#but it's a very on brand death for godmother

[animehouse-moe]

Pride Month Manga Recommendations: Currently Releasing

It's the first day of Pride Month, so why not find some LGBTQ+ manga to read to kick off the start of June? Take a look through this thread of 10 currently releasing manga and light novels to find a new series to pick up, starting with-

The Summer Hikaru Died - Soon To Be an Anime!

Yoshiki and Hikaru were best friends, until Yoshiki notices a change in the boy and comes to find out that he's been replaced by some sort of monster that proclaims his love for Yoshiki.

A fittingly disturbing affair, The Summer Hikaru Died does wonderful work as a horror manga, and expertly intertwines Yoshiki and "Hikaru's" emotions and feelings for one another with the dark and foreboding tone of the series.

Whisper Me A Love Song - A Currently Airing Anime!

Yori Asanagi is a girl better at guitar than love, but what happens when underclassman Himari Kino falls in love with that guitar work? Well, a string of misunderstandings appears that sets in motion this love song of a story.

Whisper Me A Love Song is certainly a bit close to cliché or melodramatic, but with Takeshima Eku's art, it becomes quite the appealing series. Certainly for fans of a more typically-styled love story, Whisper Me A Love Song is a very fun read!

I Married My Female Friend - from the author of Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon

One day at a festival, Kurumi and Ruriko made a "promise" to each other: in 5 years, if neither found a partner, they would get married. That period elapses, and Ruriko comes racing back to Kurumi with a marriage certificate in hand.

I Married My Female Friend is both a lighthearted yet emotionally aware manga that feels like a spiritual successor to Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon, skipping the challenges of finding love & heading for the difficulty of being in love.

Seaside Stranger - Also A Major (Animated) Motion Picture

A story of two young men estranged from their parents, Seaside Stranger finds a difficult love blossom on a remote island that begins as confinement for the pair as they work through their challenging feelings and pasts.

Kii Kana's art is really something, and studio Hibari's adaptation is equally beautiful- extracting the most out of this dramatic (and steamy) romance. I might add though that it's not quite for those brand new to BL thanks to explicit content, but it's a great read nonetheless.

Otherside Picnic - Both An Anime And Manga

Sorawo Kamikoshi, a university student, spends her free time exploring a creepy pasta-esque dimension she calls the Otherside where she meets Toriko Nishina as the two narrowly escape the clutches of death, starting their journey.

While it's certainly quite the slow-burn of a romance, Iori Miyazawa's horror-filled world is bursting with passion and discomfort in equal amounts, making for a riveting read with a romance that feels impressively real. There's also an anime.... but it doesn't quite deliver.

Cinderella Closet

Haruka's a "plain jane" who left the countryside to live a bright and fashionable life in Tokyo- which she struggles with before meeting her "fairy godmother" Haruka- a young person with an incredible eye and interest for women's fashion and makeup.

In a sense, Cinderella Closet is a very loud depiction of romance in "the big city", throwing curve balls and both romantic & emotional challenges at every turn. In the end though, it remains a very positive and encouraging story with each turn, making for a great read.

The Contract Between a Specter and a Servant

On the worst- and final- day of Masamichi Adachi's life, he's hit by a car and left to die in the streets at night... until the enigmatic Shino offers him a contract to save his life.

While in the same genre as Otherside Picnic, this light novel certainly leans more into traditional horror as it explores a tense but intriguing relationship between Masamchi and Shino. A unique and engaging (re-released) light novel, it's an easy choice for fans of horror!

I Want To Be A Wall

Though Yuriko and Gakurouta are married, no love blossoms between them, as Yuriko is asexual (and a fan of BL) and Gakurouta stills holds feelings for his oblivious (male) childhood friend close to his heart.

Sporting a wonderfully unique concept, I Want To Be A Wall is a story that more so focuses on the wedded couple's humorous day-to-day lives than anything. A very light and enjoyable series, it's very easy to recommend to just about anyone.

Confessions of a Shy Baker

Toshimitsu Yamamura owns a real estate company and is a baking fanatic- spurred on by the sweet tooth of his boyfriend Gonta. One day however, Toshi gets pushed towards advertising his services as LGBTQ-friendly, forcing him to reconcile with how this move that would help others might out himself as gay.

A manga that delicately balances the societal struggles of being gay with a bright and heartwarming romance centered around baking, Confessions of a Shy Baker is a great jack all of trades manga.

Our Not-So-Lonely Planet Travel Guide

Overly serious Asahi Suzumura and equally laid-back Mitsuki Sayama made each other a promise: together, they'll travel around the world, and when they return to Japan they'll get married.

A beautiful story that throws readers out into the world through destinations and stories, this is a manga that does everything it can within its pages. A forbidden love, a forgotten partner, struggles with laws that forbid love- together they explore this world and each other.

And that's all the recommendations for today, if you have any more you'd like to add feel free to share them here!

[blackout-crypt]

Killjoy design masterpost (see reblogs for more)

I've been thinking for a while that it may be hard to come up with ideas for your Killjoy and you might need some inspiration! So I've been compiling a long list of designers and people to look at for help with you designs. Before you continue reading, THIS IS A LONG POST. It's also PART 1 because I can only have 30 images on one post. (If you want alt text on the images, reblog and I'll add it later, it been a Long Week)

1) Vivienne Westwood/Malcolm McLaren

Vivienne Westwood is often credited as the Godmother of punk. She ran a shop in London with Malcolm McLaren called "Sex" and their designs influenced punk as we know it today. If you want outrageous anti-fascist designs, look towards her and Sex Pistols' manager Malcolm McLaren.

2) Disco

That's right, I see your disco OC's, and I ADORE THEM. The Disco has a few distinct styles and pictured here we have a mix of the more casual style that you'll see dotted around and the outrageous designs that we know and love. (Yes, that's a screenshot from Mamma Mia, fight me. Also if you take inspiration from that movie I love you)

3) David Bowie

How do you even begin to define someone so incredibly iconic as David Bowie? His extreme makeup and style has wowed and wooed the world throughout his life and since his death. He's inspired countless artists, including Gerard Way, in both musical style and outfit choices, so he is the perfect person to model your OCs after.

4) Marc Bolan

Often referred to as the man who invented glamrock, Marc Bolan has a style that Killjoys would absolutely adore. He blended a sexy mix of feather boas, androgyny and mismatched fabrics that he made work. In fact, while we're at it, look at all of glamrock! It's like a Killjoy haven.

5) Hot pants

Hot pants were a brief 70s fashion piece characterised by being VERY SHORT SHORTS. They were seen both with layers underneath and without (although I think our dear Killjoys would appreaciate the sun protection and the style offered by the layers).

6) Psychedelia

I know, I know, it doesn't exactly scream Danger Days, but I feel like some Killjoys would find some of these dresses and cut them up and make them their own. They're bright, they're fun, and they're certainly weird.

7) Betsey Johnson

Betsey Johnson's designs seems to emulate this mismatched style that's often perpetuated by other Killjoys. Fabrics, colours, and themes that aren't typically seen together with an overall fun atmosphere, it's perfect - especially to a young Killjoy.

8) Madonna

You're trying to tell me that there AREN'T any Killjoys that took a few fashion tips from Madonna? Be for real. Madonna's regular use of lace, fishnets and a general edgy vibe make her more unique take on fashion would most definitely be seen somewhere down in a Killjoy's closet.

9) Tunnel Vision

Tunnel Vision is an alternative fashion brand that is all about the weird and wacky. Their website spans from more normal outerwear to more extreme styles, some of which is the more mis-matched style you see often in OCs.

10) Biker style

It's honestly so goshdarn hard to find decent pictures of biker gear online, but here's a couple. There are a large number of OCs who have motorbikes, but !! they don't have appropriate gear !! Please dress them well my babies do not want to die in a motorcycle accident!!

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1D, MATCH 10 OUT OF 16!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Clara:

In Gregory Macguire's retelling and perspective flip of Cinderella, Clara initially comes off as one would probably write a Cinderella as told by one of her stepsisters. She's a bit vapid, spoiled, and a little delusional, believing that she's a changeling after being kidnapped by water spirits at birth. She's the one who gives herself the Cinderella nickname after sulking by the fire after the death of her mother. The only problem she seems to have, according to Iris, is that she's too beautiful!

That's partially true. Her beauty was both a blessing and a curse. The kidnapping she mentioned happened, but it was not as mystical as she made it out to believe. One of her father's business associated kidnapped Clara while she was out ice skating and locked her in a windmill until her family could pay the ransom fee (which was half of their riches). This lead to her being a bit antisocial. Her mother kept her inside of the house out of her safety, and it was a habit Clara kept after her death. Clara matures over time and finds herself to be genuinely befriend her two stepsisters. She takes on the role of the servant and the household chores so Iris (the viewpoint character and one of her stepsisters) could pursue her interests in painting without overshadowing her.

Ella:

so this is a discworld story, and in discworld stories are sort of parasitic life forms that like to happen over and over. they can be harnessed, with enough magic. this is what’s happening to ella saturday, who is playing the parts of both cinderella and the frog princess. her evil fairy godmother (you get two, an evil one and a good one, though her evil one is under the impression that she’s the good one) has taken over the city, and is forcing everyone into fairytale roles under the threat of execution if they’re not quite archetypal enough. she thinks this will make people happy. ella, on account of being the dead  barons daughter, has gotten the role of princess. so she’s being kept in a house with two snakes who have been turned into human women, and is being forced to go to the ball, where she is expected to dance with the duc, who is a frog turned into a human, and kiss him to solidify the spell. she very much does not want to do any of this, but fortunately she’s got that other fairy godmother! who is brand new, on account of the last one died, and has no idea what she’s doing. but it all turns out ok in the end, and the stories stop (for a given value) and she’s the baroness now a they all live, if not happily or ever after, then normally, and for a time

[katie-dub]

A Special Day of Mourning

Fleabag Fic

Summary: Last time a wedding brought us together, this time it's a funeral. Still the tragic loss of Godmother in a freak accident involving a falling wall of plaster of paris penises has got to be good for something, right?

AO3

Yes, I’m back with more Fleabag x the Priest fic. Thank you as ever to the delightful @eirabach for reading this for me, when she doesn’t even go here! I love you darling.

15 Years Later

So last time you saw me, I was sending my sister off to go get the hot Finn who was crazy about her after my almost boyfriend the actual Priest delivered a terrifying homily about love at Dad’s wedding to the ever repellent Godmother. The Priest broke my heart when he chose God over me and exited pursued by a fox.

Since then I found love, tried the whole marriage thing, had a child, realised I was surprisingly good at motherhood but less so at being married and am now amicably divorced. I still touch myself thinking about that one night with the Hot Priest who was the first man I ever loved, unless of course you count Leonardo DiCaprio, which I don’t.

Claire and Klare have three terrifyingly beautiful children and she actually smiles constantly now. It was disconcerting at first, but after all this time, I think I’m used to it.

Dad’s still alive and kicking, at 88 years of age. Godmother, however, is not. She passed away in a freak accident involving a falling wall of plaster of paris penises at her sexhibition two weeks ago. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Before The Funeral

I walk up to Dad’s house with my Daughter in tow. She’s 11 and has already entered her awkward teenage years a whole two years early. Fucking overachiever.

That’s not to say that she isn’t the light of my life, the apple of my eye and all other appropriate cliches. It’s just that I can finally appreciate how really fucking annoying teenage girls can be. And she hasn’t even started her period yet.

We ring the doorbell and I hum “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” very softly under my voice. If there’s a hell, I’m almost certainly heading there.

Claire answers the door. “Hello, are you ready for this sad, sad, sad day?”

“I’ve brought the champagne!” I reply, lifting the bottle I bought especially. Just to toast to our dearly departed Godmother in the manner she would have wanted, of course.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Claire says, eyeing me suspiciously.

“You know grief does wonders for my complexion, I can’t help it!” And if there’s an extra spring in my step at the thought of finally being free of Godmother, well you can hardly blame me.

I deliberately take a moment to compose myself. I do feel for Dad, burying his second wife has got to be monumentally shit, even if he is better off without her.

“Wait,” Claire tugs on my arm urgently, bringing me to a halt.

“Is everything OK?”

“Your Priest is in there,” Claire murmurs in an undertone, her lips barely moving.

I’m struggling to follow her meaning. “What?”

“You know, your Priest, the one you - you know?” Oh. Oh! “He’s in there with Dad, comforting him, he’s conducting the funeral. I just thought you might need some warning.”

I wonder if he’s still hot. “Is he still hot?”

“Painfully hot,” she says with a grim nod and a tone that implies catastrophe. “He’s also still a man of god, so just don’t fuck him again ok?”

“I do have some restraint! That said, he was really fucking good at it. I’m single again, why not hey?”

Claire’s jaw is tight. It’s fun to know that I can still wind her up like this at the age of nearly 50. “I mean it,” she pleads sincerely, “I know I wasn’t around much last time with Finland and everything, but I could tell how much that hurt you then and I don’t want to have to kick a Priest’s arse for hurting my little sister.”

There’s a steely glint in her eye that makes it clear she means it, and I find myself deeply touched. I swallow down a lump in my throat and shrug, an “if you say so” gesture. “Didn’t know you cared.”

She nods. “Right. Oh also, Godmother is in there.”

“Wait, Godmother? Like her body?”

“Yes, it’s a whole art thing apparently.” Claire says “art thing” like it’s an infectious disease. “Transparent coffin. It’s horrendous.”

We walk into the living room, Dad is sat on the sofa, head in his hands, the Priest is beside him, an arm around his shoulder. His neck is still beautiful.

And right where the coffee table should be, a transparent coffin, with Godmother inside, wrapped in some kind of hot pink monstrosity.

“Oh holy fuck,” I shout, stopping abruptly at the sight.

Claire somehow avoids crashing into me and steps around me muttering “I did warn you” under her voice.

I shake myself, forcing my feet to take me further into the room. I drag my eyes away from Godmother, seeking out Dad to comfort him, and I’m greeted by the sight of my Priest’s warm smile turned on me.

He has more wrinkles and his once dark hair is now salt and pepper, but age hasn’t changed one fundamental fact: he is deeply, unfairly hot. Lucky bastard.

And he looks pleased to see me, which I’ll admit does good things to my ego, I may be a divorcee fast approaching 50, but maybe I’m not completely unfuckable yet. Or maybe this is just a genuine friendly smile for a former lover. Either way, it’s a happy surprise.

“Hello,” he says, “I’m sorry to leave just as you’re getting here -” his eyes suggest that this comment is sincere “- but I need to be on my way to the church.” He grips my arm briefly as he moves past me, a small gesture of comfort that nonetheless sends a little shiver of anticipation through me. I’m surprised that even after all this time he can affect me like this. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it is lovely to see you.”

“You too,” I agree, “I’ll see you at the church.” He nods and heads out of the door.

Oh fuck, the church.

The last time I was in that church I was trying to wrestle him out of his clothes. I’ve never been back. Not inside it at least, although I may have dawdled outside it on more than one occasion. And now I have to sit through Godmother’s funeral there, all the time thinking about the way he ordered me to “kneel” in the confessional. Maybe about when he repeated that command in my house and I sucked him off.

I try to distract myself with other thoughts, but the only thing to look at is the coffin. It really is hideous, and not so much because it's a dead body, but that pink is a bit much and the embroidery on it looks suspiciously like - "is that funeral shroud really covered in fornicating skeletons?" I ask, looking to Claire in the hopes of hearing a sensible "no".

"It is," she confirms, her mouth a hard-set line of disapproval.

"Well fuck me."

The Funeral Procession

We didn’t do a funeral procession for Mum when it was her funeral. It was too over the top and showy for her. So of course Godmother insisted.

I’m packed into a car with Dad and Daughter driven by the Shepherd of the Deceased, as the man insisted on being called (I can see why Godmother liked him, but what's wrong with just calling yourself a funeral director?). Claire and her family are in the car behind us. We inch down the roads painfully slowly, surely pissing off half of London as we follow the hearse to the church.

My heart pounds at the sight of the church, a feeling that quickly gives way to confusion as we continue to drive past it. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“Language,” tuts my Daughter, and I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at her. I promise, I really am a good mum. Usually.

“No seriously, haven’t we just gone past the church?”

“Hmmm? Er, wh-what’s that dear?” asks Dad distracted and distraught and I’m beyond bewildered.

We pull up outside an entirely unfamiliar church, and it occurs to me that my Priest must have been moved to a new parish. All this time avoiding his church and he doesn’t even work there now.

I get out of the car and help Dad to do the same. I walk to the front door and that’s when I see the sign: St Jude’s Anglican Church.

Anglican?

What. The. Fuck?

The Funeral

There’s no chance for me to confront the Priest about his conversion before the service, so I sit by Dad’s side during it and stew on this startling revelation.

Anglican. He’s Anglican now, and so, apparently, no longer celibate. Not that he did all that well at the whole celibacy thing while I was around.

Does this mean he’s available? Or did he leave the Catholic Church for someone else, someone who he loved enough to really be with, someone who he is still with now?

I realise this sounds like I spent the past 15 years and all of my marriage pining for an unavailable man, when honestly, I haven’t. But it’s still something of a head fuck to discover that he is no longer forbidden fruit. The possibility of that is delicious, while also giving me doubts about what we ever had.

Like I said, a head fuck.

I can’t help but think, looking at his outfit with its minimalist design, that he must miss the robes from Catholicism. You can say what you like about their beliefs, but those Catholics have got style.

"Sometimes I worry that I'm only in it for the outfits," he'd said that night in the church, the alcohol and desire for me driving him to doubt himself. Well, he proved that wrong, didn't he?

A cameraman zooms in on my face and I find myself looking to camera, startled, before realising that I should probably focus on looking rather more distraught at Godmother’s death and rather less intrigued by the possibility of fucking the Priest again.

Trust Godmother to hire a camera crew to film her own fucking funeral.

The Wake

"I'm very interested in the conflict of my mortality, the desire to cheat death expressed in my pursuit of sexual pleasure with its promise of rebirth," Godmother narrates in her death video. "My custom-made burial shroud is a culmination of these desires, the fabric interwoven with fungal spores such that in my passing, new life springs anew."

I feel a presence beside me and assuming it's Claire, start to talk over Godmother's incessant monologue. "Is she calling death an STI? I think that's almost profound."

"Fucked if I know," a decidedly male Irish brogue replies. I turn to look at the Priest. "Sounds like a load of wank to me."

"That's Godmother in a nutshell," I agree and he laughs appreciatively.

"I'm not sure how those fungi will survive inside a sealed perspex coffin. Don't they need air?"

"Fucked if I know," I echo him with a shrug. "Still prefer funerals to weddings?"

"Generally, yes. You know I believe that we're going somewhere wonderful in the next life. This funeral has given me pause though."

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" I'm not quite sure what to say next, the thing I desperately want to say feels wildly inappropriate.

"I'm not Catholic anymore." I’m surprised by how direct he's been. "I just thought I'd put it out there. Although that now sounds like an awful chat up line, which it's not - "

"Well fuck you then," I say, trying to brush off the hurt of that decisive shutting down of my half-formed hopes.

"If you insist." There's a twinkle in his eye now. Maybe I've misread things.

"Are you propositioning me, Father?"

"You know, I think I might be."

"Mum! Mu-um!"

