I wear sunshine on my lips and stars on my nails. My hair is a garden of roses that blossoms in a different color every morning. I drink galaxies for breakfast and use ribbons of moonbeams sprinkled with comets as laces for my shoes. My eyelids are the wings of hummingbirds and my skin, the velvet blackness of night seasoned with stardust. My breath is the scent of wildflowers and magic. And I wear music as jewelry around my neck.
You’ve known me as the dreamer who lives within you and the creativity you lost as you grew up. I helped you discover your imaginary friends and whispered in your ear to create your own world. I replaced your ordinary eyes with kaleidoscopic diamonds and your nightmares with dreams of flying. You still see me in children: the five-year-olds who pray to the Easter bunny and the eight-year-olds who wear rose-colored contact lens, viewing the world as a big bundle of joy where everyone is happy. You wish I’d never left you when your parents fought and got a divorce or when your first love broke your heart into pieces. You think I faded inside you little by little every time your teacher said you’d never amount to anything in life or during those sleepless nights when you felt unloved and believed you no longer belonged anywhere.
You wish you could trade all your ‘growing up’ for just one more day of staying a child. To feel my soft fluttering kiss on your salty, world-weary cheeks as I lead you once again into the world you created and then abandoned. And to help you rediscover the pirate ships and treasure chests hidden in scudding masses of clouds. To just be a child again, nothing else.
You think you outgrew me when your turned thirteen when all your friends seemed more interested in their own bodies than your fairytale stories about flying imps and green-skinned witches. You let the world turn you angry, cynical and disappointed. You learnt that not all people are good and that rainbows don’t really lead to leprechauns’ pots of gold. Growing up had changed you and you blamed me for letting you down.
With every day of disbelieving, I was vanishing within you until one day I was nowhere to be found. Your head full of dreams wilted as real-life responsibilities mounted on your shoulders and left you on your knees. Soon, I became just another tattered memory you remembered occasionally on bus rides back home and sighed at.
But one evening, you stop to look at the moon. It is deliciously glowing and hangs crescent in the sky. You casually envision a Siamese kitten sitting on the inner curve of the moon with its kinky tail waving at the stars. And just like that, you hear me laugh. That laugh you hadn’t heard for years; that laugh that still rang with innocent delight and childlike wonder.
I say to you, “Remember, I’m the dreamer within you. The bottle of rainbows in an ocean under a rainstorm. The sweet clusters of dew in a field of parched grass. You’ll never lose me, you just have to find me. But I’m always there.”
You then realize you’ve been wrong this whole time. It wasn’t me who had let you down, but yourself.
Ah, now this is a topic I’ve been lucky enough to discuss with
some dear mutuals over the years, so let me see if I can do an answer justice.
course, we can never know the
man, not truly; that is only for the very lucky few that are a part of his
life, his world. But there is so much we can deduce of him, based upon
his work, his words, his public deeds and behavior.
you look at his work alone, you see incredible natural talent that he has
refined through dedication & physical and mental discipline; you see a love
of the written & spoken word; and most especially you see a keen &
compassionate understanding of the human condition–for how else could he bring
such breathtaking truth to all of his characters? Even the wicked ones,
like Khan & Richard III–he makes us feel that even they have
reasons for the things they do, often rooted in emotional/psychological pain.
Though the evil they do is no less evil, we can sympathize to some degree,
with what brought them to that place. In
my lifetime I have seen no player more truly & more lovingly—in
Shakespeare’s words—hold the mirror up to nature.
interviews & public appearances, you find a humble, self-effacing man, a bright
wit, & sense of humor generous enough to make himself as likely a target of
jesting as anyone or anything else. He
values home, hearth, family, the environment, although he could easily give
over to hedonism on his bank account.
How many times do we see him wearing the same clothes, carrying that
same blue water bottle on set, even brown bagging his lunches at times?Choices, I’m sure, that reflect his commitment to simplicity and to reduce his carbon footprint.
