary sword that defeated the orcs in the past. In an effort to offer a computer game that adhered closely to tabletop rules and gaming style, Blade perhaps errs too much towards obtuse statistics, lengthy character creation and leveling, myriad spells, and exhausting tactical combat. Yet the developers managed to create a large, open game world and populate it with interesting encounters of a variety of length and difficulty, thus feeling a lot like a series of tabletop modules. Nothing in the game–first-person exploration (in Bard’s Tale style, but with an interface drawn from Might and Magic III), paper-doll inventories (looking a lot like Eye of the Beholder), axonometric combat (clearly inspired by SSI), dozens of skills and spell skills–works badly, but almost every part of the game needed a little tweaking, editing, or tightening. I enjoyed it more as I became more familiar with its conventions, and it left me looking forward to its next installment.

****

       I grew to enjoy Blade of Destiny more as the hour grew later (the opposite of what usually happens), although the game never really did manage to solve some of its early weaknesses. In the end, I’m struck at how much it reminds me of Pool of Radiance, the first attempt at a serious adaptation of another tabletop system. Both feature the standard party of six. In neither game do the party members have a direct, personal connection to the main quest. In both, the main quest is somewhat low-key–the fate of a city versus the fate of the world. Both keep character leveling in the single digits, and both err towards keeping faith with their tabletop roots, even when it might have been best for the computer game to improvise a bit.

I don’t know whether to blame Das Schwarze Auge or the computer game for my chief complaints, most of which can be rolled up into three words: combat is exhausting. Combat is a major part of any RPG, so you don’t want your players doing things like reloading to avoid it, which I did a lot. I abandoned entire dungeons because I was sick of all the fighting, so it’s a good thing I didn’t need an extra character level to win. The primary issues are:

            The axonometric perspective doesn’t work well for combat. It’s hard to separate the characters and enemies from each other and particularly hard to move to a specific tile.

Everyone misses too often.

Attacks don’t cause enough damage.

Spells, which would make the whole thing go faster, eat up so many magic points that you can rarely cast more than three or four before needing multiple nights’ rest to recharge.

          In light of these things, the “quick combat” system was a good idea. Unfortunately, combat is hard enough (at least until the end) that you can’t really use it until there are only a couple enemies left. Even then, quick combat isn’t really “quick.” (To be fair, I guess they don’t call it that; it’s something like “Computer Fight.”) You still have to watch the computer take all the actions and monitor your characters’ status. It just means you can watch a television show at the same time.            

If you can make out individual characters in those blobs, your eyesight is better than mine.

          The spell issue had more consequences than just a difficult combat experience. The developers took the time to put several dozen spells into the game, and I never used more than about 5 of them. I kept meaning to find a good place to save near a known combat and then just keep reloading and experimenting, but I never identified an ideal position for this. Most of them would have failed anyway because the nature of the spell skill system means that you can’t possibly specialize in more than half a dozen. When I play the sequel, it will absolutely be my priority to more fully investigate the spell catalog.

I had a few lingering questions after the last entry, such as what happens if you try to kill the orc champion with a weapon other than Grimring, and what happens if you don’t honor the rule that only your champion fights. Unfortunately, the final save prompted me to overwrite the save game I’d take just before the battle. My next-most recent save was from before exploring the orc caves and getting the message that led to the endgame. I’m not willing to do all of that again, so we’ll have to leave it a mystery unless someone has some experience with it. But I was able to check out the alternate “bad” ending, which I would have experienced had I lingered for extra year in the quest. As I typed the rest of this entry, I had my party sleep at the inn for batches of 99 days until the game work me up with the fateful message:              

So the orcs are the “Vikings” of this setting.

             Overall, I felt that the time constraint was generous enough that it wouldn’t have impacted my approach even if I’d been more eager to explore every trail and sea lane. This is a good thing because there was quite a bit more to find. I took a look at a cluebook for the game, and among entire dungeons that I overlooked were a “wolf’s lair” between Ottarje and Orvil, a six-level “ship of the dead” that I would have found if I’d taken more boat trips, and a three-level “dragon’s hoard” on Runin Island. This latter location sounds like it would have been especially lucrative, with an option to do a side quest for the dragon and receive four magic items as a reward.

But I’ve always been fine with missing content. It’s practically necessary in modern games, let you exhaust yourself before the end. It also enhances a game’s replayability. It’s nice to see the number of titles with such optional content growing.

Let’s give it the ol’ GIMLET:

1. Game World. I didn’t find the Nordic setting terribly original, but I enjoyed it just the same. The backstory is set up well, and as previously mentioned, I liked the low-key nature of the main plot. The main quest did a good job encouraging nonlinear exploration of the large world. The problem is that the game itself doesn’t quite deliver on the backstory (or the tabletop setting in general). The various cities and towns are too interchangeable, the NPCs too bland. Score: 5.

2. Character Creation and Development. Well, I can’t complain that it doesn’t give you enough options. The leveling-up process in Blade of Destiny is probably the longest in any game to date. Not just longest, but most frustrating, with the caps on the number of times you can increase a particular skill per level (even if you neglected it in the early levels) and frequent failures as you try to increase. The caps in particular make it feel like the characters are never really getting stronger or better. (I think the final battle could be won by a Level 1 character.) Hit points and spell points, in particular, are almost imperceptibly slow to increase.          

No, not now! I have an appointment in 90 minutes!

          Still, I like the nature of character classes in the setting, including the use of “negative attributes” and the plethora of skills. I just wish I had a clearer sense of what skills, attributes, and negative attributes came into play in what circumstances, which bits of equipment compensated for them, and so on. The game text is obtuse enough that sometimes it’s not even clear whether you succeeded or failed. When it is, it’s almost always because you failed. Honestly, how high do I need to jack up my “Treat Wounds” skill before it has a greater than 50% chance of not making the character worse?

Back on the positive side, I think different party compositions would make a considerable difference in gameplay. I think you could have fun with some interesting combinations, like an all-dwarf party or an all-magician party. It’s just too bad the different race/class templates didn’t have more role-playing implications. Score: 5.

3. NPC Interaction. This was a really wasted area of the game. The developers give you the ability to talk to ever bartender, innkeeper, smith, and cashier, but most of the dialogue is stupid when it isn’t confusing. I’d blame the translation, but my German readers report that it was stupid and confusing even in German. The few dialogue options are either false options that lead to the same outcome or confusing ones with counter-intuitive results (e.g., asking to see the map makes the NPC give it to you; asking for the map makes him just show it to you). That said, you occasionally get an important hint from your various NPC interactions. I just wish it had been more consistent and that the developers had used the system to give more blood to the game world. Score: 4.               

This conversation made no sense as a whole, and these individual responses made no sense in detail.

          4. Encounters and Foes. The game shines, though sometimes with a marred finish, in this area. I really enjoyed the variety of encounters, some fixed, some random, that the party gets on the road and as it explores dungeons and towns. I like that some of them are a single screen, resolved instantly, and others lead you off on a multi-hour digression. I contrast to the dialogue, the text of these special encounters is usually evocative and interesting, and I can even forgive the occasional shaggy dog joke like the “wyvern” encounter. I just wish for a few more role-playing options in these encounters.            

These diversions and side areas never stopped being fun.

            Foes were mostly high-fantasy standards with similar strengths and weaknesses that we’ve seen in a thousand RPGs but at least they appeared in appropriate contexts. We’ve come a long way from the days when we were inexplicably attacked by parties of 6 orcs, 3 trolls, 2 magicians, and a griffon right in the middle of town. Score: 6.

5. Magic and Combat. Very mixed. I like the combat options, the variety of spells, and the turn-based mechanics. I just didn’t like the execution, which was partly due to interface and partly due to the game rules. Either way, combat was generally a tedious, annoying process rather than the joyful one I typically find in, say, a Gold Box game. As for spells, the game really needs some in-game help to assist with them, perhaps annotating the spells in which each class is supposed to specialize. Every spellcasting session and every level-up was a long process of flipping through the manual. It’s too bad because the spells are so varied and interesting on paper. Score: 4.            