Of course, of fucking course, kids are the ultimate cock block. The Priest looks awkward, I probably do too. I swear he's trying to surreptitiously look at my ring finger so I use my hands in a way that probably resembles a muppet to show off how attached I'm not.

"Everything OK, darling?"

"Dad's here to take me to his place, says he's not comfortable leaving without speaking to you first." Daughter rolls her eyes. I wish I could do the same.

My ex is so considerate. What a prick.

"Sorry, Father, I have to go talk to my Ex." Had to get in that confirmation of my relationship status, just so he has all the facts. "We'll talk when I get back?"

"I'll be waiting," he says with a smile.

It takes longer than I'm totally happy with to wrap things up with my Ex. Unfortunately he's busy being concerned about my dad and asking practical questions about homework and after school clubs and I can't exactly tell him that I'm a bit busy seducing a Priest to talk.

It takes me a while to track him down when I finally escape, but I find him hiding and having a fag in the same secret corner where we once shared stolen kisses. Honestly I can't decide if it's romantic or a little pathetic that we're back here and history's potentially going to repeat itself.

Hopefully not to the same bitter conclusion.

I pull out my own fag and the Priest offers me a light. Leaning close to his hands I feel the same rush of anticipation I did back then, my heart fluttering at his presence like no time has passed at all.

"So," he starts, then breaks off.

"So," I agree with a nod. "I'm a mum - a single mum, and you're a hopefully single, no longer celibate man."

"I am."

There's a long silence that's almost deafening with its intensity.

"So what made you -" "I'm sorry I didn't -"

We both start speaking at once, stop and stare at each other for a minute then I gesture for him to speak.

"I'm sorry I didn't leave for you," he says, then looks me right in the eye. "I hope you know that it's not that I didn't love you, I just, I needed time to figure things out."

"I know. I knew that then too. So what did make you convert in the end?"

"The sex. I was really, really gagging for it," he deadpans. I snort with laughter, he waits for me to calm down before he carries on. "Honestly it did start with meeting you -”

“Me and my blasphemous tits.”

“Yeah.” He smirks at me, then looks a little sad. “I felt lost after we stopped - after I ended things.” He shakes his head and looks at me, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I was so lonely when we met and you came into my life and we just connected so deeply and I fell so hard for you.”

Oh fuck, I am not prepared for this conversation.

“No, don’t disappear, not now.” He takes my hand and waits for me to focus on him, so I try my best to fight against how overwhelmed I feel and to stay in the moment with him.

“I know that you don’t believe what I do, but I really do believe that God is love. 'Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.' That's what the Bible says. It just didn’t make sense to me that I could be so full of love and that that was a bad thing, something to be ashamed of. Isn’t love meant to be a wonderful gift from God?”

I can feel the tightness in my jaw, a prickle of tears, I seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“As time went on the intensity of my love for you faded, but that seed of doubt was planted. Not in God, not in Him, but in the word of the Catholic church. A different denomination of Christianity would allow me to marry you, to celebrate our love, there’s nothing in the bible to say that we shouldn’t.”

These words hang heavy between us and there’s a long pause, while he takes a long drag on his cigarette and lets the smoke slowly drift out of his parted lips.

“Over time I noticed more and more of these inconsistencies and one day a teenage boy asked me for forgiveness for falling in love with his male best friend and I just couldn’t … I couldn’t understand why he needed it. I couldn’t in all good faith follow the teachings of the Catholic church and stay true to what I believe.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to marry me? It'll take more than that to make an honest woman of me."

He chuckles. “I don’t know. If we could've dated and my feelings stayed as they were? Maybe. I wanted the option.”

"When did you leave?"

"Four years ago."

"Did you -" oh wow, it's so hard to ask this, but I need to know. "Did you ever think of telling me?"

"No."

Fuck me that hurts. I drop my cigarette to the floor, study it as I stomp down on it to make sure that the fire is out. It’s my way of deflecting from the sudden urge to cry. He gently lifts my chin with his finger, bringing my face up to look at his.

"I knew you were married. Your stepmum said."

"Was she a dick about it?"

"Of course. Still, you were unavailable. What good would telling you have done?" He's right. I was still married when he converted, it was for the best.

"I saw you once with him. Or I think it was him."

"Am I detecting a smidge of jealousy there, Father?"

"Oh fuck off.” He didn’t deny it. “A parishioner had died and I just, I really needed a friend and I thought of you. You just got me so well, you know? I went to Hillarys and you were there in the arms of this man and you looked so happy that I just couldn't ruin that for you. I shouldn't have gone. Not when I didn't know if I could trust myself around you."

"And what about now?"

"Well I'm allowed to kiss you now, I don't need to worry about trusting myself."

"That's true. So do you want to come over to my place for a friendly game of strip poker?" He laughs at me, shaking his head while smirking. "Spin the bottle?" That devilish gleam appears in his eyes. "Seven minutes in heaven - or is that considered blasphe -"

He cuts me off with his lips on mine.

It’s everything I remembered and so much more. Intense, passionate, devastating kisses that drive me to cliches straight out of a romance novel. Pushed up against that wall my heart races, my chest heaves, and, yes, my knickers get fucking wet.

It feels just like it did 15 years ago. It feels like love. And that’s insane, we had barely even started when things ended between us and I’ve lived and loved so much since then. But this thing between us? It just feels right.

My body is on fire, I’m pretty sure it’s in the good, aroused way and not because God’s smiting me for defiling a priest. He’s a tad late to the punishment, if that was His plan. But I’ll happily let this fire consume me because it feels so good. After all this time, I never want what we’re sharing to end. But the need to breathe becomes too strong and we break apart, noses nuzzling and foreheads resting together.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asks but I’m so staggered by our kisses I barely hear what he’s said.

“What?” I breathe out in between pants.

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” he says, stroking my cheek before leaning in for another dizzying kiss.

"Oh, I don't know," I pretend to be thinking hard. "Sounds a bit tame, I did have plans with a rabbi for a good hard fuck."

He barks out a laugh. "Oh really?"

"Yeah and tomorrow's my night getting spanked by an imam."

He raises his eyebrows holding back a laugh at what I'm saying and playing along. "What about Friday?"

"Threesome with a pujari and a Buddhist monk."

"What if I upgraded my offer to dinner and if you're really good you get dessert?" He ran his tongue along his lips.

"And what if I'm really bad?"

"You'll have to get on your knees and pray for forgiveness."

It's ridiculous how easily this man can turn me on. Although I have kneeled for him before, I remember the effect.

"I could be tempted to agree," I say, affecting disinterest.

"But you'll have to dump your harem of religious leaders," he all but growls.

"Oh I don't -"

He slams his mouth into mine, pushing me back against the wall, cutting me off with a fierce kiss. He trails his lips along my jaw to my ear. "Please," he murmurs, then kisses down my neck and pushes my collar to one side to suck and lick where it meets my shoulder. That fire starts up inside me again, his mouth almost painfully good against me, driving me to the brink of madness until I'm half tempted to push his trousers down and fuck him against the wall where anyone could see.

“OK,” I pant. "I - I guess I can do that."

"Good girl," he growls into my ear, then pulls away, righting my collar as he does, to hide the bruise he's surely worked into my skin. “We should probably get back before they start looking for us.”

And he steps back from me, innocent smirk on his face.

"I'm going to make you pay for that," I say, trying to sound commanding, although I'm so breathless that the effect is lost.

"Oh please do," he says with a grin.

We head back towards the party and one important thing occurs to me. “If you’re Anglican now, why did you do Godmother’s funeral? Isn't she Catholic?”

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t think she was really all that interested in the religious side of being a Catholic.”

“Oh yes, she wanted one of those religion-free faiths.”

“Exactly. She may have intimated to me that she would very much like for me to conduct her funeral when her time came because her funeral should be a thing of beauty.”

I snort with laughter. “I didn’t realise it was possible to be vain from beyond the grave, but if anyone was going to find a way it was her.”

“You won’t hear me complaining - she brought me back to you.”

“She finally did right by me, she’ll be so disappointed.”

[kashilascorner]

Me before you would have been a wonderful romcom à la les intouchables but instead they decided to kill off the disabled character as a way to tell the protagonist to live to her fullest or whatever...

[hopepaigeturner]

Sophie Beckett & Female Power: Untapped Potential

That's right here we go, buckle up and in.

So, this is going to be a bit of a mix between creative ideas/character analysis mixing both Bridgerton the show and An Offer From A Gentleman. (AOFAG)

Currently, in the show, we have roughly seen two types of femininity (if I were to generalise). We have Lady Violet and Daphne exhibiting a more maternal take on femininity, and then we have Kate and Eloise (even Penelope) with a more ‘girl-boss’ femininity.

But I think in the character of Sophie Beckett, JQ laid the foundations for a different type of femininity, another facet of female power, which can be explored further in the show...

I argue that the show could emphasise how Sophie Beckett’s female power comes from her kindness and empathy, which enables her to create strong, female relationships. It is this female power that enables her to save herself and orchestrate her own emancipation.

Background: Cinderella & Female Power

Now, due to AOFAG being a Cinderella retelling, I can see how some people might assume the opposite from Sophie. I have already touched upon this in my other comment on @bridgertonbabe’s post concerning Posy’s role and some of those ideas shall be repeated here. Concerning ‘background’, I shall refer primarily to ideas/debates surrounding the 1950s Disney Cinderella, as I believe that is most prevalent in people’s minds when we talk about this topic.

As I said in that other post, many people critique Cinderella as an ‘anti-feminist’ figure, a ‘weak role model’ for young girls. Many argue that Cinderella does not have agency because events happen to her, she does not initiate them; it is her father’s death that leads to her servitude; the fairy godmother steps in and enables her to go to the ball, and the prince steps in and marries her.

However, when people brand this character as a portrayal of ‘weak’ femininity, I do not think they are considering that Cinderella is an abuse victim. While yes, some abuse victims can find their own ways out of abusive situations, it is very common that abuse victims need some type of intervention.

AND THAT DOES NOT MAKE THEM WEAK. NEEDING HELP IS NOT A SIGN OF WEAKNESS. NEEDING INTERVENTION DOES NOT MEAN YOU LACK AGENCY; IT DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE ‘LESS’ OF A WOMAN.

I believe it is the opposite. Cinderella shows amazing strength, because she is in this abusive situation BUT SHE STILL GETS UP. Cinderella still puts one foot in front of another, she has hope even in the face of great unkindness, Cinderella is still kind in the face of great unkindness.

Cinderella’s story might not teach girls how to stand up to the patriarchy, but it does teach young girls that sometimes, the strongest and most rebellious thing you can do, in the face of a situation where you can’t fight or scream, is to put one foot in front of another and hope. And I think that is such an important lesson not only for girls but for humanity. The world is confusing, the world can be bleak but hope and kindness can create a little light among the chaos.

So yes, events do happen to Cinderella. And yes, she does marry the prince. And in some parts of the film, she does not have as much agency as other Disney princesses. However, that does not mean she does not show female power, it is just that her female power is a little more subtle than Elsa’s.

Sophie Beckett and Agency: A little good, a little meh–but a lot of potential

Now I think, due to genre restrictions, time of publication, and perhaps the writer herself, that JQ does not give Sophie as much agency as possible.

Don’t get me wrong there are moments when Sophie does have agency. (There’s a really funny post from @sophiamariabeckett here, linking once again with @murielstacy and @bridgertonbabe)

As I mentioned in my Posy comment, Sophie’s kindness and empathy to Posy creates a bond strong enough that Posy is willing to defy her abusive mother and free Sophie. In this way, Sophie’s kindness saves her. It also shows that Sophie saves herself and does so by establishing female friendships.

However, I feel that with a couple of little tweaks, the show could take this idea from the books and expand it.

So, let’s take a look at events where Sophie is ‘saved’ or is ‘enabled’. And I’m either going to advocate how these events signify Sophie’s agency or I am going to give them a little tweak. Here’s the list I’m working from:

The servants push Sophie to attend the ball where she meets her Prince Charming AKA Benedict Bridgerton.

2. Benedict saves Sophie from her would-be-rapists.  

3.a Posy Reiling swoops in and unlocks the door for Sophie’s freedom-> twice.     

3.b The Bridgertons save Sophie from jail. (Particularly Benedict and Violet)

1)The servants push Sophie to attend the ball where she meets her Prince Charming AKA Benedict Bridgerton.

Now, JQ does not make it explicit, but she does mention that Sophie has a good bond with the servants throughout her childhood, often seen helping in the kitchen. However, JQ also writes that as she grew up, the servants distanced themselves.

So, on the one hand, Sophie’s own actions and bond with the servants set up their motivation to get Sophie to the ball... Once again, her kindness and her ability to form friendships, enable her to step closer to freedom. However, I feel the motivation for Sophie to attend the ball could be stronger. So…

CHANGE: Sophie Beckett goes to the ball, because of her friendship with Genevieve Delacroix.

Firstly, I think that Sophie needs more characters to interact with and Genevieve Delacroix is a character that could easily be orchestrated with.

So, according to this change, Sophie Beckett and Genevieve Delacroix are good friends, and Sophie Beckett’s infamous silver dress—is one of Genevieve Delacroix’s designs.

Now, my book lovers. We can still have the servants and housekeeper Mrs Gibbons help Sophie to the ball. But I want the main reason Sophie goes to the ball, not because she deserves one night to ��be who she was meant to be’, but because Genevieve asks her to.

Picture the scene. Genevieve and Sophie have been friends ever since Sophie was relegated to servitude. Over the years, the pair have gained a deep friendship through sharing dreams, pasts and storms of life. So, Sophie obviously knows of Genevieve’s talents as a designer. One night there is a masquerade ball, the biggest party of the season, and Genevieve turns up in the servant’s quarters of Penwood Place with a silver dress in hand. She’s finally ready to show her design to the ton but she needs someone to model it, someone who has the right accent, the right upbringing… someone like Sophie.

Now, Sophie is hesitant; by going to the ball Sophie would be risking the wrath of her abuser—Araminta. I can only imagine that this would create great anxiety for Sophie. But after a moment of hesitation, Sophie looks at her best friend who is ever so close to attaining her lifelong dream. So, Sophie accepts the silver dress. Sophie’s choice to put her friendship with Genevieve over the toxic & abusive relationship with Araminta enables Sophie to meet her Prince Charming.

Personally, I feel this is a greater motivation for Sophie to go to the ball than in the book. Also, if the show does not want to do a ‘fancy dress’ masquerade but a normal one, then Genevieve’s dress can facilitate this.

 2)Benedict saves Sophie from her would-be-rapists.

The problem I have with this scene is that, (like the trope in general), it draws focus away from the woman and onto the man. Scenes like this are commonly used to show how good the guy/romantic lead is, rather than anything about the situation the woman is in. 

Due to the show, we already know that Benedict would never dream of conducting himself like Philip Cavender. Further, in prior seasons we see Benedict's respect for working-class women (another post I could do). So, this scene is kinda redundant, but it can easily be adapted for a more modern audience.

CHANGE: Sophie is the one who frees herself.

The scene goes as normal, Sophie is running away and gets caught. Benedict is exiting the party and comes up to Cavender’s crew. But instead of intimidating Cavender into letting Sophie go, he merely distracts Cavender (with the intention to free Sophie). Sophie uses Benedict’s distraction to punch her way out of the men’s clutches and runoff. (Benedict standing for a couple of seconds utterly stunned at this very pretty woman who just felled three men in one swoop).

We still get a Benedict and Sophie reunification and Benedict still aids Sophie, but I feel this tweak gives a bit more power into Sophie’s hands. Once again, Sophie saves herself—a little more obvious than her other times.

3.a) Posy Reiling swoops in and unlocks the door for Sophie’s freedom-> twice.     

The first incident I refer to occurs at the beginning of the book when Posy unlocks the cupboard door that Araminta locked Sophie in, thus allowing Sophie to escape. The second is her dramatic entrance into the jail at the climax of the book with the will that enables Sophie to be freed from her cell.

These events should stay the same. Because Posy is awesome, and Sophie is awesome.

As I mentioned before (and in a previous post), Posy is the main piece of evidence highlighting Sophie orchestrating her own emancipation.

Sophie did not have to be kind to Posy. I think it is reasonable that Sophie could have grown to resent Posy. Perhaps, due to Posy’s silence, Sophie could have seen Posy as an enabler of her abuse. (Especially because Sophie was a child and so, would have had a child-like mentality).

NOW. DON’T GO HATING POSY. I DO NOT STAND FOR POSY SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE.

It is not Posy’s fault that she did not stand up to her mother. Posy WAS A CHILD. A child should not be expected or responsible for standing up against abuse, let alone responsible for standing up against a narcissistic, let alone standing up to her mother. Think about your own relationship with your parents. As a child, were you confident in pointing out when your parents did something wrong?

And I am not blaming Posy, I am saying that it was a possibility that Sophie would perceive Posy like this. Or at best, distance herself from Posy due to Posy’s association with Araminta.

But Sophie doesn’t. JQ makes a point in the prologue of AOFAG to show that Sophie goes out of her way to help Posy and be kind to Posy.

It is because of Sophie's kindness towards Posy that establishes a bond between the girls. A bond that enables Posy to be incredibly brave and go against her abusive mother by unlocking the door for Sophie not once–but twice. Through being kind and empathetic, Sophie enabled herself to escape that jail cell. 

3.b)The Bridgertons save Sophie from jail. (Particularly Benedict and Violet).

Now the only reason Benedict Bridgerton is in that jail is because he has fallen in love with Sophie. Once again, by establishing a relationship, Benedict is willing to propose and get her out of jail.

But more importantly, (or what I wish to stress more), is the presence of Violet Bridgerton. Violet Bridgerton is the one to threaten Araminta; Violet Bridgerton is the one who manipulates Araminta into instating Sophie’s legitimacy and removing herself from Sophie’s life and future. Now, in this case, it seems that Sophie does not save herself, Violet does.

But why does Violet do this? Sophie is merely a maid, a hardworking maid, yes; a maid with a suspicious past, yes. But still a maid.

Violet is a Dowager Viscountess, many levels of nobility above Sophie the maid, levels above Sophie the ‘ward’ of Penwood, and levels above Sophie the illegitimate child of an Earl. So why does Violet bother?

Because Sophie and Violet have established a relationship—a friendship.

Once again it is Sophie’s ability to create a female relationship that helps her gain freedom.

But then again…

CHANGE: The show should show more of Violet and Sophie’s relationship.

I feel in the book Violet does the most work in establishing the bond between her and Sophie. Further, JQ presents Violet's motivations to be mainly ones of intrigue concerning Sophie’s identity rather than friendship.

Now, this can stay the same, Violet initially invites Sophie to tea because she is intrigued by the plot holes in Sophie’s backstory. However, due to Sophie's interactions with her daughters and her kindness—that is how the bond is established.

Due to the longer ‘content time’ the show has than a romance novel, I think the show can expand on the nice interactions JQ gave us concerning Sophie and the Bridgerton women. Instead of telling us how Sophie has fit into the family, the tv series could show us.

PS. I actually have the idea that there should be one scene/instance when Sophie connects with each Bridgerton female. Concerning Violet, this is a very sweet conversation about motherhood concerning Eloise. (I am still manifesting the fan theory that Sophie will end up as Eloise’s maid and I also might have that whole storyline planned out. Woopsie).