Benedict’s charitable works have been well-recorded on this site, so I’m
not going to research it, but when I run across a post about it, I’ll be sure
to reblog for info’s sake.
won’t speak at length about his personal relationships, except to say that’s a
man who loves his wife thoroughly. It would frankly break my heart to learn he
had the same feet of clay of so many other public figures & celebrities in
this regard—what I see tells me he and Sophie have the real thing. And that he
guards his little family’s privacy so jealously is further testament to that.
short, (though this runs long) I trust my eyes & ears, and they tell me to
trust in the public image that is clearly on view. I see a man who gives as much positive energy
to the world as he can, and embraces life with complete joie devivre. And as I believe in the human soul, I see a
most spectacular one that shines luminously, not only enhancing his unique
physical beauty, but reminding me that true good is possible in a world that is
often quite selfish & mean.
could probably go on with dozens of more examples, but let me just finish with
one of my favorite photos of him, which for me reflects (I hope) a bit of what
I’ve written here.
Thank you for your ask–it was a delight to answer! ❤❤❤
I’m just like other people, only more so. You live faster. You get there sooner. It was as good as it could get when I was born. I was world-weary at 20. I had unlimited access, money, fame and acceptance. I was accepted by my heroes before I could imagine what I’d say if I met them.
We never need popular music to let us know when the times are a-changin’, but we can always at least hope that the biggest songs of a period will help to reflect the national mood – and provide comfort, if not outright guidance, to help us get through the tougher parts. That’s the landscape that any new pop song invariably enters when debuting into the post-Brexit, post-Trump, pre-we-can’t-even-imagine world of 2017, and increasingly, it’s starting to sound like it.
The previously bubblegum-smacking Katy Perry set the tone for the year’s heavier, more topical fare in February with the incredulous “Chained to the Rhythm,” which Perry dubbed as the beginning of the “purposeful pop” era. The new epoch has gained steam in April thanks to comeback efforts from One Direction breakout star Harry Styles and pop-punk hitmakers Paramore – two of the most-anticipated singles of 2017, both of which go to great lengths to soundtrack the “Times” at hand.
Harry Styles’ anthemic power ballad “Sign of the Times” takes an optimistic, if largely fatalistic, approach to the state of the universe. Like the Prince title track of the same name from 30 years earlier – which asked “If a night falls and a bomb falls/ Will anybody see the dawn?” – Styles’ “Times” involve a likely imminent apocalypse, with the singer quipping, “Welcome to the final show/ Hope you’re wearing your best clothes” and “They told me that the end is near/ We got to get away from here” over swaying guitars and soaring strings. But Harry prescribes strength in solidarity and a gallows humor in order to push through, assuring “Just stop your crying, it’s the sign of the times.” Dark days, no doubt, but as Styles points out with a falsetto’d mix of frustration and serenity, “We never learn – we’ve been here before.”
Paramore, on other hand, seem to lack the resolve to face what looms on the horizon with such an unwavering gaze, dealing with their own Dusty Rhodes-like travails by yearning for “a hole in the ground/ You can tell me when it’s all right for me to come out.” The “Hard Times” that Paramore acknowledge aren’t the kind you can laugh off with a wry joke about impending doom, or even the kind that rouse you to action and inspire you to protest, but the kind that make you want to check out of 2017 altogether. There’s no guarantee that singer Hayley Williams’ rough patch as described in the song is due to national malaise rather than personal drama, but sentiments like “Hard times/ Gonna make you wonder why you even try” will certainly be familiar to anyone who’s spent an hour on their Twitter timeline this year and felt so overcome by current events that they needed to spend the rest of the day hiding under their bedsheets.
Styles’ and Paramore’s approaches to defining these “Times” may differ greatly, but they serve the same core importance of acknowledging that they’re happening at all. It’s a feeling you might not necessarily get while flipping between Chainsmokers and Migos smashes on your FM dial or Spotify chart. When front-page headlines become so loud and frightening that they invariably trickle down into the other sections of the newspaper as well, it’s important that top 40 not sound completely ignorant of this, and while neither “Sign of the Times” or “Hard Times” is directly topical, both assume a kind of baked-in world-weariness for their listening publics that make them feel inherently timely. In doing so, they might not actively spur anyone to join the movement, exactly, but they’ll let them know – as Styles’ hero David Bowie did in his day – that they’re not alone, in feeling frightened or anxious or simply overwhelmed. And for pop music, that’s the most important role of all.
It’s probably fitting that both Harry Styles’ and Paramore’s upcoming albums will drop on the same day, May 12. The rest of their respective albums may not feel so enormously weighted by their real-world backdrops – though considering Styles told Rolling Stone he wanted to call his LP Sign of the Times, and considering that Paramore actually did title theirs After Laughter, it’s hard to imagine either is marked by rampant frivolity. If the singles are any indications, it may be a valuable cultural marker to have two albums released concurrently that listeners can point to, decades later, to tell future generations, “This is what these times felt like.” - Billboard
The first thing you are going to want to do is make an energetic, innocent little cinnamon roll of a character who views the world with rose colored glasses.
