#her powers are a bit more pronounced so she can just talk to her folks telepathically

[decktech-vis]

homesick

remember who you're fighting for

BONUS: paula dont need no phone

[alpaca-clouds]

Analyzing the New Nocturne Trailer

Alright: I promised some folks yesterday to make an analysis for the new trailer - so I am going to do just that. Fair warning: this will not have a whole lot of historical details, because I think there is just not enough about historical context in this trailer to talk about that. So more... general influences and speculations.

We start the trailer off with Emmanuel standing by a grave during what is either a night or still the eclipse caused by Erszebeth. It is impossible to say. Sadly, there does not seem to be any name on the gravestone (if it even is that), so it is hard to say who it could be. Someone on a server speculated that it might be the empty grave of Tera's sister (I doubt she managed to drag the body from Russia to France), which I could see. It could also be that we learn something more about Emmanuel's backstory.

From all we got implied, Emmanuel joined with the Knights Hospitaller when they were on Malta, so he was not with them in Jerusalem. We can also say that he is Frenchman. So there is something going on with him giving him the background of him and the hospitaller.

Something else of note: This grave is underneath a Wisteria tree. And Wisteria's are connected either to youth/something new or it is a symbolism for a deep devotion. The latter probably fitting rather well with Emanuel.

Next we have these few frames of Erszebeth in her lion form fighting Richter. Something that is interesting to me in this one: It almost feels here as if Erszebeth has no control over her power. Which would make sense, because it is heavily implied that she stole Sekmet's powers by drinking from Sekmet.

I am spitballing here, but something tells me that Olrox has drunken from Quetzalcoatl in a consensual way (almost guessing it was so that a dying god could live on), while in Erszebeth's case it was more an act of colonialism of some sort.

We have next these two very short flashes. Richter down on the ground and bleeding - and then Tera attacking. The trailer of course implies that Tera is implying a Richter who went down. But the background is different. Tera is somewhere in the forest in what appears to be some celtic ruins (more on that a bit later), while Richter is on some city street.

I am fairly certain actually that the Richter scene is fairly late in the season.

We then have the eclipse ending. I am very interested to know the context of this. It seemed in season 1 as if Erszebeth wanted to keep the eclipse just eternally to protect her vampires - but maybe she also understands that she cannot do that given she has also human followers.

We also see Maria (probably in the company of everyone else) hiding out at some ruins.

If I was going to hazard a guess, this is a scene within the first 5 minutes of episode 1.

We have then a few quick shots of first Richter, Annette and Alucard together. Then one of Richter fighting what is clearly Drolta. And then one... that could be either Drolta or Tera from the clothing. Though given that Richter has the same ripped off sleeves as in the Drolta fight, I am gonna assume it is Drolta.

This goes doubly, because the background here is the same as in the fight of Alucard and Drolta later in the trailer.

The we have another grave scene with flower imagery. In this case we have Juste in front of a grave. Once more there is no name to be seen on the grave, but I have seen a lot of speculation - based on what happens in the game - that it might be Lydie's grave, while Maxim is either a vampire or a werewolf now.

We will see, I guess.

There was also a discussion on the server on what the tree was. Is it plum or cherry. I am gonna say, this is a Kanzan cherry tree, given that the stigma is not as pronounced as it would be in a plum flower. And the Japanese cherry tree is obviously a symbol of fleeting youth and fleeting beauty.

Then we have a shot with Erszebeth mustering her new army. Notable about this is that Erszebeth is back to her normal vampire form in this shot - and that it seems now that she has a whole lot more night creatures now. Has Emmanuel figured out how to createm ore night creatures, or if she has found another way to acquire night creatures. We will see.

We have also several scenes of our main characters in this building. There are several shots of this. And this does not seem to be Tera's home, given that the windows look different, if I am not fully mistaken. So that leaves us the question: Where are they here? Who allows them to stay with them?

Then we have these shots of Alucard on a warfield surrounded by soldiers. We see later that they are fighting against the vampires lead by Drolta, who is not dead. (I might note: As I said. I told y'all that Drolta was not dead. It was obvious.)

Notable about this scene is that Alucard is surrounded by Republican Soldiers. So soldiers who are loyal to the revolution. While at this time the royal soldiers and the revolutionary soldiers wore fairly similar uniforms, the hats are notably different.

So we can tell from this, that our heroes manage to get the revolutionary forces up to Machecoul. I am wondering how that is going to happen. Who will get this support?

Either way, I am gonna hazard another guess: This is from the last two episodes of the season.

Something that seemingly also happens on the battle field is Alucard attacking these three figures. All three are dark-skinned and Alucard attacks them. Two of them also clearly wear ancient egyptian garbs. And that implies they are somehow connected to Sekmet, either through Drolta or Erszebeth. I am really interested to see what is up with this.

I said this before: The reason I was fairly certain that Drolta was still alive was two fold. One: Drolta is Katie Silva's favorite character. lol Two: Drolta is clearly very heavily connected to how Erszebeth has gotten access to the blood of Sekmet, given that we know that Drolta was a priestess of Sekmet. So she kinda has to survive given that she will be important to understanding Erszebeth. :P

I am still somewhat wondering whether she will be loyal to Erszebeth and such.

Then we have some shots of Richter and Annette fighting some night creatures (though one of them might also be Drolta in a monster form - we will see - given it has the same tail as her, and hooves). One of the fights is happening in the church again.

Then we have this scene of Juste and Tera fighting. Again, this is a celtic place, given the stones - and I am fairly certain that this is the same place where Maria has her little revolutionary meeting in episode 1 of the first season. We had those celtic stones standing around there as well. Which is obviously interesting given the themes of colonization and the fact that they have been colonized as well.

It is obviously also interesting that Juste is fighting Tera - clearly to take this from the kids.

Something several people have already noticed though is that Tera in these scenes seems to be under some sort of control. Her eyes are flat and empty.

I might also remind you though, that we have so far very little information on how vampires and fledglings work in this world. In a lot of vampire media it also is a theme that fledgling vampires in the first months/years of their life being fairly hard to control and more animal than person. This might be a possibility here, too.

It could be that Tera is controlled by Erszebeth, but it could also just be that she is a fledgling in a sort of blood frenzy or something like that.

Then we have this scene with Maria and Seiryu in the church. It is clear from Maria's gaze here, that she is either in a deep shock, or really, really angry. From all we know she never summoned Seiryu before. And we see also that the portal she summons Seiryu through is nothing like the other portals she uses which are light and golden.

However, this portal is a lot like the one we see on the poster that went around yesterday, where a bear comes through the portal.

Now, I am fairly certain that with the summons they go with the same direction that I and a lot of other writers use: The summons she is using are somehow connected to the otherworld, which in this probably connects not only celtic spirits and fae, but pretty much similar concepts from all around the world.

But the thing is, as I said: The bear usually in East Asian mythology is a shorthand for "a god". And of course dragons in Asian mythology are also minor gods. And I am going to assume that this does tie in once more with the theme that we clearly have: Divine bloodlines. This is a divine bloodline as well, that ties Maria to the Asian spiritual gods.

But she is very much not in control over those powers yet.

We know that she never knew how her magic worked. She explains that much in episode 2 of the first season. And given that this is so clearly a theme of Nocturne... Yeah, that is going to be tied to that.

Then we also have this shot of Drolta and her knew outfit. I will be honest, I have nothing much to say about that. She once more has the horns - and again: Drolta is not a vampire, she is a succubus. And as such we do not know what kind of rules might apply to her.

As you might notice on the screenshot above: It is fairly bright in the background. And she does not use anything to protect herself from the sunlight.

Then we have another scene of Olrox holding back Mizrak, which is notably the only time we see either character in the trailer. (It should be noted that Edouard, my baby boy, is completely absent from the trailer. Q-Q) It is fairly hard to say what the context of the scene is. So far I do not see anohter scene with a similar background, so it is really hard to say.

Some part of me is going to assume that Mizrak might be the reason that the revolutionary forces are there for the big battle. But that is once more just me spitballing. He just seems to be the most likely character to get those soldiers there.

Then we have several scenes of Drolta fighting. Some of the shorts show her on the battle field, some of them are her and Alucard (who shape shifts into a bat swarm during it). And once again: I am fairly certain that the earlier scene of Richter on the ground happens in the same scene of Alucard and the shape shifting here.

Again: I am going to assume that Drolta will probably show up in episode 3 or 4 again, after the fakeout death, and that they will have some bad fights against her and Erszebeth, and that the revolutionary forces will show up for the finale of the season. That would make the most sense from a writing perspective.

Lastly we have also this shot of Richter. This also probably happens in the context of the Drolta dight, as it is fairly clear he looses his sleeves in that fight.

But yeah, that is so far all I could get from the trailer.

Cannot wait for season 2.

Also: I am very sad that I did not get to see my baby boy Edouard. Where is my son?!

[wallflowerimagines]

*TW PERIOD MENTION*

If you're comfortable with this, could you do some hcs for the lords (but mainly moreau) with an s/o who gets HORRIBLE period cramps? Like they're literally writhing in pain and even after they take pain meds it's still miserable. Only do this if you feel comfortable of course, I totally understand if you dont want to do it❤

Hi, sorry folks, I bumped this to the top of the list, cuz I don't know if it's time sensitive for you, hope it brings comfort❤️ (Moreau's will have some extra)

TW: Period Mention, Reader is still Gender Neutral

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah, she remembers those. She hasn't had to deal with one in a long while, due to her mutation, but even for her the experience was not pleasant.

This, however, looks very different.

Alcina cannot imagine the pain you must be in. You are curled into yourself on the couch, humming in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain, and you might try to hide them but she can see the tear tracks on your face.

Alcina takes care of you. Any of her day to day tasks can and will wait-- you are far more important. She doesn't leave the room unless you ask her to, and the Maids aren't let into the room unless it is to bring HER the things she needs to take care of you.

She will do whatever you need from her, no question. Cuddles, heated blankets, she will even read aloud to you as a distraction. Pro tip--her hands can get pretty chilly, and if you're someone who does well with ice packs, her hands work 100% better to cool off your skin.

Don't worry about her loosing control at the smell of blood--you are obviously in pain and she has far too much self control to let a little bit of blood bother her. (But depending on how hungry her daughters are, they might not be let in the room unless they have fed recently)

She will also use her contact with the Duke to find you a proper doctor. It's not normal for you to be in this much pain. Dearest, it doesn't matter if someone else has said there's nothing more to be done-- she's getting you a competent Doctor to get a second opinion.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is panicking.

Lady Beneviento is stressed the hell out by seeing you in pain--she hates it. You're lying in a pile of blankets on the floor, unable to be even the slightest bit comfortable because of the pain, and in such obvious agony that your hands are shaking.

Still, she's more than ready to make you feel better. Other than pain pills and more traditional treatment, Donna firmly believes in the power of distraction.

She will use books, movies, heck with your permission she might even use the pollen to craft a hallucination for you to help take the pain away.

(Ethan's encounter with the demon fetus was able to cause him enough harm that he felt it, Donna would definitely try to see if she could use her powers to trick your brain into not feeling as much pain)

She will also be attached to you at the hip, if you need space or can't be touched during your period, you need to tell her up front. She'll be very clingy when you are this miserable.

A little self indulgence here: while Donna does like her tea, she makes a KILLER hot chocolate. If chocolate brings you joy during your period, she has a constant, steady supply of it sent up to your room.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore engages Doctor mode immediately. For you to be in this much pain is both not normal and completely unacceptable. He's going to do his best to help.

This man absolutely used to be the Village doctor before his mutation, and as a result does Know His Shit. His siblings and mother may infantilize him to a certain degree, but that is mainly because Moreau's main issues are short term memory problems and his obsessive devotion to Mother Miranda that can make him regress. He's still competent as a doctor, and if he needs to reference anything, he still has some copies of medical textbooks.

He was also a Small Town Doctor, meaning he knows how to treat pain without access to traditional medicine, since often times he didn't have access to it.

It doesn't matter if you're not a tea person, you're still getting tea, made with herbs you don't know the name of and couldn't pronounce even if you did.

He doubles this up with more traditional pain relief methods like extra strength ibuprofen and heated compresses on the area. He might even talk you into doing a few exercises--it can help a lot with pain relief.

Still, when he's caring for you, sometimes he has to leave the room. He uses getting you a glass of water or another blanket as an excuse, but it's really so he can take a deep breath and center himself. Moreau is an empathetic man who loves you to pieces, and watching you cry silently into a pillow just...hurts.

Salvatore also does his best to distract you with anything he has on hand, mostly movies. While you two might normally playfully argue about which ones to watch, he will absolutely defer to you. I would recommend taking this time to watch a scary movie if you're a horror fan, there's literally no other time where Moreau would let you get away with it.

He is at your side constantly, and will only give you space if you ask for it. Even then, he will pop back in every few hours to check in.

Now for Fluff stuff: If you're not careful and watch him like he watches you, Moreau will run himself ragged trying to keep you comfortable.

The best solution to preventing this is coaxing him into bed with you. He might let out a couple of token protests, but one look at your pleading face takes all the fight right out of him.

He will cuddle up to you as close as possible and rub little circles into your back or stomach, whatever feels best. If you two are face to face, you can start to feel yourself relax in time with his breathing, and both of you slowly drift off to sleep together.

It's the best you've felt in days ❤️

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is just... So lost...

You are writhing in agony in your bed, sobbing into a pillow, and so obviously suffering. He HATES to see you like this, because you're hurting and he doesn't know how to fix it.

Karl wants to hurt the things that hurt you, but when it's your own body rebelling against you and causing you pain...He wants to make it better for you but he can't.

He swallowed his pride IMMEDIATELY and called Moreau to the factory. Heisenberg might consider The Lord of the Reservoir to be a little slow in the head, but he used to be a doctor, and Karl is taking zero chances with your health.

He also pops by the Duke to pick up any kind of pain relief possible--Karl literally brings back 8 different brands of acetaminophen, hot water bottles, cocaine, opium, and enough alcohol to give an elephant a blackout. (Maybe he can get you to pass out long enough that you'll sleep through the worst of it?)

You will have to ask directly for cuddles if you want them--as handsy and clingy as Heisenberg is, he is so Bad At Feelings that he will just hover in the corner and work on projects to keep his hands busy. He doesn't know if you want to be touched, and is afraid to ask...but he really wants to keep an eye on you anyway.

[thepringlesofblood]

Flinging My Opinions Into The Feed Season Finale: Fugitive Telemetry

me: yay I finished all the murderbot diaries now I can interact with fan content without worrrying about spoilers!

also me: oh no i finished the murderbot diaries there’s no more canon content to read aaaaahhhh

i fucking love a murder mystery and this bitch’s no different. highlights under the cut but basically

The day is beautiful. Kevin R. Free. My longtime companion. Has finally, finally learned how to pronounce “holo” correctly. I hit the “go back 15 seconds” button like 5 times to make sure I heard correctly, but “hole-oh” is no more - “hall-oh” reigns supreme. give him a hand folks!!!   

(i hope this doesn’t sound too sarcastic I’m genuinely excited and I love Kevin R Free and his work and this one was bomb as always thank you Kevin)


Ratthi and Gurathin were born to be goofy sidekicks, I love it so so much. especially bc it shows that humans have social anxiety too, I never expected to relate to Gurathin this much!

usually with a murder mystery you have the old grizzled detective and the bright optimistic rookie and they have to learn to get along, but what’s great about this is that mb and indah are BOTH the old grizzled detective and BOTH see each other as the rookie

Pin Lee still owns my soul, in related news. “everyone else gets to choose whether to have a feed ID. consensually, one might say” iconic we love her

that bit about mensah buying mb drones so it can “fully interact with its environment” i’m not crying you’re crying plus mb being like “clearly this is a bribe” like no dude she wants you to have the accommodations you need bc she cares about you

it’s probably no surprise that I would die for JollyBaby. I decided this when it privately messaged mb to let it in on the inside joke, a kindness most humans don’t often think of

when mb goes up to Tellus like “you don’t have to pretend to be human around me” fuck man the allegory. lately I found out my cousin was autistic and I felt a similar emotion of “thank god, I don’t have to pretend to be neurotypical around you”

I love that when restricted to not hacking, mb’s strategy is to just go up to bots and politely ask them things. and it works! 
we’ve seen it before but it was peak quality in FT

martha wells, what exactly do you think counts as a swear in the future? drop your location i just want to talk

I don’t know if I’ll ever be over the moment when JollyBaby smashes Balin and all the bots in the area are gathered around looking at it like “we know what you are, and we know what you did.” 


its just such a powerful show of solidarity that I don’t think mb has ever experienced and shows that the bots of the station have social links same as humans and idk it just fuckin gets to me

Tural is just trying to do their job and is so much chiller around mb than indah and I love them

speaking of, indah. damn, now that’s what I call and interesting and complicated character. 


mb is always thinking 5 steps ahead about what looks suspicious and what doesn’t look suspicious and trying to avoid suspicion which makes it that much more hilarious when it acts INCREDIBLY SUSPICIOUSLY without meaning to 


I’m sure there’s more rattling around my brain somewhere, but for now I will leave you with a meme

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

[scarletaire]

homeland (Chapter 6)

A/N: Here we are at the end! And Cardan isn't quite done surprising Jude just yet.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: E

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description: 

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.”