Apologies. Back to the main show.

Through establishing a female relationship Sophie enabled herself, and even Posy, to be freed from their abuser. Through her own actions, Sophie set up the potential for her own rescue. She is not passive; she is active in her emancipation.

So after all that let’s do a whistle-stop summary of points so far:

Sophie does have agency in AOFAG, however, with a few little tweaks, this could be expanded upon. 

The show could have Sophie being active from the very beginning of her story and in other places with a few little tweaks. 

Primarily, Sophie’s agency is manifested through her kindness/empathy, which establishes relationships, particularly those with women.

Okay, ok Hope you’ve babbled on long enough—what’s your point??

Well, with my little tweaks, the three people who ‘save’ Sophie would be:

1)      Genevieve who gives Sophie the opportunity to go to the ball and meet Benedict

2)      Violet Bridgerton, who helps blackmail Araminta into establishing Sophie's legitimacy, further legitimising her marriage to Benedict.

3)      Posy

 What do all these people have in common?

These three characters experience Sophie’s kindness.

These three characters have a friendship with Sophie.

These three characters are all women.

So, S4 could use Sophie to show that kindness and hope have real power in changing a woman’s circumstances, (while presenting a complex female character with agency to boot). But S4 could also show the power of female friendships.

Now, Benedict and Sophie’s relationship should be the centre of the series, I am not disputing that. And while Benedict does ‘help’ Sophie in the prison, I think Benedict’s role is to help Sophie emotionally break free. By loving Sophie, showing her how worthy she is to him, and giving her the opportunity to experience a life of love without Araminta’s shadow, Benedict ‘saves’ Sophie. (Although once again it is Sophie’s choice to eventually accept this, and it is Sophie’s actions that made Benedict fall in love with her).

But alongside this, I think the show should emphasise the idea of female friendships being able to instigate change in regency society, particularly because these women already had limitations on their agency.

Yes, these women do not topple the patriarchal pressures they were under, but they instigate change and freedom by supporting each other. And I think that is such an awesome lesson, such a wonderful story of female power to show on screen and is easily applicable to the 21st century.

And in the centre of this story is a woman whose strength isn’t in her fiery opinions or her vocal battle against the patriarchy; but a woman who saves herself through the bonds she establishes. What an amazing (and rarely told) example of a female character.

Sophie is not the antithesis of the typical ‘girl-bosses’ seen in Eloise Bridgerton or Kate Sharma but nor is she necessarily the maternal femininity seen in Daphne and Violet. Instead, she is a different kind of woman, her story showcasing yet another remarkable complexity of womanhood.

CONGRATULATIONS!! You made it to the end. Go grab a cuppa and a biscuit. 

 Thank you so much for reading the piece and I hope it was worth your time. 

Let me know your thoughts on whether you are in an agreement or not. Anything you want expansion on? Anything else you want to hear my over-analytical brain interrogate? 

Honestly, while I really didn’t like AOFAG as a book, (that’s for another post) there is so much potential to update it for S4–and not necessarily throw away the original story. 

Most importantly, I want to give a shout out to the wonderful @murielstacy who proof-read this post and gave me some great ideas. Please, please  go follow her. She has such a cool run of posts about Modern Bridgertons and royal fashion and so many other things (I know, sounds interesting, right? Go check it out!). 

Thanks once again.

Hope xx

[jianqzai]

In honor that this semester of hell finally ended and that I was able to make it alive thanks to podfics, here is a rec list of my favorite ones. 

Just a heads up that all of them are long, because that’s what I needed to keep myself engaged in my assignments, sorry if that might not be your thing, maybe I will make one with shorter ones later.

beneath six layers of silk 

Written by: darkredloveknot 

Read by: Rhea314 (Rhea)

Length: 1 hr 36 min

Rating: E

Summary: While exorcising a haunting, Lan Wangji gets cursed with a brand of honesty, and is forced to speak his every thought out loud.

(I love all Rhea podfics, but this is definitely my favorite so far, the narration was so good that for a couple of minutes I totally forgot that only one person was reading)

all your life you'll dream of this

Written by: Attila

Read by: esbielle

Length: 2 hrs 42 min

Rating: T

Summary: A very loose Cinderella AU, featuring Lan Wangji as Cinderella, Wei Wuxian as Prince Charming, Lan Xichen as fairy godmother, the forehead ribbon as glass slipper, and GusuLan bedtime as midnight.

(Wangji is the oblivious one here for a change, so that’s refreshing. I love the change in intonation they use with each different character)

the stars in the hazy heaven tremble above you

Written by: cicer

Read by: rivendellion

Length: 6 hrs 20 min

Rating: G

Summary: (In which Wei Ying, a fugitive from justice, sneaks into the palace, steals from the imperial family, and eats his words.

AKA, yet another Cinderella AU.)

(I also love the change in character voices. Their narration is also amazingly engaging in action scenes, I couldn’t sleep until I listened to the end of one of them)

Seasons of Falling Flowers

Written by: merakily

Read by: Spinifex

Length: 4 hrs 40 min

Rating: G

Summary: Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

(Look, I never thought that I would ever sympathize with Lan Qiren but then this fic happened. It was an amazing experience, and the narration was amazing as well)

Let the Streetlights Guide You Home 

Written by: tellthemstories

Read by: jellyfishfire

Length: 4 hrs 20 min

Rating: M

Summary: Wei Wuxian was the most infamous street racer of his generation. They still speak of him now, the stuff of legend: the reckless abandon, the hair pin turns, midnight races over dangerous tracks. His death, racing through the streets of Nightless City with his sister in the passenger seat, the moment when his luck finally ran out.

10 years later, Mo Xuanyu enters his first street race.

(I also love all of jellyfishfire podfics but this is my fav, because it was already sexy when I read it, but listening to it with the music and noise effects? Yeah)

To be of use

Written by: Erisette

Read by: isweedan

Length: 7 hrs 03 min

Rating: G

Summary: Love was not forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, despite what was whispered by the common people and, often, even by the other great sects.

(Or: how Lan Wangji became both a father and the object of worship to a generation of juniors in 13 easy steps 13 long years)

(I haven’t finished this one but so far I am melting, everything is so soft)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowners' Association

Written by: Ariaste

Read by: Rionaa

Length: N/A

Rating: M

Summary: Two gremlins, their husbands, and the horrible HOA board. As long as nobody gets arrested for arson or murder, we're gonna call it a win. Wei Ying & Jin Guangyao friendship.

(I give all the kudos to them because they don’t laugh at all, you don’t even listen to their voice waver, and that is the most amazing accomplishment because this fic is so hilarious. Also, this is a series and each fic has a different length time, so that’s why I didn’t list a general one)

You, Asleep and Dreaming

Written by: etymologyplayground

Read by: knight_tracer

Length: 1 hrs 07 min

Rating: M

Summary: Wei Wuxian moves into the Jingshi. They sleep together.

(I love the cadence of their voice, it works amazingly well with this fic specifically. The amount of Yearning this fic made me feel, I had to stop because I really thought I was going to start crying on the middle of my project, lol)

live from new york

Written by: varnes 

Read by: siriliyi

Length: 8 hrs 45 min

Rating: E

Summary: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

(This is weirdly specific but I just LOVE the way they pronounce "Lan Zhan" with Wei YIng’s voice, it's the best)

[neopoliitan]

Neo - The Little Match Girl?

So you may be familiar with my theory that Neo alludes to Tinker Bell. I’m now here to offer an alternative, based on a suggestion on the Team RAIN discord by @ahotcuppajo​ from about a year ago - that Neo alludes to the Little Match Girl.

A story by Hans Christian Andersen, “The Little Match Girl” is a fairytale about a poor young girl who desperately tries to sell matches on the street. Too scared to go home a father who will beat her if she doesn’t sell enough, she hides and lights the matches to keep warm.

In the fire she sees visions that make her happy, eventually seeing her deceased grandmother. She lights all the matches to maintain that vision, and eventually the fire burns out and she dies to the cold.

Her body is discovered the following day by passers by, who feel pity for her, but are unaware of the visions she saw or that she is happy in heaven with her grandmother.

As fairytales go, this is a very depressing one. A young, poverty-stricken girl dies in the cold without any solace. But let’s read between the lines here, as a lot of them tie back to Neo.

Let’s go sentence by sentence and see what we can confirm Neo represents in the story. For starters, the Little Match Girl was poor and forced to sell matches for a living. Let’s dive into Neo’s theme song, “One Thing”, for her origins:

I was nowhere / I had no one / I felt nothing / Lost without a voice and on my own

Much like LMG (Little Match Girl), Neo had no home, no one who cared about her - and ‘felt nothing’. She was numb emotionally, and at a push maybe even physically due to cold like in the fairy tale. We can extrapolate from here that Neo presumably had an awful home life and family - if she had one at all.

Then we come to the lynchpin of both characters’ stories - the fire. LMG is kept warm by the fire and Neo, well, need I say more than “Roman Torchwick”? Her theme connects Roman even closer to a fire motif by referring to him as a “Candle’s Flame” who “Brought a brand new name”.

And then, of course, there’s the visions. In the story, LMG seeks comfort in the images she sees in the fire. Meanwhile, Neo’s semblance is literally to conjure illusions and visions. If she’s had her semblance a long time, she may also have conjured visions to comfort herself. Either way, her semblance is easily reflective of LMG’s visions.

Next we come to the dark part. LMG’s behaviour becomes very one-track-mind and self-destructive when she burns all her matches to keep the comforting visions alive. Compare this to post-Beacon, where Neo is focused solely on revenge for Roman’s death. Her appearance in Volume 6, when under no illusions, shows how she’s disregarded taking care of herself and her outfit has become scruffy and torn - she’s becoming self destructive just like LMG did in the story.

The end of the story can go one of two ways. Much like LMG, Neo could burn herself out and die, reuniting herself with Roman in death and finding happiness there like LMG did with her grandmother. Alternatively, we might be seeing one of RWBY’s classic “Fairytale, but” scenarios where there’s a twist in the tale; 

Cinderella if the fairy godmother was a sinister helping hand. Hansel if he lost Gretel. Watson if he sided with Moriarty over Holmes. 

Perhaps, unlike LMG, there’s an outcome for Neo where she doesn’t lose her way and die frozen and forgotten in the cold. Cinder’s flames definitely aren’t looking as comforting to her as Roman’s did. 

Only time will tell.

[aslitheryprinx]

These are from song titles, but I think these are poggers (I hope, at least)

* And there was life inside "it"

* Can it really be called "Cinderella" ?

* Love inside an empty box

* World is full of wonders (Or "Full of wonders!!!!")

* Near

* Angel's clover

Don't worry anon, they are most definitely poggers! (Both of my current ao3 published works have names based on song lyrics, so that really fits my vibe haha.)

There are so many good prompts here! I couldn't help but write like.... A lot lmao.

CW: dehumanization, themes of child abuse, themes of death. Be safe!

____

And there was life inside "it"

They called it RNB-00. It was the first in a generation of experimental life production using DNA from one of the most volatile creatures in the worlds: endermen. There were no endermen hybrids. The children could not survive, and the birth was volatile, tearing the parents and anyone near them apart with the violent magic.

They would perform the experiment anyways.

An unfinished human embryo, carefully extracted from someone who would be written in the paperwork as a volunteer. An enderpearl, freshly taken from a creature they didn't consider "human" enough to need even dubious content. DNA, taken directly from the brain of the enderman.

They spliced together the three ingredients, cheering when the chimera of enderman and embryo inside its tubes showed signs of life.

But some things are not meant to be done.

Nature is not meant to be tampered with.

The experiment turned south quickly. The specimen convulsed in its tube, growing at a rapid rate. Vibrant purple magic lashed out, dancing through the lab with a vengeance. There were the cries of a newborn mixed with the shrieks of an enderman- then, an explosion.

RNB-00 fell to the ground, the magic pulsing from it too bright to be looked at by the naked eye. A second explosion rocked the lab, this time all-encompassing and final. The building turned to ash and dust and settled around a new crater.

There would never be a RNB-01.

A shape rose from the center of the crater. It was a child from one angle, maybe two or three, with pure white hair, scarred cheeks, and a red eye.

From the other angle, it was a monster. Something not quite enderman or human. Jet black hair, and velvety black fur covered the left half of it. It's eye glowed an unnatural green, not the color of humans or endermen.

It toddled slowly away from the epicenter of the explosion, no memory of what had happened. As it walked, it noticed a mark, a brand, on it's right arm: RNB-00. The child stared, and blinked at the word.

And he named himself Ranboo.

Can it really be called "Cinderella"?

When Tubbo was young, he saw Cinderella, once. Even with how young he was, the story resonated with him. He wished all his stepfather did was give him chores, but he knew exactly how it felt to be unloved, unwanted, forced to stay on the sidelines. He just hoped his fairy godmother would come soon.

When he was a little older, he looked back on the story of Cinderella with nothing but bitterness. He was old enough now that he knew fairy tales didn't happen. There was no "fairy godmother" coming to save him; there never had been, there never would be. All he had was himself and his shitty situation. He wanted to forget the story that had given him such a bittersweet lie, but it was burned into his memory.

As he reached his teens, the anger turned into weariness. It wasn't Cinderella's fault his stepfather was a piece of shit. It wasn't the character's fault that she had help to break free while he didn't. And how miserable he was wasn't Tubbo's fault either, no matter how much his stepfather screamed it.

When he was 16, feeling ancient yet younger than he had ever been, he stopped comparing himself to Cinderella. Cinderella hadn't stood over her stepparent's body with a bat. Cinderella hadn't called the police on herself, showing them what she'd done and then the reason why, covering his skin beneath his clothes. Cinderella had been freed, but she hadn't paid such a heavy price for that freedom.

Tubbo had. Tubbo was far from a Cinderella story.

Love inside an empty box

Tommy's love was dangerous. He learned that at a very young age. Love for him wasn't just a feeling, it was a physical thing, at least to his eyes. He could feel every last drop of care, of love gathering around him like a storm. And just like a storm, when the feeling touched down, it was deadly. People, animals, anything that was touched by the love he couldn't stop feeling crumbled under the weight of something that shouldn't exist.

Tommy couldn't stop himself from caring. But he could stop himself from hurting. Hurting others, at least. Tommy commissioned a solution from a witch with a terrible reputation for cruelty, but a renowned skill with magical crafting. It cost him everything he owned, and some of who he was, but he walked away with an empty box made to hold what he couldn't afford to keep.

For years after that, every time he felt love building up in his chest- his care for friends, the people he considered family, even for strangers- he tore it off of himself and flung it into the box. Over time, the box grew full, bursting at the seams with his love. He learned to discard all but the most precious feelings, keeping those in his overstuffed box that weighed nothing and locking them inside.

But no lock lasts forever. Nothing lasts an eternity.

Tommy was alone with nothing but his thoughts, his box, and the ghost of a brother who was only really that in the privacy of his mind. He let his eyes shut, the box held loosely in one hand. The ghost, not knowing the consequences, touched the box.

And the seams of magic holding it together shattered and the love Tommy had stored away broke free, as powerful and terrible as a hurricane.

If it had been Wilbur, the man would've died as surely as he had when a blade was thrust through his heart. But this was Ghostbur, and you cannot kill what is already dead.

Still, such power has consequences. All the love in the box, far too powerful to be contained for long, spilled over, pouring over and around the ghost and the boy.

Yes, such power has consequences. The boy with too much love and his brother that never was would face those consequences together.

(world is) full of wonders

Wilbur is a simple musician. He travels alone, playing an ode to all of the world around him. He sings to the trees, the sky, the river, the sun, anything he pleases.

Though he knows it's silly, he can't help but imagine they sing back. He tries to match the harmony he hears in his mind, tries to play along with the symphony of nature. He can never keep up, but likes to imagine the world is fond of his efforts.

But even musicians can stumble into trouble. Too caught up in the ballad he played to the tune of the wind, he didn't hear the rattle of bones, the drawing of a bow. He heard only the twang as an arrow released before it pierced through his skull and everything went black.

But Wilbur wasn't gone. He didn't cease to exist, like he always assumed. He felt the cool caress of the void, the gentle brush of the universe against his mind and he gasped. Clearer than he'd ever heard it, he heard the song of the world, in perfect harmony and tune. This time, it sang along to him, to the pulsing of his soul.

Wilbur had no body, but if he did he would weep. He had no lungs, no mouth, no voice, but his soul took up the melody he longed to sing anyways. He sang with the universe until the song became more and more impossible to replicate and he could only listen in awe.

He woke up painlessly, laying on a gentle green field. His guitar was by his side, and his sweater was cleaner than it had ever been. He knew instinctually that he was not in the world he'd came from. This was a new world, a universe untouched, a new song to add his voice to.

Near

It hit him, one day, as he absently peeled a potato over the sink. That he didn't remember if he'd ever touched another person.

Techno had froze for a moment. It was quite the revelation to have out of nowhere. He dismissed it a moment later, memories of how he and Phil would bump shoulders as they walked and talked fresh in his mind.

But all too soon his thoughts turned back to the uncomfortable topic. Sure he'd touched Phil before, but that was through layers of armor and clothing. Had he ever had skin to skin contact with another person? Anything, as simple as a handshake? Hell, even something during battle would count.

He came up empty, and it was driving him crazy.

He didn't need to touch people. He didn't. Having someone he cared about liked close to him was good enough. He didn't need physical contact to reassure him. He never had, not even as a child.

Though that may have had something to do with the chorus of voices he'd had in his head that had kept him on the brink of insanity for most of his childhood. His voices were always there, always with him, so what need did he have for another person's company?

Except he did like company, Phil's especially. And he had it, plenty of it, more than he could ever possibly need. So why did he suddenly feel so off balance?

He asked Phil about it next time he saw his friend. He kept it casual. It wasn't a big deal, he didn't need to worry Phil by letting how much this had bothered him show.

"Hey, Phil, have we ever touched?" He asked. Phil gave him a weird look, then bumped his shoulder.

"Like that?" He asked, unimpressed. "Mate, maybe you should check your own memory before you call me old man again."

"Nah," Techno dismissed, "I meant like... skin to skin. Like a handshake or something."

This actually gave Phil pause. He thought for a moment, then laughed.

"I guess we haven't. Weird. Why?"

"I... Don't think I've ever touched anyone like that," Techno said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but his heart was pounding as he poured out his weakness in front of Phil.

The other man was silent for a long time. Techno could practically hear the shouts of ever??? running through his mind.

Suddenly Phil turned towards him, pulling off a glove.

"Handshake?" He offered with a smile, something sad beyond the amusement in his eyes. Techno rolled his eyes, but he hesitated taking his glove off. Slowly reaching out, as if Phil's hand was a snake that might strike at any sudden movements, he placed his hand in Phil's.

The sensation was like a fire roaring to life on his hand. It didn't hurt, not like a real fire, but it somehow burned. He froze, his brain having trouble processing the bizarre feeling. It was overwhelming, and the best thing he'd ever felt, and yet it was almost a relief when Phil gently pulled his hand away.

"We'll take it slow, alright mate?" He said, nudging Techno with an elbow. The piglin's brain began to work again and he snorted, pulling the glove on again and falling back into step.