I’m talking about just the cutest, sweetest, most huggable little munchkin you can think of. This character needs to be someone you want to daaaw at and protect because they are just too pure for this mortal coil.
Think of their personality like the equivalent of an energetic puppy.
Like an energetic puppy they are going to get into some life endangering mischief, because these characters do NOT come equipped with a functional sense of self preservation for at least the first season.
Why should they have a sense of self preservation, when they have the Straight Laced Co star to make sure they do not stick a fork into the proverbial electrical outlet?
The straight laced co star is just as important as our hyper little lamb. This supporting character is the more serious one that is actually aware that the world has consequences, and they can usually be seen having a heart attack over the energetic characters antics.
The straight laced characters mission is to keep our hyper lamb alive, while simultaneously preserving their innocence.
Much of the comedy is going to come from serious character freaking out over how in danger the blissfully unaware hyper puppy character is, and how this serious character is going to help this innocent yet suicidal cinnamon roll not die for the majority of season 1.
Aside from this straight laced character, everyone else in the supporting cast needs to be delightfully quirky in one way or another.
However, unlike our innocent little lamb co main character, these supporting characters are quirky in a decidedly cynical and jaded way. They are world weary, wry, self deprecating, lovable assholes, or they are some kind of buffoon who is surprisingly wise.
It doesn’t matter how they are eccentric, just make sure they are more jaded than our innocent little lamb character, it’s very important for later.
This formula of Straight laced character/characters helping the hyper puppy character through the proverbial mine field of life is going to comprise of most of season 1. This season needs to be fairly happy and upbeat, with lots of lighthearted comedy and heartwarming feel good moments.
Once you have lulled the audience into a false sense of security, that is when you pull the rug out from under them in the season 1 finale and move onto stage two.
Traumatize the innocent one.
I mean like, really scar the happy puppy character for life.
Take their rosy outlook on the world and just murder it in front of their sparkling eyes a little bit at a time as the second season goes on. Give them a periodic reprieve of course, we don’t want it to be too jarring a tone shift, but have it happen just frequently enough that you watch this happy little munchkins innocence get snuffed out by the time the season 2 finale rolls around.
They will still be the happiest, most innocent character in the show of course, but it will be tempered with the new world weary outlook that your second season has scarred into their soul. You could see it as them maturing, but in actuality they are just in need of a shit ton of therapy after the crap they’ve gone through in the second season.
If this show goes beyond season 2, then you repeat the traumatizing process season 2 started, but make it even MORE traumatic for the innocent character. Even better if you make their innocent antics from previous seasons bite them in the ass later on, just to hammer it home in their minds how much the world is a terrible, terrible place.
Follow these easy steps and you’ll make a hit cartoon fandoms will adore!
12x10 - “Pterodactyl Screeching into the void” - Part 1
My title is borrowed
from @postmodernmulticoloredcloak comment on my crazy blogging after first
watching this episode earlier. I feel like it is a fitting title for how this
episode made me feel. To clarify, these are very very happy pterodactyls.
Steve Yokey wrote this
episode and he appears to have well and truly taken up the gap left when Robbie
Thompson sadly left the show. In fact this episode to me channels the ghost of
Robbie in many different ways. From the fanfiction-esque moments of poor
suffering third wheel Sam, to the meta nod to Charlie Bradbury, there
is much of Robbie to be found here. Basically, it was bloody perfect.
I feel like there is so
much to talk about in this episode that fandom will be chewing on it for months
if not years to come. Yokey has picked up the characterisations brilliantly,
and seems to have an understanding of what the fandom desperately craves in
terms of Castiel, his character, his personality and his development. I adored
his sass in this episode. Some other writers *cough*bucklemming*cough* struggle
to really capture Castiel’s sass and humour. Showing their lack of
understanding of Castiel’s persona and his intelligence and instead writing him
in a way that is jarring and sometimes basically stupid. Castiel is far from
stupid. In this episode he was written perfectly, in a way I haven’t seen since
Edlund’s time. Is that a sweeping statement? Maybe. But I’m still riding my
high so let me have it this time.