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3

“This is a stupid idea.”

“Have you known me to have any other kind?”

He has her there. Jude tugs at the blindfold around her eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“To the beginning and the end of all this.”

“What does that –” Her voice cuts off as the boat rocks precariously beneath her. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You like very little, Jude, and that is a problem of yours.”

I was stupid enough to like you, she almost says. Instead she asks, “Why did we have to take a boat? More importantly, why are you the one rowing? You’re the king.” The boat rocks again, and Jude finds herself thinking longingly for a ragwort steed. Steady, secure, reliable — or, well, as reliable as Vivi’s magic allowed them to be.

“Crossing the water myself proves a fine reminder of my position to those who yearn otherwise.”

“A power play? That’s what you woke me up so early for? Cardan, there are a thousand more things that need my attention back at the brugh.”

It was still light out when she’d felt lips behind her ear, nuzzling her awake. They had probably been asleep for a mere few hours at most. She’d woken up slowly and sweetly, like dragging a spoon through thick syrup, with Cardan curled around her — arms, legs, and tail — and his mouth soft on her neck. It was such a stark contrast to how she’d woken up the previous night that Jude melted right back into his embrace, her body heavy and worn out in the best way possible.

But then he was pulling away, coaxing her to get dressed, murmuring into her skin that he had something to show her.

Promising that she would like it.

The fae cannot lie, but that last part has yet to come true.

“I’m taking this blindfold off.”

“Jude –”

She can hear the petulance in his voice and that just makes her rip the stupid thing off even faster.

It turns out that “crossing the water himself” doesn’t much include actual rowing on his part. Instead, iridescent, aquamarine scales flash across the surface of the water underneath them, their movement rippling and propelling the boat forward.

Merfolk.

Pulling their vessel on his whim.

A power play, indeed.

Jude raises an eyebrow at him, impressed despite it all. He continues to pout at her and the blindfold in her hand.

Then, something catches in her mind.

“Salt and seafoam…”

“Hm?”

“Your nightmare.” She’s staring at him now, understanding how it fits together but not quite believing it. “You said that when you dove into the sea and couldn’t find me anywhere, it was because there was nothing left of me but ‘salt and seafoam.’”

“Yes.” The word is like water on burning coals.

“You –” The sentence is inconceivable even when she tries to form it in her mouth. “Have you… have you been reading fairytales? Human fairytales?”

He scoffs. “Nothing Faerie about them.”

A yes, then.

“So –” She’s known about him reading Alice in Wonderland and even wondered at the way he had kept the mortal book in his rooms. It boggles her mind like this next thought does. “So…” How does she say this? She has no clever ruse with which to coat her words, and so she gives up and goes for direct. “The Little Mermaid. That’s what caused your nightmare?”

He cuts her a look, like she’s being stupid. “No, Jude, your kidnapping and prolonged torture at the hands of my brother and the Undersea while I waited powerless and unable to help you was the cause of my nightmare. And many more of its kind before it.”

She doesn’t much like how he speaks to her like he’s explaining something to a child, but she holds her sharp tongue and wields her silence against him.

“But fine.” He doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yes. The mortal tale about the moronic mermaid and her wayward prince may have… exacerbated any woes I may have already been carrying. Don’t know why I bothered,” he grumbles under his breath. “I hate stories.”

“No,” she says, thinking of the way he fancies himself a villain even though he hasn’t truly been one in a long time, “you don’t.��

He looks pointedly over her shoulder. “We’re here.”

And Jude turns her head to see where it is that he has brought her this morning.

She has to shield her eyes a little from the amount of sunlight that refracts off the massive stretch of sparkling sand in front of her.

No, not sand. Ash.

She knows where they are.

Insear.

The beginning and the end of all this, he said.

When they disembark, Cardan holds out his hand to guide her from the boat.

She doesn’t need his help.

She takes his hand anyway.

There is still something of last night humming underneath their skin, and so if they lean into each other’s warmth and stumble across the shimmering shores of the Isle of Ash, a little lovedrunk while they walk — well. There is nary a soul to see.

It’s somehow even more beautiful in the daylight. And with Cardan here, the island seems to unfurl even further, coming alive just a little bit more the moment he steps onto the soil. The air turns sweeter the farther inland they go, the blues and ivories and blacks of the native flowers populating everywhere they turn. When Jude looks back at their footfalls upon the ash, she sees little sprigs of myrtle springing up from the indents they leave behind.

“There’s something I want to check on,” she says when they reach the thicker parts of the forest. “I’ll come find you again.”

“As you like.” Cardan’s gaze is caught on something up ahead. “Dally not, wife.”

When Jude returns to the clearing where they had encountered the fallen falcons the previous night, she finds no trace of them save a single, tawny feather in their wake.

A token.

She pockets it with a smile.

That same smile fades far too fast when she comes back to find Cardan reaching out a hand towards a shrub of suspiciously familiar, dark-petaled flowers.

She’s between him and the shrub in seconds, pushing him away a little too violently.

In that moment, she was more seneschal than queen. And in the next, when her fingers tighten around his lapels out of their own accord, she is more wife than seneschal.

“Did you touch it?” Panic raises her voice. “Did you get any of it on you?”

“No. I didn’t recognize the flora –”

“Idiot, that’s probably the flower that poisoned me.” She’s checking his hands, his clothes, for traces of shimmering, black pollen.

“Is it?” He plucks one and raises it to his face before she can stop him.

“Cardan –”

“Peace, Jude. It cannot harm its maker.”

And Jude pauses, because it’s true. This flower, this island and everything on it, is Cardan’s creation. He is the root, and as he has proven last night, he is also the remedy.

A beat passes between them, and then: “Did it really have to take a noxious, mood-altering flower for you to tell me about my brother?”

Jude scowls at the insinuation. “I was going to.” She weighs the next sentence in her head. “It’s just… easier to talk to someone when you don’t give a crap what they think.”

The human word is out of her mouth before she can reel it back in, but Cardan nods.

“Yes, I think I can understand that.”

She watches him twirl the flower in his hand. With his dark hair and eyes and clothes, it is without the shadow of a doubt that he created it, that it sprung forth from him and his magic. It belongs with him; it is him. She can imagine it pinned to his collar, petals of black glitter, an extension of his essence.

“We should inform the Bomb. Tell her that an antidote won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Cardan grins at her like they are old friends trading a secret joke. “I can think of a few ways that an antidote could be useful.”

And Jude feels a thrill up her spine, because there is something conspiratorial in his voice, like he’s letting her in on his plan, like they are in it together, and maybe she enjoys that more than she thought she ever would. Having a partner.

“Scheming, are you?”

“I learned from the best.”

He is always more than what she thinks he is.

“That flower is connected to you. This whole island is, actually.”

“To us,” he corrects immediately, and she marks the strange note in his voice. “The island is connected to us.”

“Me, by extension,” she concedes. “But you raised this island with your own magic.”

He sighs then, as if a great burden has befallen him. “I suppose it now falls to me to name this flower, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you don’t have to name it now. We can always come back later –”

“Bitterblack,” he pronounces solemnly and somberly, and with a swiftness and surety that couldn’t possibly be borne of extemporization.“This bloom, flourishing upon the Isle of Ash, the land raised from my own bitterness, shall henceforth be known as bitterblack.”

“Um.” Jude blinks at his pomp. “Okay. Raised from your bitterness?”

“The birth of Insear marked the moment I deemed the crimes of the Undersea – against you, and against the crown — unforgivable. It was a bitter heart that sowed the seeds of this land. Perhaps it is only fitting that it was a full one that healed its poisons.”

Cardan casts her a sidelong look. He has a way of almost smiling, like the edge of moonlight peeking through the spidersilk canopy of their bed. A gossamer thing, but the light shines through.

A shame that this island will have to go belong to someone else, when she will forever remember Cardan here with her, looking at her like that.

“You brought me here to show me something.”

“Yes.” And oddly enough, his smile freezes a little. Jude narrows her eyes at it.

He leads her towards another clearing among the birches, tucking the bitterblack behind one pointed ear. There is more space here, and the air is crisp and clean, threaded through with the scent of salt and sunshine. The birches stand tall, but the sun reaches high enough to set the ash dusting the tops of the trees afire with crystal brilliance.

“What is this?”

His tail flicks once behind him. “The solution to the Insear claim.”

“What? Wait. You mean you knew how to resolve it all along? Randalin was right. You have been putting it off.”

“Not putting it off, waiting for the right time.”

“It’s been going on for weeks.”

Cardan shoots her a look. “I was supposed to ask you during the revel.”

The events of the revel — and the way it had ended, with Randalin bleeding in her chokehold — play out in her head. “Oh.”

He waves his hand. “No matter. It wouldn’t be the first time you caused a scene in front of the entire kingdom anyway.”

Jude crosses her arms. “Alright, let’s hear it, then. Tell me now so that we can put this whole thing behind us.”

He hesitates.

“Come on. Explain your solution.”

“This isn’t how I planned for this to go.”

“Planned for this to – Cardan. Just spit it out already.”

“Alright, fine,” he hisses. “I want to build a home with you. Here, on Insear.”

For a long moment, Jude wonders if she heard him right.

“Are you drunk?” Even though he couldn’t possibly be.

“I wish.”

“But the claim –”

“Is ours. Rightfully.” He raises his brow at her. “This island is connected to us, raised by my own magic. Isn’t that what you said?”

She stares at him.

“You know how this works, right?” Exasperation is clear in his voice. “I ask you to make a home with me on a new magical island, and you set yourself upon me, your acquiescence falling delightfully from your lips –”

“I do nothing delightfully, Cardan.”

“Oh, I could make a good argument otherwise.”

The entirety of last night, every sordidly delightful detail, flashes behind her eyes.

She clings to any rational thought she can find. “We already have a castle.” She thinks of the brugh, the entire sprawling mass of it. “A really big one.”

“Yes. And the Palace of Elfhame is the first place the High King and Queen should be. But often, it is also the last. A royal castle is just as much a royal warground.” He gives her a meaningful look. “As you and the rest of my family are well aware.”

Jude swallows. “What are you saying?”

“Our brugh will be the first place we make a home of, as monarchs. But it doesn’t have to be the only one.”

He turns her to face the clearing. His arms come around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as they gaze out into a landscape stolen straight from the pages of a book.

“We could build something. Right here, in this glade. Where we don’t have to worry about anything. Where nothing else can touch us. We’ll close it off. We’ll come whenever we want. No spies, no interruptions, no watching our backs.”

And Jude recognizes the way he is holding her, because it’s the same way he held her in their secret room behind the throne, confessing the truths of his nightmares. “This is about protection.”

She feels him shrug. “A part of it, yes. Mostly I just want us to never be interrupted again. But there is power in protection. Wouldn’t you like that, Jude?”

Her head is swimming, because he’s put ideas into her brain, of waking up to the smell of birchwood and of walking along a glittering, moonlit shore — and they’re wonderful, damn him. If she’s being honest, those ideas came to her the moment she first stepped foot on Insear, like something in her had taken root in its sparkling soil, but she hadn’t let herself linger over them, knowing that the land would soon be treatied away.

But now, it’s like Cardan’s words have opened the floodgates, and her entire being, connected to Insear through his magic – their magic – thrums with the song of I could live here, I could thrive here, I belong here, and she aches with the rightness of it all.

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she admits, and doing so feels like she’s left her flank vulnerable during an open duel. She twists around in his arms quickly, before she can dwell on it. “But let’s get one thing clear.” Her fingers fist into his collar. “This nonsense about my being your weakness, that’s your problem. Not mine. I refuse to be held back by your fears.”

He nods with more gravity than is probably required. “And I could never ask it of you.”

“Then what do you ask of me now?” And because so much has changed between the two of them, because of everything that has led up to this moment, she adds, “What do you ask of me now and forever?”

He cups her face in his hands even as her fingers tighten on his shirt. “That you stay by my side. Through it all.” His mouth crooks self-deprecatingly. “And that you do not begrudge it too much that I miss you when you’re gone. That I worry. That I fear. Not because you are human, but because I hold you in my heart.”

She hates how swiftly her breath leaves her.

“Okay,” she says, more to steady herself than anything else, because this is a lot, and she’s never been good with dealing with a lot of feelings all at once. “Okay. I –”

“The rest of the kingdom belongs to the crown.” He presses closer, as if he can see her weakening. He takes a breath. “This… this could be ours. Just for us.”

“This island is too big for just the two of us.”

“No, Jude.” The look on his face is a little pained. “Us.”

A breath. A slice of time separating this moment into a before and after.

He isn’t talking about just the two of them. He’s talking about –

“Oh,” she breathes. “Us.”

“Only –” He’s scrambling a little now, she can see it. “Only if you want them.”

Them. Plural.

Jude sways a little. She’s not prepared for this. He should’ve warned her or something, because she doesn’t know how many surprises she can take in such a short amount of time.

Cardan is looking at her funny and she realizes she’s been quiet for too long. Something moves at the corner of her vision, and she realizes it’s his tail, flicking back and forth with the nervousness that he doesn’t show on his face.

“I want –” she begins, and he stills immediately, as if he could live or die on the next words that leave her mouth. “Okay. I don’t actually know what I want. I haven’t really had time to think about it. I want to talk about this. I do. And we’ll have to talk about it one day. But today, I don’t know if — if I know how, today.”

“Very well.” He says the words like he’s learning the shape of them on his tongue for the first time.

“It’s not a ‘no,’” she says quickly, before he gets the wrong idea. “It’s a ‘someday.’ Someday, you can ask me about children again. And in the meantime, I’ll think about when I can say yes. Deal?”

He touches her cheek, gentle, too gentle. “Deal.”

And all too late, she remembers the rule that she’s lived by all her life, the rule she’s broken time and time again when it came to this bewildering, beautiful boy that has made a place for himself between the stained-glass shards of her heart — never make a bargain with a faerie — because really, really, he shouldn’t be smiling like that, not like she’s given him the world when she’s barely even agreed to anything.

“Did you really plan a revel just to ask me about all this?”

“Yes. And you ruined it by taking a slice out of the Minister of Keys.”

Jude can’t help it. She throws her head back and laughs. “You’re a disaster.”

He glares, but there is no heat to it. “Only because you render me into one.”

Then something clicks into place. Something Tatterfell said while lacing her up in the dress he designed for her. For the king’s sake.

“Tatterfell knows.”

“She was most knowledgeable in your living preferences. How you like your room. Your furnishings. Your floors. I decided that I might know them, too.” He glances at the open space before them, at the sheer potential of it all. “Just in case.”

“We’ve been married for months. You could have asked me.”

“Would you have taken me seriously?”

She changes the subject, because he has her there. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while.” Another shrug, less carefree this time. “Almost as long as the nightmares have come to me.”

Something hard glints in his eyes, and Jude recognizes the sharp lines of revenge if only because she has worn it too many times on her own face.

“All of this was as much a scheme,” he admits, “as it was a proposal to you. For to take a land borne of bitterness and remake it into a land of bliss, it would be –”

“The ultimate power play,” Jude finishes for him.

He grins down at her. It is heady, the realization that only she knows the true, full depths of her husband’s wickedness.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with blissful homes.” She feels the sudden urge to make sure he knows this. That he understands. It’s as much of a promise as she knows how to make. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about keeping one.”

“Nor I. We’ll have to learn together. Knowing you, there’ll be plenty of knives involved. But I think it starts,” he says, gathering her closer, “just like this.”

And when Cardan kisses her, Jude is sure that this is what conquerors must feel like. Because for years, she has fought for her place in Faerie, fought and bled and killed to belong somewhere.

And here it is.

Here it is, and she could dream entire worlds in his arms.

But she doesn’t have to. She has a whole world spread out before her already.