"Of course. We can't overwork your old man brain," Techno said dryly, earning him a sharper nudge. He grinned, the amusement softening to fondness as Phil walked just a little closer, letting their arms stay pressed together as they went.

It was strange how you didn't notice you were missing something until you had it. Bare contact was a little too overwhelming right now. So he was right. For now, this was enough. Having his best friend near him was all he needed.

Angel's Clover

There is a special plant that only grows in the land of celestials. An ethereal clover that sprouts from the weary souls that come to rest on the soils of heaven. The souls and the clover flourish in time with one another, tended to by the celestials that walk the lands. It is only a rumor, in the eyes of mortals, but one who walks among them knows it to be true. He is the Angel of Death, and his presence can never touch the sacred halls of the celestial lands, lest they wither and die.

But souls do not always complete the journey, to find their final rest above. Some souls are too broken, too hurt to reach the peace of the celestial lands. It is the duty of the Angel of Death to guide the souls, and it is his duty to heal them so that they may be guided.

In the land of the mortals, there is one place where the clover grows. It is in the humble garden of a plain looking man, who wears a large hat to block his eyes from the sun, and keeps his unearthly wings folded beneath his cloak.

In his garden, the Angel of Death nurtures the precious remnants of life.

[readingsoyoucanavoidlife]

In Denial

Sometimes I just want everyone to be happy and alive, so here is my headcanons for if Tom Riddle never existed. 

~James and Lily never have to fight in a war, so James becomes a professional quidditch player and he became the longest reining Captain before he quit, bought the club and became the manager for it, as well as the coach for the players. Lily becomes a healer at St. Mungo’s and was able to invent a cure for dragon pox. When James’ parents died as a result of the disease she worked tirelessly researching it and came up with and affective cure. She has a portrait hanging in the hospital and after a long day sometimes has conversations with it (it the only way she can have a decent conversation in her current state). James teases her about it a lot.  

~They get pregnant at a later age, because their relationship doesn’t move as fast since there is the lack of war pressure and not knowing what will happen to them. Same goes for the Weasleys and Andromeda so they all have their children later. (Canonly Molly and Arthur got married quicker because of war) And I’m just going to say that the Grangers had fertility problems, so had Hermione later. (this way the ages and relationships stay the same)

~After Harry they have three more children; Grace Iris Mia Potter, Sophie Lily Potter and Danial Charles Monty Potter. (In that order) (Iris and Charles are Lily’s parents names and Mia and Monty are shortened from Euphemia and Fleamont). Remus becomes Godfather to Grace, Peter (since he couldn’t betray them) becomes Godfather to Sophie, and Marlene becomes Godmother to Danial. Grace is two years younger than Harry (the year bellow Ginny), Sophie is one year bellow her and Danial is two years bellow that.

~They don’t see Dudley or their actual Aunt and Uncle often, they tend to meet up to have a tense cup of tea once a year. The Potter’s always send them birthday and Christmas gifts but the Dursley’s never do. They hardly heat from them until Dudley reaches out saying that he thinks his child is magical. James laughs a lot at this and more specifically the looks on Petunia’s and Vernon’s faces. They do agree to help him and his family understand. 

~When McGonagall becomes Headmistress, the sorting becomes more based on personality and not character and bloodline. Thus ending the prejudice towards the houses. This is the thing that she brings to Hogwarts like the other Heads have done before her. (Dumbledore's was giving people, like Remus, chances) However this is before Minnie’s time so they are all in Griffindor. She becomes Headmistress in Harrys 6th year when Dumbledore leaves to retire in a tropical country, there is no imminent threat so why should he stay at school? His only problem is that sometimes it’s too hot to wear socks.  

~Grace works for the ministry and falls in love with a guy who went to Durmstrang but now works in England, named Eric Luka. They end up having a daughter together, Scarlett Luka. Although when Scarlett is a year old, he walks out on them. Grace becomes a single mum for four years before her co-worker Aiden Murphey asks her out. They had always been friends as he had been a year above her at school, although he was in Ravenclaw. They get married and Scarlett changes her name to Luka-Murphy. They have three children together Liam, then a year later Finn and a year after that they have Owen.

~Sophie become a wizard robe designer and manages to bring some more modern and muggle aspects to the wizarding world. She starts her own clothing brand and falls for some one in Danial’s year. Zoe Phillips, they get married but don’t have any kids. They are perfectly content with spoiling their nieces and nephews.

~Danial is the perfect child of the family and people try to not like him because of it, but end up giving in because he is so nice. He is an architect for the wizarding world and marries a Hufflepuff in his year called Audrey, she is also an architect. Again they are the perfect couple that is so sickening but you can’t help liking them. They have two daughters, Emily and Olivia, who is four years younger. 

~Wolfstar is a thing (as it always has been), they are together up until Harry’s 7th year. They are facing difficult struggles and are always shouting at each other, even though they still love each other. They decide to take a break and they each are set up on dates. Sirius with some guy and Remus with Tonks. On this date Remus gets very drunk because he misses Sirius and they sleep together. 

~ A week later they promise to be better and stop their break. Although after three months, Tonks contacts Remus to tell him that she is pregnant, and it is his decision whether he wants to be part of it or not. Remus has his freak out about whether the baby will be like him and what Sirius will say. 

~Sirius understands what has happened and doesn’t blame Remus because they were on a break, but is upset that he was with someone else. After a talk with James, Sirius feels better and is by Remus’ side the whole way and becomes excited for a baby when Remus calls Tonks to say that he wants to be a part of it (secretly he had always been jealous about the way his nieces and nephews look at James and Lily). Tonks knows how in love the boys are.

~Wolfstar begins to miss out on baby stuff and Sirius complains that its not how its meant to be when the kid arrives, so Tonks come to live with them. Tonks love the arrangement because she doesn’t have to be alone and the boys dote on her and the baby once he arrives. James becomes a Godfather. They continue living together until Teddy a bit after Teddy turns one. Tonks moves to London to be closer to her work and they co-parent using floo network all the time. Sirius normally watches him during the day since he is a wizarding writer and Remus is a professor at Hogwarts (floo’s into work) and Tonks is an auror.

~Harry and Ron become Friends with Hermione when they save her from trouble with Filch for being out after bed (she was in the Library for too long). They help her with the invisibility cloak and she lies for them when McGonagall reveals them from under the cloak when she stepped on the end of it.  

~Neville has a happy childhood and is coated in his parents love, by the time he gets to school he is much more confident. He still takes a toad but his parents gave him an owl. Alice and Frank support all of his choices and are proud of every accomplishment he makes, even if his Grandmother says that it’s a waste of their time and effort. He and Harry are close friends from a very young age because of their parents, although they never really were best friends. When they went to Hogwarts and Harry went off with Ron they still looked out for each other and laughed together.

~Ron and Hermione (Ginny when they got older) came over to the Potter’s for some of the holidays, like they would go to the Weasleys for some before parting for a week before September 1st for “family time” and so their parents could see them off. Because of this Sirius and Remus become close with Ron and Hermione, so when Mrs. Weasley hosts a party (when Teddy is around three) they are invited too as part of the Potter family. Tonks comes along too as a family outing with Teddy. Teddy and Victorie hit it off and begged their parents to have play together more. Tonks sees Charlie at the party and starts talking to him as they were in the same year at school, though in different houses. He introduces her to his friend who works with him and is recently moving to London to lead the organization for dragon well-fair in England, protesting to let the Gringotts dragons free. In short Tonks and the person get together. (still unsure on what her partner identifies as but they are from a Greek pure-blood family with the surname Samaras).

~Charlie never marries or truly settles down but treats his dragons like children and is the best uncle ever.

~Bill comes to England not because of war but because he accidentally got promoted and had to move back. Him and Fleur still get married quickly, and have Victorie a year after that, Dominique come after two years and Louis three years after that. They pretty much lead the same lives other than the fact that their wedding isn’t crashed by Death Eaters and Fleur insists they have it in France (since they don’t have to stay in England for it)

~Hemione and Ron get together in 7th year in a similar sort of way. Ron is caught by Hermione tell off some kids for playing pranks on the house elves and teaches they about their history and situation. She can’t help herself, so she snogs him in the deserted corridor after the kids have gone. 

~Ginny and Harry break up after his 7th year, she wanted more independence especially since this was her last year and the only year attending the school without her family there. Harry was also going to auror training and starting his own path in the world and wanted to experience being by himself in the world, with new responsibilities. They both date a few people whilst broken up and remain close friends, they were each other’s firsts (Harry’s 7th year) but were with other people too. After four years, Ginny made the Harpies first team and one the match for them. Like before, Harry and her ended up kissing in front of the entire stadium, they have been together ever since. 

~ Ron and Harry both became aurors but shortly after Remus retires (he was getting more tiered after the full moons with his age and Sirius’ book became a best selling novel in the muggle and wizarding world so he could support them comfortably), he became the DADA professor. After joining the aurors he never felt like it was a good choice for him and didn’t know what he wanted to do, so he just stuck it out. That was until Remus mentioned he was retiring early and that they were struggling to find a competent professor. 

~Ginny does take maternity leave with each of her children (Jake, Samuel and Lyra - because no one is dead) but still play for the harpies until she is forced to retire. After retiring she writes sports articles for both the Prophet and the Quibbler, becoming chief editor of both. Harry is able to take care of the kids whilst she is away, with the help of a nanny. They both couldn’t see a reason to put either of their careers on hold. 

~Ron revolutionized the strategies that were used and as a result far less people were harmed and more people joined the force. He still took a 7 year break to be a stay at home dad whilst Hermione was being a boss, but practically worked part time since everyone respected his opinion and always asked for his advice (he got paid half time wages because of this). When Rose and Hugo both went to a muggle primary school, Ron worked for them officially again, but because of all the work he had done he rose quickly through the ranks and when the old head of the aurors retired, he became head of the department.

~Fred didn’t die so him and Angelina became a permanent couple (they never wanted to or could be bothered with getting married). They always had an on and off thing since the Yule Ball, they were the only people that they ever were in love with, despite their previous inconsistency. They only had one kid together. Joseph Weasley. Fred wanted him to have a sibling like he had but Angelina only ever wanted one and he had many cousins, George had his second kid at the same time and the boys were practically twins. (Fred II is renamed to Luke Weasley, since Fred didn’t die)

~George married Katie Bell after running into her at Diagon Ally whilst locking up the shop (Fred was out with Angelina that night). They agreed to catch up and it resulted in them having an amazing time, which ended with Katie giving George her contact details. They got pregnant with Roxanne just after George had proposed, so the wedding was preponed until she was there. Unfortunately Katie got pregnant again with Luke just when they started planning the wedding. two years later they finally got married and their children walked down the isle (it was the cutest thing, Molly was weeping).  

~Percy and Oliver fall in love ( how do you expect two guys that are the definition of opposites attract share a room for 7 years and have nothing happen) Oliver stops Percy from being a complete prat as there is no ministry fall out with his family to get him to that point. Oliver makes him realize that his family are the greatest gift, especially with all their flaws. They have a small ceremony with only family and close friends and adopt a little witch naming her after Molly, three years later they adopt another witch and name her Lucy. 

~Snape and Lily still fall out with him calling her a mudblood, just because there wasn’t an group to kill those like her doesn’t mean he didn’t hang around with prejudice people and have those views. He still become potions professor when Slughorn retires. Though occasionally he will get howlers from the Potter’s and Longbottom's shouting at him for his behavior towards his students along with some howlers from Marlene and Dorcas, Emmeline, Mary, Sirius and Peter with use of his old nicknames they had for him. (because how dare he disrespect their friends kids)

~Peter still is friends with the marauders, but he moves away from them and distances himself every year to the point where they only write to each other to celebrate special occasions. He never finds a partner or has children but does become a pub manager and lives comfortably.   

~Draco and the Golden trio make their peace at the end of 7th year. They never become friends, they just forgive each other ( for the most part, him calling Hermione a mudblood is not forgiven). They act civilly towards one another, especially when Scorpius and Samuel announce that they are dating. They learn to tolerate but nothing more.  

[obsidianfr3sk]

Catch me if I should fall

Summary:  “I, Hugh Everhart, swear to my best friend Georgia Rawles that if something happens to her, I will take care of her loved ones as if the same blood ran through our veins, as long as the sun and the sky shall endure.” He ignored his broken voice and put his hand over her fist, “But I also swear that I will never let her die. If she should fall, I will catch her.”

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427151

I want to start by saying this fic is dedicated to my mother @dawniebb. She basically introduced me to the wonderful headcanon about how Georgia and Hugh were best friends and she actually asked him and Simon to take care of Adrian if something happened to her. Thank you for saving me from my cursed theories. 

This fic was in the back of my head during two weeks, I think, when you were worried about the support Hope Called Themselves the Renegades would have, and I wanted to cheer you up with this. But I didn’t had the inspiration to actually do it until now. Kinda late, considering HCTTR blew up, AND IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT YOU FUCKING SHOULD. 

I still wanted to give this to you tho. My sister Nodrian told me it was a good idea. Dime que esto no tiene la misma energía que un niño dándole a su mamá un dibujo que hizo en el kinder xd

Also #Nodriannoleasesto. Spoilers. Sorry.

Also x2 I took inspiration from Tightrope, a song from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. I’m obsessed with it, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.

Also x3 this is very self indulgent

Age of Anarchy 

Year 20, Month 5

Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go,

we’re walking the tightrope.

High in the sky,

we can see the whole world down below.

We’re walking the tightrope.

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

Well, it’s all an adventure

that comes with a breathtaking view.

He had heard of Bunny before. Evander and Tamaya had an encounter with her not so long ago when they were investigating some robberies that occurred in an area near the headquarters. She always stole jewelry or food. Bunny was not dangerous. 

But she could jump. 

Simon probably would have turned invisible to distract her and catch her off guard, Evander would blind her with one of his lights, Kasumi would stop her with a wave of water, Tamaya would throw lightning at her… but Hugh could only chase her and pray that she would get tired before he did.

They reached the bridge that connected the west and east side of Gatlon City. The sea was just below them.

Georgia passed over his head. Just in time.

Bunny was in the air when Georgia grabbed her by the wrist. The girl began to squirm and screech like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap.

“Not so fast, Bunny,” Georgia exclaimed. “Now—” she held out her hand, “—be a good little girl and give me that.”

Hugh caught up with them. He leaned against the bridge railing, under the dim light of a post, to catch up on air. Secretly, of course.

Bunny was not a little girl, she was already past fifteen. Yes, she was less than five feet tall and had the most crooked and huge teeth he had ever seen but that didn’t mean anything. Georgia needed to stop treating criminals like they were misbehaved children from daycare.

Although he had to admit it was fun watching her do it. It always made them mad.

“Never!” screamed Bunny.

“I know that it is not yours. It is not correct to steal things from older ladies who open their homes to you,” Georgia said as if it weren’t some general knowledge that stealing was wrong.

“That lady hates me! She hates me!” and bit her hand.

Georgia winced but didn’t let go.

“Hey, no biting!” Hugh ordered.

Bunny turned to see him, more furious than ever. “Nobody gives me orders, Captain.”

Then, Bunny kicked him in the chest and pushed him out to sea, letting out a more maniacal laugh than he’d ever heard come from a human.

He realized what had just happened until Georgia’s hands grasped his. At that precise moment, the violent waves that were under him crashed against the foundation of the bridge and Hugh felt a chill run down his spine.

Metal does not float.

Georgia brought him back to land and floated beside him. There was no sign of Bunny anymore, but he knew where she had headed.

“We need to go after her,” he muttered.

Georgia crossed her arms. “Not today, Captain. Let her go.”

But they couldn’t let her go. They both knew they could help her if Bunny let them, why wait for the next time they see her?

What if there was no next time?

He was about to tell her all that, when Georgia out of nowhere kicked him between the ribs slightly harder than usual. “Next time stay away from bodies of water,” she said reproachfully.

Hugh laughed and held the spot where he had hit him. “Yes, mother.”

Georgia was unfazed.

“I’m serious. What would have happened if I hadn’t held your hand? You do not know how to swim!” She took him by the chin to force him to turn to see her. “You could have died!”

He jerked out of her grip. Georgia sighed. She massaged her temple as she slowly sat down on the dirty pavement, frowning, and with her jaw clenched. 

She knew he didn’t like it when people touch his face like that.

“But … I didn’t die,” Hugh said. “What’s this all about?”

She turned to see him with teary eyes like she didn’t recognize him. “Are you not afraid of your own death?”

Hugh scoffed. “Are you?”

Georgia looked away. It can’t be.

You are afraid?

“I have to confess to you, Hugh. Death has terrified me too much lately.”

Impossible.

He sat by her side. Georgia leaned on his shoulder without thinking twice, invading him with familiarity.

“It’s just… well, I guess you’ve noticed that Adrian gets super nervous every time I go out,” Georgia explained. “And I have told him many times not to worry, that I will return safely. I even tell him that phrase— ”

Oh, he knew that phrase by heart. “Not even the darkest of nightmares, the loneliest of nights, or the worst of troubles—” he said.

“Can with the boldness, bravery, and joy of Lady Indomitable!” Georgia finished with a raised fist. “You should get yourself a catchphrase like this. It would be good for your brand.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Georgia went silent again. “The thing is, no matter how many times I tell Adrian I’m going to be okay,” she murmured sadly, “he’s still scared.”

“And you get scared too?”

“It’s not that,” she assured. “I know that I am the best and you all would be dead by now without me, but honestly, the five of you are already adults.” She gave a soft laugh from underneath. ”You’ll be just fine without me.”

He took her hand discreetly. They were smaller than his. And warmer. I wouldn’t.

“But Adrian… he’s so young,” Georgia continued. “He couldn’t live without me and the worst thing is that I couldn’t live without him. I get nervous at the slightest sign that he’s in danger. Like yesterday, when Kasumi bought him that lollipop, remember?”

Of course, he remembered.

“You stayed all afternoon watching Adrian eat the lollipop in front of the TV,” he replied, trying not to laugh. “Tamaya told you to stop harassing him.”

“Even Simon asked me if I didn’t think I was exaggerating. Simon! The one who told Evander when we went to the beach that if he didn’t put on sunscreen, he was going to get skin cancer and he was going to die right then and there!”

“In his defense,” Hugh said, “you can get skin cancer if you don’t put on sunscreen.”

“He wanted him to put on sunscreen at midnight. Do you know what the definition of ‘night’ is? It is the time of day when there is no sunlight.“

“But you agreed with him and forced Evander to put on sunscreen anyways,” he commented.

“In my defense, motherhood changes you.”

Silence returned.

The positive side of having been on the same team for the last ten years and spending entire nights silent to not give away their location is that there were no longer any awkward silences between them.

Georgia started playing with Hugh’s engagement ring. “Are you excited for your wedding? Because I am.”

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“Maybe.” She took it off and put it on herself. “Are you excited?”

“Of course. Tomorrow is the big day.” Georgia gave it back to him like nothing. “I hope you already wrote your speech.”

“Obviously. I don’t think I should walk you down the aisle though. I will look much better than you.”

“That’s debatable.”

They had barely managed to get suits for him and Simon. Casually, the father of Kasumi’s new friend was a minister and had agreed to marry them off. He had even lent them the backyard of her house, where he had beautiful rose bushes and a well-kept lawn.