This episode gave us
three of my favourite things. Badass and Sassy Castiel, Overprotective grumpy
husband Dean, and poor long suffering brother Sam. (baring in mind this is how
they are usually written in fanfiction nowadays this is exactly my jam and I am
so so happy to see it play out on screen. Seriously who sold their soul to
Crowley for this episode?)
This review will also be
in two parts. Because I have so freaking much to say about it.
The first part will
focus on destiel, the second on everything else including Castiel’s emotional
arc (as separate from destiel), his relationships with angels, angels and
gender and Lily Sunder’s character.
À la basically means “in the style of” or “according to.” À la débandade—literally “like a stampede”— used figuratively in English to describe a disorderly or chaotic mess.
2. AMOUR FOU
an obsessive passion for someone, and in particular one that is not reciprocated. It literally means “insane love.”
3. L’APPEL DU VIDE
It literally means “the call of the void,” but in practice it’s usually explained asthe bizarre inclination some people have for doing something dangerous or deadly, no matter how foolish they know it is. So when you’re standing on a beach, l’appel du vide is the voice that tells you to swim away and never come back. When standing on a clifftop, l’appel du vide tells you to throw yourself off.
4. APRÈS MOI, LE DÉLUGE
Après moi, le déluge means “after me, the flood,” and is used to refer to a person’s irresponsible or selfish lack of concern in what will happen after they have gone or moved on.
5. CHERCHEZ LA FEMME
Literally meaning “look for the woman,” cherchez la femme is used in English to imply that if a man is seen acting out of character, then a woman will likely be the cause of it—find her, and the issue will be resolved. Although the origins of the phrase are a mystery, it’s often credited to the French author Alexandre Dumas, whose crime drama Les Mohicans de Paris (1854) contains its first written record: “There is a woman in all cases; as soon as a report is brought to me I say, ‘Cherchez la femme!’”
6. COUP DE FOUDRE
Coup de foudre is the French term for a thunderbolt or strike of lightning, but it’s been used figuratively in English since the late 1700s to mean love at first sight.
7. L’ESPRIT DE L’ESCALIER
Known less romantically as “staircase wit” in English, l’esprit de l’escalier is the frustrating phenomenon of coming up with the perfect observation or comeback after the opportunity to use it has passed.
8. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE
“Shame on him who thinks badly of it,” warns the old Norman French saying honi soit qui mal y pense, which has been used in English to discourage preemptively or unjustly talking something down since the early Middle Ages.
9. MAUVAIS QUART D’HEURE
As well as having your fifteen minutes of fame, you can also have your mauvais quart d’heure(or your “bad quarter of an hour”)—a brief but embarrassing, upsetting, or demoralizing experience.
10. MAUVAISE HONTE
Mauvaise honte literally means “bad shame.” In English it’s often used simply to mean bashfulness or extreme shyness.
11. MISE EN ABYME
the phrase mise en abyme (“put into the abyss”) is used to refer to the mind-boggling visual effect of a recurring image containing itself into infinity—like a mirror reflected in a mirror.
12. NOSTALGIE DE LA BOUE
The phrase nostalgie de la boue was coined by the French dramatist Émile Augier in 1855, who used it to refer to a person’s fondness for cruel, crude, depraved, or humiliating things. Its meaning has extended over time however, so that today a nostalgie de la boue is often used more loosely to refer to adesire to live a simpler, downsized, or less indulgent life—it literally means “a yearning for the mud.”
13. PLUS ÇA CHANGE
a world-weary acceptance of the current state of affairs—although things might appear to change or improve, beneath it all they remain just as bad as before.
14. POUR ENCOURAGER LES AUTRES
The ironic expression pour encourager les autres—meaning “so as to encourage the others”—refers to an action carried out to discourage any future unrest or rebellion.
15. RECULER POUR MIEUX SAUTER
If you reculer pour mieux sauter, then you literally “draw back in order to leap better.” a temporary withdrawal or pause in action that allows for time to regroup or reassess a situation, and therefore make a better attempt at it in the future.
16. REVENONS À NOS MOUTONS
“let us return to the matter at hand.”
17. ROI FAINÉANT
Literally a “do-nothing king.” leader who has no real power and instead acts merely as a figurehead, or as a symbol of power or authority.
18. TANT BIEN QUE MAL
Anything that is only partly or moderately successful. It literally means “as well as badly.”
