#then resplendent Selena

[yeyayeya]

THEY NOT ONLY GOT ME ONCE

BUT THEY GOT ME TWICE

FEH KNOWS MY WEAKNESS FOR REDHEADS

THEY ARE TARGETING ME

[sieglinde-freud]

resplendent awakening trio!!! what do you mean my laslow looks weird. no he doesnt. why would you even say that?? to my girlfriend????? bitch??

[this-violence-of-mine]

Iron Bridle

Valda just can't catch a break, huh? Trigger warning for swearing, blood, claustrophobia, and butchered mumbling lol. As always, ask to tag.

~

“You’re a rotten bitch,” Valda said, voice trembling as Rieka stepped away from her hunched and shackled form, the whip in her hand stained with blood. “May the Great Mother have mercy on you, you wretched thing, for I won’t be so kind.” 

Blood dripped and ebbed down her raw back, the trails cooling into a thick and tacky liquid. The pool of copper and crimson beneath her grew larger and larger as the days passed on, the scent of metal permanent and gagging. Her wrists and neck, rubbed raw by the ever-present, too-tight cuffs and collar, maintained permanent scars and stains as new wounds opened and old wounds reopened everyday.

Rieka tilted her head to the side, eying her. “Should I relay this to Selena? Let her know the sweet little bride she claimed from Weitheim still has a sour mouth on her?” She knelt down before her, her nails digging into her skin as she gripped her chin and forced her to meet her gaze. “How much longer do you think you’d be down here if she heard these words? A fortnight? A moon? Two moons if she’s grown frustrated, perhaps?”

With what little strength she held onto, Valda spat in her face. A fat glob of bloodied spit landed on her cheek and dripped down, following the sharp contours of her cheekbone and concave cheek. “I’ll kill you both. Flay you, boil you, cook you over a fire, even slit your throats just to be done with it.”

Rieka wiped the spit away with the back of her hand and cleaned it off in what little hair Valda had grown out since the shearing. “I’m certain you will. Why, I’m terrified! Great Mother, hark! Rescue me from Valda the Vacuous! Save Queen Selena and I from her horrid wrath lest we be ripped limb from limb!” She stood up. “Stop fantasizing about such things. It’s unbecoming of a consort.”

“I’m no one’s consort,” she spat, glaring up at Rieka, her gaze icy cold. 

She scoffed in response. “No one’s consort? Valda, you signed the marriage contract. By definition, you are her consort.” Lightly, she tapped her ribs with her foot. “Stop playing this foolish game and act as you are supposed to.”

If her glare could grow colder, it would’ve. “I’d sooner be rid of my left hand than allow that wretch to run my life and call me hers.”

She cocked a brow. “Truly? We could have that arranged, if you’d like.”

“I was being facetious, you fool.”

“Now your words are jokes, hm? Jokes are unbecoming of a consort, Fera. You should remember that.”

“I’m not a Fera,” she snapped.

“Yet you signed the contract binding yourself to her house. If I remember correctly, that makes you a Fera, regardless of your opinions on the matter.” She cocked her head to the side. “Or was that another joke? Another bit of facetious humor?”

Valda glared at her. “I hate you.”

“More humor and jokes, I suppose. You should be a court fool.” She patted her head like one would a dog. “I’ll see you at dawn. Tomorrow we’ll work on correcting your nasty habit of making threats and jokes.”

With no more to say, she left with her torch and whip, her wood-soled boots clacking against the stone floor of the dungeon. The door creaked open and slammed shut behind her. For one brief, resplendent moment, light, true and natural light from the sun, streamed in through the open door, illuminating the dust motes and catching on the chains binding Valda. Light. What a strange thing to desire above all else.

Valda lay on her side, adjusting herself until the new wounds were unbothered by her position and the white hot agony dulled into something she could almost ignore. Closing her eyes, she thought about the light and how it glinted so nicely against the metal and how lovely the dust looked while suspended in the air. 

When she finally fell into a fitful slumber, it was the light she dreamt of, the songs she’d sing in Weitheim, and the dances she danced in the town square with her sisters. She dreamt of wool dresses and cameos of the Great Mother and long hair braided into twin braids that fell over her shoulders. She dreamt of the wind and the sun and the warmth of a lit hearth.

It was the oddest thing when she awoke to the sound of the door creaking open. Tears burned her eyes and stained her cheeks. Had she been crying in her sleep? Was that truly even possible? She wiped the still wet tears from her face. Nobody needed to see that. One thing belonged to her and it was her pain.