They were all very excited. Evander was about to physically fight with Adrian because they both wanted to be the ones who hold the rings. In the end, Adrian won, not only because Georgia wanted Adrian to deliver the rings so badly, but also because Evander was no longer a lovable nine-year-old and wouldn’t have the same impact. He was even starting to grow facial hair. Tamaya told him that he was going to have to shave for the ceremony and that if he didn’t, she would personally take care of removing every last hair from his body.

Simon managed to please Evander when he told him that he could be his best man. Kasumi would be the maid of honor. They had bought her a secondhand pale pink dress, but on her, it looked like it had just come out of a magazine. The five of them wanted Tamaya to be the “flower woman”, but she flatly refused. She wanted to be a godmother and walk Simon down the aisle. She was not going to settle for less.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding of the century, but it was the perfect wedding for him.

“You have to promise me something.”

He turned to see her. Anything.

“If something happens to me, I want you and Simon to take care of Adrian.”

The answer escaped his lips immediately. “No.”

“Excuse you?”

Hugh shook his head. “I’m not going to promise you that.”

“Why the hell not?” Georgia asked, angrily.

“Because nothing is going to happen to you. Not if I can stop it.”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t something she did very often. “Wow, so heroic. Do you want a medal? Come on!” she exclaimed, holding his arm tightly. “It doesn’t cost you anything. Pinky promise, okay? “

“Lady Indomitable, you are already a thirty-year-old woman,” he scolded her.

“What, you can’t promise things for pinky anymore when you turn thirty or what?” she asked. playing confused.

He clenched her jaw, fighting to stay immune to her words. “No, you can not.”

“That’s debatable. The good news is that I’m twenty-nine. Come on … Or I’ll tell Simon to send you to sleep on the couch.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I’m already sleeping on the couch. Tamaya doesn’t let us sleep in the same bed, she says it wouldn’t be very Christian of us.”

“Okay, if you pinky promise me what I told you, I will convince Tamaya to let you sleep in the same bed as Simon, deal?”

A tempting offer. But he couldn’t accept it.

Hugh could promise many things. He could even lie about promising many things. However, he couldn’t lie to Georgia, much less could he promise her something that he wasn’t going to keep.

Because nothing was going to happen to her.

“I’m not going to promise you that,” he sentenced. “You are going to raise Adrian. And when Simon and I have kids of our own, they and Adrian will be like siblings, and they will play in the backyard of our great mansion, and I don’t know, probably they will wear matching Christmas sweaters.”

“Our kids like… siblings?”

“Yes. We have discussed it,” he replied. “We want to have children. You know, adoption.”

“Oh, adoption, yeah…” Georgia mumbled. “I thought it was a weird way of asking me to be a surrogate mother.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And is this a strange way of offering yourself as a surrogate mother?”

“Stars, no. Although I make very hot babies.”

“That is so wrong,” he replied with a laugh.

Georgia was laughing. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. “It was so wrong, I’ll never use that adjective to describe a baby again.”

“Please.”

Georgia took his hand again. The question he asked hit him like a bucket of cold water. “What would you like me to do for you if you died?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to Georgia.

“I don’t like to think that I am capable of dying. I am indestructible.”

“Indestructible, not immortal,” Georgia stressed. “We are not gods.”

He gazed at the stars. When the entire city had electricity again, it would be difficult to speak to those who were now watching them from above.

He had to see the stars while he could.

“I wish we were. That way we would never die. ”

Georgia sighed and squeezed his hand lovingly. “Dying is not why we all think it is. I believe that real death is being forgotten.” She looked up at the stars too. Her dark eyes were illuminated by the moonlight. “That’s what I truly fear.”

He would have liked to tell her that he too was afraid of that death. To tell her that he was also absolutely afraid of being forgotten, and not at all of the idea of becoming another star in the sky.

But it would be lying.

And he couldn’t lie to Georgia.

“You’ve convinced me. I’m going to make you the promise you want.” Georgia squealed like a little girl and hugged him quickly. “But if I’m going to promise something, it has to be… stylish. With big words.”

“Wow, a ritual oath. I like it.”

The two of them sat across from each other. The only thing that was heard for a while was the sea waves. It no longer gave him the creeps at all. Hugh thought carefully about what he was going to say and Georgia couldn’t help but smile.

How could she find the beauty in such a morbid oath?

“Ready?” he asked.

Georgia straightened up and extended her little finger. “I was born ready.”

Hugh locked his pinky with hers. It felt like they were back to being the teenagers they were when they first met. They had both changed a lot. Georgia had longer hair, stronger muscles, and a less scared expression. However, she still had the same perfect smile and kind eyes as when he first saw her.

He wondered how he had changed.

Georgia got tired of waiting.

“Look, I’m feeling nice today, so I’m going to promise the same back to you, all right?” Georgia asked. “I’ll go first. I, Georgia Rawles, swear to my best friend Hugh Everhart, that if something happens to him, I will take care of his loved ones as if the same blood ran through our veins, as long as the sea and the mountains shall endure.” She gently placed her other hand over his fist and added, “But I also swear that I will never let him die. If he should fall, I will catch him.”

Hugh was left speechless. He could feel the tears about to come out of his eyes. Get a grip, Captain.

Georgia noticed immediately. “Are you crying?”

Hugh removed his mask and wiped away a tear. “Modern men are not afraid of their feelings.”

“What a sentimental softie.”

But she also had tears in her eyes.

Why were they like that?

He put the mask back on. It was his turn.

“Okay. I, Hugh Everhart, promise you— “ Shoot. “Um, I don’t want to copy you. For what would you like me to say instead of ‘mountain and sea’?”

“How about… the sun and the sky?”

It was perfect.

“Well well.” He took a breath. Here we go. “I, Hugh Everhart, swear to my best friend Georgia Rawles that if something happens to her, I will take care of her loved ones as if the same blood ran through our veins, as long as the sun and the sky shall endure.” He ignored his broken voice and put his hand over her fist, “But I also swear that I will never let her die. If she should fall, I will catch her.”

And if I ever break this promise, I have no idea what the hell I would do. 

Suddenly, a knife tore through the air violently and slammed into the light pole. They both broke free and backed away. Georgia was immediately on her guard, prepared to smash the face of anyone who dared throw the knife at them. Hugh leaned closer to get a better look at it. It had a dark green handle and a golden point. There was a folded paper at its end.

Nightingale.

He opened the letter. Nightingale had more chaotic handwriting than usual.

Captain, the Savior has learned that Sandman has been the one who gives him nightmares and has sent a plague to finish him off. They need help right now.

—N.

“Indomitable,” he called her. “Look.”

Georgia took the letter from him. Her eyes widened. As soon as she finished reading it, they both turned to see each other.

Ace… Alec knew David had given him away. And he was going after him.

He had to do something.

“See you at headquarters.”

Georgia got in his way. Her face was more serious than ever. “No, I’ll go,” she sentenced.

“What? No, you won’t.”

“You will not arrive there running. Not on time,” she assured. “They need help right now.”

Hugh looked away. “But—”

“Hey, hey.” Georgia grabbed his chin again, with a love that only she had. “Remember. Not even the darkest of nightmares, the loneliest of nights, or the worst of troubles…”

He sighed and smiled for her.

“Can with the boldness, bravery, and joy of Lady Indomitable.”

She squeezed his nose playfully. “See you at headquarters.”

Hugh watched her fly away at top speed until she disappeared in the dark. He turned and ran back to headquarters. The rest of the team needed to know what was happening.

He could lie to everyone. But she couldn’t lie to Georgia.

Hugh had already made a promise. And he had to fulfill it.

I will catch you if you fall.

[oh-boleyn]

catherine / infamy

words: 5733, one shot, language: english

anne / jane /  katherine / catherine

this was posted on ao3 some days ago and I have been since debating to post it here or not. except for this series I will stop posting here probably, and just move to my ao3

TW: I think this one only has as tw Catherine's story (kidnapping, dying in childbirth, etc) plus self deprication... if anyone thinks this one needs more tw please tell me 

the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about Catherine Parr

Catherine Parr will always be known as the queen who got away.

(…)

Her breath is heavy, the air denser than it should be.

But it slowly gets better, to the point she opens her eyes and the light doesn’t hurt. Sitting, she can recognize Katherine Howard, the girl for who she was a lady-in-waiting. Anna of Cleves is also sitting, a lost expression on her face. A woman with blonde hair that makes her think of the various portraits she saw in the palace. Just by counting the people in the room, she can easily assume who the rest of them are.

After all, she was the last of them.

(…)

Catherine’s father died when she was five years old and so her education was left to her mother, who educated Catherine to a high standard. 

(…)

Catherine never loved moving.

Usually she got too attached to a place, and changes were definitely not her favourite thing.

(Moving centuries felt like a torture – not that she would ever admit it out loud.)

Their new house was small, smaller than any castle she ever lived in. She had to share a bedroom with her godmother with whom she never had a relationship, and the third queen, mother of the kid she saw getting the crown.

Sometimes at night the house made her think of Snape Castle. Of nights fearing for her life. Being the survivor didn’t mean her life was any easier. Those nights she preferred to avoid sleeping in case the faces of John and Margaret might appear in her dreams.

Instead she would just scroll through articles and articles on her phone, trying to understand any actual device that was out to the public, or what did spot on meant. At least being productive made her feel less useless. After years of new information missed, she could really use new research.

(…)

Sometimes alternatively spelled Katherine, Katheryn, Kateryn or Katharine.

(…)

Catherine can’t help but feel powerless when thinking about Katherine Howard.

She was just a child. A teen, who Catherine couldn’t save. Her mind didn’t work fast enough to help the girl, who died such a tragic, grotesque death, leaving Parr her place as queen. Maybe if Parr was smart enough, she could’ve done something else.

But she wasn’t.

She loved to lie, to make everyone believe her, but deep down she knew nothing more than that, a lie. An elaborated act that took years to construct. A character, a fake line, an improvised scene that went day after day. Because Catherine didn’t think of herself as intelligent, just a very good actress, fooling everyone into thinking she was smart.

She wished it was true.

Instead she had to live with the guilt of knowing what she did. She was not the hero, not the survivor, not the scholar queen.

Catherine Parr was a fool who couldn’t save Howard, nor Margaret, nor Elizabeth, nor Lady Jane Grey. Her hands were filled with the blood and tears of all the girls at her care; she never had the chance to rescue, instead just assisting to their downfall. And her mind won’t stop her from repeating the names time and time again.

(…)

Catherine was known for her love of learning and for her fluency in languages such as Latin, French and Italian.

(…)

“What do you want to know?” The last queen questions.

Her godmother had been moving the whole night, buzzing around her. It was almost becoming annoying, except that there was a warmness, an incapability of getting mad knowing how close her mother and the woman once were.

“What makes you think I want to know something?” Aragon retorts.

“You seem nervous, if you want to know something just ask ahead. I won’t get mad.”

She internally prays for Aragon not to ask her something about Spanish, or worse, Latin or Italian. Languages felt more complicated and overwhelming in the twenty-first century, featuring strange mixes between them.

(Apparently, Spanglish was a thing.)

She is not sure if any other question would be good, at all. Catherine is supposed to know all the answers, to be educated, to distinguish, to be useful. Since arriving in this century her mind has been confused, mixing up languages and dates. Blocked, broken.

“Curiosity is not such a good trait.” The older woman speaks, almost robotically, just repeating words she probably heard time and time again.

Catherine would be lying if she said that was the first time she heard those words. Her curiosity was not exactly an attribute in her past life, but she maintained it through the end of her days, always looking forward to learning. A craving for intelligence heavier than the one for safety.

“It’s alright, really.”

“What happened when I died?”

The question comes out quickly, making Parr hold a breath.

“When you died…” She starts, trying to remember only important details. “Anne and Henry were still married, but she lost the pregnancy. She had three miscarriages. You can imagine how Henry reacted.”

Catherine nods, aware of Anne’s thick scar.

“Jane went next. I can’t remember a lot from her reign, for it was short and I wasn’t at court at the time,” she winces, trying not to show her stiffness when talking about it, “Henry asked for her to be painted in every family portrait, even after she died. He really tried to secure the line of succession for Edward, what a shame he died so young. In his attempts to have another son, Henry married Anna. She wasn’t bad, just probably a lot for him to handle.”

“She seems like a lot.” Catherine speaks, judging tone in her voice.

“Don’t say that, she is actually sweet. Henry couldn’t kill her, politics involved, so they settled for an annulment. Then Katherine came. She was naïve, a child. I was a lady-in-waiting for her, and it is true she might have been childish, but she was –is, I suppose– a good person.”

“I feel like all of them know more than me,” Aragon explains, “but I don’t want to read about them, it’s like invading their privacy.”

“I did. Most sources are from after we died, none of them completely true.” Catherine admits. “We should be able to tell our story.”

“We should.”

(…)

Catherine is known for reuniting Henry’s children with their father and bringing them back to court. 

(…)

The opening night for the show is nerve-wracking to say the least.

Anna almost cursed at Catherine because, after all, it was her idea. Parr stays silent, knowing that the fourth queen is nervous to her very core. She also knows that the show has to be done.

They could only live off doing interviews for some time. She learnt that the internet worked in mysterious ways, and nothing stayed new for too long. People grew tired, and interviews were less and less often.

But after the play, it feels right. Even her godmother is smiling, her own reluctance to create the play long forgotten. People cheer around them, the band still firm on their spots but clapping their hands.

For a moment it feels good to be in the spotlight.

(…)

Catherine was an attractive and intelligent woman, who combined the intelligence and wit of Anne Boleyn with the prudence and diplomacy of Catherine of Aragon.

(…)

“Anne, wake up.”

Boleyn opens her eyes. Her hands were still holding her phone. That little technological device that holds so much information about everything. Catherine wonders what she was doing, what could have been so important that she didn’t go to bed.

“You should go to your room, Kat and Anna might be waiting for you.” She says with a soft voice, trying not to wake anyone else in the house.

The second queen has big, bright green eyes. There is a sparkle of wit that Catherine can’t shake her head off. She looks like Elizabeth, the same curiosity shining through. The way she carries herself, as if she still was the queen. The secrecy, how every word holds another meaning.

Anne stood up, going to her bedroom.

“Goodnight Anne.”

“Night, Parr.”

Elizabeth is dead, and they aren’t. Catherine never had a chance to amend their problems, instead she died. Never getting to see Elizabeth as queen was going to be something she would always regret.

The internet said she was a great queen, and it didn’t surprise Parr at all.

(…)

Elizabeth was won over by Catherine’s warmth and intelligence.

(…)

Catherine Parr was never a protagonist, and she prided herself on it. Being a writer was more important to her. Narrators lived long enough to tell the heroes stories. She was observant. Silent, but good at knowing all the gossip. Being invisible was an advantage, it could keep you alive.

(That is if you didn’t die because of childbirth, obviously.)

Even in the play, she made it known. Her make-up in earthly tones, and she wears a blue costume. Blue was serene, trying not to be noticed. She didn’t talk as much as the other queens, relegating her story just to her last verses.

Catherine Parr was a narrator, not a protagonist, and she was aware of it.

That was why, when watching the queens, she felt so inclined to give them as much attention as she could. Catherine wouldn’t write their stories, that would be not okay if she tried to keep the fake peace that reigned the house, but she could surely find striking inspiration at any moment.

She discovered that none of them were having the best time in their new lives. They didn’t treat it as a brand-new chance to be happy, instead they were bonded to the past, to their own time. It felt like whatever brought them back just did it so they could act as robots half of the time, not trusting each other to talk seriously for more than a couple of minutes.

Catherine wonders if the other queens also notice how much she is struggling.

(…)

However, the quick-thinking Catherine Parr managed to save her head by pleading with Henry and persuading him that she had only argued with him in an attempt to help him forget about the pain caused by his leg ulcer and to learn from him.

Henry forgave her.

(…)

They move. Again. She knows it’s for the better, but she can’t help feeling weirded out by the new house. At least it allows them each to have a room of their own, a privacy she certainly craved.

She takes the basement, which is the colder room in the house. It feels comfortable, after all the years of living in palaces makes you feel that way about cold, big rooms. Her bed, even if it is double size, doesn’t fill more than a quarter of the room, leaving her space for a big desk and a bookshelf.

Catherine counts all the books once before starting packing, twice after saving them and another time as soon as she arrives. The feeling that she probably lost one doesn’t disappear, even if she doesn’t know what book she lost.

(Maybe because most of her books are destroyed after five hundred years of not caring for them.

Not like those books are useful anymore.)

(…)

According to Foxe, she began “frankly to debate with the king touching religion, and therein flatly to discover herself; oftentimes wishing, exhorting, and persuading the king.”

(…)

Doing research is exhausting to say the least.

The bright white screen makes her eyes ache after watching it for a while, and her hands don’t work quickly on the keyboard. She can’t even write as fast as she could in her old life, her letters clumsy and often having problems with gripping the new pens.

What makes it the worst, is that she feels so stupid when trying to do it. Languages vary when time progresses, that much she always knew, but trying to read an article sometimes becomes impossible, with words such as quantum entanglement or Newtonian physics. It infuriates her, not being able to understand.

Once upon a time she knew it all, about God, history, languages. But now it felt as if her brain just stopped working. Everything went faster than she could, leaving her behind, useless to a new world into which she never asked to be brought.

Sometimes she hates modernism and its complexity.

Still, Catherine puts on an act every day, talking about penicillin and ibuprofen, explaining history to Anna and focusing on appearing smart. Because, after all, that was all she ever knew. All she ever had was owned for being smart, to know how to play a King’s game, and getting away with it.

If she wasn’t smart, she was nothing.

(…)

Catherine certainly believed herself to be in danger and, had she not acted decisively, it is likely that Henry would have allowed her to be arrested and, perhaps, executed.

(…)

“Cathy, por favor, ayúdame con esto.” Her godmother asks, while going through some files. “I know you were good at Spanish.”

Parr holds a breath. She once could speak it fluently, but lately it’s pained her into having problems with it.

“I was reading this book, and wondered if della and del were still being used? Or is it old Spanish?”

Catherine didn’t know the answer at all. How was she supposed to? If she could barely understand it. She wanted to scream, to explain that she had no actual clue. She wanted to pull away her façade of being smart and just admitting that it was too hard for her.

“I think it’s safer to use de la instead of a contracción.” Cathy says, praying to be right.

“Gracias querida.” Aragon winks at her.

Parr was really hoping she was right.

(…)

Catherine Parr - The Scholar Queen.

(…)

Catherine was a writer, she even went as far as publishing books under her name, the name of a queen, in a patriarchal society.

Catherine Parr was a writer because it was all she had ever done. Every reason why she wanted to be remembered was because she was a writer. She didn’t care about her husbands, not even Thomas who she truly thought she loved. She didn’t want to be remembered as a queen, only as a writer.

(She sometimes thought that if being a writer was enough for her, in that case, she would’ve lived longer, but of course she needed to have a man in her life.)

Talking about her past as a writer gave her the peace of mind she didn’t have for standing behind men her whole life.

Behind a great man, there is always a great woman.

Except that she was behind John Neville, a distant catholic cousin who’s actions ended up with her being kidnapped; Henry the VIII, an egomaniac poor excuse of king who got as far as killing two of his wives (almost her killed too); and last but not least, Thomas Seymour, a power starved moron.