19. VENTRE À TERRE
Ventre à terre literally means “belly to the ground” in French, and so taken literally it can be used simply to describe someone or something lying face down. Doing something ventre à terre, ultimately, means doing it at full speed.
20. VIOLON D’INGRES
A hidden talent or pastime, far outside of what you are best known for, and in which you are just as knowledgeable or adept.
His vocal performances are invariably the best parts of these songs. Styles has described his stint in One Direction as “a democracy,” and every song featured a fight for breathing room between four or five hungry young singers. Here, he has space he can use. “Sign of the Times” jumps out of your speakers when he shifts into his thin falsetto, and it climaxes with a series of desperate howls. He makes a convincing alt-country troubadour on “Two Ghosts” and “Ever Since New York” by throwing on a little twang and a healthy helping of world-weariness. The down-home boogie of “Carolina” tests the limits of his nascent swagger. And I’ve never heard someone record their own backing vocals with the enthusiasm and panache Styles brings to Harry Styles. Every hoot, yelp, and chant are delivered with an impish grin, one that makes it hard not to crack a smile of your own.
Sometimes, Sally lies awake at night. She stares up at the ceiling in her quiet house—ignoring Paul’s snores—and she thinks the same thought over and over again. What if.
It’s not a question. It’s never been a question, because there’s never been a definitive answer.
She thinks about Annabeth during nights like these. Paul loves her, considers her to be like a daughter. Strangely, Sally’s never felt this way. To call Annabeth her daughter would infantilize a brilliantly strong woman who is more than capable of standing by herself. If anything, Sally is hopelessly envious.
It’s a guilty feeling. Annabeth’s life has been hard, needlessly so. Sally doesn’t want to brush aside that pain and hardship just to focus on an ideal. But…Sally was young too, once.
She was young. And smart. And powerful. And hopeful. And strong. She wanted to change the world.
She watches as Annabeth rebuilds Mount Olympus, leaves her mark on this world in a permanent way. An old flame burns inside Sally’s soul.
AN: ANGST, ANGST EVERYWHERE, you have been warned. Diana won today, and I really wanted to do something special with her. I really hope you guys enjoy this.
AN 2: So, I’ve decided to turn this into a series which means the second part will be re-written. If you even remember it. This is just the start!
“She’s already lost her father Diana, are you going to take away her mother too?”
Your grandmother’s voice is fraught with emotion, with a plea to your mother to stay. To live. Your mother’s voice is filled with determination. She’s made her choice, she’ll die a warrior, just like your father. “I am a warrior; this is my fight. This is my world. And I will save it so that my daughter has a chance to live in it.”
You don’t peak out from your hiding place. You know your mother’s jaw is set in a firm line, and that her eyes are hard with determination. She’s approaching her death, the same way she approached your school principal when you were being bullied.
You wrap your arms around yourself. Your grandmother sighs “Very well my child. Do what you must. Your daughter, my granddaughter, she has a place among your sisters.”
You want to laugh at that. You’re sixteen and you’ve never even met the woman who calls herself your grandmother. Your mother had been banned from Themyscira, due to her relationship with your father.
You can hear the heels of your mother's’ boots click across the floors, as she walks away. You step from your hiding place, when you can no longer hear the sound. You gaze out from the open temple as your mother’s figure slowly vanishes from sight.
Your grandmother smiles at you and says, “You’re as silent as your mother. When she was young she would hide and listen in on my council meetings. She taught you well.”
You shake your head, “My father taught me how to move. Neither wanted me anywhere near fighting, but my father wanted to make sure I could escape. I am the reigning hide and seek champion of Wayne Manor. My father and brothers couldn’t find me. Only Mother could. She says we think alike.”
Hippolyta’s smile fades for a second, before she regains it, “I see. You enjoyed your childhood.”
You nod, “There was always someone with me, even when the world was ending. Especially if the world was ending. More often than not it was one of my brothers, or Alfred. Titus was always there, but he passed away several years ago.”
You laugh, “A dog. I was never alone. I think they had all spent so much time alone, that they never wanted me to be that way. Just like they never wanted me to see the ugly in the world, so I wasn’t trained.”
“I’m surprised either of your parents would permit that.”
You sit down on one of the steps, and a moment later your grandmother sinks down next to you. “I’m not. They wanted me to have a normal life. They didn’t want me to go through the pain or the suffering. It was a noble hope I suppose.”