I only ever tried about 6 of these spells, which coincidentally is the number of spells I got above 0 in my ability to cast after 5 levels.

          6. Equipment. Another disappointment. I like the approach to equipment, with a number of slots, but you get upgrades rarely and it’s extremely hard to identify them when you do. This is something that perhaps no game has done very well up to this point. I don’t mind if it’s hard to identify a piece of equipment–if you need a special skill, or spell, or money, or whatever–but I mind if it’s annoying. I mind if I have to swap the item around to multiple characters to try different things, especially when the interface makes swapping annoying and time-consuming. I mind when there’s no symbol, color, or other mechanism to distinguish weapons and armor with different values. 

Blade offers perhaps the largest variety of “adventure” equipment that we’ve seen so far, which makes it all the more frustrating that either so much of it is useless, or the game doesn’t bother to tell you when a piece of equipment has saved the day. Finally the encumbrance system is geared towards making most characters chronically over-encumbered. The ability to make potions is nice, but again the system is a little too complicated. Score: 4.

7. Economy. Blade almost perfectly emulates the Gold Box series here: money is plentiful from the first dungeon and you hardly have any reason to spend it. My party ended the game with well over 1,000 ducats. Even potions don’t serve as a good “money sink” because they don’t stack and you have the constant encumbrance issue. A rack of +1 weapons, the ability to pay to recharge spell points, or temple blessings that actually did something all would have been nice. Score: 3.          

I just donated 999 crowns!

          8. Quests. Generally positive. Blade is one of the few games of the era to understand side quests, and they sit alongside an interesting-enough main quest with multiple stages. It just needed a few more choices and alternate endings. Score: 5.

9. Graphics, Sound, and Interface. I know that some readers will defend the game here, but I found all three to be somewhat horrid. Graphics are perhaps the least so. Some of the cut scenes are nice. Regular exploration graphics aren’t bad, but the inability to distinguish stores from regular houses is almost unforgivable. Combat graphics are a confusing mess from the axonometric perspective. Any virtues the sound effects may otherwise have are obscured by the jarring three-note cacophony that accompanies opening any menu. And there’s no excuse for the interface, which occasionally gives some nods to the keyboard but really wants you to use the mouse throughout.

Aside from my usual complaints about mouse-driven interfaces, the game is full of all kinds of little annoyances. When you find or purchase a piece of equipment, it always goes to the first character. You’ve got to then go in and redistribute it. It’s annoying to transfer equipment between characters, especially if one is over-encumbered. Messages often time out before you’re done reading them, or pop up so quickly that you don’t have time to read them before you accidentally hit the next movement key, making them disappear. There’s a lot of inconsistency, particularly in dungeons, about when you need a contextual menu and when you need to use the buttons on the main interface. There are dozens of other things like this. The developers took the appearance of the Might and Magic III interface but none of its underlying grace.

The auto-map didn’t suck. I’ll give it that. Score: 2.

10. Gameplay. We can end on a positive note. This is one of the few open-world games of the era, and in between the opening screen and closing combat, it’s almost entirely non-linear. The many things that a first-time player doesn’t find makes it inherently replayable. And the length and difficulty are just about perfect for the era. I particularly love that you have to lose experience points to save (except at temples), which discourages save-scumming. Score: 8.                

This NPC seems to think he’s living hundreds of years in the past.

          That gives us a subtotal final score of 46, a respectable total that would put it in the top 15% of games so far. But I’m going to administratively remove 2 more points for an issue that really isn’t covered by my GIMLET: a lack of editing that created unnecessary confusion at numerous points in the game. There are numerous places that go unused, such as the tower and “Ottaskins” in Thorwal. NPCs frequently tell you things in dialogue that aren’t true. There are numerous false leads on the map quest, and I don’t think they’re there to challenge you–I think the developers changed things and didn’t update the dialogue. All of the NPCs in Phexcaer were clearly written for an earlier game in which the nature of the backstory and quest were quite different. It’s common now, but relatively uncommon back then, to find a game released in what was clearly it’s “beta” stage.

So that gives us a final score of 44, which still puts the game in the top 15%. It had a lot of promise, and I’m sorry that the developers didn’t find more time to tweak and tighten it.             

This is not the sort of game for which you really want to emphasize “conversation.”

          Blade of Destiny wasn’t released in the United States until 1993, so Scorpia didn’t take it on until the October 1993 issue of Computer Gaming World. It’s one of her more ornery reviews. After saying that the English translation of Das Schwarze Auge, “The Black Eye,” “might be appropriate,” she goes on to spoil the entire plot in the next paragraph, including the one-on-one combat at the end. She found the plot unoriginal and wasted three days trying to figure out how to find the orc cave, noting that there are no clues to be found anywhere. (Remember: I had to use a walkthrough for this.) She hated the failures when trying to level up, complaining that one of her fighters “made no advance in swords on two successive level gains.” She noted a lot of discrepancies between the manual and actual gameplay, particularly in the area of spells, and she agrees with me that combat is a “tedious, frustrating, boring, long-drawn-out affair.”

She liked the automap, the ability to reload in the middle of combat, and the extra experience you get the first time you face a particular monster. That was about it. I was surprised to see how much she hated the experience cost for saving. She says she wouldn’t have minded if the creators had awarded a bonus for not saving, apparently seeing a difference there that I don’t. 

But her worst vitriol was for a bug that I didn’t experience: apparently, if you quit in the middle of the final battle, you get the victory screen anyway. “This is not just a scam; it is the Grand Canyon of scams,” she sputters. “How did the 20+ playtesters manage to miss this one? If they didn’t miss it, why wasn’t it fixed?” In summary:

             Those who worship at the mythical altar of Realism often end up sacrificing fun and playability on it. That is what happened with Blade of Destiny. In their attempt to make the game “like real life” (something few players want in the first place) the designers went overboard in the wrong direction more than once. I would not recommend Arkania to any game player, but I do recommend it to game designers as an example of what to avoid in their own products. Let us all hope we don’t see another one like this any time soon.

              Ouch. I don’t disagree with the elements she didn’t like, but I found more that I did like.

On the continent, the game had polarized reviews. Some thought that the designers went overboard in the right direction, or perhaps didn’t go overboard, or perhaps only did it once. Whatever the case, the ASM reviewer (92/100) said that he’d “rarely seen a perfect implementation of an RPG that also remains really playable on the computer.” PC Joker (90/100) said that it is “only surpassed by Ultima, leaving the rest of the genre competition far behind in terms of freedom of action and complexity.” But not all German reviews were positive. PC Player (48/100) recommended that players “close your eyes, put the lid on, and wait for Star Trail.”

(At least there were some positives in the reviews for the original game. A 2013 remake by German-based Crafty Studios came out to almost universally negative reviews despite improved graphics, voiced dialogue, and other trappings of the modern era. It was apparently quite unforgivably bugged. Crafty went on to remake Star Trail in 2017.)

              Combat in the remake. At least you can identify the squares a bit easier.

          The original game sold well despite a few bad reviews and certainly justified the two sequels, Realms of Arkania: Star Trail (1994) and Realms of Arkania: Shadows over Riva (1996). Together, the trilogy established the viability of Das Schwarze Auge setting, which continues to produce RPGs into the modern era, including The Dark Eye: Drakensang (2008), Deminicon (2013), and Blackguards (2014). Lead developer Guido Henkel would eventually tire of the setting, quit attic, move to the United States, join Black Isle studios, and produce Planescape: Torment.

I haven’t attempted to reach out to Henkel, as his work on the Arkania series has been well-documented elsewhere. In his 2012 RPG Codex interview, he explains that the publisher of attic’s Spirit of Adventure, StarByte, originally approached the company about creating a series based on Das Schwarze Auge, claiming they already had the rights. The attic personnel were reluctant to work with StarByte after a dreadful Spirit experience (“a horribly crooked company that cheated us and all of its other developers”), so they were delighted to find that the company had been lying about the license. attic managed to get it for themselves, although at such an expense that the three Arkania games barely made a profit despite selling well.