It’s a land of magic, raw and untested, ready to be discovered. A land of possibility, of infinite potential, waiting to be shaped by their hands. A land where sunlight grows and wayward falcons find peace. A land where the future blooms in full color, one amongst the thousands of flowers.

And it is theirs.

Their homeland.

______

Chapter Visuals:

Myrtle. (Love and partnership, marriage.)

End Links:

Everything: an edit.

His Door. (Cardan POV drabble, post-homeland.)

_______   

End Note:

This fic represents a lot of firsts for me: my first completed multi-chaptered story, my first time (heh again) trying my hand at smut, but most importantly, my first time encountering some of the nicest, most thoughtful people as readers.

If you’ve read and followed this little fic of mine up until the end, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s been an absolute honor to have readers like you. ❤️ I've learned so much from writing this little fic that could, and I hope to continue to grow as a writer. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey and bringing so much value to the fic writing experience – kudos, comments, and your wonderful insights and all. 

As always, you can find me and my open ask box on tumblr. 

Much love to you, always!

________

Tagging: @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks​

* Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics (Jurdan or other fandoms!) and it would be my absolute honor to do so!

[spidernerdsblog]

I Forgot That You Existed : Epilogue

A/N: . And this is the end of the series really enjoyed writing this. Hope you all enjoyed it too. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Tom Holland × Singer reader

Summary : It’s been more than five years since you and Tom have gone their own ways after a heartbreaking breakup which had left both of you shattered. Both of you thought that you were finally over with each other and were happy in your respective lives until you meet again at a reunion trip planned by your best friend and you realize you are still not done with each other.

Warnings : mild swearing.

Mini Playlist : London boy and Lover by Taylor Swift

"The news is just loving you." You chuckled sitting on the kitchen counter scrolling on your phone. Tom grimaced. 

"Just check out the headlines" 

Trouble in paradise 

Wedding a PR stunt? You read out. 

"My PR team is so pissed at me right now they are on the edge to handle this whole mess." 

You were scrolling through your feed as you stumbled upon a photo of yours with Tom posted by a fan account. It was a recent photograph from the carnival where you are seen holding hands walking through the crowd. It was a backshot but it did leave little to anyone's imagination that it was you and Tom. Whoever posted it wrote with the caption. 

Is it?? Are they?? OMG!! 😲😍

"Oh fuck me!!" You cursed. 

"Darling I would love to do that but I'm sort of busy right now with making you breakfast." You gave him a dirty look and shoved your phone to his face. 

"Look at this." Tom was puzzled at first then slowly his eyes widened with shock as he took a look at the photo. 

"What the fuck!!" 

"I'm so dead Alex is gonna eat me alive." You face palmed. 

"How did they even get this?" 

"How can I know?! Someone must have spotted us and clicked it." 

"What do we do now? There is no way people are gonna believe that we aren't in a relationship." 

"I'm in no place to take in the hate so…" you got busy with your phone. 

"Wait what are you doing?" 

"Nothing just desperate times calls for desperate measures." Being in this industry one thing you have realized is that people will believe anything posted online and Alex has taught you a few tricks to handle these kinds of situations. So before people start making a fuss about that photo you decided to share some photos from the vacation on your Instagram. The first photo you posted was of you, Tom and Harrison which you captioned 

Best friends for life!!💕🍻

You posted a few more including one from the carnival too. 

"Well disaster averted temporarily. We can clarify things further in interviews."You winked, showing him your phone. Tom stood in between your legs wrapping his hands around your waist. 

"My girlfriend is a genius." 

"That I am." You smirked. 

"Can't you stay a little longer?" he pouted. 

"Tom are you serious? I already extended my stay by one week for you. If I stay any further Alex will just kill me. And don't you have a press tour coming up?"

"Yeah fine will miss you though."

"Me too" you pecked his lips. 

"By the way I was serious about that before, you know in the kitchen." he drew circles on your skin. 

"I didn't say no either" you bite your lower lip batting your eyelashes innocently. Tom tightened his grip on your waist, peppering you with kisses on your neck you squeaked as he lifted you from the counter. 

Three Years later….. 

"Y/N just relax." Zendaya said. You were pacing in your bridal suite. 

"I can't, this is just too much to handle, do you think I should run away? Tom will understand right?" you blabbered. 

"Y/N it's totally normal to get cold feet for the bride to be before her marriage." Elysia tried to calm you down. 

"And if you faint on the aisle, your maid of honor and the other bridesmaids will be honored to catch you." Zendaya chuckled. 

"Not helping Z." You deadpanned. 

"Umm Elysia you seemed quite calm when you and Sam got married how was that so?" 

"Believe me girl I was nervous as hell. All sorts of doubts started hovering in my head like what if this is a mistake? What if all goes wrong? But once when I was at the aisle and saw his face all my doubts cleared away. This is the man I love and spending my life with him will be the best thing in the world. Whatever may come in our way we will overcome it together." 

"Wow that's a great insight." 

"You got this girl! " Chloe cheered you whilst fixing your dress. 

"How is the bride doing?" El enquired as she entered into your room with a jovial smile. 

"Oh hi El!" you eagerly went and hugged her. 

"Hi darling!" 

"You're late by the way." You quipped. 

"I'm sorry dear the flight got delayed." 

"Girl you seem to be doing much better than your groom. I just happened to pass by your husband and by his looks he seemed like he would shit in his pants any moment." You all burst out laughing. 

When the news of your wedding broke out it became the talk of the town. 

You wanted it to be a private affair away from the prying eyes of the media. So what's better than getting married in the peace and serenity of the countryside in the presence of your close friends and family. 

The aisle was beautifully decorated with white lilies and roses. 

Tom was shuffling on his feet at the aisle. 

"Dude everything is fine, stop worrying. She will be here in a few minutes." Harry tried to boost his confidence. 

"You know Y/N is a sort of fickle minded what if she had a change of mind?" Harrison chuckled. 

"You know what Harrison? You are the worst man." Tom grumbled. Harrison laughed. 

Finally, the priest came out and asked everyone to stand. It was your turn! All eyes would soon be on you.  Chloe and Ed's three year old daughter Belle was your flower girl for the wedding. She looked cute in a pink gown as she walked on her little feet lining the path with white rose petals as the music started. 

You only took two steps out before you were greeted by your father. He escorted you down the aisle. He became your strength; without him you would have fainted you thought. The guests looked at you, taking pictures of your dress, waving at you, smiling- one thing was for sure, though… no one made a sound. 

Up ahead you saw him, Tom. Your future husband, the love of your life, your everything. He stood taller, his shoulders back and his eyes on you. If you weren’t mistaken you could have sworn tears filled his eyes.

Tom stood there hypnotized seeing you in that pristine white wedding dress you looked like a dream he thought as you walked towards him. 

At the end of the aisle your father hugged you 

“I'm proud of you jellybean” it was a kind of emotional moment for you as a few tears slipped down your eyes so as your father's and then he presented you to your groom. He placed your hand in Tom’s and smiled. As a couple, Tom and you stood in front of the priest.

Before your father walked away, he patted Tom on the shoulder. That was his way of welcoming him into the family. 

Standing next to your love felt overwhelming. You glanced at each other for a moment. 

"You look beautiful." Tom mouthed to you. 

"You too." You mouthed him back with a wink. 

Elysia was right you thought, an unknown excitement surging inside you. 

Was this really happening? Will I soon be Mrs. Holland? You thought. 

The minister said to guests, “You can now be seated”. Everyone followed his request.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered here to witness this man and woman join together in holy matrimony.”

He said the speech and afterward you exchanged vows, tears filling both your eyes.

Paddy walked in with Tessa who had your rings in a basket she was holding in her mouth. Everyone went 'aww!' as she looked adorable in a wedding tutu walking over to the aisle. You placed Tom's ring on first, then he placed on yours.

“With the power invested in me I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and kissed you,softly like he’s never done it before. Everyone cheered for you, however you barely noticed; your full attention rested on Tom. 

And you left the stage with Tom hand in hand. Though you were against doing any kind of wedding tradition but your bridesmaids were adamant for the bouquet ceremony so you had to give in to that. They lined behind you. 

"Okay girls you ready?!" You tossed the bouquet. You turned to see Zendaya had caught it. 

"I knew it was your turn next." You cackled.

"This is not done. We could have done the garter ceremony too; it would have been so much fun." Harrison complained. 

"I think you guys had your fair share of fun on the Bachelorette with all the booze and that stripper that by the way our parents aren't aware of" you muttered with a stern look in your eyes. Harrison gulped because he was behind the whole Bachelorette fiasco. 

"Yeah we are fine." he said timidly. 

You went to change to something more comfortable for the reception. 

The lawn buzzed with excited chatter and children ran between the tables in a good natured game of tag. There was the scraping of chairs as folks got up for a standing ovation as you and Tom made your way to the head table, smiling and holding hands. There were cheers and someone whooped.

 As the evening progressed everybody had loosened up a bit. People were chatting, eating and enjoying the reception. 

"Finally the number of women are increasing in the Holland family." Elysia announced. Everyone laughed.

"Ah! seeing you two together really makes us happy" Nikki said. 

"Yeah now it's time you give us our grandchildren too." Your mother joked. You and Tom flustered at that. 

"Moomm!! we just got married. We are too young for that, let us enjoy this time." You whined. 

"Honey I had you when I was 25. No pressure though take your time." 

It was the time for your first dance with Tom,your friends pulled you both to the stage, a soft music was playing. You held his hand, his other hand resting on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

"So how are you feeling wifey or may I say Mrs Holland?" 

"Umm the weather is a little warm, feeling a little bloated other than that I'm doing fine hubby." You chuckled. 

"You know I was so nervous I actually thought what if you changed your mind about the wedding?" 

"Not gonna lie I was actually thinking of running away." You smirked. You exhaled resting your head on his chest swaying to the music. 

"Hey you okay?" 

"Yeah why?" 

"Nothing, just all that baby talk." 

"Hey it's totally fine I'm way over that. And I would love to be a mom again but not now." 

"Just imagine you me and our four little halflings. We could have two girls and two boys or three girls,one boy or a pack of four boys like us or.." You cut him off. 

"Whoa whoa whoa slow down mister. First of all we are not having more than two.'' 

"But why? I'm totally gonna be a hands-on dad I promise."

"Easy for you to say because I will be the one going through the whole birthing process. So no uterus no opinion. And isn't that why Thanos snapped in the first place overpopulation, limited resources." You chuckled, snapping your fingers. Tom shook his head laughing.

"I would be so glad if I have twins all the hassle in one time." 

"Whatever you want darling. You know how much I love you." 

"I know and I love you too." 

"Okay how about three if not four?" He suggested. 

"If we are to count you, I'll have three kids to look after so your wish is fulfilled already." You laughed. 

As the reception was drawing close you went up the stage tapping on the microphone to seek everybody's attention. 

"Good evening everyone. First of all, I really wanna thank each and everyone for blessing us with your presence at our wedding and making it memorable." 

"Tom and I have known each other since we were kids. Our mother's were convinced that we would end up together and so we did though we had to go through our own rough patch. But I'm glad that eventually everything got sorted out and the credit goes to our families and friends." 

"It's no secret I write songs taking inspiration from my life and Tom has been a major part of my life. So this is for you hubby."

The band played the notes as you started singing. 

"I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal

And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey

But something happened, I heard him laughing

I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent

They say home is where the heart is

But that's not where mine lives"

Everyone clapped and cheered. Tom's whole face lit up as he looked at you. 

"You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you (ooh)"

Tom was blushing at his seat as Harrison elbowed him in a teasing manner. You had a wide smile as you looked at him. 

"And now I love high tea, stories from uni, and the West End

You can find me in the pub, we are watching rugby with his school friends

Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride

Babe, don't threaten me with a good time

They say home is where the heart is

But God, I love the English"

You took the microphone in your hand singing and walked over to Tom extending your hand to him. He took it and got up from his seat as you walked him over to the middle of the stage. 

"You know I love a London boy

I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you"

You stood there glancing at his eyes. 

"So please show me Hackney

Doesn't have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Just wanna be with you

Wanna be with you

Stick with me, I'm your queen

Like a Tennessee Stella McCartney on the Heath

Just wanna be with you (wanna be with you)

Wanna be with you (oh)

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking SoHo, drinking in the afternoon (yeah)

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you (you)

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true (yeah)

You know I love a London boy (oh)

Boy (oh), I fancy you (I fancy you, ooh)"

Present day…. 

"And that is how your mum and dad got married kids." Harrison finished his story letting out a deep breath. 

"Wow uncle Haz that was epic!" Your seven year old daughter chirped in awe. 

"Yup everything was epic with those divs."  

"We are back!" Tom announced as you both entered your house. 

"Peter! Vienna! Where are my pumpkins?" you called out as you heard shuffling of feets and giggles. 

"Mommy!! Daddy!!" your little munchkins came running to you. 

"There they are."  You cooed. Your five year old son launched himself into your arms as you picked him up. 

"Did you have fun with your uncles?" 

"Yess!!" Peter said beaming with joy. 

"Uncle Haz and uncle Harry were telling us a story." Vienna informed you. 

"What story bubs?" 

"Your and daddy's love story." You and Tom looked at each other smiling. 

"Oh really? I hope they didn't go much into the details keeping it kids friendly." 

"Of course Y/N you really don't trust us do you?" Harry said feeling offended.

"To be honest, No" you replied bluntly. 

"Where's Ava and Jordan?" you asked whilst putting Peter down. 

"They are with their moms at mum and dad's house helping with dinner." Harry said. 

"Okay then let's get you guys ready and then we will go to grandma's for the Christmas Dinner eh?" Tom said to your kids. 

"Yayy!!" Vienna and Peter rushed back to their room.

You were at the doorstep as you rang the bell as you were greeted by Nikki. 

"You guys are late." 

"Sorry, someone was way too confident about his navigation skills so had to take a detour." You eyed Tom. 

"That wasn't completely my fault. How would I know that the road would be closed?" Tom retorted. 

"It's Christmas time Tom! Everyone knows." You both started arguing at the doorstep. 

"Then why didn't you tell me?" 

"Okay that's enough for now, God you two  have been married for almost 10 years and still your non stop bickering continues." Nikki scolded you both. 

''You got all the things I told you to bring?'' 

"Yes mum." Tom said sheepishly. 

"Merry Christmas grandma!!'' Vienna and Peter came rushing in clinging on to her. 

"Aww Merry Christmas my loves. C'mon get inside all your cousins are waiting for you." 

After the dinner all you ladies gathered in the living room and gossiped among yourselves and your husbands were chugging on to their beers and having their share of laughs in the dining room. 

The kids were busy playing amongst themselves.

Vienna came up to you and tugged on to the sleeve of your sweater. You turned to look at her brown doe eyes which she totally inherited from Tom along with her luscious curls. She was a stark image of him. 

"Do you need something peanut?" 

"Mom, will you sing for us? Pleaasse." she innocently asked, making a puppy face the trick she had picked up from her dad in the meantime. And how could you say no to that. 

"Anything for you honey. Can you bring me my guitar love?" 

"Sure mom." Vienna beamed with joy as she ran to bring your guitar. You slipped down the couch to sit on the carpeted floor stretching your legs as you strummed on to the chords. 

"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover"

Vienna sat beside you. You swayed sideways while singing to her. Vienna tried to sing along with you clapping her hands to the rhythm. Peter came running and settled down on the other side of you resting his head on your lap. You stroked his hair with your hand gently. 

"We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my lover"

The boys heard you singing as they got up and flocked in the living room. You glanced at Tom standing at the doorway smiling and gave him a subtle wink. He can never get enough of you, every time he looks at you he falls in love again and again. Sometimes he wonders how did he get so lucky? You were perfect, who gave him the two most precious gifts of his life. His heart swells when he looks at his little family. You make him whole. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover"

Tom walked towards you and picked up Peter making him sit on his lap as he sat beside you. His one hand went to wrap around your shoulder as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, you looked at him smiling. You were so proud of this man, the perfect husband, the doting father to your children you didn't have words to express. Tom rested his head on your shoulder, Vienna and Peter clinged on to you as you sang. You felt full from the inside out. 

'' Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover"

.................................................................

Taglist is open.