The familiar thud of Rieka’s boots rang out through the dungeon, bouncing off the curved walls and hitting back at her as a reminder of the suffering she was to bear yet again. The boots stopped in front of her face, the leather shiny and the wooden heel freshly polished to reflect like glass.

“You’ve been weeping,” Rieka said, kneeling down before her and grabbing her face to force her gaze up. “Shame. I was under the impression you felt nothing but hate.”

“I wasn’t weeping you stupid bitch,” Valda mumbled, averting her gaze.

“Lying? That’s yet another unbecoming trait.” She patted her cheek. “No worries. We’ll finally correct this nasty attitude of yours.”

“You tortured me and Selena ordered it,” she said, glaring up at her. “This ‘attitude’ is deserved.”

“Queen Selena saved you and you repay her with threats, insults, and lies? She was kind enough to allow this reeducation in place of execution. You should be clamoring to kiss the ground she walks upon.” Rieka cocked her head to the side. “Truly, who do you think yourself to be?”

“The Kaiser of Weitheim.”

“Kaiser of ash and dust perhaps.” She turned and grabbed something obscured by her legs. “Well, nasty attitudes are killed by this fine piece of equipment. Perhaps we’ll also kill that delusion of grandeur.”

What she had in her hands was something Valda had never seen before, yet it made her stomach lurch and breath hitch in her throat. It was a mask with a metal plate sticking out where the mouth would be and several bands and locks to keep it in place.

“Dungeon dwellers tend to learn their manners once they spend a week in this,” Rieka said, holding it up. “Knowing you and your foul mouth, I suppose it may take a moon, if not more, to kill that wretched beast inside of you.”

Valda shrunk back as best she could considering the shackles around her wrists and collar around her neck binding her close to the floor. “Please,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs and her palms going slick “Not that. Not my voice.” 

Light and speaking. Those were all she had left.

“Please, Rieka. I’ll-I’ll be good.” She forced a shaky smile. “Just-just not that.”

“Now you change your tune?” Rieka smirked. “I’m ashamed we come from the same land. I certainly know this wouldn’t break me.” 

Rieka straddled her upper back and forced her thumbs between her molars, prying her mouth open. With one hand she kept it open, with the other she positioned the bridle around her skull and forced the metal bit into her mouth. The locks snapped closed, securing the bands and assuring there was no way it’d be pried off.

“If you behave, I might consider feeding and watering you in three days. Until then, reflect on your actions.” Rieka cocked her head. “Nothing to say? No insults? No threats?”

She stared up at her, eyes wide and pleading. Rieka was cruel, yet this was something new, something worse. She tried to say something, anything, but the metal bit pressed against her tongue only allowed a mumble.

“So strong-willed. Don’t worry, though. The bridle will kill that anger and defiance soon enough.” She patted her head. “No more biting and spitting, either. I think you should thank me for making you better and killing off those nasty habits of yours. Don’t you think you should be thanking me?”

Valda glared at her, tears burning her eyes and threatening to spill over. 

“Do it. Thank me. Say ‘thank you Lady Rieka for making me better.’” She cocked a brow. “Do you want to be kicked again? Whipped maybe? If you don’t, I suggest you thank me.”

Squeezing her eyes shut and trying to ignore the burning humiliation in her chest, Valda mumbled, “‘ank ‘oo,” around the metal plate in her mouth.

“That’s not what I told you to say,” she said, grinning. “I’ll give you one more opportunity before I go and retrieve your favorite toy. ‘Thank you Lady Rieka for making me better.’” 

“‘Ank ‘oo ‘abby ‘ika ‘or ‘akin ‘e ‘ebber,” she forced out, the words butchered.

“Good girl,” she said, patting her head. “I suppose the bridle is punishment enough. I’ll leave you to adjust.” With that, she stood and left.

The light that streamed in for only a moment did little to dull the humiliation and anxiety that now swelled in her chest. Light. Just light. That’s all she had left.

Valda, alone and silenced, clawed at the mask covering her face and the bands holding it in place. The metal tasted foul and bloody, the bands digging into her flesh. Her nails raked against her skin, tearing it open as she fought to desperately free herself from the mask’s iron grip. 

Her heart raced and her eyes grew wet as she struggled with the locks, the metal firm and unyielding. It wasn’t coming off. It wouldn’t come off. Her breaths came out in short gasps as her fingernails continued to work yet there was nothing to be done. The mask was staying.