From a 1992 perspective, I would call Blade of Destiny “a good start.” I look forward to seeing how things change in the sequels.

*****

B.A.T. II will be coming up next. For the next title on the “upcoming” list, we reach back to 1981 for Quest for Power, later renamed King Arthur’s Heir. Come to think of it, the Crystalware titles are so similar and quick that I might try to cover Quest for Power and Sands of Mars in a single session so I can be done with 1981 entirely. Again.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/realms-of-arkania-blade-of-destiny-summary-and-rating/

[comicteaparty]

December 7th-December 13th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 7th, 2019 to December 13th, 2019.  The chat focused on the following question:

If you could redo one part of your story, which part would it be and why?

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can and do redo parts of my story. I’m working on a redux of the first two chapters of my comic, Dark Wings: Eryl (https://www.flowerlarkstudios.com/art-archive/eryl-redux-archives/ - rated M) right now. I’m doing so for quite a few reasons, some of which are very personal and have to do with my own growth as a person, not just as a creator. It was also to update the writing, partly to update the art, and because I took a three year hiatus a long time ago which created a huge, jarring gap in not the just art and writing, but also the tone and direction of the comic. I also sometimes go back and adjust speech bubbles in old pages to close plot-holes or fix some badly-written dialogue. I feel that if there is any part of my story where redoing sections can improve the entire course of the comic and readers’ enjoyment of it, I will. And if I don’t, I run the risk of losing inspiration for the entire comic because I can’t figure out how to work with an older part of it. Rather than twist my plot into pretzels trying to explain something carelessly written a decade ago in current scenes or allowing plot-holes to open, I go back and fix the bad parts. Reduxes are often seen as taboo by a lot of comic creators. But if looking back genuinely helps me to keep going forward, then I will.(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

For Phantomarine (http://www.phantomarine.com/), it'd be less about rewriting existing things, and more about... adding back in the extra pages/detail/fun-stuff that I originally wrote, but had to cut out to meet a reasonable page count per chapter. With the number of hours a single page takes to paint, I really REALLY have to streamline things, or I'll never finish this damn project Good news is, I think it's helped the pacing in its own way. And I have lots of fluff and fun stuff coming down the line that I think are better suited to the story anyway. So... I guess... in a different world, I'd simplify the art style, so I could just write more? Yeah, that. Let's go with that.(edited)

AntiBunny

We all have things we'd like to redo, but if we kept rebooting we'd never make progress. That said in AntiBunny: The Gritty City Stories http://antibunny.net/ I'd probably have set it in the 1980's instead of present day. It's hard to write mysteries around google and cell phones, or to keep the superscience impressive. Grounding it in a known time period would have been easier.

Eightfish

@LadyLazuli (Phantomarine) I just read through your archive and ohmygod, wow! Your art is so beautiful. The colors! The backgrounds! Every page is like a painting the panels are so well put together. And I love the way you draw the seaghosts all together. I can't imaging how much time that took. And the worldbuilding is fantastic and creative, and the dialogue flows so well, and I'm so invested in your characters (when are we getting back to Phaedra??), and your villains are so fun. Cheth is so fun to see, and such a unique idea, I am so into it.

twothirty

i actually did redo the first half of chapter 1 (http://versecomic.com/) when i came back to it after 2-ish years. I opted for a much slower start to introduce readers to this world where things aren't perfect but people are getting by. Originally i had it start off in the midst of a catastrophe and i just wasn't feeling it. I always ruminate on the pacing of my story, i think the first book moves very fast, and there's some scenes i'd make a few pages longer to just get in some more dialogue...

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

@Eightfish Oh my goodness!! That’s so wonderful and so kind of you to say. It’s my only current story idea, so I’m putting all the effort in that I can muster. Thank you for checking it out! This is the last of the chapters that help flesh out the outside world - we’ll be seeing a lot more of Cheth and Phaedra very soon... for better or for worse. I can’t wait to get back to them and FINALLY tie all the threads together Thank you again!

seetherabbit

The only one that I would do a redo would the first story in Vulperra https://vulperra.com/comic/flash-gauntlet-1/ Apart from giving it a George Lucas (redrawing it with improved graphics aka art skill), I would also add in pages before and after the 10 pages thats out. What I would add is Flash Gauntlet (the main character) tell the tale of him fighting the demon in the story. There's one story that I did a redo on before it got published, which is this one. https://vulperra.com/comic/guardian-of-castle-bogo-1/ What I changed was the climax and the ending. The story is about a bunch of people in a castle that has only one guardian who protects the rest of the citizen from monsters and such. No one else wants to use weapons and the guardian is tired of his work and tries to throw it on Flash Gauntlet. The climax is that Flash Gauntlet convices the others to help the guardian out by making better defences around the castle. In the old version, the citizens learns to wield weapons instead. I didn't like the old version because I felt it was too preachy, and the ending gave me a bleh feeling. There's a couple of things in the story that's being published now, and one future one that I could change, but that's more minor things that I think I don't need to go back to. I'm more of a "let the mistakes be and leave them as a reminder to get gudd" kind of guy. Unless I hate it the story, like the Castle short

Capitania do Azar

Oh I have done so many edits over at https://www.sarilho.net/en/. They're mostly to text (for clarity) and minor edits here and there for continuity or correcting mistakes. Tho more recently I found out than I have the time I shouldn't let it reflect anything less than my best work, so in the latest chapter I've moved pages and panels around to make for a better story flow (even adding pages when I realized I would go over the initial number of pages I planned)

Phin (Heirs of the Veil)

Sometimes I think I should have started the story with Victoria's situation at home and her relationship to her mother, since that is pretty important for the plot. But to be fair...not showing this at the beginning created a little bit more intrigue and I guess I'm not far enough into the plot yet to really want to change anything of substance.

sssfrs

I would redo chapter 2 https://tapas.io/episode/1486719 to improve the art and change around some of the dialogue

Ooh there were also some details I forgot to include in the most recent chapter

Deo101

I think I would want to add some pages to slow my pacing down, and also spend a bit longer on backgrounds. I suppose in theory I could add pages in now, but I think I'd rather put that effort into moving forward!

snuffysam

In terms of art - a lot lol, the early art of Super Galaxy Knights http://sgkdr.thecomicseries.com/comics/ is pretty bad. But I'm almost finished redoing all the chapters that were drawn on paper & didn't have shading, so that won't be a problem for much longer. In terms of the writing and pacing and stuff, I'm mostly still good with my earlier work? The one thing I regret is the end of Book 1 Chapter 7 - the part where Cahe straight-up murders three guys. I feel like it doesn't make that much sense for his character, and doesn't even resolve the "we need a rounded out team" thing very well. An ideal redo would change Cahe's ability to make more sense for his character - say, he can put a shield on Pejiba that reflects all damage to her back at her attackers. But making a change like that would make it impossible for Mizuki to use that ability while fighting Zebugu, which would take away one of the major aspects of that fight. At the very least, I'd probably cut out the page where Cahe kills the tank driver :p

[anavoliselenu]

Heart of stone chapter 8

I climbed into the black leather driver’s seat of my Tesla Model S with a satisfied grin on my face. I had finally made some headway with Selena.

 Regardless of whether or not she took the job that I was readily willing to give her, there would be no changing what happened that day in my conference room. And there would be no going back after our conversation in the coffee shop.

 She would be difficult for me, of that I was sure. Her quick wit and firecracker temper made me want to put her over my knee.

 But I have her attention now.

 I was able to see that she had been intrigued by the job proposition, especially after I impulsively sweetened the pot with a potential partnership. And my cock instantly went hard when I saw the flash of desire in her eyes after I told her that I wanted her naked. I knew that I had gotten to her.

 However, she had a suspicious nature about her, and she was extremely distrusting. That alone could pose a serious problem. I knew that I would have to be careful and I wasn’t naïve to the risks I was taking with her. Selena was a wild card. One wrong move, and this could all blow up in my face. She was the antithesis to every rule that I had in the book. But I found her to be irresistible nonetheless, and I would do whatever I had to do to possess her. If that meant a little extra effort on my part in order to tame her, then so be it.