@sleepybesson​​ @sophs-library​​ @spideyparkerstark​​ @itstaskeen​​ @milli86​​ @biebsmylife95​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @hannahholland1811​ ​​ @awhollandx​​ @joyleenl​​  @greatpizzascissorstaco​​ @tomhollandsotherpinkytoe​​ @jjandreidsgirl​​ @brighterthanthesunx​​ @marvelpeters​​ @panicattheeverywherekid​​ @onewithnomightypowers​​ @itsnotmeh24  @bitchinwpei @astridcommings​ @hollandprkr​​  @hollandsobrien​​ @timotayswriter​​ @kiki-hines​​ @casualprincess77​​ @spideyth​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @tempo-rary-fix​

[eurosong]

Undo my ESC '21 (semi-final two)

Good afternoon folks, and welcome to the second part of Undo my ESC – my annual quest to make the year’s Eurovision better (at least, for me xD) by making a feasible change in each country – it could be something as small as altering a lyric or a staging detail, or as big as a different artist entirely winning the NF. Semi-final one was here so let's jump straight into SF2!

🇸🇲 San Marino: We're thrown into the deep end here with a fan fav that doesn't do at all for me. I'm one of maybe 5 people on the planet who prefers Freaky by far, I guess? I'm happy for Senhit to be getting so much love and for the diminutive serene republic to finally have a shot at a good result - but I'm not so keen on the way it's been done. There's a bit of cognitive dissonance for me because my favourite thing about Adrenalina is Flo Rida's rap, but I don't like the idea of bringing in famed American artists like "ringers" to elevate a song above one with "only" local talent. I would be so tempted to give the rap part to local artist IROL instead to spit some hot bars in Italian.

🇪🇪 Estonia: I had hope this year, I really did, for my era of absolutely adoring Estonia at ESC to be revived after 4 painful years. There were so many good songs at this year's Eesti Laul, like those of Ivo Linna, Egert, Gram of fun, Heleza - but ultimately, my huge favourite was, as expected, Jüri Pootsmann. Anyone who followed this blog back in 2016 knows how much I adore Jüri and was desperate to see him get a redemption arc at ESC itself. Magus melanhoolia was one of the best songs of the season for me and one of the best stagings. As much as I prefer '20 artists to get their shot in '21, problematic Uku with his toxic ex vibes song will have to step aside and let the Jüri renaissance happen here.

🇨🇿 Czechia: I really dig Benny Cristo - he has personality, presence and his own enjoyable style. At first I was kinda disappointed with Omaga because I was expecting something more in the vein of Kemama, with more pronounced Afrobeat influences. But it has grown on me a lot too. My change? Add more Czech than just one blink-and-you-miss-it line, mate! (Article continues below)

🇬🇷 Greece: I see this being talked up as potential televote top 3 and I just don't get it. Maybe it's the way the chorus rhymes dance with itself three times (and uses the term rockin' romance unironically); maybe it's the way that there are better 80s-inspired songs both in ESC and many fallen tributes in the NF season... it just leaves me cold. I actually preferred Supergirl and my change would be for Stefania to bring something with some actual Greek flair.

🇦🇹 Austria: I’ll echo what I said last year about Österreich – how did they go from Conchita to a guy who wished he wouldn’t have gay kids like this? I find both of this guy's songs insipid in different ways and I would invite Pænda back instead to avenge her getting robbed with the beautiful Limits. Or give a second shot at glory to the incredible Cesár!

🇵🇱 Poland: Unpopular opinion, but I absolutely love The Ride, and I feel bad for Alicja, but I much prefer it to Empires. What started as an ironic fondness for Rafał's cringy uncle vibes ended up being genuine appreciation - it's one of the few 80s-inspired songs that sound like they actually could have come out of that decade rather than like modern pastiches. And Raf actually does have an awkward charisma. My change - insert some Polish! Poland does so well with natural sounding bilingual efforts in JESC, they should bring it to the main contest too!

🇲🇩 Moldova: I was lowkey prepared to be disappointed by Moldova - I actually enjoyed Prison a lot and the news that they were going in a completely different direction didn't sit so well with me. And yet, I also love Sugar. Natalia's power! My changes: get rid of that weird scene with literally egg on her face - too on the nose for me. And incorporate a bit of the stellar Russian translation, Tuz bubi, because I'm always going to be advocating for more linguistic diversity xD

🇮🇸 Iceland: Daði Freyr can literally do no wrong with me. Whilst it doesn't have the same intense extra-fandom hype that Think about things did, I think I like Ten years even more. Nothing to change here.

🇷🇸 Serbia: It's no secret that Hurricane were far from my favourites at Beovizija 20, and that I find this a downgrade for Sanja compared to her powerful '16 song. And yet... Hasta la vista grew on me a lot, and so has Loco loco. It's something that is definitely scratching an itch at this year's ESC and the burst of anarchic energy it'll provide will be amazing. I am seriously tempted to change to the acoustic version, though, which has all the attitude of the original but is more beautiful for me and lets the girls' voices shine more.

🇬🇪 Georgia: Georgia keeps serving acquired tastes, and as a patron saint of marginal genres and I love them for that. This year, they've gone for something that even many fans of Tornike find hard to swallow - gone is the roaring rock of last year, replaced with a much more contemplative, soft effort that reminds me a little of Lou Reed. I enjoy both songs, but I can't deny preferring 2020. At the same time, I admire the chutzpah required to send something so different. I just wish there could be a moment to properly showcase T's powerhouse vocals.

🇦🇱 Albania: It was an odd Festival i këngës this year, outdoors in the freezing cold and without the orchestra that makes the songs soar so much more for me. Karma is a perfectly respectable winner, albeit one that lacks the immediacy and rawness of Shaj, Ktheju tokës and Mall. In my ideal alternate reälity, Arilena Ara would have been invited back. She'd bring a song as beautiful as Shaj - and not do a revamp into English that removes its edge this time.

🇵🇹 Portugal: 2015-2020 was a full on Portugal stan era for me. I want to believe that this year is an aberration and that in 2022, our lusitanian neighbours will produce the goods once again. Because ending a colossal streak of not sending songs that don't include Portuguese for this? I am baffled. I wanted the anthemic Joana do mar, produced beautifully by Luísa Sobral, or the timeless Contramão, which sounds like it escaped a Nouvelle Vague soundtrack. Saudade, Por um triz or a number of others would have been grand too.

🇧🇬 Bulgaria: I wasn't expecting much from Bulgaria - I really didn't and don't like TGS and the majority of songs in Victoria's NF-but-not-really aren't my cup of tea. I was happy she got her second chance, but resigned to not liking the song much that would get picked. And then, my fav, which was last in many community ratings, ended up being her pick. I adore GUIGO and believe it has the possibility to do very, very well at Rotterdam and be one of the 'moments' of the evening.

🇫🇮 Finland: CRIMINAL how YLE treated Aksel - it felt like he wasn't the defending champion, and that Erika Vikman had won the previous year. They also - I believe, deliberately - split his vote by making his just one of a number of ballads, so of course what stood out most were the two decidedly non-ballady songs. Finland only two years ago had a single-artist UMK. They could and should have brought it back for Aksel. I'd hope Hurt would win it, because that song is stunning.

🇱🇻 Latvia: I was, and am, delighted that Latvia stuck with Samanta Tina. The lady lives and breathes ESC, even wrote a university thesis about it, and if she tried so many times, finally won and then DIDN'T get to go to ESC, I would have gone to LTV headquarters personally to remonstrate. I really like both her songs. The moon is rising is poised, powerful and like nothing else this year. The only thing I'd change is adding some Latvian because it's a gorgeous language and we've been waiting for ages to hear it again.

🇨🇭 Switzerland: Gjon's song is once again not really my cup of tea, or tears - but I enjoy it better than last year's and I'm glad he's back. Highkey wish it did include Albanian or Romansch like confused commenters last year thought it did.

🇩🇰 Denmark: There is literally no excuse for Denmark's treatment of Ben & Tan. I'm not even a big fan of their music at all, out to not even allow them to compete in DMGP to defend their win with Iron heart? Even though there are songs that competed in DMGP that I prefer a lot, most notably Står lige her, I would probably have let them have a proper second chance.

And the automatic qualifiers voting in this semi -

🇫🇷 France: For me, France had an absolutely enthralling, sincere, perfectly Gallic entry that hit me so hard in the feels. And whilst I respect Voilà, no, that wasn't it. It was Pourvu qu'on m'aime, easily one of the best songs I heard all year inside NFs or out. I find Voilà a little too mannered and affected, whilst PQM is a shot straight from Juliette's heart into mine. In my dream, it'd have won CVQD and be receiving the same love that Voilà is right now.

🇪🇸 Spain: Whilst it is getting next to no love in the fandom and seems quite forgotten, I find Voy a quedarme one of the best songs sent from this country in several years - and I say that having preferred Memoria. I am proud of Blas and love that he had a hand in writing this song. My change? He said recently that the staging in Rotterdam won't be inspired by the poignant music video despite wanting it to be - I would incorporate elements from it in the live.

🇬🇧 United Kingdom: Frankly, I think almost all the Big 5+1 brought it this year, with the notable exception of Germany. Embers is the banger that I never thought was coming from James Newman, and it's been one of the biggest earworms of the season. I wouldn't change anything about it - I'd just ensure that the staging replicated the energy of the video as much as possible!

[owl-with-a-pen]

Hi! I just read the fanfic about Brainy and Nia going to the future and meeting their daughter, I know you posted it a long time ago, I'm just new to tumblr, so if you can I want you to do a fic about the future, where Brainy's daughter and Nia is 5 years old. And it would be cool to see the antics that her daughter does.XD

- Sorry this took so long to fulfil, but yes! I’m sure she’d get into all sorts and this story probably only scrapes the surface! Thank you for the prompt x

Nia had always preferred the night over the day; maybe it was just her Naltorian side talking, but she’d always felt there was a certain peacefulness about the night-time that just couldn’t be replicated in daylight.

That definitely hadn’t changed since Nova had come into the picture.

The daytime had always been busy for a number of reasons. Balancing work and family life, balancing family and hero life - balancing work, family and hero life. But, now that Nova had reached an age where she was starting to explore her natural curiosities, Nia and Brainy hadn’t had the luxury of focusing on anything else. At five years old, they couldn’t let their daughter out of their sight for one second of the day.

The second the sun went down, though?

Nova’s sleeping pattern had always been pretty steady, and once she was out - she was out. She’d definitely gotten that from Nia’s side of the family. After all, Brainy didn’t really need all that much sleep, although he had admitted to her on more than one occasion that he enjoyed resting at her side, retreating to his inner network at hours Nia would otherwise be sleeping, working on small tasks and calculations reminiscent of an actual dream-state. In that way, he could still be close with her during the night, and Nia valued that time together immensely.

Of course, the fact Brainy didn’t actually need those extra hours had made him the best dad ever when it came to late-night wake-up calls courtesy of one baby Nova.

She still wasn’t old enough for them to know for certain the extent of her abilities; Brainy had predicted they wouldn’t fully develop fully until her teen years. Honestly, though? Nia didn’t care what powers Nova had; she was perfect no matter what.

Nia watched from the doorway that evening as Nova cuddled against Brainy on the bed. Her blonde hair was getting so long now, falling in relaxed waves down to her elbows, and the light green tone of her skin was almost washed out entirely by the soft purple of her nightlight on the bedside table. She was curled into Brainy’s chest, chewing idly on her thumbnail, her dark eyes scanning along inquisitively to the passages he was reading aloud to her. Nia smiled privately to herself; Brainy really got into character when reading Nova to sleep, making a big show with grand gesticulations and silly voices, even when the book of choice for tonight was an account on quantum mechanics from Carlo Rovelli’s collection.

Nova had a unique taste in literature, that was for sure and, while she was definitely getting a taste for mathematics and physics, she also still enjoyed simpler story telling. Nia and Brainy had decided to switch up who read to her each night. Sometimes, they’d choose something on Brainy’s bookshelf, and other times they would go for stories catered for a younger – human - mind, like The Far Away Tree, or even folk stories like Little Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks.

Nova really liked Goldilocks; Nia must have read it to her at least twelve times this month alone.

As Nova let out a big yawn, relaxing further into her dad’s side, Nia caught Brainy’s eye, jerking her chin towards the door.

He nodded his understanding, continuing his narration as Nia ducked out of the room, heading towards the living room where Alex was waiting for her, already working open a bottle of red.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sizing up her wine glass as she began to fill it up generously.  

“She should be asleep soon,” Nia said. “But, uh, Brainy sometimes runs Q and A sessions with her if she stays awake through a whole chapter.”

Alex snorted. “Only for Nova would I find that concept adorable.”

Nia collapsed onto the sofa, snatching her wine glass immediately. She reached out expectantly to Alex, grinning when she rolled her eyes, ditching her own wine glass to fill up Nia’s.

“Why, thank you,” Nia said, tucking her legs up beneath her.

Alex tipped her own glass with a wry smile. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

Nia took a long sip, savouring the rich taste. They couldn’t exactly go off the walls with a toddler sleeping next door, but right now, anything that could offer her a brief period of relaxation, Nia was more than eager to accept. She swirled her glass thoughtfully. “You know,” she murmured, “Brainy’ll probably need something a little stronger to take the edge off.”

“Oh, way ahead of you,” Alex said, shifting to the edge of her respective sofa to grab a bottle she had stowed away inside her backpack. She placed it on the coffee table with a flourish, giving Nia the opportunity to try and decipher the alien script scrawled across the label. “Kara recommended this,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Please do not ask me what it’s called, because I will not be able to pronounce it.”

Nia snorted, taking another sip of her own regular alcohol. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“He better, this stuff wasn’t cheap.” Alex smirked, leaning back into the sofa. “How have you guys been, anyway? I feel like this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”

Nia opened her mouth, only to frown. Had it really been that long? All the days had been blurring together recently, and yet each one seemed to be separated by something inexplicably unique in its own right – courtesy of one overly curious toddler.

Nia wasn’t even sure she could remember the last time she’d visited the Tower, and going out for patrol or even something as simple as date night was so far off the table right now, it might as well have been in another galaxy. There wasn’t a sitter in the city willing to take on a genius, alien five-year-old with a penchant for mischief.

To Alex, Nia only shrugged. “Nova’s just been needing a lot of our attention lately. Well, all of it, actually. Or else she’ll burn the apartment down.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Wait, like seriously burn the apartment down?” When Nia pursed her lips, Alex’s mouth fell open. “Is that normal?”

Nia rolled her eyes, leaning back into the cushions. “According to Brainy, yeah. Coluans express themselves through their intellect, and Nova’s been flexing that muscle a lot lately. Brainy thinks it’s a good sign, that she’ll probably rise to the twelfth-level, but we don’t exactly have much for a frame of reference, y’know?”

“Well, you have Brainy,” Alex considered. “How was he raised?”

Nia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. She took a long sip of her wine to fill the silence. “Uh,” she said softly. “That’s sort of a… sore topic, actually.” She bit her lip, running her thumb along her glass’s neck. “He had robot caregivers for the most part.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

By the subdued look on Alex’s face, Nia knew she didn’t want to butt in with any more questions on the subject of Brainy’s upbringing. Brainy had certainly shared a portion of his childhood with his friends, at least enough for them to know that his parents were not a topic up for discussion if he could help it.

Even with Brainy occupied with Nova in the other room, Alex didn’t appear comfortable to continue the direction of their conversation.

Nia chuckled softly, trying to clear the air. “Anyway,” she said quickly, steering them back on topic, “there isn’t an earth-equivalent to a robot nanny here; well… except for…” She stopped herself suddenly, resisting the urge to grin.  

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Except for what?”

Nia shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips to keep from laughing outright. The wine was definitely starting to do its job - not thirty minutes ago, thinking about this would have only stressed her out. She reached for the wine bottle, eager to keep this high going for as long as humanly possible, topping up her glass. As soon as it was full, Nia took another long swig, breathing deeply as the wine warmed her chest. “Kelex,” she said on her next exhale, unable to keep the smile from her voice.

Alex laughed incredulously. “Wait, what? Kel- Kelex? From the Fortress?” She shuffled to the edge of her seat, almost conspiratorially. “Doesn’t Brainy hate that thing?”

Nia shrugged half-heartedly.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Why does he hate that thing?”

That question seemed to ground her, at least. Nia winced. She was pretty sure they were skirting back along unsavoury territory. “He was never totally clear with me,” she admitted, staring down into her glass, “but I’m pretty sure Kelex reminds him of his own caregivers. They – uh – didn’t exactly get along.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. Brainy was happy to entertain the idea, but the second Kara brought Kelex over, Nova was obsessed with the thing. She rewired it in like… twenty minutes.”

Alex stared. “She’s five, right?”