The dungeon closed in around her. How could she be any more trapped than she already was? How could it get any smaller, any more restrictive?

And then it happened. The dam finally broke. For the first time in a long time, she wept. What else could Rieka take from her?

[lampreylarry]

Ayyy resplendent severa (selena) is finally coming!

[snugglesquiggle]

what is your ideal evil lair

not sure we could agree on one

Ambivalence would want a ruined lighthouse, whose guttering light shines like a fading hope in the fog of the world, with collapsing stone walls that form perches on which to brood and ponder the desolation of all things

Astore would want a resplendent castle, staffed with servants, ornamented with gilded and crystalline wonders, vaults collecting treasures only rivaled by libraries cataloguing rare tomes, together a hoard of glory and wisdom, as secure as it is envied

Amiri would want a underground lab filled with greenhouses and gadgets. halls trailing with cords and creeping vines. automatic doors, automatic dispensers, little robots, and except the central computer is half digital half fungus, interfacing with mycorhizzal network. imagine a mycellia with cable management.

Selena would want a colorful little house in the clouds, plush with fluffy carpets and furry animals, and maybe a dungeon to chain up cute girls. there would be spooky thunder sometimes to make it look menacing from afar (and also very cozy inside). maybe it's always raining a little bit

Haven would want... okay Haven can't be assed to come up with one, so i guess she's cool being the monster in Selena's dungeon. or just taking a page from Vera's book and sinking into the depths of the abyss

and like, i guess they're not so incompatible you couldn't combine this all together into one mega-lair for the whole system, with a little compromise

not sure if that's a complete answer to the question but it is past 2 am over here so i think we should implement the evil scheme advised in this image:

[cutestrival]

with each cycle of the seasons, she remains an invincible summer. a blistering sun painting a portrait of intensity, her fiery disposition a testament to nature's unyielding power. 

“HOLD, SELENA!” odin calls out, a beckoning hand outstretched. “spare an old friend a moment of your time! it shall not go to waste. that is my sacred vow.”

with his free hand, he gracefully unveils a golden chain, from which dangles an ornate amulet adorned with resplendent red stones. upon this precious pendant, odin has carefully etched the words "never forget," ensuring their permanence in the delicate tapestry of sentiment and time.

“i present to you an artifact of mythical power, worthy only of those who defy fate. SHHH"! he raises a finger to his lips. "LISTEN now to its mighty siren call and how it SINGS out to you ! yes…a MAGNIFICENT match indeed! none are as deserving as you, SELENA OF TEMPESTUOUS FLAMES!”  

odin takes a step forward and gently presses the gift into her hand. a mischievous grin eclipses over his features, offering a glimpse into the delight that twinkles within.

"the most joyous of birthdays to you! now, venture into the world and showcase its glamour for all to behold!"

Begrudgingly, reluctantly, most inorganically to a stranger but not uncommon to a friend, Selena’s resting frown tugs into a smile. Long does it waver, her lips wresting the emotions from moving up to her cheeks as best they can. She swallows her calm, and blinks up brightly at her dear, dear friend, almost embarrassed in her hesitancy. The necklace shimmers upon the words, carved too into her eyes every morning. But to receive the same words from Odin, one who knows, one who has died, one who has forged further, who too shoulders countless burdens with nothing more but a smile, carries a different sentiment. A comforting one. The amulet finally in her grasp, she turns it over and over in her hands, letting the setting sunlight catch upon the fineries wrought of friendship and perseverance.

“Oh… Thank you, Odin.” 

She no longer attempts to avert her eyes.

“I won’t forget ever again.”

[childofaura]

What do you think about sachie?

I'm... meh overall on sachie's artwork, but that's more on a personal preference level. I can still give a good unbiased art review, but I just don't vibe with their art much. Which I know doesn't sound great after I tore into their Resplendent Micaiah art, lmao.

So Sachie is the artist who drew Legendary Julia, fallen Julia, Julius, Sara, Wolf, Legendary Nanna, Ascended Florina, and Christmas Selena/Cordelia. Lots of art spanning from different years in FEH.

So let's start off with the positives. Sachie's got some pretty great colorwork going on and lighting/shading, Legendary Julia was definitely a major upgrade compared to base unit Julia (which no shade to Haimura Kiyotaka, but man their work for base Julia was so underwhelming. That glassy-eyed facial expression...). We actually see some expression on Julia:

And not only that, Sachie does a great job with using clothing to create line of motion:

And to their credit they've drawn both men and women.