 Having cleared my schedule for the remainder of the day, I shifted lanes in the city traffic and headed towards the interstate. Using the touchscreen of the car, I activated the phone system to get Hale on the line. He picked up after the first ring.

 “Hale, I’m leaving the city for a few hours. There’s a parcel of land in Westchester that I’m going to look at.”

 “Do you want me to meet you there?”

 “No, that’s not necessary. Did you get those papers to Charlie?” I asked.

 “All set, boss.”

 “And he signed them?”

 “Of course he did. He would have been stupid not to. You had him. It was either he takes the lump sum once and for all, or you’d hit him with an extortion charge. Stephen was brilliant with the wording of that contract. Your sister can rest easy now.”

 “It fucking killed me to give that worm another cent. I just hope you’re right,” I said warily. “Charlie Andrews isn’t the brightest bulb, but we shouldn’t underestimate him.”

 “I don’t think he’d risk doing any time in jail,” Hale predicted.

 “You don’t know him like I do. The only reason why he wouldn’t want to end up behind bars is because that would mean time away from his dice. Keep an eye on him for a while, will you?”

 “Sure thing. I’m headed to Stephen’s office now to drop off the signed document.”

 “Good. After you have that all squared away, I’ll need you to pick up Selena Cole at her place at six. I have a meeting with her.”

 “A meeting,” he repeated. I could hear the humor in his voice and I frowned.

 I had seen the knowing look on Hale’s face in the rearview mirror when I told him to research Selena the other day, and I could only imagine what he was thinking when I had asked him to track her location. I hated that I felt like I had to explain myself – which of course I didn’t. His contracted salary and job description did not include keen observations of my personal life.

 “Don’t start with me, Hale. I don’t pay you to speculate. Just be there. I’ll text you the address of where I want you to take her.”

 “Aye-aye, Captain.”

 Smart-ass.

 I ended the call and turned onto the ramp for the I-495. After opening the car’s glass panoramic roof, I hit the accelerator. Gripping the wheel, I embraced the blistering force of the car, and left the city madness behind.

     ****

     On the subway ride home from La Biga, I struggled to wrap my head around Justin’s job offer. The opportunity was incredible to say the least. Different advertising schemes turned in my mind. The idea of finally putting my degree to use was exciting, and I had found myself wondering about the sort of businesses and products that he would want me to market.

 And a possible partnership? This is the chance that I’ve been waiting for. I’d be a fool to turn it down.

 But then again, there were some major strings attached to his offer, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about them.

 The feminist side of me wanted to scream. He offered me a job, only to follow it up with a not-so-appropriate proposition.

 Who does he think he is? This is one stained blue dress short of a sexual harassment suit – if I had half a brain, I’d be Googling Kenneth Starr’s case notes right now!

 Yet, there was another part of me that wanted him badly, totally negating the whole women’s rights issue. I wanted to be harassed by Justin Stone, despite all of his irritating qualities. I was flattered that this mega-rich, ultra sexy, walking god wanted me. It was a thrilling, heady feeling that I just wanted to savor.

 But I was very afraid of him, too.

 I was terrified of getting sucked back into a world that I had shunned for so long. I was still haunted by my past with Trevor. And although I had worked tirelessly to rebuild my independence and self-respect, I knew that I had allowed a man to break me once before. I could not let it happen to me again, or I’d risk jeopardizing everything that I worked so hard to overcome.

 However, I felt there was something different about Justin Stone – somehow I knew that he would not be like Trevor. It was a feeling deep inside me, a yearning that I didn’t completely understand.

 Justin may be rich and powerful, but that wasn’t why I was drawn to him. He sparked an unfamiliar level of awareness in me. I wanted to give myself up to him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. These newfound feelings were very uncharacteristic for me, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

 I think for tonight, the only thing I can do is be careful, play it cool, and let him take the lead.

 When I finally reached my apartment, I was grateful to find that Allyson wasn’t home. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to my friend; I just needed to sort out a few things for myself before facing her. I wanted a little time alone to mentally prepare myself for anything Justin threw my way.

 The man is full of surprises, but at least I know his true intentions now.

 I went into my bedroom, turned on the radio, and looked for something to wear to dinner tonight. I wasn’t sure where we were going and I didn’t know how to dress.

 Casual? Semi-casual?

 I wished that Justin had been a little more specific when he issued his commands.

 I eyed up a red faux leather-trimmed skirt. The skirt was flattering on me with its subtle flirty pleats. If I wore it with my white cashmere sweater and some strappy heals, I could make the outfit look casual or dressy depending on the environment. I pulled the sweater and skirt out of the closet and laid them flat on the bed to see how they would look together.

 Yep, this will work perfectly.

 Singing along with Lana Del Ray, I turned up the volume on the radio before heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

 I contemplated whether or not I should shave my legs. I knew what Allyson would say.

 If I shave, I’m planning on sex.

 I considered the little skirt that I was planning to wear.

 I would have to shave if I am going to wear that.

 With that rationale in mind, I began to work a foamy lather over my legs. But as I ran the razor over my knee, Justin’s words played over and over again in my head.

 Preferably naked.

 I felt a little twist in my gut. He definitely wanted me – it was no longer just something that my imagination had drummed up. I wasn’t just shaving because I was going to wear a skirt. My legs were fine for appearance purposes, but they certainly weren’t baby smooth.

 Who am I kidding? I’m shaving just in case.

 My heart skipped a beat as trepidation enveloped me. If confronted with sex, I wasn’t sure if I could physically go through with it. Knowing full well that the decision to have sex was ultimately up to me, I stopped mid-shave and tried not to worry about what was to come.

 I’m putting the cart before the horse. I need to just relax.

 I quickly finished in the shower and got dressed. Then I began the laboring process of taming my hair. I thought about just throwing it up in a clip, but then I remembered Justin saying that my hair was too restricted on the day of my interview. Little alarm bells went off, heightening my already skittish nerves.

 Trevor told me how to wear my hair.

 “Stop it, Cole!” I exclaimed out loud to my reflection in the mirror. Comparing the two men would get me nowhere, and I fought to shake off my unease.

 Justin didn’t tell me how to style my hair. He only expressed his preference.

 I left my hair down and ignored the badgering warnings that were running rampant through my mind.

 As I was applying the finishing touches to my makeup, I heard a commotion in the kitchen. Tossing my lipstick in my purse, I went out to see what it was. I walked into the kitchen and saw grocery bags piled high on the island. Allyson was pulling a bunch of pots and pans from the cabinet. She had a guy with her, too. They were laughing over something and Allyson lightly swatted her guest on the shoulder.

 Perfect – she’ll be too distracted to ask me a lot of questions.

 “Hey, you!” she said when she saw me. “I hope you’re hungry. Jeremy is making Chinese.”

 This must be Allyson’s infamous photographer…

 I gave him a quick once over. He appeared to be just shy of six feet and had an athletic build. His copper hair was streaked from the sun and his face was tan. He looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors.

 “I don’t want to intrude on the two of you, but thanks anyways. Besides, I already have dinner plans for tonight. So you’re Jeremy,” I greeted in a rush, and reached across the island to shake his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Kyrs.”

 “Hi, Selena. I’ve heard –,” Jeremy started.

 “You have dinner plans?” Allyson questioned in surprise, interrupting our introductions.

 Damn!

 Nothing slid by her.

 “Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

 “Of course it’s okay, but who are you going out with?” she pressed suspiciously, eying up my attire for the first time.

 Pushy, pushy.

 “I ran into Justin Stone this afternoon at Café La Biga. He asked me to join him for dinner tonight. It’s no big deal, really. We are just going to discuss the job thing again.”

 I deliberately left out the part about his other proposition.

 “You’re joking, right?” Her face creased into a frown. “I thought you said that Stone was an asshole.”