“She’s also half Coluan,” Nia reminded her, toasting her glass in Alex’s direction. “Dismantling machinery is better than any toy I could buy her.” She closed her eyes at that, pulling a face. “I left her in the bathroom for ten minutes today to shower and by the time I got out, she’d turned my hairdryer into a blowtorch.”

Alex winced into her wine glass. “Oof.”

“She’s just curious,” Nia said quickly, rubbing idly at her forehead. Was she really getting a wine headache already? God, she was really out of practice. “She’s exploring her intellect,” Nia said eventually. “It’s healthy for her and I wanna encourage that, I do—” She sighed heavily. “It’s just…”

“Exhausting?”

Nia smiled bleakly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Then, take a break,” Alex insisted.

Nia stared at her levelly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey,” Alex said with a smirk, pushing the wine bottle over to Nia’s side of the table. “Start with this. Finish the whole thing. Trust me, I have more.”

When Nia laughed, Alex glanced up at her, eyes flashing with a smile. “And, if you guys need a real break, you know that Kelly and I would be happy to help out.”

“You sure about that?” Nia asked warily. “Remember what I just said about the blowtorch?”

“You think a bit of fire’s going to scare me off?” Alex challenged. She leant back, gesturing to herself with relaxed emphasis. “Don’t forget, I shared a bathroom with an incredibly overpowered alien for years. Hell, I used to work for a super-secret government organisation that kept alien prisoners.” She placed her glass back onto the coffee table, folding her arms with a confident nod. “I’m pretty sure Kelly and I can handle a five-year-old super genius.” She winked. “And, if we can’t, we can always rely on Auntie Kara.”

Nia nearly snorted into her glass. She remembered a few choice stories from Auntie Kara revolving her valiant attempt at babysitting for Cat Grant’s son when she’d still been a PA. Something about him ending up on a train that had had a bomb strapped to it? Considering Nova already knew her Auntie Kara was Supergirl, the novelty of being saved from a near death experience would probably still hinge on traumatic, rather than invigorating.

Although, Nia had to admit, the idea of a break – however small – sounded pretty great right about now. She loved Nova with all of her heart, but having even just a few hours with Brainy to herself where she was actually conscious enough to enjoy them would have been amazing.

Still, she couldn’t help but picture Alex and Kelly struggling to figure out how to appease Nova’s more unique interests.

She smirked to herself, pressing her lips against the rim of her glass. “It’s your funeral,” she murmured.

Alex’s cheeks were already a little rosy from the wine and Nia knew she probably wasn’t faring much better. Still, before Alex could promise away any more of her free time, Nova’s door opened and, a moment later, out crept one very dishevelled looking Coluan.

Nia beamed from ear-to-ear. She stood, pausing when the world pitched a little around her. Wine drunk. There was no denying it, she was definitely wine drunk.

After carefully placing her glass on the coffee table, Nia made her way over to the bedroom door. She ran her hand down Brainy’s arm, squeezing gently. “Is she asleep?” she whispered.

Brainy’s expression was warm. He smiled softly, bowing his head. “I believe her excitement today tired her out more than she anticipated.”

Nia chuckled. That was the least surprising statement she’d heard all day. She turned towards the door, peeking inside. Nova’s nightlight was still on, enough to illuminate the profile of her round face snuggled against her pillow where she’d half cocooned herself in blankets only seconds after Brainy had no doubt tucked her in.

Her little mouth hung open slightly, silent breaths escaping her lips. Nia could spy the ears of her own childhood teddy bear poking out from beneath the blankets, hugged tightly to Nova’s chest.

Nia squeezed Brainy’s arm once more before sneaking into the room, summoning a swell of dream energy in her fist to keep from tripping over any mislaid toys or, more likely now she thought about it, machine parts.

Nia smiled; Brainy had promised to fix Kelex for Kara tomorrow. Despite his grievances towards the robot, he still felt guilty over the extent to which Nova had indulged her curiosities. They’d already sat her down to explain to her why what she had done wasn’t appropriate behaviour, and Nova had seemed to understand. Enough that she’d pouted when they’d told her she wouldn’t be able to go with Brainy to the Fortress to help fix Kelex in the morning. The last thing Nia wanted was for Nova to get her hands on the kinds of weapons Kara and Clark had hidden there. Nia had nearly blasted a hole through the wall on accident in controlled conditions when Brainy had been training her, she could only imagine what kind of destruction Nova could cause if she was set loose in there.

It was strange to think all of that had only been a few hours ago. Now, Nova slept peacefully, odd ends of blonde hair strewn across her face. 

Nia reached out, tucking those strands behind Nova’s ears. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. Nova scrunched her nose slightly before relaxing again, and Nia had to bite her lip hard to keep from making any sound.

She was perfect. Even with the chaos today had brought, Nia wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Sleep tight, Firestarter,” she murmured fondly.

When Nia returned to the doorway, she found Brainy waiting for her. She grinned, linking her hand with his. “Come with me,” she said, tugging him along towards the living room. “We have alien wine.” She raised her voice enough for Alex to hear. “And guess who just offered to babysit?” 

[apomaro-mellow]

From the Deep

Read on AO3

He wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There, among the crashing waves, a mer beast. A creature from the depths that meant to do him harm. Poe had been minding his work, retrieving the nets he had cast when something bumped his boat. He stumbled a bit, but figured it wasn't anything to be worried about. Probably just a bigger fish that had been trying to take advantage of his catch before he pulled it out.

But he was bumped, much harder and then the waves suddenly turned choppy. The clouds above had begun to darken when they had just been clear and bright. Then Poe saw it rise from the water.

Skin white as the moon. Hair black as the the deep from where it came.

With a raspy roar, it commanded the oceans and toppled Poe's boat, knocking him into the water. While he struggled to find his bearings, he felt something sharp sink into his arm. He didn't know if it was claws or teeth but he fought it off anyway. He was at a disadvantage here but he had been in scraps before. He tried to wait for the right moment. Poe let the monster sink in even deeper to his flesh and pretended to lie limp, letting the creature gets its guard down so that he could get a better idea of their shape.

The thrashing stopped and Poe was sure now that those were teeth. With all the strength afforded to him, he raised a fist and landed a blow. Given that he was drowning and underwater, it wasn't as powerful as it could've been. But it was still enough to stun the mer beast. To make certain, Poe took out the knife attached to his leg and swung again. He didn't know what he hit but now there was even more blood in the water.

He was smacked by a dark red tail that retreated and Poe was left there, trying to figure out which way was up. He broke the surface with a choked gasp and looked around for his boat. It had been capsized and a little beaten but wasn't destroyed. The seas returned to their previous calm and the sun broke through the clouds.

The only thing Poe had as proof of his encounter was the bite mark on his bicep.

A year after and Poe was still on the hunt for that beast. Since then, a few had caught glimpses of it, but only Poe had the displeasure of coming so close to it. He swore he'd never let that thing hurt anyone ever again. Poe knew he was lucky. Had the tides turned just a bit, he'd be dead. It was another one of those days, Poe alone on his boat, the waters calm.

He was armed with a spear, ready to take down the mer beast the moment it showed itself. And today was the day. He knew it the moment the clouds turned back and rumbled. Poe grabbed his weapon, ready this time.

Or so he thought.

The waves got choppy again just as before, but they soon turned even more turbulent. The creature rose and this time even higher as a water spout lifted them into the air. It gave Poe a menacing look and a hiss and Poe felt an itch at his back. He turned and saw a giant wave bearing down on him. Before it could take him out, he turned back and thrust his spear at the beast. Poe watched as it sunk into the beast's chest and then his vision was blocked by the deluge of water.

He was falling, or maybe he was spiraling to the side. He could even be rising. Poe had no idea which direction he was going. Only that he was in fact moving. Poe was a strong swimmer but even the best couldn't move against an act of nature. But he'd done it. He had killed the monster. If he drowned now, at least he had that accomplishment.

All of the air had left his lungs and he couldn't stop the initial suction of water. He tried keeping his lips tightly sealed down but that wasn't all he had to worry about. If he could get his brain to stop swirling for a moment, he could figure out where he needed to go. If he could stop his vision from darkening...If he could...

Poe choked, unable to hold his breathe anymore. It got even darker. The something was pulling him. No, it was holding and carrying him. Poe felt something thick wrap around his waist. Did octopi eat people?

Whatever it was, it felt gentle. And the water was cold but this was warm. Poe closed his eyes, thinking this might not be such a bad way to go.

And then he was choking up water, coarse sand under him and the setting sun at his feet. But he didn't see any of that. What he saw was the face of a gorgeous angel. Poe tried to talk but his throat was still raw from choking up salt water.

He wanted to thank them, to ask where he was, how long he'd been out, where was his boat?

"What's your name?", he asked instead, the moment his throat was cleared.

"Finn."

"Finn", Poe repeated like a prayer, something precious. With a groan, he lifted himself a little on his forearms and turned his head away to look at where they were. He vaguely recognized these trees. This was an islet, not too far from home. If his boat didn't survive, he could make the swim, although it'd be quite the distance.

Then he turned back to Finn and smiled at his lovely face again. He noticed he was shirtless, which was a nice thing to notice. And then he noticed the scaly, bright blue tail below his waist, which would've been a nicer thing to notice first. Poe froze, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Partially out of shock but also the blue was so vivid and iridescent, he couldn't look away.

"That's a...that's a very um, pretty tail you have there. Nice and shiny."

"Thanks. It's for luring prey."

Poe knew he'd follow that tail in a second if he saw it. And how quickly the thought came to mind scared him.

"You're a...a mer beast? One of them?"

Finn frowned, but he didn't look angry. "We prefer to be called mer folk. At least in human tongue."

"Human tongue?"

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it in our language." He paused for a moment. "I know you've already met one." He eyed the bite mark on Poe's arm. It had faded a bit but was beginning to look like something he'd carry for the rest of his life.

"I met a beast. A monster. He's one of you?"

"A mer, sure. But he's sold his soul for power. And he's using it against you humans."

Poe thought about how the waters moved to their will. How the sky got dark. As he was realizing just how strong this enemy was, a loud splash came from the water. Poe looked up while Finn looked away in embarrassment. A bright yellow tail rose from the water and slapped down, causing another big splash.

"I've...I've gotta go", Finn said. "Can you make it home alright?"

"I'm a man of the sea", Poe said confidently. "I'll manage."

Finn smiled and turned to roll himself back into the water. Poe couldn't help but grin at the sight. He was sure that Finn was much more graceful in the ocean. Once submerged, Finn gave Poe a wave and then swam off, presumably with another mer bea-mer folk, Poe reminded himself. Finn and the other one with him were mer folk.

The one who had attacked him was still a beast.

As they swam away, Finn ignored all of Rey's scolding. He was swimming in the clouds right now. And nothing could bring him down. Even Rey could see that. She rolled her eyes, giving up on lecturing him for now.

"So? What's that sailor's name anyway?"

Finn stopped short and Rey frowned, confused.

"...I didn't get his name."

Rey cackled so hard she was turning flips in the water. Imagine pining after someone for months and then not getting his name!

[loominggaia]

A specific question I have is how do the kingdoms in Evik treat there disabled, given the insane differences in their societies and cultures? Particularly Damijama, do they treat the disabled the same way as Evangeline.

The continent of Evik is colonized by three Great Kingdoms: Empire of Damijana, Zareen Empire, and Mogdir Kingdom.

So, let's start with Damijana...Yep, it's quite similar to Evangeline in this respect, except even worse if you can believe it. This was explored a little in the story "The Shadow Sector". In that story, a character named Tarajeen developed a paranoid schizophrenia-type illness after an accident at work. As her disability became more pronounced with time, the Damijana Guard began to notice, and eventually they kidnapped her right out of her workplace and imprisoned her for it.

Chieftess Serafeen made some brief comments about this later in the story, explaining that such illnesses could endanger Project Starlight and the kingdom at large. What she really means is, the Damijani government is all about appearances and sweeping its undesirable aspects under the rug. It doesn't want to admit that it has disabled people in its populace, because all too often, those folks are disabled due to the rampant pollution and societal issues affecting mental health. (And don't even get me started on the inbreeding...)

As a result, the Damijani people don't like to discuss "headsickness", as they call it. If you have it, you don't talk about it and you do your best to hide it, because if you show too many symptoms and make the empire look bad, the Damijani Guard will be showing up to lock you away in a Wellness Institution (aka: prison with a fancy name).

Physical disabilities are treated similarly. The Empire doesn't like to see them because again, they're often the result of fetal mutation caused by its pollution issues. The empire does everything in its power to shun the physically disabled and make life as hard as possible for them, thus pushing them down into the Shadow Sector where they're hidden from the rest of society. They aren't usually locked up like folks with mental disabilities, but they are obscured and abandoned by the govt, left to fend for themselves in the scariest part of the city.

Thankfully, things are quite a bit better in Zareen Empire to the east. Zareenite society is quite progressive, at least socially, and as a culture they tend to embrace the idea that you should help those less fortunate than yourself. That said, there are a lot of homeless disabled people in this empire (and non-disabled homeless as well. It's a society buckling under the late stages of turbo-capitalism, so that's just kind of a natural result) but there are also a lot of charities to help these folks, and a decent welfare net on top of that. Most of Zareen's disabled do receive some kind of govt assistance if they can't work, though it's often not enough to pay for housing because again, turbo-capitalism has led to insane price inflation.

A lot of families in this empire get torn apart by its drug epidemic. However, the disabled folks that still have the support of their families can do quite well here. There are special schools for the mentally impaired, tons of high-tech prosthetic options, and this empire's medical technology is second to none. Disabled folks here can often overcome the challenges of their disabilities using advanced tech, assuming they can afford it.

The same can be said for Mogdir Kingdom just east of it. Except such technologies are banned here due to the Nymph Pact, so instead, magic is used in their place. A Zareenite with no legs might use prosthetics or a wheelchair to get around. A Mogdiri might instead use an enchanted bracelet of levitation. A deaf Zareenite uses cochlear implants to communicate. A deaf Mogdiri uses a spell of telepathy instead. And so on...the possibilities are many.

Like in Zareen Empire, disabilities don't have much impact on the lives of the average Mogdiri because their technology can mitigate those challenges quite well. Mogdiri society will accommodate most folks as needed with special schools, potions, and spells to meet their needs. It is very possible for disabled folks to live happy, productive lives in each of these Great Kingdoms. Just like anyone else, their success ultimately depends on their level of wealth and what connections they have.

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Eight (v. light nsfw)

Friday means it’s dragon shifter romance day!

Last time we learned that Mikaeïl's late partner was also an artist, and that made us feel a bit wobbly and insecure... This time we finish our dinner date with him and make one or two steps forwards...

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

“So you see why I was reluctant to talk to you about him…” Mikaeïl murmured softly after he’d risked a glance up at your face. “I would have told you, I’m sure. My past would have come up sooner or later, but…” he murmured, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Ah, that’s just the face I didn’t want to see,” he said as he glanced up and caught sight of your stricken expression.

You tried to hide it behind a smile, pretending to brush it off. Whoever this long-lived creature had been, he had clearly been unfathomably dear to Mikaeïl. How could you even begin to compare with that? With a hundred years of love? What could you offer him after all that time in each other’s company? “You’re right,” you said with an overly bright smile. “It’s not first date talk. I’m sorry I pushed it…” you said, fighting the way your throat closed up around the words.

His shoulders relaxed just a little, but he still had his jaw clenched tight as a goblin’s metalwork vice. He swallowed thickly and said, “Alright, but let me just say that my attraction to you isn’t some vain attempt to rekindle something that was lost a long time ago. You are an artist, and so was he, but there the similarity ends.” The light that glowed in his eyes was like a fire burning low, the coals smoldering red after the bright heat of flames had exhausted itself. In truth, he looked suddenly very tired, and every bit his two hundred and sixty odd years old.

While you could still taste that bitterness on your tongue from the self-doubt that had swirled through you like a rip tide and stripped you of your confidence, you tried to be brave. Mikaeïl suddenly looked thoroughly miserable, though he was hiding it behind his usual chilly facade. On impulse, you reached your hand out to his where it now lay quiet as a corpse’s on the wooden tabletop. The chill of his pale fingers always surprised you, but you squeezed his strangely delicate hand and smiled at him.

“Come on,” you said. “We were doing so well. Tell me about how you know the goblin who owns this place… I didn’t catch his name…”

“Kiriavin?” he said, his throat working again as he swallowed and sighed, trying to push his pain aside. A wariness still lingered in the corners of his reptilian eyes, but he clearly appreciated your efforts at moving things along. He chuckled then. “I taught his wife at university, if you can believe it.”