Now, my gripes with their art... While I did mention Julia having more expression than her base artwork, it feels like Sachie's artwork has been losing expressiveness as time goes on. Like take a look at Selena in her portraits:

They kind of just toyed with the eyebrows and nothing else. It just feels like they've become Amagaitaro 2: Electric Boogaloo.

And their posing is a little underwhelming, like even though Julius has a nice range of motion with his cloak, it's still a weak pose. Plus look at Wolf here:

That is a ROOTED stance. Not great for a pose.

And finally, their anatomy is pretty all right for the most part, though the girls tend to have some pretty big heads. And I get it, anime-style has big heads. But still, this one's pretty noticeable.

It's good art most of the time though, I can't deny that. So I'll rank Sachie at an 8/10, though I honestly feel like they're a 6 to 7/10 to me.

[almoststedytimetravel]

Praying that one day we get a Nifl resplendent Selena and an Askr resplendent Laslow so I can expand the "who wears the Muspel resplendent and who wears the Hel resplendent" but to Askr and Nifl. Currently, I think only Eliwood and Ninian follow this trend, but it deserves to be expanded.

[radishleaf]

ffs selena gets a damn resplendent before beruka. i've gonna stick my entire head in a beehive.

[tsukai22]

An infantry swordswoman from Nohr got a Resplendent and it wasn't Soleil =(

At least Resplendent Selena got really good art.

[feh-updates]

Resplendent Hero Selena: Cutting Wit is now available to Feh Pass subscribers. In addition, Feh Pass Quests have been updated. These quests are available until Mar. 24, 11:59 PM PT. For further info, please see the Feh Pass website.

[sieglinde-freud]

conflicted between getting muspell morgan or not giving money to a stupid gacha game bc im better than that (am i really though)

[this-violence-of-mine]

Wool Combs

Here's a little bit of writing I just did for Valda and Rieka. Trigger warning for violence, torture, and nudity used as humiliation. If I missed something, just send me an ask.

~

Valda Wulf was once a queen, a grand queen with a throne of marble and silver and a crown of diamonds and sapphire. Once her clothes were made of thick furs and imported silks. Once her people had loved her and looked to her for guidance, which she provided readily. Once she ate fine food and laughed and danced with her family. Once, she was more than a prisoner. Once she was happy.

Of course, all of that was far off now. She wasn’t in the north, she wasn’t in Weitheim any longer. Snow didn’t cover the landscape and the trees weren’t pine or aspen. All of it, including her faith, had been ripped from her and now she sat alone, shackled to the floor of a dark and dingy cell in the far east. The voyage was horrible, but the dank and blood soaked dungeon was worse. At least she was allowed clothes on the ship.

Upon arriving, Rieka, Selena’s advisor who had been tasked with teaching her the ways of the east, had forced her to the dungeons and ripped her clothes from her body, leaving her exposed and humiliated. Her cheeks still burned with the shame that came with nudity. Even without another soul present, she felt their eyes on her body, judging her and hating her all the more for her seemingly wanton nature. Part of her wanted to cry and scream at the invisible judges, to tell them she was unwilling in her degradation. But that was foolish. There was nobody but her in the dungeon. The only judge present was herself.

Footsteps echoed slightly outside of the cell she was kept in, the little peephole sliding open. Cruel, green eyes stared at her, the corners crinkled. Behind the door, the wretched woman was smiling, giddy with her newfound power over her victim.

Valda looked down, her cheeks growing hotter. Despite the loneliness being its own wretched beast, it was better than dealing with Rieka. Anything was better than dealing with Rieka.

As the door was opened, the hinges creaked and groaned, the metal against metal grating against her ears. Light, too much light that made her eyes burn and ache, spilled into the once pitch black cell.

“Tell me, Wulf, are you ready to accept Selena as your queen, as your wife?” Rieka said, her voice cold and harsh. “Mind you, once you accept, the torture ends. No more pain, no more agony. No more whips and no more chains.” She crouched down in front of her, their faces level. “Wouldn’t that be grand, sweet girl?”

No matter how tempting the offer was, Valda couldn’t bring herself to accept it. Tears pricked her eyes as she shook her head, her body already trembling in anticipation for the punishment surely coming. “No,” she said, her voice small and strained. The only thing she had left was her pride. Anything else could be taken from her, but not her pride.