 “He is, but I’m not doing myself any good by staying angry. I need a job so I’m willing to hear him out,” I replied awkwardly. I tried to act like the dinner was no big deal, but I was failing miserably. I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. There was no fooling Allyson.

 “What about that chic? You know, the one with the black hair,” she reminded me subtly, attempting to disguise her obvious concern by needlessly rearranging the groceries on the counter.

 “Oh, that was just his sister,” I said with a dismissive wave. Allyson stopped her pointless organization and narrowed her eyes doubtfully at me.

 Oh, Ally! Don’t make me explain it in front of your boyfriend!

 I threw her a warning look, slightly shaking my head back and forth, just hoping that she’d leave it alone for now. Before she could remark, Jeremy chimed into the conversation, effectively saving me from one hell of a complicated explanation.

 “Wait a minute – you’re going out with the Justin Stone? As in ‘Stone Arena’ Justin Stone?” He was looking back and forth between Allyson and me with a look of total disbelief on his face.

 “What’s Stone Arena?” Allyson asked, looking to me. I shrugged and looked to Jeremy, waiting for him to elaborate.

 Jeremy threw his hands up in exasperation.

 “Stone Arena is only the first Major League Soccer complex to hit New York!” He muttered something about women and sports, but I didn’t quite catch it. “Stone’s been pushing for this for years. It was finally just approved and he earned the naming rights.”

 Was everything in this city named after him?

 “Yep, sounds like the same Justin,” I said. Thankful that Jeremy had distracted Allyson from her questioning, I walked towards the front door, hoping that I could just slip out. “I don’t really know much about soccer. However, I do know that my ride is probably here.”

 “Wait! Where are you going to eat? And are you taking a cab?” Allyson asked, quickly remembering her interrogation.

 “I don’t know where we’re going, mom. He didn’t tell me,” I said sarcastically, pausing by the door. “And, no – I’m not taking a cab. Justin sent a car for me.”

 “A car? Now that’s impressive,” she said, her voice awestricken, completely ignoring the derisive comment that I threw at her. “Promise me that we’ll talk later? I want a full report.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. You’ll get the specifics. Oh, and I shouldn’t be out too late,” I added and raised an eyebrow at Allyson to make sure she caught the silent meaning behind my words. Telling her that I would be home early was code from our college days – I didn’t want to come home to find her bare-assed on the couch with Jeremy.

 “Gotcha,” she said with a knowing wink. “We’re probably going to catch a movie later, so I might not be here when you get back.”

 “No problem. You guys have a good night.”

 “You too. Have fun and be careful,” she warned, worry lines spreading over her face.

 “I always am. Bye!” I yelled over my shoulder and closed the door behind me.

When I exited my apartment complex, Justin’s driver stood waiting for me outside of a black Porsche Cayenne. I approached him and I attempted to introduce myself, but he just gave me a curt nod as a way of greeting and motioned for me to get inside the awaiting car.

 He was sort of intimidating in an ex-military kind of way, and didn’t strike me as much of a talker. He wore a fancy earpiece on his ear that reminded me of the Secret Service and I was afraid to even talk, much less ask him where we were going.

 So instead, I sat in silence while we weaved in and out of the New York City traffic, having no idea where he was taking me.

 When we arrived at our destination, the driver still didn’t speak, but merely opened the door of the car for me. I stepped out onto the pavement and he walked me towards the entrance of a no-named building. I might have been worried about the nondescript place, but I saw lights on in the windows and a polished bar that gleamed under muted lighting. For some reason, I found these little signs of life comforting.

 The front door of the building opened suddenly, and a stocky man with curly dark hair stepped out.

 “Ah, finally! You are here! Come in, come in please!” the man said with a slight Italian accent. His hands were waving in the air, motioning for me to get inside. His gestures seemed panicked almost, yet he wore a friendly smile on his handsome face. I could only raise my eyebrows in surprise at his overexcited presence. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

 I looked behind me, but the silent driver had disappeared back inside the SUV, leaving me little choice but to follow the animated Italian through the front doors.

 “My name is Matteo Donati. I will be serving you tonight,” he called over his shoulder, walking briskly ahead of me. He was moving quickly and I struggled to keep up with him, barely managing to stay vertical in my strappy little four-inch heels. I was already beginning to regret the risk that I took by wearing them.

 “Hi, Matteo. I’m Selena– .”

 “Hurry along. Mr. Stone is waiting,” he said, completely cutting me off.

 Heaven forbid we keep Stone waiting.

 I followed the practically running Matteo through the vacant restaurant, as if I was late for some monumental event. I truly felt like Alice must have on her adventure into Wonderland, except I was chasing an Italian rather than a white rabbit in to an unfamiliar place.

 The restaurant was eerily quiet, and obviously not opened for business. I found myself wishing that Justin’s driver were still here. Ironically, I began to feel nervous over the absence of the brooding man. It was almost like he was my protection in this deserted place. Chairs were flipped up on the tables and there wasn’t a soul in sight. The lighting from the pendant fixtures was dim, revealing half finished decorations and empty curtain rods. The shelves behind the bar looked like they had only been partially stocked. The only clue that I would be eating dinner here came from the delicious smell that wafted out of the kitchen, a mouth-watering aroma of garlic and sage.

 Matteo paused in an open doorway off of the main dining area, giving me a moment to catch up to him. When I reached his side, he took hold of my elbow and escorted me into an intimately furnished room with soft guitar music playing overhead. At first glance, the room appeared to be set up for small banquets. But upon closer inspection, I realized that this wasn’t your normal run of the mill banquet room. The furnishings reeked exclusiveness, the setting more appropriate for high-ticketed private gatherings.

 Justin Stone sat alone at a candlelit table set for two. As I made my way towards him, I was suddenly overcome with anxious jitters and my palms began to sweat. I couldn’t fathom why I was suddenly so nervous.

 He’s just a man sitting at a table.

 But then again, Justin wasn’t just anything.

 He stood and pulled a chair out for me. I gave him a quick once over. He was killer as usual, in khaki pants and a charcoal gray poplin button down.

 “Good evening, Selena.”

 “Mr. Stone,” I greeted politely, discretely wiping my damp palms on my skirt.

 I tried to sit down gracefully and make myself comfortable in the offered chair, but it was hard to feel relaxed under his watchful eyes.

 “I take it that you’ve met Matteo already,” Justin assumed, reclaiming his seat across from me.

 “Yes. He was at the door when I arrived,” I said and gave Matteo a nod of thanks.

 “Selena,” Matteo said and bowed before me, taking me by surprise. He took hold of my hand, placed a feathery kiss on the backside of it, and murmured something in what I recognized as Italian. Then he looked back up at Justin, his expression coy, and said, “I think we have finally found a name for my place!”

 Justin smirked at him and shook his head back and forth.

 “It appears that you have yourself a fan club, Selena,” Justin said dryly.

 Matteo let out a boisterous laugh and released my hand.

 “No worries, no worries! It was only an observation,” he assured. “Now, mi scusi. I must go see to your antipasti,” Matteo declared with a loud clap of his hands and hurried from the room.

 I couldn’t help but laugh at his overly flamboyant performance, despite the fact that I was totally confused by their interaction.

 “What did he say?” I asked Justin, curious about what Matteo had said in his native tongue that had Justin looking so thoroughly annoyed.

 “That you are a beautiful lady,” he answered, his eyes softening as he regarded me. “You really are very beautiful, Selena.”

 His voice was tender, all of the irritation with Matteo diminished.

 I wasn’t so sure that ‘beautiful’ was a word I would use to describe myself, and I felt a red glow begin to blossom on my cheeks.

 “I love that you blush so easily. It’s refreshing.”

 I’m glad you’re into the whole red in the face thing – I despise it!

 Rather than give a voice to my embarrassment, I chose to cast my gaze down towards my lap and focus my attention on the soft melody that was playing overhead. I used the guitar’s wide acoustical range as a distraction from my reddened face. I found the music to be calming, yet seductive at the same time.

 I peered at Justin through lowered lashes only to find that he was still watching me. His stare was doing nothing to cool the mortifying flames that refused to leave my cheeks.