Was she just like them? Was she the only one guilty of her past life? An egomaniac who couldn’t save Katherine Howard? A power-starved former queen who let harm come to her most loved stepdaughter? Or just a moron who couldn’t protect anyone, not even herself?

Catherine was a writer, because thinking about her own mistakes was harder than just doing what she always did, telling other people’s ones.

(…)

Catherine Parr was in fact the cleverest and most passionate of Henry VIII's six wives, says Derek Wilson.

(…)

Catherine wasn’t a big fan of the rain.

She didn’t mind it, and enjoyed the sounds of the water drops when she was writing, but being in closed spaces sometimes became too much, too claustrophobic. She loved walking just a little every day, going to the theatre in the afternoon or to the grocery shop, but with the weather it wasn’t possible.

Usually on days like that she would just get herself isolated from the queens, her anxiety building up as she tried to behave and not explode. Try to pass as if she doesn’t even exist, guarding her feelings and nerves to herself.

She told the queens she would be writing in her room, and to just call her when it was time to eat. No one checked up on her. No one gave her tea, or coffee. Even when the clock hit the time for dinner –she had been staring at it for the last five minutes, hyper aware of the time being–, they called her up three minutes and fifty-two seconds later than what she would have liked.

(…)

In her will, dated 23 March 1545, Margaret stated that she was unable to render Catherine sufficient thanks 'for the godly education and tender love and bountiful goodness which I have evermore found in her Highness'.

(…)

It feels harder on her than the rest of the queens. The feeling of not belonging, of not understanding. Even with Jane their relationship is not close — not that it can be, the third queen always storming off or barely talking.

She feels like an outsider, not knowing where she is standing.

Catherine has always been cordial, but there’s a thought in the back of her mind that says that it is only out of duty. Of an old debt to her mother, and not real love. Even after long talks over tea, and trips to the mall, Cathy feels that their relationship is still empty. Out of place, fake.

Parr can’t help but dream about feeling loved again, truly loved, something that she has not known for a long time. But it scares her, Margaret ended up dying young, Elizabeth had to suffer, Jane Grey had a horrible death.

Maybe she didn’t need their love, because each time someone loved her, they ended up dead.

(…)

Catherine enjoyed a close relationship with Henry's three children and was personally involved in the education of Elizabeth I and Edward VI.

(…)

She enters the kitchen, just to see Anne and Anna with an apple pie in the middle of the table.

“I want pie.” She states.

“Magic word?” Anne teases her, a smirk on her lips.

“Je t'aime beau cul.”

Boleyn laughs, in a way that it makes her stomach turn. It’s mocking, clearly not laughing with Catherine, but rather at her.

“What? What did I say wrong?”

“You pronounced the last part wrong, it’s beaucoup, no beau cul.”

Catherine can feel her face turning red, almost burning. Of course, she was going to mess up pronunciation after years without trying. Now Anne was mocking her, and she felt ridiculed, uncomfortable.

“Why is it so funny?” Anna interrupts, maybe picking up the humiliating situation, “she just messed up pronunciation, it’s not that bad.”

“Instead of saying ‘I love you so much’ she said “I love you, nice ass’.”

Parr chuckles painfully, dreading Anna’s giggling.

“Don’t worry, mon petit chou.” Anne grabs a plate and settles a slice of the pie. “A sweet, for a sweetheart.”

She winks an eye to Parr, easing the air around the writer.

(…)

The dowager queen promised to provide education for her.

(…)

Catherine tries to get it out, to calm herself down after a nightmare.

She takes some paper and a pen, even though it feels uncomfortable in her hand, and tries to write about it. Catherine forces the memories on her brain. Attempts to remember every detail, the face of fear Margaret held, frustrating not to confuse it with the face of the girl dying. Parr thinks of John, of the aggressive men he became.

And she writes messy and clumsy letters, focusing only on what she has to say and not how she says it. Working hard distracts her for almost the whole night, finishing with a good amount of paper in possession, and her hand smeared with ink.

Catherine considers reading it, but ultimately decides against it, walking to the kitchen as fast as she can.

She lets it burn, page by page, word by word. Parr lets it burn as if she never cared for it, something so personal that it won’t be good for even her to read. She knows that the queens will ask the next day, but she can’t help herself to care. She lets it burn.

(…)

She loved fine clothes, jewels and intelligent company.

(…)

Catherine wishes she had a real idea of when to stop, but apparently, she wasn’t born with it.

Most of the time, the queens won’t shush her, instead acting as if they hear what she has to say. Acting being the key word. Once Cathy was so into her monologue, she would discover how uninterested her eyes looked, wandering around the room and just humming in response instead of talking actual real words. In that moment she would try to cut herself short, wrap the idea quicker than expected.

Anna would try to keep up, being amicable enough, but the inadequacy was something the survivor couldn’t shake off. Even when the fourth queen tries to talk, Cathy will already anticipate the truth. She pitied her, knowing how her life was and ended, and it was just a way to show it. She pushed Anna away, not telling her any weird facts. She didn’t want to be a poor fool.

(…)

In 1543, she published her first book, Psalms or Prayers, anonymously.

(…)

“I’m just… so afraid to talk sometimes.”

Catherine thought that, but the words didn’t come out of her mouth, but rather from Boleyn’s.

“I got killed for that, and I can’t help it. I feel like I need to control everything.”

“But you don’t.” Parr confirms. “Also, you can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can control yourself, with whom you hang out, you can control things such as the tone of your words, but if someone wants to hate you, they will. You can’t control nature, not yours, nor from others.” Catherine ponders.

She wishes that she could follow her own advice, but it’s hard. That doesn’t mean that Catherine is not hoping for Anne to do so, to be happier than she is. Maybe that if she can help the woman, Parr can redeem herself.

“Thank you, I think I needed to hear it.” The green-eyed talks.

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you.”

She brushes off the guilt of being egoistic that tries to settle on her mind.

 (…)

According to biographer Linda Porter, the story that as a child, Catherine could not tolerate sewing and often said to her mother "my hands are ordained to touch crowns and sceptres, not spindles and needles" is almost certainly apocryphal.

(…)

Catherine wants to give up writing, knowing that it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Everything is too personal, too old, too weird. Old languages long forgotten mixing with new ones, words that haven’t existed before now complicated to use.

Apparently, Shakespeare by himself invented around a thousand seven hundred words. Just by one person.

The idea of the new vocabulary overwhelms her mind. So much she doesn’t know and is not sure if she ever will. But a part of her longs for it, for the feeling of release that writing could sometimes bring. Catherine has faith about being able to be valuable, to tell stories, to do good, to give something to the world.

Parr decides to just take her time, to write as best as she can. She can’t do more than her best.

(…)

Between October 1536 and April 1537, Catherine lived alone in fear with her step-children, struggling to survive.

(…)

“Are you okay, Catherine?” Kat asks.

It was her third attempt at it. Nothing she wrote felt right. There was just so much missed, so much to do. She couldn’t focus on the paragraphs.

“Yes, just can’t seem to get this done.” She straightens her spine.

Did always sitting hurt as much?

“What is it about?” The teenager wonders.

“Just about Spain history, and the colonies.”

“Can I read?”

“Yes. I will make tea.” Parr handles the computer to the girl.

She stretches her spine and goes around preparing the drink.

Catherine is not sure if she would let any other queen read what she wrote. Katherine is different, had always been. Even in her time as queen, even when it all happened. She was smart, but not outspoken. Polite yet truthful.

“It is good, really.” Howard says.

“I can sense a “but”.” Catherine laughs anxiously, dreading the critic.

“You are only taking one side; you should know how Spain sent a lot of people from the church on missions to re-educate the natives. Las misiones Jesuitas. Politics and religion were more connected than what this made it look like.”

“That’s… Very true.” She feels bad about not emphasising it as much but brushes it off for the sake of the conversation. “I didn’t know you were interested in history. It’s great,” she insists when Katherine looks at her with big eyes, “if you ever want to work together, you know where to find me.”

(…)

Her second book was a success and widely praised.

(…)

Organizing was never her favourite thing to do. She loved to be messy, scattered paper all around her. Pens out, in the most unexpected places, just in case creativity strikes unexpectedly. The way her manuscripts could look so good, better now that she gave herself time to practice her letters surprised when people saw the chaos in the one she wrote.

Jane was the opposite, neat, having high expectations of finding whatever she left in the place she left it. She was exigent, hard on herself to be organized, in places where Catherine couldn’t care less. That was until everything became way too much and she had to just clean a little. Parr admired Jane, appreciated how much she did, how smart and balanced she had learned to become.

With her papers settled, her pens saved, she gives a look at her room. It feels quiet, harmonized.

(…)

The popular myth that Catherine Parr acted more as her husband's nurse than his wife was born in the 19th century from the work of Victorian moralist and proto-feminist, Agnes Strickland.

(…)

Someone knocks the door to her room twice, and Catherine gets surprised. Almost nobody came to her room, it being almost the farthest one from the rest of the queens. She also never gave any indication of having nightmares like Katherine, so no one would check on her.

“Come in!” She says, despite her wonder.

“Hey there.” Aragon greets. “I just got Kat to sleep.”

“Another nightmare?”

“Yes, but those are getting better, I think. Therapy is helping.” She explains. “But I wanted to check on you.”

Catherine makes room for her in the bed, which she quickly understands. The divorcee sits in the bed, and the survivor wraps herself, getting comfortable in the hug. It’s familiar, an old memory from court in a past life, but a good one. A peaceful, tranquil moment before knowing better.

“Oh, hermosa.” The first queen squeezes her goddaughter. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just… so tired.” She confesses.

She doesn’t precisely know of what she is tired. The intrusive thoughts of hundreds of years, Thomas and how she was a fool. Of hiding her silliness, trying to be better, always better, but never reaching an end. She is tired of feeling bad, of feeling locked into her own expectations. She feels tired of trying to be happier, to be smarter, to be liked.

And there are so many feelings that she just breaks, sobbing into her namesake’s arms.

“Even geniuses need sleep, amor.”

“Don’t call me that.” Cathy bickers.

“Call you what?”

“A genius. I’m not.” She cries. “I want to be dumb; I want to stop overthinking for a second. I’m not smart, I promise you I’m not but please stop expecting things from me I can’t be a disappointment.”

“Mi vida.”

Aragon makes a pattern on her back, trying to soothe her. It doesn’t precisely work, instead she just continues sobbing, letting lots of tears that she has saved for such a long time flow freely. She sniffles out of pure frustration, of having so many thoughts that she can’t even process them.

“I love you, so much.” She affirms. “You have literally blown me away. I know I might not say a lot, but you were always special, since you were little.”

“Don’t say that, I don’t want to be.”

“But you are, and you have surpassed all my expectations, always. You can breathe now; you get to take a break.” She kisses her forehead. “I love you, and would still love you if you are the smartest person in the world or the stupidest. You are so smart, you don’t have to always stick out, or be good at everything. You deserve to just fool around sometimes, and that won’t change who you are.”

When Cathy collects the courage to look her in the eyes, she can swear that there’s a sparkle of pure love and affection in the eyes of her godmother. A sparkle directed at her.

(…)

Biographers have described her as strong-willed and outspoken, physically desirable, susceptible (like Queen Elizabeth) to roguish charm and even willing to resort to obscene language if the occasion suited.

(…)

She doesn’t know how, but something in the air feels lighter, it feels better. Life becomes easier, the house now slowly becoming a home, with the six queens slowly getting better. Catherine can notice how much cooler it turns out to be once they started learning more about each other, understanding something no one else would.

(After all, nobody else was a five hundred years old reincarnated Tudor queen.)

Parr wishes for it to mean that she could live her life relaxed, joyful. But instead she cries every time she notices how lucky she was, the guilt of knowing that she hurt so many people she cared for. A heavy backpack she won’t ever be able to get out.

She doesn’t think that she deserves forgiveness for her acts. And it pains her, hoping for a reality where she was good, for one where she was just the survivor, to one not full with the tragedy her life was.

Each time she says gold star for Cathy Parr, she feels numb. With a bit of luck, she convinced the audience she merits it.

(…)

Catherine's good sense, moral rectitude, compassion, firm religious commitment and strong sense of loyalty and devotion have earned her many admirers among historians.

(…)

There is a silence, and for a moment they stay like that. But the survivor speaks up: “Did you love him?”

“Yes.” Anne states easily. “Or no. I probably didn’t, and he most certainly didn’t either, but I think we both believed we did.”

“Do you love him?”

“No, do you?”

“Never did.”

“Be careful, your neck is quite delicate… I don’t think it would be hard to cut with a sword.”

Catherine tries to mask her thoughts, releasing a faint “Funny.”

Anne probably doesn’t know; she is aware of it. With all the fake comments about the second queen that were a lie, she had decided to not look for much information about her fellow queens, and Catherine was not willing to tell her about how her life nearly ended. It felt selfish, it was just a close call, not a real one like Anne’s or Katherine’s. Still, the idea of her head being amputated from her body followed her, like the ghost of a broken promise. The thought of her life in danger of ending still at the back of her mind.

“Did she love me?” Anne asks, surprising Parr.

“I think she did.” Catherine waits for a moment, before continuing. “I’m sorry for what I did to her.”

With those words she breaks down, trying to hide her tears. She has no right to cry for her own wicked acts, to be comforted by Anne, but that’s what is happening now.

“It’s fine.” Boleyn says, her voice just above a whisper. “I forgive you. She forgave you. We were different people back then.”

“But I did it. No matter what you say, I did it.”

“And I wasn’t an angel either. I acted the wrong way because of my fears. To gain and maintain power. I’m not proud of it,” her eyes, that until that moment were lost, now staring intensely Catherine, “but if you keep living in the past you can’t become a better person in the future.”

(…)

Parr is usually portrayed in cinema and television by actresses who are much older than the queen, who was in her early 30s when she was Henry's wife and was about 36 years old at the time of her death.

(…)

Catherine wished her story was better, for it to have a happy ending. To say that she married Thomas after Henry, and that it was like a dream, that they had children and grandchildren, grew old together and she was loved until the end of her days. She longed to say that she could remember her baby's face, or her first steps or words. Desires to tell everyone that she taught her everything she knew. But in reality, it was not true.

Catherine Parr never had her happily ever after like a queen from a children’s book.

The survivor indeed never had her happy ending, not even when coming back to the modern times. She still put more pressure on herself than what she should've. Tried to always be trusted, to always be useful and to help her everyone. Pushed herself to the edge, trying to be the best version of herself. Got more stressed than necessary, stayed up sometimes too late for her liking, drank more tea and coffee than she should’ve.

Her life became a bittersweet one, a balance found between her tragic story, the guilt she would always feel, and the chance of a new beginning.

Some days were happier than others, some talks were lighter. Freedom and restriction battling over, but giving her enough cheerfulness to go back when things got harder. Working with Katherine over the history they both knew and missed, discussing the newest scientific discoveries with Anna and Jane, grabbing lunch with Anne and tea with Aragon.

Her life was not happy, but it was relaxed. It gave her the chance to just let herself feel emotions, the good, the bad. To write without deadlines. To be calm, to live this new opportunity fully. To learn about herself, to be the protagonist of her own story.

To be loved.

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 4D, MATCH 2 OUT OF 2!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Ella:

so this is a discworld story, and in discworld stories are sort of parasitic life forms that like to happen over and over. they can be harnessed, with enough magic. this is what’s happening to ella saturday, who is playing the parts of both cinderella and the frog princess. her evil fairy godmother (you get two, an evil one and a good one, though her evil one is under the impression that she’s the good one) has taken over the city, and is forcing everyone into fairytale roles under the threat of execution if they’re not quite archetypal enough. she thinks this will make people happy. ella, on account of being the dead  barons daughter, has gotten the role of princess. so she’s being kept in a house with two snakes who have been turned into human women, and is being forced to go to the ball, where she is expected to dance with the duc, who is a frog turned into a human, and kiss him to solidify the spell. she very much does not want to do any of this, but fortunately she’s got that other fairy godmother! who is brand new, on account of the last one died, and has no idea what she’s doing. but it all turns out ok in the end, and the stories stop (for a given value) and she’s the baroness now a they all live, if not happily or ever after, then normally, and for a time

Miyo:

Her story is a classic twist on the Cinderella tale. (spoilers ahead) Miyo grows up in an abusive household. Her father neglected her. Her stepmother and half-sister constantly belittled, berated, abused, and stole from her. She was raised as a servant girl for years following the death of her mother. Everything changes when she is put into an arranged marriage with the prince-like character, Kiyoka Kudo. And slowly, over time, she grows more confident and learns who she is, what she wants, and falls in love. She has multiple fairy-godmother type confidants in Kudo's maid Yurie, a former maid from her old home Hana, and even Kudo's sister Hazuki. The opening song to the anime even includes a line about how the singer wondering if Cinderella stories even exist! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RL42Vr4naOU

Miyo is a Cinderella through and through

[jessejostark]

The Baby Tee Is Back—With A Twist

— How Jesse Jo Stark, daughter of Chrome Hearts' founders, created this season's unlikeliest "it" item.

For musician and artist Jesse Jo Stark, 2020 was supposed to be the year . She’d been touring like crazy to promote her music, which sounds—in truly the best way—like a Creamsicle doused in whiskey and set aflame with a Zippo in a dive bar. She’d created a tiny line of merch called Deadly Doll for her albums; she was planning to finally perform at the music festivals she’d grown up attending as a California teen. And then, of course, the universe said “nope.”

“I finally got where I wanted to be,” says the LA native. “I was performing my butt off. I was getting some streaming traction with the songs. I felt so good about the music I was making. And then it just…” she makes a poof sound. She readjusts her Zoom frame. But while global disruption works hard, the internet works a little bit harder—and for Stark, that proved to be just fine.

That’s because if your star sign is Instagram with a TikTok rising, you already know Jesse Jo Stark. The musician has the thoughtful eyes of a girl too wise for California, the voice of a Nashville crooner impatient to hit the road, and the good sense to come from a highly cool and lower-key Hollywood dynasty. (Parents = Chrome Hearts founders, Uncle = Sex Pistols member, Godmother = Cher, Family Friends = Hadids, etc.) “I was taught from a very young age that success is in the details,” Stark says. “Clothes can almost be like alter egos—and I have a lot of those.”

Chief among them is a vampy signature style that’s made Stark famous in fashion circles, a blend of Miuccia Prada’s spooky-chic Frankenstein collection and the Mean Girls rule that on Halloween, you can wear lingerie IRL. (Can we call it Thot Goth? I’m calling it Thot Goth.) “I swear, I’m not obsessed with death!” Stark laughs. “I know the line is called Deadly Doll, but to me, it’s more joyful. I love the quirky, juvenile part of horror. Death is something we’re all so scared of, and it’s something that’s so in our faces right now… But I grew up on Frankenstein and the Invisible Man. I love this idea that we don’t really know anything about life and death… how for all we know, the afterlife is just a fantasy where I might get to party with my friends when we’re done living here… I don’t think it’s dark; I think it’s kind of wild! And I created Deadly Doll around that.”