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” you snorted, which made him roll his lovely eyes. “I wondered if you knew him through your music? Lidaë back at Stickybeak’s cafe mentioned that there was a goblin in your group…”

He opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to go on, Kiriavin returned with menus and two glasses of sparkling wine in elegant flutes. “You drink, I presume?” the goblin asked you before setting your glass down on the table, and you nodded. “Very well. This is a sparkling wine made from grapes grown just outside Starfall Springs. And in a moment I’ll bring some nibbles out for you as well,” he added with a sharp, hungry grin that briefly made you wonder exactly what a goblin might consider ‘a nibble’…

“Thank you, friend,” Mikaeïl said and something wordless passed between them in the space of a heartbeat.

Kiriavin nodded once, and then left with a distinctly softer smile.

Attempting the same kind of silent eloquence, you tilted your head curiously at Mikaeïl and he smiled the first true smile since his late partner had been brought up. His lips curled slowly and then drew back to reveal his white teeth, the canines more pronounced than on a human. You wondered fleetingly what else about him might differ, but reined your imagination back in as he spoke, shaking his head slightly. “That sly old goblin knows exactly what just happened between us, and he’s sorry for it. I think we might be expecting even finer wine with the meal…”

“He doesn't have to,” you said guiltily, but Mikaeïl waved his hand.

“Trust me, you can’t make a goblin do anything else once they’ve got their mind set on something. It’s quite literally impossible.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said. “Cheers,” and you held up the delicate flute of sparkling wine.

The expression on his face was a strange one as he regarded you in the candlelight of the restaurant. It reminded you of the way someone looks at a painting in an art gallery that they’ve only seen in books and reproductions before. He stared at you as if trying to fix the lines and shapes of your face in his mind, as though he would sculpt you later from memory. It only lasted perhaps three seconds, but it was so powerful that you nearly didn’t react as he gently chinked his glass against yours. “Cheers,” he said, the word very softly enunciated.

Even the way he drank was elegant and he held you transfixed as he sipped, the very tip of his tongue just sampling the little tide-mark that was left behind on his upper lip after he’d swallowed. When his eyes met yours again, his gaze clouded and he frowned quizzically at you. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, you grinned and said, “Are you honestly telling me that after two and a half hundred years, you have no idea how good looking you are?”

The flush began at his collarbones and crept up his cheeks to his slightly tapered ears, obscuring the golden dusting of very faint freckles on his cheekbones.

“Come on,” you pressed playfully.

He licked his lips. “I… I have been told as much, yes, but… it’s… it’s always embarrassing to me.”

“To be attractive? Mikaeïl, people would pay millions to look like you!”

The red in his cheeks darkened and he took another sip, looking away.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still laughing that somehow you of all people had managed to make a powerful creature like a dragon shifter blush furiously.

The meal was incredible, the wine heady and rich, but perfectly matched to the food. Mikaeïl and you soon moved past your initial awkwardness and settled into an evening of playful banter. As you shared a gorgeous dessert, you asked him about his family, and he said that his sister Caerelia was the only family he had left now. “She’s very… protective of me,” he murmured, going pink in the cheeks again. “She’s been asking me a lot about you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I told her to mind her own business though. I’m not a hatchling anymore… But she’s never going to change.”

“As long as she’s not… you know…” you shrugged, “Overbearing…”

“Oh, she’s overbearing,” he laughed. “But I know what you mean. She means well, and nearly always backs off if I ask her to.” Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his seat and said, “I can’t eat any more.”

“Me neither,” you groaned. “That was so good.”

Twenty minutes later, he was walking you along the road towards the taxi stand in the centre of Old Trollbridge. You held his hand and murmured, “Thank you for tonight. I… I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” he said, his feet falling still as he turned to look down at you. In a barely-audible whisper, he asked, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Letting go of your hand, he placed his left hand on your hip, drawing you close with his right, the fingers of which he placed just below your chin, tilting your face up. His eyes glowed in the dim light, and your heart rate soared as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek before cupping the back of your head and coaxing you further into the gesture. His lips touched yours in the briefest ghost of a kiss before he returned and began to kiss you more confidently, as though he now believed that you did want this after all.

You let him set the pace of the kiss, his grip tightening suddenly on your hip, but after what felt like only a moment or two, he drew back, his breathing a little ragged.

“Mikaeïl?”

His eyes really were glowing golden, and he ground his jaw again, stepping back and closing his eyes before laughing. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away there…”

It hadn’t been that fervent a kiss… “I didn’t think you did - oh,” you breathed as he raised his lip up on one side in a little playful snarl and showed you that his canine was significantly longer than it had been, almost like a vampire’s. A deep, low-frequency rumble rolled off him too before he turned it into a laugh.

“You do remember that it’s been a while for me…”

“Yeah, but, oh… When you said you hadn’t been with anyone in that time, you meant… at all…?”

The blush was back in his cheeks and he shook his head, his red hair dancing in the lamp light. “It… I didn’t… It wasn’t something that I…” He took a sharp, shaky inhale and smiled awkwardly. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you said gently, pressing your palm to his cheek and watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned gratefully into the touch like an affectionate cat.

“Thank you…” he said without opening his eyes. “Come, let me take you home.”

You ached all over to stay with him that night, but you sensed he needed more time, to move at a slower pace, and it was probably for the best anyway. With a nod, you and he continued to walk side by side down the cobbled street, and in another grateful gesture, he briefly squeezed your fingers in his without looking at you.

Part Nine

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[loopy777]

I love your two Ursas analysis! If we ignore The Search and take the hints from canon, like her laughing at the siege of Ba Sing Se, do you have a HC for the night Azulon died/where she was all those years? I almost think it’s most plausible that she died or was otherwise incapacitated. And do you think she ever had a “the FN is evil” epiphany or it was limited to “you can’t kill Zuko”? Do you think Ozai abused her, or was just unloving? Maybe he saw no purpose to abusing her, unlike the kids

Ah, Ursa headcanons. Everyone’s got a set. For me, though, it was less about headcanon than it was about trying to solve the mystery I thought the AtLA cartoon had been setting up. Since ‘The Search’ revealed that there were no real answers to be had, I’ve speculated a bit on what I’d like to see, but I haven’t done much with those ideas since they by their nature contradict canon.

So, my Ursa...

A noble by birth, with her relation to Roku known but not discussed. Sozin and Azulon could have very easily made a pariah out of the family by simply ignoring them and allowing the rest of Fire Nation society antagonize them in a display of performative loyalty. However, Sozin instead reached out to Roku’s family, explaining that Roku was a traitor but surely his family is loyal to the crown and looking to prove it to avoid any unpleasantness. They agreed, and so Roku’s family became almost entirely dependent on the Fire Lord’s goodwill and protection. The one alliance they maintained for themselves was with the Fire Sages, as the family had been honored by them for producing the Avatar, even after Roku and Sozin had their falling out. Sozin had been politically pressuring the Sages throughout his life, trying to make them a tool of the crown, and the Sages in turn maintained good relations with Roku’s family to try to keep some independence. Quite a few of Roku’s family had even become Sages, over the decades.

(This didn’t really work, but it left enough ‘good’ Sages in the organization that when Zuko becomes Fire Lord, he doesn’t have to disband the whole organization, just purge the leadership who had been tools of his father. It very much helps that he’s a distant relation to a lot of these better sages, and that is one of the few smooth elements of his first few years in power.)

When Azulon suggested that the youngest daughter, however, would make a good match for Ozai instead of wasting her life in some dusty temple, they readily agreed and handed her over. Ursa herself was fine with this, as she appreciated the Royal Family’s protection as much as the rest of her clan, and preferred noble society anyway. Plus, back then Ozai made an effort to be charming. Ursa herself was happy as a Fire Nation heiress, and was known to argue passionately about the need to liberate the poor oppressed women of the Water Tribes, who were owned as property by their husbands! My Ursa was a Firebender, and had trained at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, but the strength of her flames was never matched by her skill or technique. She just never had the stomach for duels or fighting, hence leaning more towards a scholarly education and perhaps a future as a Sage. But getting to be a princess is even better, especially since the war would probably be over soon. She could help raise the Prince(ss) Governors who would rule over the colonies, influencing the world for the better. And she also found Ozai very attractive. Rawr!

Ozai himself I consider to have always been narcissistic jerk. When he was a kid and young teen, this was readily apparent. As he moved into adulthood, he learned how to hide it behind a facade, but more discerning folks could tell that he was just using friendliness and flattery to win allies. Ursa, sadly, was not that perceptive, so she rather liked Ozai, even into the first few years of the marriage.

Then Zuko came along.

Ozai was consistently disappointed in Zuko, and he blamed Ursa for that. He wasn’t a full-on monster to her, and never laid a hand on her, but he no longer went to the effort of charming her. Ursa managed to fool herself about this, making excuses for Ozai’s behavior even as their marriage cooled. She managed to stick it out long enough to produce Azula, which initially placated Ozai. Azula was everything Zuko was not. However, this did not save the marriage, because Ozai now had what he wanted, and saw no further need for Ursa. Again, he didn’t bully her, but he made no effort to hide his lack of real interest in her. The marriage was soon in name only, with little interaction between them. Ursa began to see Ozai for what he was, especially with his treatment of Zuko, and began to fear the influence he was having on Azula. This distance did help shield her as Ozai grew crueler and more of a bully as his efforts gain power were thwarted by his clumsiness. The palace and Caldera City are big enough that Ursa was able to avoid him most of the time, and they never shared a suite unless actively trying to have children, even early in the marriage.

However, there was little else Ursa could do. Ozai was not favored by Azulon, but challenging the authority of anyone in the Royal Family would have brought swift and terrible reprisal. Ursa tried to shield Zuko as best she could, and continued to play the part of Wife and Princess in official appearances like social gatherings or audiences with the Fire Lord. She sometimes went over the line in trying to protect her children, which Ozai would punish with cruelties, to the point of mental and emotional abuse, and sometimes physical intimidation, but he was too careful (so far) to risk his reputation by attacking his wife. For that, Iroh was indirectly the one to thank, as he had been a loving family man before the death of his wife, which Azulon approved of, and Ozai was trying to look better than his brother in the eyes of their father.

It all eventually came to a head in events portrayed in the flashbacks of ‘Zuko Alone.’ I headcanon that Ursa outright stabbed Azulon to death, to the point where she ruined a good set of her clothes with bloodstains. And then she confessed her crime to the Crimson Guard and Fire Sages. She should have been put to death for treason and murder, and she was prepared for that, but she and Ozai had concocted a better scheme. Ursa called in every favor her family had earned from the Sages to talk to the leadership in the middle of the night. She and Ozai pointed out that Iroh had taken a dim view of the corruption of the Sages and had battled them politically, and told them bluntly that Ozai was their best bet for surviving as an organization. They suggested the Sages should lie about Azulon’s last wishes and pronounce Ozai as the next Fire Lord. In exchange, Ozai would merely banish Ursa as failure of a wife and cover up her crime, so that her family would not have to suffer shame or even outright execution for producing a regicidal traitor. No one would speak of what had happened, no one would get in trouble, and Ozai would be Fire Lord and keep the current system running smoothly. Everyone agreed.

I always figured that Ursa had to have been banished, because in the scene where she says goodbye to Zuko, she’s wearing a dark hooded cloak. That’s universal visual language for “This character is fleeing into the night.”

I also assumed that everyone (important) knew Azulon had been murdered because of the fishy way Ozai was made Fire Lord by the Sages. Even if they believed Azulon had died of natural causes, where did it come from that he had named Ozai as the new crown prince shortly before his death? I doubt a forged note that no one had ever seen before the night of the guy’s death would be considered very reliable. So I thought there had to be a conspiracy that included the Sages; they were at least in on faking Ozai’s claim, and so why wouldn’t they also be in on the murder? And once all the people in power are perpetrating a conspiracy, the evidence doesn’t matter; the truth becomes whatever they want it to be.

Where Ursa goes after that, though, is a lot more nebulous. The way the cartoon finale had Zuko confront Ozai with, “Where- is- my- mother?” implies that Ozai might actually know, or at least have an idea where to start looking. I also think it would cheapen the power of that scene to have Ozai wiggle out of giving any information. So Ozai has to give Zuko something to go on there, but he also said, “Perhaps,” when Zuko asked during the Day of Black Sun if Ursa lives. So I figure Ursa had to have been banished from the Fire Nation, and Ozai knows either where she left from or her initial destination, but nothing else.

I never formed a solid headcanon about whether Ursa is still alive, though. This is the point where my interest ends, since the comics gave us a completely different Ursa character and mystery, and I expect many Avatar fans are interested in fic that outright contradicts canon. If she lives, I think it would be more interesting if she is indeed a typical Fire Nation imperialist, but I don’t think she would actively oppose Zuko’s agenda. It would simply inform their dynamic and create conflict between them. It would be a new challenge for Zuko to overcome in terms of his family. And it might even be a vector for Azula and Ursa to hash out their problems, with Ursa considering that she might almost prefer Azula to have become Fire Lord. But ultimately, Ursa could realize that Azula’s ways are only destructive, and see that the kindness she always liked in Zuko has to extend to all people of the world, not just the Fire Nation.

But there’s also a compelling story in Ursa being dead by the time Zuko tracks her down. Perhaps she died in the war, somehow. Whether Ursa is a racist or not doesn’t matter as much in this scenario. But It could fuel Zuko’s desire to somehow reconcile with Azula, since there’s nothing else from his past that he can save.

So that’s the stuff I came up with.

[alistonjdrake]

June’s World Building Cheat Sheet: Part Two -Let’s Talk the Talk

*Again, more like 4 years but who’s counting?

Anyone who knows me knows that I love languages. I have a great appreciation for them but a very small brain and while I speak a little bit of a handful of them, I confess I’m only fluent in English. But honestly, that might not even be true. Language is my favorite part of creating fantasy worlds. Let’s start this one with a short rant.

Punch the Common Tongue in the Face

The “common tongue” appears in fantasy novels as that language that everyone speaks. Everyone. Where did they learn it? Who created it? What defines it as the common language of all people, even when the two nations might be on opposite sides of the world and never interact? I don’t know but I’ve always hated it. I am NOT talking about a lingua franca which is a common language developed between native speakers whose languages are different. Consider them like languages of trade or what might develop on a border but like say if one develops between Escan and the Kells in my setting, it probably wouldn’t be so common that someone in Slovy (very far away) would know it. Lingua francas are very valid though. Would love to see more of them. Absolutely fuck the common tongue.

What Language You Speak

Languages are very important. Beyond...y’know...being the way we communicate with each other. It also dictates how and even where we might stand in society. It’ll give clues as to where we’re from and given that some words exist in languages but not in others, it’ll also influence how we relate to the world around us. I juggle a lot of languages in my setting and mentioning languages or how many your character may speak can say a lot about them. It can even clue into the current state of the world.

A thing I think about almost every time I write a scene is “what language are my characters speaking?” When I have a lot of characters from several different countries and I can say for sure “oh they’re speaking Escan” it says a lot more about the setting than one would think.  or not 

Like. Alright. Everyone in the room is speaking Escan but only one person is a native speaker. Why? Well, Escan is an Empire, it’s taken over a lot of land, they’ve set up a lot of schools and such for the sole purpose of having their language become dominant. Because of Escan’s prominence as a worldly power, their language then became synonymous throughout the world as being “educated” or high-class some a group of people who aren’t from there might speak it because it’s more respected. Mentioning what language my characters are speaking is such a small detail but it adds to the world's development. Your characters aren’t speaking the language you’re typing in. They’re speaking their own. (I mean...unless your story takes place in the real world then I guess...disregard this).

Some nations had court languages. Languages that were not native to the country itself but was considered pompous enough to only be spoken by rich folk and it’s a detail I love to steal. Or think about what came first. The language or the country? Do certain languages have other implications rather than being just a form of communication? (i.e languages used only for holy texts). Are there dead languages? Ones really hard to learn? What do characters do when presented with someone who does not speak the same language as them? Would they expect them to be able to? Does anyone flex how many languages they can speak? 

I personally love having multilingual characters at least to live through them and also because there’s a lot of world building you can get away with by just...adding it to the conversation. Which brings me to a point I want to mention but that’s better left to my next fancy header.

How You Speak

This means dialects, accents, word choice, you name it. This stuff all seems so obvious in the real world. I’m from New England. I speak differently than my mom who lives in Georgia. These are things we all notice and talk about now but sometimes gets overlooked in writing. 