 “This music is lovely,” I finally said, attempting to break his unnerving observation.

 “I thought it might appeal to you. It’s a guitar compellation by Tadeusz Machalski.”

 “I never heard of him.”

 “No, I don’t imagine you would have. I stumbled upon him playing in the streets of Venice a few years back. I listened to him play for hours before I finally bought one of his CD’s.”

 “Venice, Italy?”

 “The one and only,” he confirmed with a smile.

 “Wow, I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” I said enviously.

 “Maybe I’ll take you one day.”

 He said it casually, while assessing me with those irresistible sapphire blues. His ability to constantly take me by surprise was astounding and I struggled not to look like a gaping fish while I digested his words.

 Vacationing in Italy with Justin Stone?

 I hated to admit it, but the idea sounded appealing.

 Don’t even go there. Bad idea.

 “What is this restaurant?” I asked, choosing not to explore that avenue of conversation. “I didn’t see a name outside.”

 “That’s because it doesn’t have one yet. Although, it seems like Matteo might have an idea now,” he said dryly, a frown returning to his face.

 “This is Matteo’s restaurant? I thought that this might be your place,” I mused.

 “Hell, no!” he exclaimed, and let out a loud genuine laugh.

 It was a full, throaty sound that was pleasant to my ears. It made him seem more human, and not so much like the heavenly Adonis that he normally portrayed. His laughter was contagious and I found myself smiling.

 And for the first time since my arrival, I relaxed a bit.

 “Why do you say it like that? Why not own a restaurant?”

 He seems to have a hand in just about everything else in this city.

 “Restaurants aren’t my thing. Way too much stress. Like I said before, real estate is what I do. I just own this building. Matteo is the crazy one. If he wants to tackle the food business, more power to him. He’s been after me to come down to try some of his dishes before the grand opening,” he told me, reaching for a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. “I thought this would be the perfect time to take him up on his offer. Plus, I wanted a bit of privacy tonight so that we could talk freely during our meeting.”

 A meeting, huh? Okay. I’ll play along.

 I studied him carefully as he poured the deep red into two bordeaux glasses. I tried to get a read on what he was thinking, but as usual, his expression was guarded and I got nothing. I accepted the glass that he held out for me.

 “We couldn’t talk freely in a restaurant full of people?” I asked, taking a slow sip of the wine. I typically preferred white wine, but the red was surprisingly good and I savored the bite of the bold flavor on my tongue.

 “Unfortunately, no – at least not without any interruption. I try to keep a low profile, but restaurants are tough. I have expensive tastes and influential people tend to frequent the restaurants that I like.” He paused and frowned, his brow furrowing in aggravation. “Lately, it’s been a bombardment of parasites from Wall Street trying to convince me to go public. The lack of privacy is rather annoying.”

 While his words may have seemed slightly arrogant, his tone was bitter and resentful. I was intrigued and wanted to question him further, but Matteo arrived with our appetizers, interrupting the conversation.

 “Ah, here we are!” Matteo said as he placed two plates in the center of the table. “Insalata Caprese and Antipasto Italiano.” Using a serving fork, he began to place portions of the appetizers onto side dishes for both Justin and I.

 “This looks great. Thanks, Matt,” Justin said, taking a bite of smoked prosciutto. “Mmm. It tastes great, too.”

 I went for the Caprese Salad first, fresh mozzarella being a weakness of mine. The cheese practically melted in my mouth and the tomato was bursting with flavor. I nodded my head in approval.

 “Very good!” Matteo exclaimed, obviously pleased that his guests of honor were enjoying the first course. “Buon appetito,” he said with a slight bow and left us to enjoy the array of cold cuts and cheeses.

 “I don’t know much about the stock market, but wouldn’t you make more money if you went public with your company?” I asked curiously, continuing the conversation where we left off as I enjoyed a second bite of the seasoned cheese.

 “Money doesn’t matter. I’d rather be my own boss. If I offered stock to the general public, then I would have too many people to answer to. And as you pointed out earlier this afternoon, answering to others is not something that I would do well. I prefer to be my own boss.”

 “It must really suck to be a millionaire,” I sarcastically commented.

 “Billionaire, Selena,” he corrected matter-of-factly. I raised my eyebrows, slightly aghast by his pompous statement.

 “If you’re trying to impress me, it’s not working. Millions, billions – it makes no difference to me once you hit six zeros,” I said sardonically.

 “I’m not trying to impress you with money. I’m just stating a fact,” he said without a hint of conceit. “Those additional zeros, as you put it, make a big difference in the social circles of New York. It means that keeping my personal affairs private is a little more difficult, and that’s something I’m not sure you’re ready to handle.”

 Maybe I was intimidated over his billions. Or perhaps it was the way he spoke so matter-of-factly. Whatever the reason, I found myself feeling extremely bothered by this conversation all of a sudden and I pursed my lips in annoyance.

 “Why would I need to concern myself with your privacy?”

 “We’ll talk about that later,” he said, dismissing my question with a wave of his hand. “I want you tell me about yourself first.”

 “I’m sure my background check told you everything you need to know already,” I said fractiously.

 “Selena, the background check that I had done on you was very limited. It doesn’t tell me personal aspects of your life.”

 The seconds ticked by as I scrutinized him, trying to find any sign of a hidden agenda. His face revealed nothing but patience and genuine interest. He didn’t push me, but instead just ate his antipasti quietly while he waited for me to speak.

 I had to admit to myself, I was actually enjoying this very normal back and forth chitchat that we had going on. It was a nice change from all of our previous conversations. I supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to let go of a few minor irritations and indulge in his curiosities a little bit.

 “Alright. What do you want to know?” I finally gave in.

 “Why don’t you start with where you grew up?”

 Interesting question.

 I wasn’t sure what I expected him to ask, but it certainly wasn’t that.

 “I was raised in Albany – the Clifton Park area to be exact, but nobody ever knows where that is. I lived there with my mother and stepfather until moving to New York with Allyson to attend college.”

 “Who’s Allyson?”

 “Allyson Ramsey, my roommate,” I told him. “My mom didn’t want me to move here, but I fought her tooth and nail. She wanted me to go to school someplace in Albany.”

 “What’s wrong with New York?” he prodded.

 “Oh, lots of things. Safety, the cost of tuition, New York is expensive – you name it and she made it an argument. But I don’t think any of those things were the real reasons behind her not wanting me to move here. To be honest, I don’t think she wanted to cut the strings,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’m an only child and I was her whole world for a long time. But that was years ago and what I think is irrelevant, because she would never admit it. My mother has a way of blocking out things that she doesn’t want to remember.”

 “Mothers can certainly be that way,” he agreed. I sensed a level of irony in his tone, and I wondered what his story was.

 “What about your parents?” I asked, hoping to gain a bit of insight.

 “They’re dead,” he responded flatly.

 “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 “Don’t be. I’m not.”

 His lack of emotion was startling and I was taken aback. My apology for his deceased parents was an automatic reaction, one that anyone would have. But his expression was cold. Emotionless. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, but it was quickly masked and I could only stare in wonder at his complete detachment.

 Well, this is awkward. He’s not sorry that his mother and father are dead! Who says things like that?

 Matteo arrived with our dinner, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled in the room.

 “Time for the main course. For you my dear, Baked Eggplant Parmigiana, one of my specialties,” Matteo bragged, setting a steaming plate before me and turning to Justin. “And for you my friend, Stuffed Red Pepper. Delizioso!”

 “I’m sure both will be fantastic, Matt. Thanks,” Justin said somewhat coolly.

 Matteo eyed him questioningly, but didn’t comment on Justin’s tone. Instead, he simply nodded and left us alone to enjoy our food. Once he was out of the room, the uneasiness between Justin and I returned.

 I was itching to know more about his dead parents, but I didn’t know what I could say without sounding like I was prying. His blunt statement was perplexing. So rather than risk putting my foot in my mouth, I just ate my food and said nothing. I was probably better off not knowing the specifics anyway.