The line is WFH friendly, with oversize sweats and snuggly tees boasting pulpy graphics (“Most are collaborations with female artists, because giving other women a platform to showcase their vision is a big priority for me.”) along with a Deadly Doll g-string first seen on Irina Shayk. But the hero piece is a branded baby tee that’s migrated from superstars like Bella Hadid and Kylie Jenner and Stella Maxwell to cool kids like Salem Mitchell and hundreds of other girls from Tokyo to Texas—if they can find it online, that is. “People think I’m doing hype beast drops,” Stark sighs, “but we put them out as soon as we can produce them! I wish I could give you a ‘cooler’ answer, but the way I was raised is that you put in time, you make quality things, and you release them when they’re ready. We take our time because we want it to be great… It took a year to get the cut and fabric of this t-shirt right—I’m not kidding you—because it needed to be amazing before I would ever ask people to buy it. It’s a sign of respect and love to always give your best work. That’s the way I learned it from growing up around [Chrome Hearts].”

But for those who are treating Deadly Doll like a street style acquisition—and let’s be fair, as soon as we can all see each other IRL again, it surely will be—good news: a new batch of Jesse Jo Stark’s latest creations just hit her website for Valentine’s Day, because love in all its forms should be celebrated this year… even if it’s just with a perfectly fitted t-shirt that makes every Extremely Online person you know incredibly jealous.

[protectwoc]

The Problem with Mal (part 3/3)

The Solution

This part of the essay is where we’re going to get into more opinion based stuff rather than facts or actual analysis, so if this is where you check out I don’t blame you. But I believe that with a little reworking the Descendants franchise could have reached its full potential story-wise. This reworking centers around one general idea:

The movies would have been better if Mal had not been the protagonist. Specifically, Evie should have been the protagonist of D1, Uma should have been the protagonist of D2, and they should have co-lead D3.

To truly discuss this thesis, we’re going to have to turn some literary techniques on its head. Bear with me everybody.

To start, let’s look at one particular literary device which I find most relevant to this discussion, that of a foil. Wikipedia defines a foil as “a character who contrasts with another character, usually the protagonist, to highlight qualities of the other character… A foil usually either differs dramatically or is extremely similar but with a key difference setting them apart.” Essentially, a foil provides a “what-if?” to another character, usually the protagonist.

Evie and Uma are both foils to Mal, but of different types. Evie’s character is radically different from Mal’s on both superficial and significant levels. On the other hand, Uma’s character is very similar to Mal’s, with a few key differences that make Uma a more compelling POV character. Unfortunately, while foils are usually intended to highlight positive qualities of the protagonist, Mal’s foils serve to show us what a missed opportunity the Descendants writers had.

Let’s compare and contrast Mal with these other two characters. We’ll start with Evie.

Motivation

What is Mal’s motivation throughout D1? In part one we decided her over-arching motivation is self-interest, specifically power and opportunity. However, if we look simply at D1, we can also see a different, more charitable motivation for her: To make her mother proud.

This is particularly interesting because it is one of the few places where Mal’s character and Evie’s intersect. As we’ve already noted, Mal and Evie are starkly different characters. Evie is more traditionally feminine, more sensitive, and shows more generally positive emotions like kindness and compassion than Mal does. In the background of many scenes (such as Mal’s dragon fight with Hades on the bridge in D3), Evie can be seen checking up on the other characters and making sure they are okay. Strangely enough, even though Mal is ostensibly the protagonist/POV character, we know more about who Evie is than Mal. Evie is, for some reason, gifted a rich inner life that even the main character is not allowed. We know Evie is interested in science and fairly adept at it, she is proficient in many homemaking activities such as sewing and cooking, and she helps Ben with the legislation for the VK project. We also know that she has a strong, steady relationship with her boyfriend that does not stop her from becoming a successful businesswoman who runs her own fashion line. The viewers are not actually told much about who Mal is beside her relationship with Ben and her talent with graffiti. Oh, and her middle name is Bertha I guess.

But for all these differences between these characters, the one place that they align is their D1 goals. Mal and Evie both go into the wand-stealing plan with the intention of making their mothers proud, but even though these motivations are the same on paper, I would argue that this motivation is better handled with Evie’s storyline than Mal’s.

Consider the relationships between Mal and her mother and Evie and her mother throughout D1. Unlike Evie, Mal is actually shown as having a sometimes-positive relationship with her mother. Maleficent pays her “compliments” (see: “That’s my nasty little girl”). She tells Mal that she intends for them to rule Auradon together with “matching thrones” and “hers and hers crowns.” There is even a whole song in D1 that revolves around Mal receiving encouragement from her mother, albeit an imaginary one.

On the other hand, The Evil Queen instilled in Evie anxiety over her physical appearance and relationship status and an intense inferiority complex. The only time she pays Evie a compliment comes when they are video chatting in front of the Fairy Godmother and all of the parents are putting on a facade. In their first scene together, Grimhilda charges Evie with “just finding (herself) a prince with a big castle” and then reprimands her for laughing because it will cause wrinkles.

As a consequence of this difference in parenting styles, Evie has a much stronger motivation to impress her mother than Mal does. Every decision that Evie makes in D1 is a result of this motivation, most notably in her side plot with Chad and Doug, whereas gaining Maleficent’s approval does not factor as heavily into Mal’s decision-making process, as seen in her relationship with Ben.  

So it makes sense that given the two differing relationships between these daughters and mothers, Evie’s desire to impress her mother would be much stronger than Mal’s because she has never truly gotten it before. I’m not denying that Mal and Evie were both the victims of abusive parenting, and of course, in the real world, people respond to different levels of abuse in different but equally valid ways. However, in a Disney Channel Original Movie, a brand that is not known for its subtlety, it makes more sense that from a writing standpoint Evie has a much stronger motivation and a much higher stake in this wand-stealing plan.

Arc

If I were to ask a random Descendants fan what Mal’s arc in D1 was, what is the most likely answer I would receive? Probably that she learned to be good rather than evil, I imagine. What about Evie? Probably that she learned she didn’t need a prince to have value, or maybe not to change herself for a man. Now, based on D2 and D3, which of these characters actually fulfilled that arc?

We can’t say that Mal “learned to be good” because she never actually learned to be good. Whatever lesson Mal learned in D1 didn’t stop her from trying to magically manipulate Ben at the beginning of D2, or trying to permanently banish all the VKs to the Isle in D3. What’s the point of claiming to be on the side of good if your actions don’t corroborate that?

On the other hand, Evie experienced actual growth over the three movies. In D1, we saw her struggle to find validation somewhere other than the nearest available prince, but later learn that she could take pride in her academic capabilities and her aptitude for clothing design. In D2, she continued to build her business with support from her non-prince boyfriend, and later find a new purpose in the plights of the VKs who remained on the Isle. And finally in D3, although we saw more of her relationship with Doug, we also saw her continue to fight for the remaining VKs, building her relationship with Dizzy, and once again continuing to grow her fashion line.

Evie, unlike Mal, actually had one continuous arc with true upward growth. Now, imagine, if you will, what D1 would have looked like with the story shifted to center Evie instead of Mal. It would be a largely similar story, but with a few key changes that would enhance the overall quality.

Removing Mal as the main character of D1 would allow for some actual conflict within the group as well as outside of it. Imagine a core four, led by Evie, that features Mal as her questionably-aligned best friend/number two. Evie and the boys begin to experience doubts about the benefits of their plan, but throughout the movie, Mal remains strong, reminding them that they are “rotten to the core.” Evie is conflicted, with her innate desire to be good and love of the sanctuary Auradon provides warring with her desire to please her mother and her acknowledgment that Mal may have a point. At the finale, Evie, Carlos, and Jay make the decision to stand up for good, and Mal joins them begrudgingly but fondly. Wouldn’t that have been a better, richer conflict than the “Mal feels pulled between her evil habits and the boy she has a crush on” plotline that we got?

Evie is closer to Carlos and probably Jay than Mal is. We see this in all of her background actions, but wouldn’t it have been nice to see these relationships, and these characters, brought into the forefront of the story?

Evie’s general kindness, generosity, and dedication to doing the right thing make her a protagonist you can actually root for, but it also proves Ben’s original argument, and the argument of the whole movie, that the VKs are not predisposed to evil simply because of who their parents are. This argument rings a little hollow as the story stands because its main example is not actually a good person. With Evie in the center of this story, this theme is actually valid.

Positioning Evie as the main character also means that the next two villains of the movies are not direct results of the actions of the character who is supposed to be the protagonist.

Now let’s look at Uma, and how she compares to Mal. Uma’s character is particularly interesting because unlike Evie, she and Mal are very similar. There are, however, a few key differences that make her a more compelling protagonist than Mal

Motivation

This topic has been done to death in fandom, so I won’t dwell too deeply on it, but it’s no secret that Uma’s motivation was handled better than Mal’s at essentially every level. Uma’s story as it was shown in D2 was so well written, in fact, that I was surprised that it came out of a DCOM, and a sequel to boot. The writers did an excellent job of giving Uma a sympathetic, well-fleshed out, compelling character. The only place they fumbled was in remembering two-thirds of the way through that she was supposed to be the villain.

It is strange, however, that in a story that revolves around children finally being set free from an unfair life sentence of prison and poverty, that its villain’s motivation is to continue to liberate these children while its supposed main character actively works against this goal. It is even stranger that in D3, presumably after they saw the massive internet and fan reaction to Uma’s character and motivation, that they doubled down on this distinction instead of rectifying it.

Arc

This section was originally going to be on character arcs, but it is hard to analyze Uma’s

because she doesn’t really… have one. She doesn’t need one, because her character starts out from a place of moral superiority over Mal’s. It could be argued that in D3 she learns to work with others, but even that isn’t supported by the source material because she never actually had to learn that lesson. She already works fine with the rest of her pirate crew, the Sea Three, and even the original VKs, shown in her musical support of Evie during the “One Kiss” song, albeit with, again, a copious amount of eye-rolling. The only one she has a conflict with is Mal (for good reason) and she never truly had to learn to play nice with Mal or to amend her behavior at all because she was always in the right. That brings me to my true second point…

#umadeservedbetter/#umawasright, or, Actions

This is where we examine the actions of these two characters. On paper, Mal and Uma have very similar character traits, but the actions they take within those constraints prove them to be very different people.

Leadership

Mal and Uma are both hailed as leaders within their respective groups, to the point that there is an entire song in D3 that centers around them vying for leadership of their temporarily-combined groups. However, this comparison does not shine favorably on Mal’s leadership skills. Uma has followers because she fights for them. She works tirelessly to get them off the Isle, and then to get back to them when they are separated. Mal never shows this same care for Evie, Jay, or Carlos. When Harry struggles climbing out of the ocean during the big “It’s Goin’ Down” fight scene, Uma goes back to help him without a second thought, sacrificing her revenge in the process. Do we ever see any indication that Mal would make the same choice if it came down to her end goal vs. her friends?

2. Strategy

If you asked a random fan, they would probably say that Mal and Uma are pretty intelligent characters, and they would probably be right. Uma, however, is the only one with any tactical aptitude. In D2 Mal foolishly and callously rejects her friends’ help and goes to face Uma alone, where she is tricked into agreeing to trade Ben for the wand. Then later, Mal’s plan for how to trick Uma with the fake wand is to just “get him [Ben] out of there really fast,” which fails miserably. After that, her solution to every problem is “turn into a dragon,” which is only actually helpful one of the three times she does it. Uma on the other hand is a pretty efficient strategist. In D3 she captures Ben smoothly and only turns him back over after seeing a pretty convincing display of the fake wand’s power. In D3 every plan Uma suggests comes to fruition. In “Night Falls” she orders the group to hold the line in the back while she goes to the front, while Mal thinks they should take left and right sides, respectively. However, as the chorus and next verse start, you can clearly see that they ended up following Uma’s plan, albeit with her and Mal at the front instead of just Uma. Later she suggests that they split up and search Audrey’s dorm, which they do, and they end up finding her diary which leads them to her cottage. Mal herself acknowledges that this was a good idea. The only maybe strategically unsound decision that Uma makes (spelling Ben into falling in love with her which has historically not been successful) is a decision that Mal also made, so I can’t necessarily take points off of either one for that.

3. Choosing “Good”

We’ve already established that Mal has failed astronomically at actually, honestly, switching to the side of good, but Uma manages to start out at a higher ground than Mal and then grow from there. We see Mal pull stunts like taking candy from a baby, graffiting walls around the Isle, and kicking over the merchandise in the Isle’s bazaar/shopping center, but we never see Uma do anything like this, except maybe yell at a patron in the Chip Shoppe. She isn’t cruel to her crew for kicks; she doesn’t even throw Gil out when he calls her Shrimpy, Harry does that. Her motives have always been noble and inclusive of others besides herself. Then, we see her go through the only growth left to her in D3 when she puts her pride behind her to help Mal save Celia and defeat Audrey. We never see Mal go through this type of growth, with the possible exception of her deciding to free all the children and bring down the barrier at the end of D3… WHICH WAS UMA’S ENTIRE PLAN FROM THE JUMP OOOOOHHHH MY GOD WE HAD A WHOLE MOVIE TRYING TO PREVENT THIS VERY THING AND FOR WHAT? IS BRINGING DOWN THE BARRIER ONLY BAD WHEN UMA SUGGESTS IT? BUT NOW THAT IT’S MAL’S IDEA IT IS JUST A-OK I GUESS OOOOOHHH, MY GOD. #UMAWASRIGHT #UMADESERVESBETTER

Ahem. Anyway…

Were these movies framed differently, Evie and Uma would have been the protagonists from the start. Interestingly enough, Evie and Uma serve as foils to Mal both on a story level, and a real-world level. They serve not just as a what-if to Mal’s in-character decisions, but also as a “what if the writers had framed the story to match their writing?” Because here’s the thing, the writers knew what they were doing. They acknowledged Uma’s similarities to Mal as early as D2, with Ben’s “angry girl with a bad plan” comment, but then a few scenes later they chose to position her as a villain anyway. They knew that having Mal suggest closing the barrier permanently in D3 would position her against the rest of the VKs, particularly Evie, and they even wrote a beautiful disagreement for them that could have led to some actual growth for Evie and Mal’s characters. And then a few minutes later Evie, Jay, and Carlos have just… forgiven her, with basically no effort on Mal’s part. Most egregiously of all, they know that Mal did at the end of D3 exactly what Uma was trying to do for all of D2, and they treated Uma like a villain for it. They even have Uma’s character acknowledge this but have basically no problem with it!

This, I think, is why I had such a problem with Mal, and why it grew so aggressively. Bad writing is one thing, but bad writing that is self-aware and yet makes no motion to deal with itself is another. This is basically the end of this entirely-too-long meta/rant. I’ve never been good with conclusions, I just kind of… run out of things to talk about and deflate like a helium balloon. But if there are any points I missed, any other topics to discuss, feel free to let me know. I highly doubt anyone has actually finished this whole essay, but if you did, just know you’re my favorite person. Until next time I guess.

[science-lings]

Crazy AU maybe? Tony is a King who keeps pissing off his court by not having an actual heir, just adopting multiple poor orphan kids and making them princes/princesses. The more the court complains, the more kids he accumulates

Okay so, first of all, this ended up a lot longer and a lot off prompt than I originally planned, second, it’s important to note that this is in my already established fantasy AU world. Honestly, I just wanted a reason to write more for it. I actually tried to write it in the Tumblr reply box thing but it kept on getting deleted. Those were the more on prompt drafts so I apologize for not making the prompt my complete priority. However, I think you’ll like what’s in store anyway.

 The prompt was just so much already part of the original AU itself that I had to just continue with it.  I hope you guys enjoy! the rest of the AU can be found HERE

Lord Anthony Stark had always been a strange but brilliant man. Even when he was just a squire he was too intelligent and inventive to be wasted as a knight. His father, Lord Howard Stark was a retired knight of the king. Given countless sacks of gold and his own section of the kingdom to rule over so that the lazy king wouldn’t have to do it himself. 

Anthony grew up like a prince. A clever and envied boy that was much more than his parents ever saw him as. He was trained to fight, even if he wouldn’t be a knight. He made a friend of the son of a farmer, who would eventually become Anthony’s greatest ally. 

Before he was old enough to be coronated, his parents were killed by men sent by the king. The king had grown tired of Lord Howard’s greed and lacking of loyalty and hoped that his only son would do better. He had never met the boy but if he was smart, he would stay out of the king's way. 

So, Anthony Stark became a Lord and molded his little section of the kingdom into what he thought was best rather than what his father would’ve wanted. However, the king's eyes were always on the young lord, in the form of a large man named Sir Obadiah Stane. He too was a knight too old to fight, but he didn’t want land like his old friend, he wanted to bide his time to gain all he could from the golden goose that was the last Stark. He made himself the Lord's advisor with only the word that he worked with the boy's father.

When the boy became too much for the old knight, Sir Stane decided to get rid of him. He gave the Lords gold to a group of notorious bandits to attack the man while he was out traveling. Little did he know that the last Stark was much more than a beautiful prince. 

Anthony Stark came back with not only his life but with an infant scarlet and golden dragon gripping onto his shoulder and several mystical eggs in his bag. Stark had cared for the baby dragon until it could help him out of his prison with its breath of fire. 

Lord Stark imprisoned Sir Stane and everyone lived happily ever after. 

The End

Lady Virginia Potts finished her story as she rocked her baby in her arms. 

“You’re boring her my lady.” Her husband whispered from the doorway, the only light being a candle he was holding. 

“She loves dreaming of dragons and hellfire my lord.” Virginia smiled as Lord Stark approached her. 

“Just like her mother.” Anthony leaned down and their lips met for a brief sweet moment. 

“Is everyone else settled? It would be a miracle to herd them all to rest.” Virginia said as Anthony took their child from her mother and set her in her crib, knowing that her godmother Margret would be but a room away. 

“I handled it. It turns out that convincing squires who have been training all-day to have exotic pastries was not too difficult. I’m mostly sure that they’re at least preparing for bed now.” Anthony said as he took his wife's hand and walked with her in the castle halls. 

“Are you going to be stationed outside of Peter’s room again, in case he has another nightmare?” 

“I’m planning on being nearby, as you said, just in case.” He admitted. 

“I admire your intentions but you need sleep too-” Lady Virginia was interrupted by a servant stumbling towards them. He had the kings crest of a gold fist surrounded in violet. Sir Rhodes and a female guard followed loosely behind.

“I apologize, my lord and lady, I’ve been sent by the king.” The young man stumbled. The Lord and Lady shared a look and looked at the king's servant, knowing that their lives were likely about to get more complicated. 

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

In the morning, they all set off for the king’s castle. Their horses were clearly marked in the gold and scarlet cloth embroidered with dragons, signifying their adopted family brand. Only little Morgan was left at the castle, with dozens of maidservants at her side as well as all of the lord's dragons. 

The eldest member of their odd family was sat straight on her horse, Margret’s graying hair still immaculate in the early dawn. Harley and Riri leaned heavily into their steeds and yawned at increasing intervals.  Peter was more used to strange sleeping schedules so he seemed fine but he led the group with the knowledge that his magic could predict the worst before his words could warn them. 

It took two nights of travel to get to the king's castle. Two long nights of storytelling and playing with magic so that they didn’t die of boredom. Two very long days and nights of slowly getting more and more sick of sitting on the back of their horses. 

They were almost relieved when they got to the king's castle. Almost. The king was an asshole so they weren’t that excited. 