I mentioned court languages above. Let’s go back to the Escana Empire. Let’s take a look at the capital city of Graza and our main character, Prince Argus. 

Argus has lived in Graza is whole life. His native language is Escan. In one scene he meets another Escana citizen who grew up in a different town, is not a member of the nobility/royal class and she says she can hardly understand him despite speaking the same language. 

This is because the people who rule the empire are want to sound a certain way. They like to spell their words a certain way. They even speak and pronounce some of their words a way that’s not common in the rest of the country. Their accents are obviously different. Now. Is it a hugely important detail? Probably not but knowing that people in Graza speak the same language differently than the people in the middle of nowhere adds something to my setting. It gives the defined rules of “everyone speaks the same language I made up” more breathing room and it makes it feel like there’s this rich history behind these decisions that brought Argus to speaking his native language in a different way than this character speaks her’s.

Characters should speak differently. Not just in dialogue but it could help you write dialogue that grounds them more in their setting if you know certain intentions and choices behind their word choice. The detail I wanted to mention was in a scene where a character had to translate something she noted the way people who speak Geg (another precious fictional language) refer to themselves in a way that seems arrogant to others because it’s pronounced and spelled a similar way that they’d refer to their monarch. But you’d only see someone from the upper classes do this. Someone who works in a shop and owns like 2 pairs of shoes would not do this. Or maybe they would if they were particularly feeling themselves that day. 

The way we speak our languages can be a great factor to show the specifics of a setting. It gives an air of variety to something you never actually have to show (can you write out your language's alphabet and write full sentences of it? Sure but you don’t have to). And even so much as mentioning what languages character choose to speak might say a lot about them and the world they live in and could also just continue to have an impact on your world. Going back to Geg, there’s two forms of it. Lowlander Geg and Highlander Geg. Highlander Geg actually sounds a lot more like a language that isn’t Geg at all and it actually upsets a lot of the people who speak Lowlander Geg. Or How Escan is very close to another language, which shares similarities to yet another language and Argus translates to the second language first whenever he needs to write or speak in the third. 

How I Create Languages

 A lot of people seem to find this daunting. When I tell people there’s at least 12 in my setting they act as if I’ve done something impressive. I haven’t. 

So. I want to create a language. Usually, I have an idea of what I want it to sound like and what I want to base it off of first. I have a few things I can string together to create the rest of the language, and by that I mean a few other names and words I’ll end up sprinkling into the story (and the rare full sentence) to give it a sense of realness. 

It’s important of course to keep these inspirations consistent unless the language has since developed outside influences or if no word in the base language exists for the word that’s being borrowed. I don’t dive too deep in the history of the language’s creation but there are distinct sounds I usually keep in mind. What sounds or spelling variations are common? What came first? Written or spoken? How has their language influenced the culture? (Do they have certain sayings, a focus on its written form, etc)

Speaking of, we’ll start on cultures and such next. Which will likely be or longest saga and might dive back into language but I’m not worried about that now. 

Tagging interested parties: @emofairykei​ @asablehart​ @space-cadead​ @mirror-of-too-many-books​ @shattered-starrs​

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 8

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 8: Alex’s shield has definitively fallen and all of her feelings towards Ben are exposed. She’s tired to pretend and, after a disastrous morning at the rehearsals, she decides to go and talk with him. But things are going to take an unexpected turn. 

Word count: 4.7k+

Warnings: SMUT! (protected sex and graphic descriptions) in the second half of the chapter - Please read it only if you’re 18+; a little bit of Angst and some language here and there 

A/N: Things get spicy in this chapter, folks 🌶 and everything gets even more complicated! Brace yourselves, and enjoy the ride on this rollercoaster of feelings🎢🙈

Sunday, 1 December 2019 

Once she was in his arms, nothing mattered anymore. Everything was blurred and distant. The only words she could hear were ‘You make me feel alive’, repeated again. And again.

“Cut! – Joe shouted, massaging his left temple – Sarah, how many times did I tell you? Your place is on the right, over there,” he added, getting up from his seat and walking closer to the stage.

“It’s not that simple! Elizabeth is my reference point, I lose my position when she’s missing” the girl talked back.

Joe sighed and his eyes caught the growing smirk on Lucy’s face, who was waiting for her moment to enter the scene.

“Do you find it funny? – he asked the blonde – that’s why you’re smiling, uh?”

Lucy shrugged and crossed her arms on the chest, stating:

“I just think that, if you’d cast me as the main princess, you wouldn’t have all these problems now. I’ve never missed a rehearsal, unlike a certain person”

“Unlike a certain person” Denise mocked her, not raising her head from the piece of paper she was reading. Alex who was sat down next to her laughed a little bit aloud and pushed her friendly with her shoulder.

“Shhh, they’ll hear you,” she whispered in her ear, keeping her eyes lowered as well while she was re-reading her lines.  

“I don’t care. I can’t stand that girl, for real. Look at her – she said, making Alex look up for a moment; Lucy was strutting around the stage, putting a little too much emphasis in her words – does she think we’re on Broadway or something? Jesus, calm your spirits girl”

Alex giggled again and scrolled her head, going back to study her part.

Denise raised her eyebrow in confusion when Lucy fell on her knees pretending to cry giving an exaggerated amount of pathos to the scripted action and sighed aloud turning her attention towards Alex.

“How’s Liz?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“Better. She needs some more time alone, I guess” Alex replied, not looking into the insistent gaze Denise was reserving her.

“’twas quite a blow for her. All the Gwil’s situation, I mean” Denise commented, diverting her attention to the stage again.

Alex nodded.

“Yes. It honestly kills me seeing her like that, I wish I could do something to help,” she added, while she was highlighting a few keywords on her paper.

Denise clicked her tongue against her front teeth and abandoned her shoulders against the back of the seat.

“If I know her well, and I do, she just needs to be alone for a few days as you said. The only thing you can do is hugging her tight; she’s that kind of girl who in moments like this needs more physical affection than encouraging words”

Alex nodded along, rotating her head to look at her. Denise met her eyes and they both shared a smile, then she gazed a point behind Alex’s back and grinned.

“Look who is coming” she mischievously said.

Alex turned around and saw Ben entering the auditorium. She looked at him as he walked down the stairs and waved back when he mouthed a silent ‘hello’.

Denise smirked noticing the shy smile that was curving Alex’s lips and coughed a little to recall her attention.

“So – she started, sliding an arm behind Alex’s back when she scrolled her head and went back to stare at the papers in her hands – how are things going with Mr. Handsome?” Denise cockily asked.

Alex rolled her eyes and inclined her head towards her friend.

"Spare me those expressive eyebrows, nothing is going on and there is no Mr. Handsome”

Denise chuckled and got back to sit properly, shrugging her shoulders.

“If you say so”

“Yes, I say so” Alex talked back, winked at her while she stood up and walked closer to Joe’s table.

She tapped on his shoulder and when he raised his head to look at her, she noticed how tired he seemed. She wondered whether he was so off lately because of the amount of work, he was putting into the musical, or because of the whole Liz-Gwil thing.

She scrolled her head to cast out her thoughts, deciding it was not the right moment to ask him those kinds of questions.

“Joe, since Ben has arrived, can we try on stage our part? I have a mid-term exam in a few days and I’d like to go to the library to study as soon as possible,” she asked instead, keeping her hand pressed on his shoulder as to say ‘I’m here if you need to talk’.

“Yes, sure – he replied smiling up at her – Ben, go on stage, please. It's yours and Alex’s turn,” he added, getting up from his chair.

Alex thanked Joe and ran towards the stage. When she raised her head, she saw Ben was already standing in the middle of the scene and was staring at her.

“Scene number 4, right?” she asked aloud, once she was next to Ben and they both started to flip the pages of their script.

“Nope – Joe jumped on his feet and reached the hem of the stage – I’d like you to try the last page of the second act,” he said, flipping his paper as well.

“But I’ve never even read those pages, Joe” Alex protested, gesticulating with her left hand while she put her right one on her hip. Ben giggled at her complaining attitude.

In the meanwhile, Denise had moved in the front row and was observing the whole scene with a smirk on her face.

“I know, but it’s one of the most important scenes” Joe replied.

Alex rolled her eyes and searched for the last part of the second act. Ben let out a surprised noise when his eyes traveled to the last line of the page and, at first, Alex did not understand.

When she reached the same line, she widened her eyes.

Oh hell no. She thought.

“A kiss? Between … us? - Alex’s voice flinched a little and everyone in the auditorium turned their head towards the stage – it’s not going to happen”

“Oh yes, it is going to happen. It’ll be just a peck on the lips, ‘m not expecting you to make out in front of the whole audience – Ben chuckled a little at those words and immediately received a deadly gaze from Alex – so, now c’mon!” Joe clapped his hands and walked back to his place behind the table.

Lucy, in the meantime, had frowned her eyebrows and had started to feel jealousy filling her stomach.

Alex closed her eyes for a second, trying to calm down, but when she met Ben’s stare she knew it would have been impossible.

“’re you ready?” he asked. And, as a response, Alex looked down to the pages and an amused sigh left her lips.

“What an ironic coincidence – she stated, pointing at the first lines of the last page and walking closer to Ben who leaned down to read them too – ‘and you know why you didn’t? Because for you, love has always been just a game’, does this remind you of something?”

“Maybe. I think some random girl had said to me the same words a while ago, before melting in front of me once I had shown her my piano’s skills” Ben talked back with a flirty, low tone.

“That random girl was your powerful wifey. The sorceress of this damned musical, so you better show her some respect” Alex replied, distancing herself ready to act.

Ben licked his lips and smirked, before starting to dress the part too.

The acted part went off without a hitch, but when the kiss’ moment came, a thin layer of tension fell between them.

“And now, kiss her” Joe encouraged Ben once he had pronounced his last line and was less than an inch away from Alex’s lips.

She was staring at him with her breath trapped in her throat, while her heart was drumming hard inside her chest.

Ben lowered his head and grazed her lips, deposing not even a proper kiss on her lips. Just a fast, almost imperceptible touch that left behind a feeling of emptiness. A feeling of ‘I want more’.

He then stared in her eyes, searching for the same temptation of going deeper, but Joe’s voice interrupted the moment.

“Nope – he said, scrolling his head – that’s not enough. I know I told you ‘just a peck’, but this was … meh,” he added, stressing the last word – or better said disappointed noise.

Alex breathed heavily and Ben could read annoyance written all over her face.

“Put some effort in it, mates” Joe then winked and took only a step back remaining close to the stage’s edge.

The two went back at staring at each other and Ben tried an encouraging smile to help Alex relax. She smiled back and slightly nodded, as to say ‘okay, ‘m ready’.

He inclined his head and kissed her. Again. This time longer, but always as chaste as possible.

When they parted, the whole world faded away and for a moment, they were alone on stage. Alone in the auditorium.

Alex’s eyes kept bouncing from his eyes to his lips and, this time, Ben saw that sparkle in her dilated pupils.

That sparkle that meant ‘I don’t want more. I need it’.

Instinctiveness worked faster and before he knew it, Ben was kissing her again. This time properly, as he thought Alex deserved to be kissed.

She breathed heavily and could not help, but abandon herself in his arms. Until a voice transported them both back to life.

“Cut! Cut! – Joe shouted – that’s a little bit too much” he explained, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

Denise immediately covered her mouth with her hands, trying to suppress her giggles, but mostly to disguise her pleasantly shocked expression. Little did she knew that what was coming would have made her stare in awe even more.

“A little too much? – Lucy shrieked walking faster to reach the stage – Ben what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Alex took several steps back, but couldn’t unlock her eyes from his. Her brain was still trying to process what had just happened and, in a moment of complete bewilderment, she turned her head to look for Denise.

The girl scrolled her shoulders and opened her mouth, unable to help Alex with just one silent exchange of expressions.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lucy yelled again and the eyes of everyone were on her again.

“I-I … Lucy, wait” Ben replied, literally jumping down the stage when his girlfriend started to head for the door.

“Lucy, please,” he said once he had reached her and touched her shoulder, but she slapped his whole arm away.

“Don’t start with your bullshits! You disrespected me in front of everyone and you also expect me to be fine with it!” her voice so loud that it echoed in the heavy silence that was haunting the auditorium.

“I was just acting, that meant nothing,” he said, placing his palms on her arms to calm her down.

Alex’s chest ached a little at those words.

“That was not acting! – Lucy spat out – you never kiss me like that. You used to, but now you don’t anymore. And you know it” she added, lowering her voice to not let the others hear her words.

She then turned on her heels and burst the door open. Ben remained froze for a second and briefly looked back to meet Alex’s eyes, who lowered her head to shield her emotions.

He ran outside and let the auditorium’s door close behind his back.  

Suddenly all heads snapped in Alex’s direction and if she could, she would have become tiny and disappeared under the wood of the stage floor.

“Okay, everyone! Guess we’re done for today! – Denise clapped her hands and stood up from her seat – am I wrong Joe?” she added, turning to look at Joe who was paralyzed still incredulous of what had just happened.

“Ehm, yes – he said, scratching her chin – yeah, yeah. We are done. Thank you, everyone”

Saying that Joe stretched his arm towards the stage to help Alex jump down. She sadly smiled and thanked him under her voice.

Denise ran to reach them and immediately put a hand behind Alex’s back.

“Hey, are you fine?”

“A little embarrassed, but yeah, we can say I'm fine,” Alex answered nervously giggling.

Joe patted her shoulder and tried a shy smile to reassure her. Alex returned the sympathy and followed by Denise she headed to the auditorium’s exit with a mixed combination of feelings gathered inside of her.  

***

The sunset was painting long, black lines on the ceiling and Ben’s green irises were mixing themselves with the orange walls surrounding him.  

He had his eyes fixed on the void and his mind was somewhere else, stuck in the memory of the kiss he had shared with Alex on stage.

Abruptly, a few insistent knocks on the door woke him up from his trance and, with furrowed eyebrows, he stretched his back and got up from his bed to go and see who she or he was.

The surprise in his widened eyes was more than evident, when, opening the door, he saw Alex standing there with crossed arms on her chest.

“We need to talk. Can I come in?” her voice trembled a little.

Ben nodded and moved to the side to let her enter, then checked the corridor outside to make sure no one had seen her come inside.

Alex thanked him under voice and stepped into his bedroom; her eyes started to roam around the room: a canoeing trophy there on a shelf, a pair of shoes forgotten on the carpet and a cute photo of Ben with Lucy on the desk.

“Are you okay? – Ben’s voice startled her and he noticed how nervous she was – I mean, has anything happened?” he added, taking a step closer to deposit a hand on her arm.

Alex nodded and, opening her mouth to answer, she rotated her head and noticed Rami’s bed was empty.

“Where is he?” she asked, indicating the unoccupied spot with a movement of her chin. Ben followed her gaze and shrugged.

“’s somewhere in the library with a few friends to study for an exam – and saying that, he walked towards his own bed and sat down on the mattress – why?” he chuckled, not quite understanding what Rami had to do with them now.

Alex caressed her arm, where, a few seconds before, Ben had placed his palm and shrugging her head, she reached Ben’s bed and sat down next to him.

“I needed to know if we’d be alone for a while,” she earnestly answered, but kept her eyes focused on the floor. Ben stared at her lowered profile and, even if half of her face was hidden, he could tell there was something wrong.

He moved a little closer and their knees touched, while their shoulders brushed against one another.

“Alex, look at me – Ben said, placing two of his fingers under her chin – what happened? What did I do to upset you this much? Because don’t try to lie: I know it’s my fault”

She inclined her head a little to shift away Ben’s digits from her face and inhaled sharply.

“I didn’t come here to argue or to accuse you. I came here because I need to know the truth – her voice came out cold and distant, but she finally turned her head and looked into  Ben’s eyes – I need to know if … all of this, between us, does exist only in my head. I need to know if you were being honest when you said that kiss meant nothing to you”

All her feelings. All her insecurities. Everything was exposed and, even if she tried to, Alex could not stop the tears that started to pool in her eyes.

Ben promptly pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly, while Alex let herself go, and sobbed hiding her face in his t-shirt.

He then cupped one of her cheeks and dried some of her tears with his thumb. He lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose, then her forehead, before placing his other palm on the other half of her face.

“That kiss meant the world to me, Alex” Ben finally admitted.

To his great surprise, Alex inched forward and kissed him. The tears had made her lips salty, while her hands were warm and smooth against Ben’s neck.

He hummed and slowly encircled her body to keep her as close as possible.

They felt the tension disappear and for once, they were alone. For real. No eyes watching them. No fears. Just them, their lips and their short breaths.