 It’s not my business. Curiosity killed the cat. More detail means an increased risk of attachment. Time to change the subject.

 I sat there pondering over what else we could talk about. The atmosphere had become so uncomfortable after his revelation, that I wasn’t sure where to begin. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how little I actually knew Justin. The only thing I had to go on were a few tidbits that I read on the internet. He was a mystery, and I grappled with finding a safe topic of discussion.

 I could bring up the reason I’m actually here. We haven’t talked about that yet.

 My brow furrowed in concentration.

 So why am I here?

 He had said in the coffee shop that he wanted me naked, yet he had been nothing but a polite gentleman since my arrival. There were no sexual insinuations, no coy remarks. Nothing. Surprisingly, I found myself disappointed and frustrated by his mannerly attitude. He wasn’t playing his usual part.

 “You’ve become very quiet, Selena,” Justin commented after a long while. I glanced up at him to find that he was watching me curiously. “I can tell that you’re thinking something. I can almost see the wheels spinning in your head.”

 It’s time to cut to the chase.

 I put my fork down next to my plate and leveled my eyes to his.

 “Look, I’m fairly certain that you don’t want to talk about where I grew up or about your parents that – .”

 “The subject of my parents is off limits. Never bring them up again,” he said frostily, stopping me midsentence.

 Personal details are private. Got it.

 “Okay, I can respect that. Besides, it’s probably better if we stopped playing show-and-tell. I want to get to the bottom of this supposed meeting, Justin,” I said, deliberately dropping the formalities for the first time.

 “You can call me Justin.”

 “But that’s not your name,” I jokingly threw back in his face in an attempt to lighten the sudden somber mood. My efforts seemed to work because he afforded me a sexy lopsided grin.

 “Touché,” he said with a wink, and reached over to pour us both more wine.

 “Thank you,” I accepted graciously. Making a mental note to slow down, I didn’t take a sip of the refilled glass right away. A plan was starting to formulate in my head and I needed my wits about me if I was going to play this right.

 “I think I was pretty clear this afternoon at the café, Selena,” he said in response to my question.

 It wasn’t really an answer at all, and I began to understand his polite behavior. I had a nagging suspicion that he was trying to feel me out.

 Is he leaving it up to me to make the first move?

 If that were truly the case, then it was very atypical for Justin. He had told me himself – he likes to be in control. Putting the ball in my court was obviously not what he was doing.

 I eyed him warily, trying to decide if I was ready to push our so-called relationship to the next level. He had already laid out his employment expectations. That part was perfectly clear. It was his other proposal that I needed to be careful of. Taking it slow was an absolute must, but I didn’t know if I had the gumption to take the plunge back into the world of dating.

 If I take charge from the beginning, then maybe I can control the pace. I can do that. How hard can it be?

 Throwing all caution to the wind, I swallowed a huge gulp of wine, took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

 “Yes, you were very explicit as I recall. I b-believe you said something about…um…wanting me naked,” I faltered.

 Epic fail. Could I have said that any more awkwardly? God, I suck at this.

 “Is that going to be a problem for you?” he asked offhandedly.

 Is it a problem?

 His mouth quirked up in an impish smile and he looked like he was enjoying some sort of wicked thought.

 “Well, um…” I started, pursing my lips in a frown trying to will away the flush the crept up my neck and threatened to enflame my cheeks. “What happens if I say that it is? Would I still get the job at Turning Stone?”

 His eyes turned dark as I awaited his response. I held my breath in anticipation.

 “Of course you would. I believe that you are more than qualified to handle the position. It would just be without the fringe benefits,” he added shamelessly. “However, I’m warning you now – I always get what I want. I will fuck you eventually, Selena.”

 He didn’t bother to disguise the determined glitter of lust in his eyes. I let out my breath in a quiet hiss.

 Now there’s the Justin that I’ve grown accustomed to.

 His direct approach was crude and alluring all at the same time, leaving me squirming in my seat – and not because I was offended, but because it was so hot. An ache began to form between my thighs and the devil on my shoulder started doing fist pumps in the air.

 Justin allowed his gaze to drift lazily over me, causing excited butterflies to dance in my belly. I was thrilled that he was back to his normal, salacious self. But even so, I knew that I still had to be cautious. He was dangerous and I was like a moth to a flame. I had to gradually ease into this or risk being burned.

 “Mixing business with pleasure is risky. What happens if things don’t work out with us personally?” I asked. “I don’t want to end up jobless and back to square one.”

 “We’re both adults, Selena. And as long as we keep it casual, I don’t think we’ll have an issue with managing our business dealings.”

 “Well, I don’t do casual sex if that’s what you’re after. I think that two people should at least date a few times before jumping into bed,” I replied evenly, proud that I was able to keep the tremor out of my voice despite my racing heart.

 “That’s very unfortunate,” he said, shaking his head back and forth.

 “Why is that?”

 “I don’t date, Selena. It tends to complicate things that are much better off kept simple.”

 Bullshit.

 “Then explain the hundreds of red heads that you’re constantly being photographed with,” I spat out, just a little bit too harshly. It was a gut reaction, a defensive move based on instinct, and I fought the urge to slap a hand over my mouth. I heard the level of contempt in my voice and regretted it almost immediately.

 This was not going the way that I had planned, even if I was just winging it. I was the one to start this line of conversation and being a bitch every time he said something that I didn’t like would get me nowhere.

 “I must say that your own background check on me wasn’t very accurate,” he pointed out. His mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a smile.

 “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a slew of connected people on my payroll. I had to make do with my trusty friend Google,” I scoffed, although I was thoroughly embarrassed that my slip up had inadvertently revealed that I had researched him.

 “You shouldn’t believe all the filth that can be found online,” he said, showing a hint of disgust beneath his calm demeanor. There was a cool gleam in his eyes and his jaw tightened. “The things you’ve seen or heard about me are based on pure speculation. I’m a wealthy man and I am expected to attend numerous functions, many of which require a date. I’m not sure if the two red heads you saw pictures of could classify as hundreds, but either way, they were mere acquaintances.”

 “So you didn’t sleep with either of them?” I questioned doubtfully, not that it should matter one little iota. After all, I had already committed myself to no personal details. But those curvy red heads were definitely more than tempting with their come-hither smiles and I felt compelled to know the answer nonetheless.

 “The answer to that is completely irrelevant, but I’ll indulge in your curiosities. No, I did not fuck either woman,” he openly admitted. His change of verbiage did little to help the trust factor. He must have sensed my disbelief because he let out a long sigh, and then adapted a more placating tone. “You can think what you want, but I have very little in common with those women. Their needs are very different from mine. I’m a man with a variety of sexual interests, Selena. Knowing that about myself, I deliberately stay away from women that don’t share my desires and adhere to the rules that I’ve set for myself. There are no false pretenses that way.”

 Rules?

 I wasn’t that far removed from the dating scene. He made his sexual exploitations sound like business arrangements.

 “You know what? Forget I even asked. You make it all sound so damned complicated,” I muttered, shaking my head.

 “It’s not complicated at all – at least until I met you. For some odd reason, I find myself breaking many of my rules when it comes to you.”

 “Such as?”

 “Well, take tonight for example. I just told you that I don’t do the dating thing, yet here we are. This is, in many ways, like a date – and well out of the norm for me.”

 “Is that why you keep referring to tonight as meeting? Dating isn’t in your rule book?” I asked tauntingly, rolling my eyes at him. “I mean, really. Even if you only go out with someone once, you have to have some sort of relevant conversation before jumping into bed. That’s what defines a date. You can’t just walk up to a girl and say ‘hey baby, let’s fuck’. It doesn’t work like that.”

 “Don’t be crude, Selena.”

 “My, my. Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?”

 The right corner of his mouth twitched again, showing me that he was fighting back a smile. However, I wasn’t finding this conversation even remotely humorous. It was frustrating.

 Scraping the last bit of food around on my plate, I processed everything that he had told me over dinner. The plan that I had begun to construct in my head was turning into a complete flop. This was never going to work. He had made so many mysterious implications tonight – rules, privacy, undefined sexual preferences. Every time I thought he was being forthright, he would say something that would throw me for a loop.