For a moment Rieka said nothing, her eyes boring into her. The silence was profound and far more terrifying than any punishment she could ever concoct. It was neutral. Nothing existed in between the noise.

“Pity,” she finally said, standing. “I’ll return in a moment. Don’t beg tonight, it’s unbecoming of a consort.” With that, she turned and left, her boots heavy against the stone floor.

Valda curled in on herself, the fear in her gut large and monstrous. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? Why couldn’t she just accept defeat? 

The tears grew fatter and more numerous, her cheeks wet and eyes red. Another night of torment just because she couldn’t say yes. 

She cursed herself beneath her shaky breath. Her stubborn pride would be the end of her soon, she knew it. It was only a matter of time before Rieka decided enough was enough and killed her, regardless of Selena’s orders.

Rieka returned, a set of iron combs for wool in her hands. “Resplendent Queen Selena found these in your dungeons. Your own torturer seemed fond of them.” She knelt before her once more. “Allow me to ask, how many have you condemned?”

Valda swallowed hard. “Three,” she replied, voice still shaky. “One- one for murder. One for an assassination attempt. One- one-,” her voice broke off, the words sticking in her throat. The tears flowed more freely as she looked back on the day she had to condemn her own father. “One for insanity,” she finally choked out.

“Your father,” Rieka said. “I would’ve done the same, but much, much sooner. Resplendent Queen Selena found the records. It seems you did Weitheim and the rest of the world a service.”

Valda shook her head, a sob catching in her throat. She missed her papa. “I didn’t want to,” she said, “I had to. If- if I didn’t-,” she broke off into a sob. “He was a madman.”

Rieka tilted her chin up, her touch almost gentle. “He was indeed. Are you aware he had these,” she held the wool combs up, “used these on my parents, thirteen years ago.”

Valda nodded. “He was brutal,” she said, voice small.

  “Are you aware he made me watch as my parents were tortured to death? Are you aware that after they finally died, he exiled me?” Rieka circled around her and stopped when she was at her back. “I’m grateful, truly.” She pressed the comb into Valda’s skin, drawing blood and eliciting a gasp from her victim. “He taught me how to hurt and kill. After I arrived here, I was taught how to hurt and keep one alive.” She ripped the comb down, tearing and flaying the skin of her back. 

Valda cried out in agony, jerking forward as if it would help her in any way. “Pl- please!” she choked out, her voice strangled. Pain blurred her vision. Vomit threatened to come up from the sickening agony and the feeling of her blood pouring down her back.

“The day I was told I had the pleasure of teaching you our customs, my heart swelled with joy,” Rieka brought the comb down again. “Your father’s dead, but that doesn’t mean I can’t exact my revenge on your damned bloodline.” She brought the comb down once more.

Valda’s screams and cries filled the cell, her blood pooling beneath her as her skin was shredded. 

“I was told to be kind,” Rieka brought it down again, tearing skin and muscle. “I was told to be gentle.” She dug her nails into her open wounds and tore and ripped her flesh.

Valda sobbed, the pain so thick and deep she thought she’d finally die that night. Everything lost its meaning as Rieka continued. Words wouldn’t leave her mouth and thoughts stopped being made. 

“I was told not to hurt you!” Rieka said, her voice a little louder. “I was told you were precious and important!” 

The combs continued to shred and she fell forward, her arms and legs too weak to bear her weight. Her cheek rested against the cold stone, her vision dark around the edges. At that point, death would’ve been a kinder master to her than Rieka.

“But I know the truth,” she leaned in, “you’re a monster just as your father was before you.” She continued the assault against her back. “What moral ruler would condemn anyone to this fate?” 

Valda’s breath hitched in her throat as the darkness grew. It wouldn’t be much longer before oblivion took her, that much was certain. 

“I believe Resplendent Queen Selena made a mistake keeping you alive,” she said, her voice low. “I believe she should’ve beheaded you on your damned throne. It’s the least you fucking deserve.” She stood up. “I’ll return tomorrow night. I pray you say no once again. I find these sessions comforting.” 

With that, she left. The door slammed shut and the locks clicked into place.

No strength left, Valda lay there, silently sobbing as the pain ebbed and flowed. 

Tomorrow she’d finally say yes.

[katfreaks-hidyhole]

The newest member to the +10 club :)

Now I’m not the fan of her when she appeared in awakening but I think she improved quite a lot in Fates.