Another moment of silence passes and you say, “They always said I looked more like my grandmothers than I did them. They said I inherited the best traits of both you and my father’s mother.” You feel the first tear start to slip, “I’m alone now.”
Your grandmother’s arms wrap around you a second later, “No child, you have me, you have your mother’s sisters.”
You smile a bit as another tear rolls down your face, “I don’t belong here though. I saw the looks they gave me. I come from man’s world. They’re weary of me.”
“They will learn child.”
You shake your head, “They’re right. I know of this place, my mother told me stories, but I do not belong to this place.”
You stand, as your grandmother’s arms retreat. You give her one look before saying, “I wish I had been able to know you when I was young.” And then you’re running.
You hit the sand right as your mother is about to take off, but she stops at the sight of you. Her arms open to you, and you throw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around her neck, “You’re going to die. Please don’t leave me.”
Her fingers tangle in your hair, and she kisses your forehead, “Oh my sun and star, how I wish I could stay.”
Your voice is going somewhat hoarse, “Then stay, please stay.”
“My beautiful daughter. My baby girl. We’ll be reunited one day, hopefully on a day that comes no time soon. When it does come, your father and I will be waiting. But until then, make sure you live, and that you love, and that you let yourself be loved. You are beautiful, and smart, and so strong.”
You pull back, “I don’t want to be alone.”
She smiles at you and looks over your shoulder. Slowly you turn to see what she sees. Surrounding the two of you is an army of amazons. She smiles, “You are not alone. You are my daughter. That makes you the Princess of Themyscira.” She looks towards your grandmother who nods, and her smile widens. “That makes you an amazon. And that makes these women your sisters.” Slowly the women around you nod their heads as they all hold out their hands.
You turn to your mother, and she places something in your hand. The locket you father had given her on the day you were born. She opens it to reveal a picture of your entire family surrounding her, and you, on the day you were born. You stare at your father’s face, your brothers’ faces, Alfred’s face and the tears come harder. “Do not forget where you come from my daughter. And most certainly don’t forget who loved you.”
She pulls away, and the arms of two women you don’t know
wrap around you, and they hold you. You watch your mother leave with
pain in your heart. That’s the last time you ever see her.
The message arrives in her inbox six months to the day after Sherrinford.
As soon as she sees the sender Molly stops. Stares. She bites her lip and tells herself that Mary’s email has simply been hacked, that’s why she’s getting a message from a dead woman’s account.
Deep down, however, Molly knows that that’s not true.
For she doubts- knowing what she does now- that John’s wife would be lax enough to leave behind an easily-hacked email address. As Sherlock had pointed out once (while deeply upset and drunk), Mary had been a former super-assassin with a terrifying skill-set: Basic IT would have been second nature to her.
And that being the case, Molly tells herself, it’s highly likely that the message in her inbox is real. Given that she’s Rosie’s godmother, she should probably open the email and see what it says.
It’s the least she can do.
Quickly, decisively, Molly clicks on the email before she can change her mind, or stop to wonder why this is making her feel so unsettled. To her surprise, when the mail opens up there’s a link inside which she clicks on, one which takes her directly to Mary’s cloud account and into an mp4 file.
She bites nervously at her lip as she waits for the file to load.
A request for a password to view the file appears, and after a moment’s thought she types in Rosie.
If a new Metroid happens, here’s how I’d like to see it handled.
A. Make it M-Rated, I’ll explain why below
B. Introduce survival horror elements to it #makespacepiratesandmetroidsscaryagain
C. I’d love a deeper dive into worldbuilding, give us crazy cyberpunk planets, spooky abandoned ships, Lovecraftian abomination caves.. Show us what life is like inside Federation Territory and outside of it. Give us 23 billion new species. Show us why the Space Pirate Empire (?) has this huge vendetta against the Feds.
D. Gives us back our likeable side/background characters; More Rundases, more Admiral Danes
E. Give Samus humanity but do it the Halo 4 way. Make her world weary, crass, anything you want her to be (Just not a frail waif that needs Daddy Adam’s permission to breathe)
F. mORE CHOZO STUFF. REMEMBER HOW AWESOME THE FORERUNNERS IN HALO WERE, NINTENDO THESE ARE YOUR FOREUNNERS
G. STOP HOLDING US IN SUSPENSE AND JUST MAKE THE DAMN GAME ALREADY