 Am I really that naïve? What is he trying to tell me?

 One thing was certain – if I wanted to explore this thing between us, whatever it might be, there would be no testing the waters first. But before I dived in head first, I needed some straight answers from him.

 “Look, Justin. I’m not entirely sure why I decided to meet you tonight. The longer I sit here, the more I’m convinced that this is all a bad idea. So please, give it to me straight. What exactly do you want? And no more guessing games or else I walk,” I impatiently asserted.

 His head snapped back and he sharply sucked in a breath. He almost looked as if I had offended him in some way. At that particular point, I didn’t care.

 “Selena, I’m disappointed at the fact that you think I’m playing games. I thought I was being honest. A little cautious maybe, but honest.” He cocked his head to one side, waiting for me to respond.

 “What do you expect me to think?” I lashed out, shaking my head in frustration. “You asked me here to discuss a job, but we have yet to do so. You want me naked, yet you don’t date. You like to be in control and you have rules. You have made reference to having a variety of sexual interests – whatever the hell that means. To be perfectly honest, you’re leading me to believe that you’re some sort of freak in the sheets!”

 His mouth pressed into a hard line and he looked as if he were trying to decide on his choice of words. He leaned forward in his chair and his sapphire blues narrowed. They held a fiendish glimmer, sharp with an animal-like hunger that made me suddenly afraid.

 Goosebumps traveled up my spine as I waited for him to speak again. When he finally spoke, his tone was direct. No-nonsense. Upfront.

 “I’m not a freak. I’m a Dominant.”

[suburban-shaman-blog1]

Bakery Lady

I worked with an interesting person last night. The people in charge think I need help with attention to detail, which is probably true. I’m taking their word for it, because if I was noticing myself making mistakes I would probably not be making them.

So while I would normally have worked alone last night, instead I had a partner. She was a short woman, about forty, with the utilitarian short hair and easy strength of a working mom. She wore the military-style cap our company offers. I wear the stocking cap. This is the only insight into a person’s personality you can glean from their clothes here, everything else is a uniform.

She was one of those people who immediately tells you about what a mom they are. I generally find this exhausting. She also did not take long to let me know she was a Catholic, as she’s having the kid baptized soon. 

And yet, I found myself quickly and constantly drawn into easy conversation with her. This was stranger than it sounds. Most of the time I work with men around my age, and every last one of us works wearing headphones and mostly ignoring the other guy. For young men, this is usually a comfortable way to coexist. This is how a predator shows he wants to be peaceful and friendly; he does not watch you or enter your space.

I guess it’s different with women. I talked to women all day at my last job, but that was during the day and my job required me to be constantly communicating with everyone. As a night baker, you might go three or four hours without saying a word, all night if you’re alone, so the conversation is all voluntary. If nobody feels like talking, they don’t.

Maybe when you’re thrown into a locked building with a strange man twice your size, it makes sense to try to get to know him right away. Maybe it would have been unsettling for me to lumber around laughing and muttering to myself while I listened to podcasts. Sometimes it’s hard not to frame every interaction I have as ‘how this person is managing to deal with me’. I still don’t even like it when I know people can hear me breathing, it feels like I must be bothering them. I always worry that I’m making women feel unsafe, because of the way so many of my friends talk about men. I wish I was smaller a lot of the time. Even weaker. I wish my aspect made people see how not threatening I really am.

This lady at the bakery was extremely friendly and easygoing. She did her stuff, and had nothing to say about the way I did mine. We talked, first about work, than our immediate circumstances. 

At some point or perhaps on a gradient, we just naturally started talking more personally. The work we do is about steady, constant, but simple effort, and takes up very little attention. Both of us feel like we are making our partners unhappy with our odd work hours. Maybe this is something all the bakers are dealing with, but this was the first time I’d really talked to someone else about it. 

We talked about how we don’t spend a lot of time with friends or family either. And before long, we both revealed that it wasn’t really because we work nights. Some of the people in her family are dismissive and distant, a lot of the people in mine are psychological terrorists who like to ruin special occasions. 

She talked about wanting to deliberately create joy and magic in her child’s life. I agreed that that sounded like a worthwhile effort. My immediate, cynical reaction was thinking that it’s dumb to play Tooth Fairy with kids, it sends the wrong message to let them actually believe in Santa Claus. But for once I was able to let that go, and I think it was because of how honest and earnest she had been, ever since I’d met her a couple hours ago.

Thinking about holidays with my family makes me want to be a less cynical person. Christmas surrounded by sarcasm and teasing and fighting is as blasphemous and unnatural as having Thanksgiving with a gang of reanimated corpses. My one uncle hasn’t had a holiday until his daughter has cried about something. The whole clan can’t just express love for each other, even when they feel it. They can’t just be happy for each others’ happiness. Not without a joke, or some kind of trick to make it less serious. 

I miss magic. I miss the warmth I could summon with my faith, and make myself feel. There is still wonder in my life, now, but it’s different. I can experience the awe of space, of nature, of art. But when I believed in that specific brand of Jesus I could feel something that my family never gave me, and which I think I’ll never know again; I could feel comforted, safe, like I belonged where I was. Like I was loved unconditionally, that nothing I had ever done, or could possibly do, would ever change that love. Like I had been created on purpose and it was good that I existed. 

I gather from second-hand accounts that some people feel like that about their parents, or going home. I can believe it. I just don’t think I can get myself there.

The lady at the bakery talked to me about our favorite movies, especially Disney cartoons. She was aware, in a way that I admired, of the messages being taught by stories, and I was pleased to be able to recommend The Iron Giant. Not Disney, better than Disney.

She told me lots of movies make her cry. I told her the only thing that’s made me sob like a child in a long time, was this one scene from the first season finale of The Leftovers. I didn’t tell her which scene, because it would be a big spoiler, but I will give you a hint: It’s the last scene you might expect a heathen like me to appreciate. Justin Theroux deserves some kind of statuette award.

It’s so refreshing, and still so strange, to connect with people this way. It happens so rarely now. I could blame the night job, but I have fallen away from most of the world ever since I stopped being required to go to school. I could just about make friends and fall in love like a normal person, because everyone in the area in my age group was lined up in rows around me every day. It’s a damn good thing I met my woman in senior year. I don’t want to know what kind of person I would be if I had been single these last ten years.

It makes me feel good when I have these odd interactions, because so often in the past when I’ve just been myself and tried to be friendly, I’ve put people off or freaked them out, or just been generally disliked. I got fired from a hotel clerk job once because the manager thought I was scary, and the whole time I worked there I was focused on sucking in my gut and trying to work up the courage to tell them I needed a bigger uniform. I was trembling with embarrassment and discomfort every time I worked, and I could not make myself bother them enough to request bigger pants, and then one day the regional manager sat me down in the office and told me I was being let go, because I intimidated and frightened the manager, who was nervous with her husband overseas, and she’d been there longer. 

I hate the way I feel like a clumsy, cowardly mess while having to assume people see me as some menacing monster. I hate the way I never feel like I’m supposed to be where I am, trespassing wherever I go, like if the manager of the bakery finds out I’ve got the key he gave me, I’m going to be in big trouble. We don’t have assigned parking but I always feel like I’m taking somebody’s space.

I think I felt comfortable around the bakery lady because she needed to talk about herself as badly as I do, but didn’t need to guard her emotions the way men usually do. And of course it’s other men we have to wall off from, so it’s much easier to talk about personal things with women. Especially older, married, non-sexual-candidate women. It’s not as though I have a shot with any of the young single women I know (spoiler alert, none at all) but there’s something about being completely off-the-table that makes people relaxing to be around.

I think I experience the world in a slightly different way than most people, and that’s not without its own rewards, but once in awhile it’s very good to meet and enjoy a regular old person. Just some lady at the bakery, who was sent to help me get my details right. 

At the end of the night, she shrugged and said “Everything you made looks fine to me.”