[local-troubled-writer]

73 + machace - liz

The Heart Wants What It Wants- Selena Gomez.

//This is a modern fairytale, No happy endings, no wind in our sails//

When Javy makes it to the bar that night, he's the last to arrive. Everyone but Bob, Natasha, and Rooster are crowded into a deep booth in the back. Rooster is schooling Bob at pool and Natasha is at the bar.

And as soon as he sets his eyes on Natasha, it's like the world slows down.

They'd all been awaiting their orders for their next assignments and Javy had gotten his today. Restationed to Oceania starting next week.

Nat and Bob had managed to stay at Lemoore with Rooster and Hangman but Harvard, Yale, Omaha, Fritz, Halo, Payback, and Fanboy are all returning to their squadrons on various bases.

But Javy, he's going half a world away. He was up for a restationing anyways but now it just feels like a cruel trick of fate. He'd just gotten Natasha back, just gotten her to trust him again, to let him in again, and now he has to leave.

So he throws caution to the wind and makes his way over to the bar. Nat is still talking to Penny as she waits for her drink and Javy can't help the hand he slides around her waist, burying his face in her neck.

Deep in his bones, Javy knows they probably won't last, an 18-hour time difference and different continents tearing them apart just like it did last time.

A hand comes to rest on top of where Javy's hands are on Natasha's hips and she gives the top hand a light squeeze.

He leaves a gentle kiss to the junction of her neck and pulls himself away, allowing himself to memorize the way she looks when she turns in his arms.

Natasha is borderline resplendent in the low light of the bar, the setting sun giving the outline of her body a mesmerizing golden glow and she looks so happy.

So Javy puts his news on the back burner. This heartache can wait another day.

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift, Britney Spears and the media cycle that demands pain from our pop stars

Emma Clifton 08:30, Feb 16 2021

Britney Spears was robbed of her public image during the height of her fame. Taylor Swift was robbed of her music during the height of hers.

Why does our pop culture system seem so intent on punishing the very women who keep it afloat. Emma Clifton looks at a decade in young singers – and the variously terrible ways they get treated while in the public eye.

There was a theory floated on the podcast You’re Wrong About that ‘fame is abuse’ and you’d be hard pressed not to agree if you were one of the many people who saw the recent New York Times documentary Framing Britney Spears, and realised just how badly we as a society treated Britney Spears before, during, and after her rise to fame.

The paparazzi, the media, the comedians – and then the fans and look-i-loos who continued to buy all the magazines that ran headlines about what a train-wreck she was, when really she was just someone in her early twenties, trying to raise two children while being one of the most famous – and hounded – people on the planet.

The documentary discussed at length how we as a pop-culture obsessed society love to build up a talented, attractive young woman and then buy popcorn in preparation of when we can gleefully watch them tumble from grace.

(And it’s not just pop stars, of course; the resplendent rise and then the racist fall of Meghan Markle’s position in public opinion is one of the most recent examples we have of when good headlines go bad.)

When I was working at Creme magazine, between 2009 and 2012, our pages were over-flowing with talented young pop singers: Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, The Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, Rihanna, One Direction, Justin Bieber.

When you look back on the decade that has passed by since, time has not been kind to any of these people.

Either the showbiz demon took something from each of them – or they had to completely disappear from sight for years at a time in order to survive. Sometimes both.

There have been eating disorders, drug overdoses, rehab stints, broken marriages, abusive relationships, chronic illnesses. These kids – and they were kids – were so young when they started, they’re already on their fourth or fifth reinventions.

Most of them haven’t hit 30 yet.

And when you’re a female pop star, so many of these reinventions revolve around your sexuality.

Heck, when I was at Creme, Demi, Selena and Miley were part of the ‘purity ring’ club, where they all gushed about staying away from sex until marriage while their stylists dressed them in the tightest clothes possible.

The message from the marketing teams behind each of them was very clear: Sell sex, but don’t ever enjoy it.

This is the same battle Britney faced a decade previously – look like a Lolita, but make sure you never have sex with your long-term boyfriend because then you’ll be expected to cry about the shame of it on national television.

This was also the time of paparazzi trying to take up-skirt photos (exactly what it sounds like) of female actresses as soon as they turned 18; 18 – the age where you can legally have sex in America – was a big deal in pop culture.

There was a countdown for when the Olsen Twins turned 18. When Lindsay Lohan turned 18, Rolling Stone ran a breast-focused cover shoot with the headline: ‘Hot, ready and LEGAL’. And it was just fine! Totally accepted. These girls, they were always up for it, right?