Gradually, a kiss after the other, Alex found herself straddling Ben's lap who had stretched his legs on the bed and kept his hands firmly on her lower back.

When Alex’s hips stirred a little too fast, Ben could not contain a low groan that echoed in his throat. They parted from each other and Ben found himself blushing until the tip of his ears.

“’m sorry, I tried to hold it back” he embarrassedly chuckled and loosened the grip of his hands, but before he could move them away Alex stopped him.

Ben held his breath while Alex slowly guided his palms until they were perfectly pressed on her waists.

“Don��t be sorry” she then whispered. She inclined her head and paused her lips a millimeter away from Ben’s.

Looking at him under the lashes, she rolled her hips again and admired Ben twisting his features in a desperate attempt to hide another moan.

“Don’t hold back,” Alex breathed out with trembling voice, as she felt his hands squeeze harder on the skin of her hips.

When his growing bulge met her jeans-clothed core, they both let out a hushed sigh and their foreheads leaned against one another.

“Alex … I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back any longer, to be honest," Ben admitted, gently caressing her thighs.

“Then don’t, Ben. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this with you” she replied cupping his face and caressing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Are you sure?” Ben could feel his heart galloping inside his chest. Alex grinned and adjusted herself on his lap to put her arms behind his neck.

“Put it like that: I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling again in my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you,” she said smirking

“Dirty Dancing? Really?” Ben chuckled, but his smile faded away when he saw that, in response, Alex had nodded and raised her arms in the air waiting for him to remove her t-shirt.

With a serious face, Ben slowly rolled the fabric above her head and threw it on the ground.

Alex flushed and shyly smiled, while she grabbed the edge of his tee and Ben did not hesitate to take it off.

Soon their lips found their way again and it did not take any longer for both of their pants to go and meet their t-shirts already abandoned on the floor.

With a series of clumsy movements followed by chuckles and giggles, Alex lied down on the mattress and Ben towered her as he started to kiss her neck.

“Fuck” she muttered when he nibbled at the skin of her shoulder. Ben’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk and he playfully took the bra strap between his teeth.

Alex observed the whole scene under her lashes and let him slowly remove the last apparel that was still covering the upper part of her body.

Ben took his time to admire her perky breasts now completely exposed to his eyes; he gently caressed the skin of her hips and Alex laughed a little.

“You can touch them if you want” she joked and Ben blushed like a thirteen-year-old.

“Screw you,” he answered wiggling his nose. He gently kissed the space between her boobs and then rolled his tongue around her left nipple.

Alex arched her back and squeezed the sheets into two fists, closing her eyes in pleasure.

Ben grinned and, while he moved his lips to her right breast, he started to play with the waistband of her panties. When Alex noticed, she let her hands slip on his back and began to lower his boxers as well.

“Someone’s eager” Ben flirted, facing her again.

“You know, I would like to finish this before Rami comes back,” she answered, replacing his fingers with hers and taking her underwear off, once and for all.

Ben opened his mouth while a shocked smirk was curving his lips.

“’re so fucking hot, you should be illegal!” he mumbled kissing her again and removing his boxers too, finally freeing his erection.

Alex’s chuckles mixed themselves with her moans when Ben's boner hit her inner thigh.  

“Condom?” Alex tried to form a complete sentence, but only one word left her mouth. Ben nodded and stretched his arm to reach the nightstand.

He opened the silver package with his teeth and Alex laughed a little bit, receiving a questioning gaze from him.

“Nothing, you’re such a cliché” she joked, but her eyes never left his hands as he rolled the condom on his length.

“What do you mean?” Ben asked out of breath, as he positioned himself between her legs.

“Opening the condom with your teeth, as in the best rom-com for horny teenagers,” Alex replied giggling and caressing his face. Ben rolled his eyes and, as he leaned down to kiss her, the tip of his cock brushed against Alex’s entrance, making both of them groan.

“Are you ready?” Ben stuttered, feeling his muscles burn because of all the tension.

“Yes,” Alex replied, putting her legs around his hips and pushing him down with her heels pressed on his butt. Ben moaned just above her ear, finally slowly thrusting into her.

A sigh of relief left both of their mouths as they remained still for a moment to get used to the new feeling of being this close to each other.

Ben kept sliding into her until he had filled her completely, receiving a high-pitched squeak in response, while her legs lost the grip and fell wide open on the mattress, giving him even more access.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight baby,” he muttered, breathing on her neck. Alex clenched around his cock at those words, making Ben groan in pleasure.

“Please Ben, move” she tried to say between the moans, tapping on his shoulder after she felt a peak of pain growing in her lower area.

He pulled out, just to sink in a moment later starting to move his hips. Alex's lips opened wide, as she found herself almost shouting his name out in pleasure. Ben bit the skin of her shoulder when he heard her moaning his name like that.

“Alexandra, you’ll be the death of me” he splattered, kissing her hungrily and letting his tongue caress hers eagerly. She groaned in his mouth at the sound of his voice pronouncing her full name.

Her palms pressed on his butt and her hips left the mattress to meet his in a desperate attempt to have him even closer. Ben hissed and put his hands on her lower back to keep her pelvis glued against his groin.

Ben was moving faster and deeper after each thrust until the tip of his cock hit a spot inside Alex, who gasped arching her back and gave him the chance to attach his lips around her hard nipples.

“Ben” she moaned once more when her back met the bed again. The way she was saying his name would have been enough for him to come undone immediately.

“’m so close” Alex whispered and Ben slowed down.

He wanted her to last as long as possible to have the chance to admire her for some minutes more. She sighed, adapting to this new slow pace, that gave her the chance to enjoy every inch of his length now buried deep inside of her.

His lips soon found their place on her neck again, sucking on her soft spot under her left ear as her fingers massaged his scalp.

Ben’s body was pressed against hers, as he began to roll his hips faster again.

Alex was running out of breath and her hands were frenetically touching every inch of his muscular back.

When she felt Ben twitching inside of her, Alex arched her back and loudly moaned in pure bliss, reaching her climax.

Ben kept thrusting hard into her and, as she was letting the orgasm hit her whole body, he reached his high as well, groaning Alex’s name and repeating it as if it was the only thing he knew.    

He kept moving his hips with erratic movements until Alex squeezed hard on his shoulders as a signal that she was too oversensitive to bear his sloppy thrusts. Ben immediately stopped, collapsing on her body.

Alex caressed his sweaty hair and sighed in relief as if the weight of the whole world had finally left her shoulders.

Ben raised his head and smiled, meeting her lips for one last lazy kiss. Then, he removed the condom, rested his head between her breasts again, and let her lull him for a little while.

Even in a heavenly moment like that, Alex’s mind was working fast and hundreds of scenarios and thoughts were crowding her subconscious. All the confusion found its way into four simple words:

“It will be hard”

Ben furrowed his eyebrows and raised his head to look at her.

“What?”

“I was thinking – Alex started, wiggling a little to seat herself on the mattress; Ben caught the message and kneeled in front of her to let her rest her back against the headboard – it will be hard to talk with Lucy. Because we have to talk with her,” she said, covering her body with the white sheets.

Ben’s face turned pale and he nervously coughed, as he absentmindedly nodded getting up and putting on his boxers again. He then sat on the bed again and caressed his face with the palms of his hands.

Alex’s heartbeat increased and she started to feel as if the worst of the storms were gathering above their heads.

“Ben – she said quite loudly – you know we can’t hide this right? I don’t want to be the third wheel, nor a one-periodical-night stand”

No answer.

Alex widened her eyes and, as fast as light, she sneaked out the sheets and started to get dressed again.

“Where are you going?” Ben finally spoke, getting up from the bed. As a response, Alex took his t-shirt and threw it on his face.

“Away from you. Far fucking away from you,” she coldly shouted.

“Why are you angry, now?”

“Because that fucking silence is already an answer: you’re not gonna tell her, right? You’re not gonna break up with her. Am I wrong?” she yelled just an inch away from his face with her index finger pointed against his chest.

Ben muttered a few garbled sounds and that hurt Alex harder than a slap in the face would have.

“You are disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself! I should be ashamed of myself because I let you had what you wanted! God, what a dumbass I am!” Alex cried out, nervously caressing her forehead.

“Alex, listen-“Ben started, but she pushed him away and headed towards the door.

“Don’t talk to me ever again! I don’t want to see your face anymore!” she sobbed and, in one last desperate attempt to stop her, Ben grabbed her wrist with his fingers. Slapping his hand away, Alex hit the photo of him and Lucy that fell on the ground.

Everything happened too fast: pieces of glass spread on the floor and the door of the room swung open. Rami appeared on the doorway.

“Hey Alex – he greeted her with a smile, then noticed the tears on her face, the photo at her feet and a half-naked Ben behind her back – what happened?” he asked, concerned.

“Your friend is a fucking asshole, that’s what happened – Alex responded – excuse me, Rami,” she then added, getting out of the room at a brisk pace.

Hot tears were blurring her eyes and the damned weight came back heavier on her shoulders. She felt like disappearing.

And, for a moment, she wished she could have vanished for real.

-

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[driedletters]

The Cruel Prince • Holly Black     ★★★★★

•  Quotes

Jude ran at the man, slamming her fists against his chest, kicking at his legs. She wasn’t even scared. She wasn’t sure she felt anything at all.

•

As for dancing, once begun, you mortals will dance yourselves to death if we don’t prevent it.

•

Three is an odd configuration of sisters. There’s always one on the outside.

•

“Dirt. It’s what you came from, mortal. It’s what you’ll return to soon enough. Take a big bite.” “Make me,” I say before I can stop myself.

•

Nicasia’s wrong about me. I don’t desire to do as well in the tournament as one of the fey. I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them.

•

Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven’s wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girl’s heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.

•

You mean because of Cardan and his Court of Jerks?

•

The pictures are taken one right after the other, the kind you have to sit in a booth for. Vivi is in the photos, her arm draped over the shoulders of a grinning, pink-haired mortal girl.

Having stepped off the edge, what I want to do is fall.

•

Liking both girls and boys is the only thing in this scenario Madoc wouldn’t be upset with Vivi about.

•

I delight in the chemicals that would doubtless sicken all the lords and ladies at the Court.

•

We’ve gone three rounds like this already. I keep thinking of the lazy blink of Cardan’s lashes over his coal-bright eyes. He looked gleeful, gloating, as though my fist tightening on his shirt was exactly what he would have wished. As though, if I struck him, it would be because he had made me do it.

•

Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.

•

You think because you can humiliate me, you can control me? Well, I think you’re an idiot. Since we started being tutored together, you’ve gone out of your way to make me feel like I’m less than you. And to coddle your ego, I have made myself less. I have made myself small, I have kept my head down. But it wasn’t enough to make you leave Taryn and me alone, so I’m not going to do that anymore.

• 

As I make my way back to the tournament and my sisters, I can’t stop thinking of Cardan’s shocked face, nor can I stop considering Locke’s smile. I am not altogether sure which is more thrilling and which more dangerous.

•

Not that I’d be the first to green gown her. Faeries

•

It feels a little bit like expecting a proposal of marriage, only to get offered the role of mistress.

•

“Now no one will be able to control you,” he says, and then pauses for a moment. “Except for me.”

•

Truly, he has come by his cruelty honestly in Balekin’s care. He has been raised up in it, instructed in its nuances, honed through its application. However horrible Cardan might be, I now see what he might become and am truly afraid.

•

Welcome,” says the Roach, “to the Court of Shadows.”

•

Not totally Cardan’s puppet like the rest of them.

•

Hard enough to dig through the page, maybe to scar the desk beneath. If that’s what he did to the paper, I shudder to think what he wants to do to me.

•

I have been trying to feel nothing about what happened. I am afraid that if I begin to feel, I won’t be able to bear it. I am afraid that the emotion will be like a wave sucking me under.

It’s not the first awful thing I have endured and pushed into the back of my brain. That’s how I’ve been coping, and if there’s another, better way, I do not know it.

•

He’s kind of a weird kid, maybe because he’s a faerie or maybe because all kids, human or inhuman, are equally weird.

•

Why don’t you ever trust me with him?” I shout, and Oriana wheels around, shocked that I said a thing we don’t say.

•

Mithridatism, it’s called. Isn’t that a funny name? The process of eating poison to build up immunity. So long as I don’t die from it, I’ll be harder to kill.

•

I do not understand why he likes me, but it is exciting to be liked.

•

We are children of tragedy.” He shakes his head and then smiles. “This is not how I meant to begin. I meant to give you wine and fruit and cheese. I meant to tell you how your hair is as beautiful as curling woodsmoke, your eyes the exact color of walnuts. I thought I could compose an ode about it, but I am not very good at odes.”

•

He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffly shirt.

•

Do not reveal your skill with a blade. Do not reveal your mastery over glamour. Do not reveal all that you can do. Little did Prince Dain know that my real skill lies in pissing people off.

•

I think of Cardan’s mouth, flaked with gold

•

I love my parents’ murderer; I suppose I could love anyone. I’d like to love him.

•

Time to change partners,” a voice says, and I look to see that it’s the worst person possible: Cardan. “Oh,” he says to Locke. “Did I steal your line?”

•

Dark silver paint streaks over his cheekbones, and black lines run along his lashes. The left one is smeared, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

•

With a sigh, I take down my braids, rubbing my hands through my hair until it hangs wild in my face. “You look…” he says, and then trails off, blinking a few times, not seeming able to finish. I am guessing the hair thing worked better than he had expected.

•

Jude?” he asks, up against the wall, pronouncing my name carefully, as though to avoid slurring. I am not sure I have ever heard him use my actual name before. “Surprised?” I ask, a fierce grin starting on my face. The most important boy in Faerie and my enemy, finally in my power. It feels even better than I thought it would. “You shouldn’t be.”

•

The High King Balekin is a friend to my lady’s Court,” Cardan says, silver-tongued in his silver fox mask.

•

Tell me anyway,” he says, and yawns. I really want to slap him.

•

I hate how I feel around him, the irrational panic when I touch his skin.

•

Cardan’s clothes are disarranged, from crawling under tables or being captured and tied, and his infamous tail is showing under the white lawn of his shirt. It is slim, nearly hairless, with a tuft of black fur at the tip. As I watch, the tail forms one wavering curve after another, snaking back and forth, betraying his cool face, telling its own story of uncertainty and fear.

•

Only in my dreams has Cardan ever been like this. Begging. Miserable. Powerless

•

...a love mark on my brow so all who looked upon me would be sick with desire, ...

•

Let’s talk about your behavior tonight,” says Madoc, leaning forward. “Let’s talk about your behavior tonight,” I return.

•

So he proposed to you,” I say. “While the royal family got butchered. That’s so romantic.

•

I think of Cardan tied to a chair to cheer myself.

•

Then I think of the way he looked up at me through the curtain of his crow-black hair, of the curling edges of his drunken smile, and I don’t feel in the least bit comforted.

•

... ‘mortal feelings are so volatile that it’s impossible to help toying with them a little’.

•

He smiles down at me, as if the reason I’m on my knees is because I am curtsying.

•

I’m nervous,” he says. “I smile a lot when I’m nervous. I can’t help it

•

Very well.” He fixes me with a spiteful look. “I hate you because your father loves you even though you’re a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because you don’t have a brother who beats you. And I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me.

•

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

•

Just looking at him makes me feel hot with shame. “You sure you brought me here just to talk.

•

Jude Duarte, daughter of clay, I swear myself into your service. I will act as your hand. I will act as your shield. I will act in accordance with your will. Let it be so for one year and one day…and not for one minute more.

•

I fix him with a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

•

Oh, really?” The human surprises me by speaking first. “Yes, mortal,” I say, like the hypocrite I am. 

•

We go over the plans again, and Cardan helps us map out Hollow Hall. I try not to be too conscious of his long fingers tracing over the paper, of the sick thrill I get when he looks at me.

•

By this point, I have told this story enough that it’s easy to hit only the necessary parts, to run through the information quickly and convincingly

•

With Vivi, I feel forever doomed to be the little sister, foolish and about to topple over onto my face.

•

I do not have endless patience,” Balekin growls. “Cultivate it,” Cardan says, and with a small bow, he navigates us away from Balekin and Madoc.

•

Jude?” I may never be used to the sound of my name on his lips.

•

The Ghost tosses the crown to my identical twin. It falls at Taryn’s feet.

•

Of Nicasia giving Cardan a lingering kiss on his royal cheek.

•

He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”

•  Black, Holly. “The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air Book 1)”. 2018.