The king's daughters were waiting outside of the castle in dark purple dresses trimmed in gold. Princess Gamora had long dark hair in gold ribbons and darker skin than what was common in the region. Her adopted sister Princess Nebula had no hair at all and odd blue tattoos on her pale skin. They both had stone-cold expressions and neither of them looked comfortable in extravagant dresses. 

“Your highnesses,” The lord greeted with the mask of a charming smile. 

“Lord Stark. It is a pleasure to meet you and your ward. The king is waiting.” Princess Gamora said. Anthony saw something more behind her eyes, he knew she was hiding something. 

“I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting then.” Lord Stark suggested as he dismounted from his horse. He helped his wife off of her horse and watched as Harley tried to help Riri and almost fell to the ground. Margret rejected Peter’s offer of help and hopped off of her own horse with no trouble at all. 

The king’s guards accompanied the group into the towering castle. Anthony noticed Gamora’s eyes wandering around nervously before snapping back in front of them. She walked by Lady Virginia and at one point discreetly slipped something into her palm. The lord didn’t make a scene and only placed the information at the back of his mind. He was about to introduce his whole family to the most dangerous person in all the kingdoms after all.

The throne room was a little dramatic, even through Anthony’s eyes. There was no lack of gold in intricate designs and decorations. Violet cloth and colorful jewels were placed everywhere they could fit. Images of the king completing his conquests decorated the walls like a proud pharaoh. A single glorious throne sat at the end of the room. In it, was the king, in his large armored glory. 

King Thanos was larger than any normal man, many people thought him half giant. No one would dare say it out loud as there would be consequences for slander against the king. Scars adorned his face like he had gotten into an altercation with a lion. He had no hair but his head was covered by a gaudy crown with jewels every color of the rainbow. 

“Lord Stark! I was beginning to lose hope that you were coming. I was looking forward to meeting your ward. You do have… quite the assortment.” Thanos said, his booming voice filling the room easily. His tone suggested polite friendliness but Anthony knew better than to trust the king. 

“I could say the same about you my liege, it’s a pleasure to be invited back.” Lord Stark forced out. “However, I don’t think you invited me over just to meet my family…”

“You’re right. I invited you here to take your family. You’ve become a problem.” Doors slammed closed and the dozen guards and the princesses all pointed their weapons at the visitors. The Stark’s mostly stood unwavering. Anthony, Riri, and Harley all drew their swords in an instant while Lady Virginia held a small knife that none of them recognized. Margret pulled out a small handheld automatic crossbow wielding poison darts and paralyzing toxins. Peter stood weaponless in the center, knowing that revealing his magic would be a death sentence if they couldn’t beat the king’s forces. The king wasn’t one to throw away anything he could use, he would keep them alive if they gave him any sort of advantage. A man who could sooth a raging dragon was an advantage. 

Lord Stark stood unafraid with a fiery look behind his eyes, full of rage at the sheer audacity of the king to threaten his family. Actually, he was afraid. He couldn’t stand his makeshift family being in danger. But he did know that they were a force to be reckoned with. Even without dragons. 

There was a moment of tense silence. Those on the kings side waiting for orders and the Stark’s were not going to start the fight, even though the fight was inevitable. The king seemed to enjoy the fact that the Stark’s were completely surrounded, outnumbered, and moments away from permanent captivity. 

“I let you get away with so much, I refuse to be any more lenient. You should be grateful, I’m keeping you alive, you’re still useful to me. Your children however… will only stay alive if you behave. I do not want to waste dungeon space on them…” the king said in that infuriatingly condescending way. 

“We surrender. Just don’t hurt them.” Lady Virginia dropped her knife and made momentary eye contact with Princess Gamora before looking straight at the cruel king with the same steely expression as her husband. 

Lord Anthony dropped his sword, hoping that he was making the right decision. He would do anything to keep his children safe. The Stark’s surrendered. Even Margret grumbled as she put down her handheld crossbow. She muttered something about being able to take them. 

And just like that, the Stark’s were defeated. For now. It wouldn’t last very long. 

_______

Peter sat in his cell with his eyes closed. He was trying something. It wasn’t working. The elders in his village would do this thing where they could remove their spirits from their bodies and contact the other clans of magic users in the land. But there were no more elders and no more village and Peter had no idea what he was doing. He had never done anything like this before and he didn’t know if he even could. 

He wished he could talk to the dead. Talk to his parents or his aunt and uncle, the elders, just someone who could help him. He wasn’t that kind of magic user though. There were necromancers out there that could but Peter wasn’t born with that kind of magic. He didn’t have any help. That made everything a whole lot harder. 

After what felt like the thousandth time of trying, he got a little frustrated. It’s not like he couldn’t get out of the cell, he totally could do that easily. But right outside his cell was way too many guards that he wasn’t sure he could beat with his current energy level. It turned out sleeping on the ground for a few days and trying to nap on a horse wasn’t the best way to get enough energy for a big fight. 

He could barely see Lady Stark and Harley through the little windows in the side of his cell. Everyone else was too far away. He tried to think of a way to get them out of there, but the slight sluggishness of his mind made it almost painful to try. He was tired of putting all of his energy somewhere that bore no fruit.

Peter slumped down against the rough stone wall in exhaustion and found himself dozing off. His head hurt and he was only alive because the king thought it would motivate Lord Stark to do something for him. He wished he had stayed back at their own palace with Morgan. Then he could at least bring the dragons to the rescue. He had only just barely gotten them to trust him and they were still weary of the servants and anyone that wasn’t a Stark. 

He fell into a momentary sleep against the wall until a loud noise woke him up. This loud noise ended up being a guard yelling for him to wake up. He scrambled to his feet before actually being able to perceive the situation. 

The princess stood outside of the bars that kept him in. Instead of a dress, she wore dark leather and had her long dark hair down in perfect waves. She looked just as cold as before as she spoke. 

“The king has asked for you Peter. I’m here to escort you to him.” Gamora said calmly. “If you try anything, I have been ordered to kill you.” 

“I understand,” Peter gulped nervously. The door to his cell opened and a guard yanked him out. 

“Are you sure you want to take him alone Princess?” The guard asked. 

“I can handle a child. Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not your highness.” 

“Good. I will take him to my father now. I would keep my mouth shut if I were you.” The princess hissed and grabbed Peter’s arm. As she led him away, he looked back to see his everyone except Lady Virginia looking alarmed. Lord Stark was grasping the bars of his cell like he was willing the metal to bend for him. Everyone else looked like they were trying, and failing, to hide their worry. Peter smiled a little in an attempt to ease their worry but he was sure that they were right to fear for his safety. The king was known for his hatred of magic. If they knew he had magic than he was likely headed to his death. Fun. 

Princess Gamora led Peter through the endless halls of the castle, but not towards the throne room. The princess avoided the guards to a point of pressing him against the wall and using her body to casually hide his when they went by. This was when he realized that she may actually be helping him. 

She snuck him up the tallest steeple of the castle and led him to a dusty room that she unlocked with a rusty strange key. Peter was shocked when he recognized what the room contained. There were crystal balls and magical artifacts thought to be lost in the destruction of the king. Weapons that could only be used by people with magic in their veins and even a full alchemy setup. He had never seen one so complete. Even Uncle Ben only had a partial set. 

“Why are you helping me?” Peter turned to the princess. 

“I want the king dead. I want to live in a way that I do not have to fear for my sister’s life and I am sick of seeing the destruction he brings. I want to be free.” 

“Then I am glad to be of service. I’ll do my best to repay my debt to you.” Peter smiled as he saw a small relic. He recognized it immediately. It was an orb of contact. It was used to contact the sorcerer supreme and the leaders of each tribe of hidden magicians. Needless to say, he grabbed it immediately. 

The room around him disappeared and he felt completely weightless. A well-lit table appeared in front of him and each seat had a symbol that mirrored the tribe whose leader sat there. Peter stayed at the head of the table. At the other end, he appeared. The sorcerer supreme. A tall angular man with a black goatee and streaks of white in his hair. He wore a large scarlet cloak and an eye amulet around his neck. 

One by one, they began to appear. The strongest magic users that Peter had only heard about. This was when he started to get nervous. Maybe this was not as urgent… fuck it, he was in the kings castle, the king who enjoyed commiting mass genocide on people with magic and as far as he knew, was the last survivor of his magic tribe. He needed some help from these people. 

The famed Scarlet Witch sat in the seat representing the tribe Mutae, A woman wearing purple robes and massive bright red hair sat in the seat representing the tribe of the Inhumans, An asian woman with scars all over her face and simple clothes sat in the seat for the tribe of the Kree, Captain Marvel, not a leader but a powerful magic user sat in one of the seats, Freya of the Asguardian tribe, and a dozen more sorcerers that Peter couldn’t even name. 

Every seat was taken except for his tribes. Conforming to him that he was the last one left. He looked up at the most powerful people in the world and straightened his back. 

“I am Peter Stark. The last survivor of the Tribe Arachne, and I need a little help.” 

_________

Gamora shut the door to the witch's quarters. It wouldn’t be long until her father found out what she did. Someone would notice. She just hoped that she could give the kid enough time. She didn’t know what he was doing but she knew that it was time for a new king. She kept her palm on her sword’s hilt and casually strolled down the spiral staircase. 

On the way, she ran into her sister. Nebula looked at her sister expectantly. 

“Do you have the kid?” 

“Does it look like I have the kid?” 

“You know what I mean.” Nebula hissed. “The Black Order noticed that he’s gone. I think they’re onto us.” 

“I’ll get them off our tail, just make sure they don’t get to the kid.” Gamora ordered, receiving a quick nod from her sister. 

Nebula ran up to where the boy was and found him floating in the air and looking up at the ceiling with his eyes glowing gold. He was also holding a strange colorful glass sphere that had a strange white glow to it. She had seen the object before but it had never glowed. Moments later, the kid gently landed on the ground and his eyes faded a little. Now only his iris’ glowed. He smiled at her in that kind of optimistic way that somehow lightly eased the sense of dread she had ever since they came up with the plan. 

“What do you have?” She asked. 

“I have help.” Peter held out the hand that didn’t have the orb. In it was a glowing orange stone. Peter looked around the room before picking up a golden jeweled staff, He put the gem into the end of the staff and it started to glow with the same energy. 

“What is it going to do?”

“It’s going to send the king somewhere where we will never have to worry about him ever again. Can you help me get to him?”

“Yes. Stay behind me, don’t do anything stupid.” She ordered. Peter just shrugged. It took a little bit of waiting before he could actually do something, but now that he could, he was nervously ecstatic. 

While he was talking to the sorcerer supreme, he asked what it would mean for the kingdom if he were to reveal his magic and if his pseudo father took the throne. The man had just smiled at him and said that with the dragon king on the throne, they would be free. He said that he had seen what would happen to the kingdom with the Stark’s on the throne and reassured him that everything would be okay. 

All he had to do was defeat King Thanos. 

Piece of cake… 

_________

After Peter was taken away, Lord Stark felt sick to his stomach. What were they going to do to him? Did they know he had magic? Is he going to come back? Anthony was not a stranger to overthinking but this was a little excessive. He may have been spiraling. 

When Princess Gamora came back down without his kid, he only got more worried. He obviously wasn’t the only one by the sound of Harley and Riri’s frantic whispering. It was Margret who spoke first though. It was actually more of a demand. 

“Where is Peter! Where did you take my grandson!” Gamora looked at her calmly with a tiny hint of a smile behind her eyes. 

“Leave us! I have some words from the king for the Starks.” The heavily armed guards looked at each other before bowing to their princess and leaving the room. 

“Peter is safe, I’m getting you out.” She said when the king's guards were out of earshot. She took out a ring of keys and started to unlock Lord Stark’s cell. 

“Why are you helping us?” Margret asked. 

“Because… the king… stole me from my family and killed my parents in front of me. I never thought I would meet someone as powerful as him. And then I heard about the son of a knight that rose from the fire of dragons. And the rumor came to light that he made a horse grow wings and leave an entire camp of bandits dead on the ground.” Gamora started to unlock the other cells. 

“So you want us to kill the king?” Harley questioned as he was released. 

“No, I want him to.” Gamora turned to Anthony. 

_________

Thanos was in the throne room waiting for them. No visible guards and no weapons even though he clearly knew they were coming. Naturally, Lord Stark was pretty cautious. The king must have something up his sleeve. He would never just stay out in the open like that unless he genuinely didn’t know he was coming. Peter thought that was unlikely. 

The king was incredibly intelligent but as proud as the king of everything could be. The king had conquered everything. He had conquered everyone. Everyone except the Starks. No one could conquer the clan of dragons. At least not with Anthony as the head. 

The king was proud. He believed he knew what was best for everyone and was the ultimate authority. He believed himself to be a god. Everyone else was under him, either for him to crush or to force into compliance. He feared magic because there was a chance that people who had it could become more powerful than him. 

The king had the largest army of magic hating barbarians in the history of the kingdoms that forced those with magic to completely go into hiding. The initial massacre was massive and successfully make every magician fear the king. Even the Sorcerer Supreme disappeared. They got used to living in the shadows and never being safe. The genocide of Peter’s tribe was only another reminder that they were never safe from the king.    

After all of that, Peter stood in the throne room with only the king's youngest daughter behind him and a new powerful weapon that Peter barely knew the extent of. He didn’t know if Gamora was coming back or if Thanos’ personal guards were on their way.

It didn’t matter. Peter had so much rage pumping through his veins just seeing the king that it made his fear slip to the back of his mind. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t all his rage. It was the rage from the stone. The Sorcerer Supreme called it the ‘Soul Stone’ so Peter felt that the rage came from the souls of the magic users that Thanos had killed without mercy. He had never felt such fire in his soul. It was like the mind-numbing fear he felt when he watched all he had ever known burn to the ground was replaced with pure anger. 

Peter was never a destructive person but at that moment, looking into the king's soulless eyes, all he wanted to do was burn the castle to the ground and hope Thanos was burnt to a crisp in the process. His body felt too small for the unwavering rage inside of him. 

“Welcome back child, I was wondering who would be first to escape. You Stark’s, are quite… stubborn.”

“I think you messed with the wrong people. My people.” Peter growled. “And I think, it’s time for a change. A change in power.” 

Peter’s eyes glowed with the fury of every soul the king had destroyed. Every witch he had burned, every person defeated in battle, every civilian of every village he had set ablaze. Peter felt all of them. They were all with him in the little glowing stone. There was a lot of power in not being alone. There was a lot of power in so much pain. Peter was born from pain as all the Stark’s were. 

Golden ribbons of light sprouted from Peter’s skin. The energy swirled in the air and created an image around him. Lines of warm yellow power outlined a massive reptilian head in front of his own. Small curled horns grew from the forehead of the light creature and the rest of its body emerged from the base of its skull. Around Peter was the body of an adolescent dragon made out of magic. In a flash of light, the dragon gained scarlet and blue flesh and its golden eyes faded to reveal Peter’s warm brown ones.  

Dragon Peter roared and for a slim moment, he saw fear in the king's eyes. 

_______________

Once everyone got their weapons back, Lord Stark and Princess Gamora led the group up the stairs, heading towards the tower, where she last left Peter. Servants and maids hid behind doors and pressed themselves against the wall. But they weren’t afraid, they didn’t intervene. They didn’t tell any guards and only sent curious glances their way. 

Everything was tense but calm until there was the muffled sound of a screaming roar that Tony knew better than any person in the kingdoms. It was the roar of a dragon. He had no idea how a dragon got there and the slight shake of the grounds made his heart jump. 

“The boy-” Princess Nebula sprinted towards the group. “He went to confront Thanos.” 

“By himself?” Harley exclaimed. 

“That’s not exactly out of character for him,” Riri muttered. 

“A dragon is a little bit dramatic don’t you think?” Lady Virginia suggested. 

“He’s been hanging around us, what did you expect?” Anthony shrugged as they walked quickly to the large doorway leading to the throne room, which was more of a titanic hall than a room. It was large enough to hold a dragon pretty comfortably anyway. 

Gamora opened the door quickly to the sight of the back of a dragon the colors of Peter’s favorite outfit. Red and deep blue with a little bit of gold. The dragon whipped its head towards them and Lord Anthony got a glimpse of its eyes. They were brown and human. No dragon had brown eyes. No dragon had slitted pupils. This wasn’t just a dragon, it was Peter. 

“Kid?” The lord muttered as the dragon nodded. Dragon Peter then turned back to Thanos and roared again. The king himself had gotten a hold of a massive stone-crushing double-bladed sword and he held it in front of his stupid bald head as some sort of sheild from Peter’s burst of white-hot flames.

________

King Anthony Stark was not just a great man, but a great king. The kingdom sighed in relief when the previous king was confirmed dead and his daughters released from their torment. The specifications of which the tyrant king was defeated were only known to those who had laid eyes on the event. 

Followers of Thanos crept into the darkness and were sure to return but for the moment, the Starks were alive and at the center of the kingdom. The new royalty were mostly accepted among the people. The new king didn’t threaten them harshly if they questioned his questionable law. The new king had several advisors and was planning to have a group of qualified individuals at his side to help protect his kingdom. 

Witch hunters went out of business in a flash as the most aggressive magic hater was out of the picture. The new king spent a mountain of his fortune on keeping as many magic users safe as he could and banned hate crimes towards them as a whole. 

The deep violet and the golden fist that decorated the castle was replaced with rich scarlet and images of dragons. The fear that was gripping everyone under the king’s rule had eased and it was like the sun had risen for the first time in decades after everyone had gotten used to the constant darkness. 

Of course, just because the king was dethroned didn’t mean that all the evil was defeated. The black order had vanished and there were still plenty of allies of the old king that were hiding across the ends of the land. They would be back, the new king was sure of it, but they would bide their time. The Starks were powerful enough together that approching them now would be suicide. They defeated the single most powerful man in the land without the dragons they were known for. 

For now however, they were safe. Gamora had packed all of her things and was determined to find an adventure. She said goodbye to her sister before setting off on the dangerous roads towards the lands of Asgard. 

Nebula had nowhere to go and she wasn’t planning on following her sister wherever she was heading. King Stark was happy to let her stay until she decided on what she wanted. Unlike with Thanos, she had a choice. It meant more to her than the man who gave it to her would ever understand. 

Anthony didn’t expect to become the king when he left his castle, in fact, the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind until well after Thanos was defeated. He only wanted his family to be safe. Becoming king was not exactly part of his plan but with neither of the princesses wanting the throne and Lord Stark being part of the previous king’s assassination, was the obvious choice for the role. 

Of course, the Lord accepted, if not for the fact that anyone would be a better ruler than Thanos, but because he was wise enough not to rule alone. Anthony was aware that he would never know what was best for everyone. There were things that he didn’t understand. Things that he would never fully understand. Because of that, he had the idea of making a team, a ‘knights of the round table’ kind of team. He wanted to get the best of everyone and they would help him protect his kingdom. 

King Anthony Stark sent out the wax-sealed invitation letters only a day after being crowned King by Princess Nebula herself. No one else was qualified and it implied a peaceful transition of power even though Thanos wasn’t exactly dethroned peacefully. 

And so, the reign of the titan king was ended and the dragon kings began. As long as the dragon king sat upon the throne, there would be light.