And then we get to Taylor Swift.

Taylor is re-releasing Love Story, the song that made her famous, the song that I first heard in the shower (yes, I had a shower radio) when I was 20 and immediately started crying, because it hit me square in the middle of my pop culture diagram: love songs and references to Romeo and Juliet.

It’s from her second album, Fearless, which she wrote when she was aged 16-18 and which won her four Grammys, including Album of the Year. It’s also an album that no longer belongs to her and she can no longer perform, due to some millionaire f...wittery committed by her former manager. But we’ll get to that.

From 2008 onwards, Taylor became a big deal for her music and then, like it always does for women, her love life became the centre drama.

She never talked about a purity ring (thank God) and she sung pretty openly about sex from her third album onwards (Sparks Fly, an iconic song), plus she had the audacity to date a bunch of boys and look happy while doing so. Naturally, her punishment awaited.

To this day, she is still ridiculed about lyrics she wrote in her first couple of albums… songs she wrote herself when she was literally a teenager.

If I had had written an album when I was a teenager, it would have been about my crush who caught the bus, Kevin from The Backstreet Boys, worrying about my thighs, and, I don’t know, my cystic acne.

I’m just saying – we let powerful men get away with s... they pulled when they were young with the old line ‘boys will be boys! They were just kids!’; it just never seems that generosity is never extended to young women and their far more harmless explorations of teenage sexuality.

Because she had yet to have a public mental health crisis or rehab stint, it was clear that Taylor was never going to be the architect of her own media downfall.

Luckily, one was invented for her. After a long-lasting stoush with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West, where absolutely no-one (including Taylor) came out looking good, Taylor suddenly because persona non grata in pop culture and the long-awaited comeuppance began.

And so, she disappeared – in a way that celebrities can do these days. (As a side note, can you imagine how different Britney Spears’ life might have been if she had been allowed to disappear for a couple of years?)

It was only when she released her documentary Miss Americana on Netflix that the public got what it had been craving the whole time – the dark side of Taylor Swift’s fame.

An eating disorder, a sexual assault that she ended up being sued for and, then, the poisoned cherry on top, losing the rights to all her past music thanks to her old manager.

Finally, our hunger for bad news had been satisfied. We had seen her scars and so we could allow her back into the spotlight again.

It’s been interesting watching the roll-out of new music from so many of these female artists during a pandemic: Selena, Demi, Miley, Ariana Grande are among the singers who have eschewed the normal long roll-out of publicity in order to release their own music, without much of the media fanfare that typically accompanies it.

Taylor herself released two albums, without any of the (slightly inane) games she normally includes in the lead-up. You can’t help but wonder that – stripped of their endless touring, performances and appearances, these female artists have found some freedom in being able to just get back to the actual work.

If a pop star releases an album in the middle of a pandemic and no-one is around to give a shit about any of the outfits she’s wearing, does it still count? Turns out, yes.

Following the betrayal of Britney, Taylor, Miley et al by the media, you can see the slow change to have total ownership of their voice these artists have taken.

Social media can be a devil for many reasons but it has overtaken journalists and publicists as the middle man when it comes to how these women get portrayed to the public. Beyoncé has been instrumental in this – it was she who first released an album overnight back in 2013; a move that came without warning and changed the entire industry forever.

She who stopped giving interviews almost entirely, choosing to use her own platforms to get her message and music across. As a result, she’s never been more powerful and she’s never been more private.

As an explicit ‘F... you’ to the powers-that-be who bought her music from under her, Taylor has announced she will be re-recording all of her old albums.

Stories about millionaires against millionaires rarely draw sympathy from a reader but it does highlight how little actually belongs to the artist at the end of the day.

They can have limited control over their image, their public appearances, their private life, their work and their songs. And these are the success stories – these are the people whose names we know.

You have to hope that anyone young and female entering the music business has their eyes very wide open as to just what can go wrong – and what can go wrong even when everything goes right.

The first album Taylor is re-releasing is Fearless, the album that is the most chock-a-block with fairy-tale imagery and glittery optimism.

She’s promised that the songs will be new interpretations on the old originals and that seems only fair.

You can’t help but think that those fairy-tale songs are going to sound a whole lot different being sung by a 31-year-old who’s been through the public wringer then they were as a wide-eyed 16-year-old, on the cusp of making her dreams come true.