#like she IS still the princess (queen??) but it matters FAR less in a social heirarchy way

[ofcowardiceandkings]

now im finking about the first time Link would be prompted to call Zelda by her name ??? im gonna die

[fideidefenswhore]

🔥 whatever you like

Thanks!

So, there's been a few articles in the past decade or so that express distaste at the comparison of Princess Diana & AB (and a fair amount of umbrage in misc comments on social media at any parallels being drawn whatsoever, generally, I'm not gonna lie, from C/oA stans...Catherine was the Princess of Wales, Catherine was the one that was popular and beloved by the people, I think these are the broader strokes they believe should be associated with her more...that Catherine was the older of the pair does not seem to matter, that Catherine was, like Camilla, the one that knew 'the prince' the longest doesn't matter, because Camilla was Other Woman and AB was Other Woman, and as such they were both hated by the public, they will never see past any other elements of the story/stereotypes than those, esp. because ultimately they believe all the animus directed at both of those women was/is entirely deserved and justified);

But what's interesting is it's not even so much on the grounds that there are always pitfalls in sanctifying people in general, it's generally pearl-clutching about how Diana deserves sanctification, deserves every possible iteration to be made of her life, and AB does not...the answer to the 'moral quandary' presented in the The Times' BSR review, "Anne Boleyn is being rebooted — but was the tragic Tudor queen a whore and a witch or the Princess Diana of the Tudor age?" by Alison W/eir was basically that she wasn't a whore or a witch, but again, her oh-the-humanity answer of "she wasn't a very nice person" and deserved her "unpopularity in her own time", and was so far from Princess Di, woe to those that popularize AB, somehow she omits herself from that list, how stupid they are to ever believe otherwise, etc

The implication of the above is more what's funny to me... she shouldn't be treated as Princess Diana, because Anne 'had a mean streak' (using "words as one would not address to a dog", from a source no less than above reproach than that of an ex-flame)... but, Diana didn't? The woman who pushed her stepmother down a flight of stairs? The woman who confronted her children's nanny with an entirely personal, private (and leaked, to her belief, although it was later revealed it was another doctoring by Bashir) medical document? Diana was sanctified because she died tragically; if she were still alive today, she would almost certainly be "cancelled"; famous (women, particularly...they are generally judged more harshly) people have been cancelled for much less.

And then we have author Vanora Bennett, who did compare them, but not favorably, and rather misogynistically (to other women, as well):

[Anne] didn’t have the knack for self-reinvention that has brought modern celebrities such as Victoria Beckham long-term success, or the tight-lipped compliance that saw Kate Middleton claim her prize after eight years of waiting for Prince William to propose.

If anything, Anne reminds me more of Princess Diana – both of them charming and glamorous, yet unable to maintain smooth relations with the royals around them; manipulative and sometimes vindictive, yet posthumously elevated to icons of victimhood; dying too soon and leaving young children to cope with their tragic legacy.

Unfortunately this assessment has also been given academic gloss, but luckily this has mainly been limited to GW Bernard's asinine, quasi-profound remark that since Diana had sex outside of her marriage, AB probably did, too.

Idk, I've honestly just been thinking about this because I've been thinking about fan reactions as I watch The Crown, puzzled by how Peter Morgan is so good at writing those royals, but so bad at writing these royals...

Because, really, I think there are elements of both Camilla and Diana's stories in AB's? On the surface level, you have ebullient, charismatic, cheated on by her husband, husband dated her sister 1st, (honestly, never not going to be a weird thing, it must have been borne out of...I suppose, both the utterly limited society of 'acceptable' people to interact with for those of extreme wealth and the entitlement and belief you're above such provincial concerns as ‘That's Weird’), which is probably what led to that being motif in the Kristen Stewart as Diana movie.

And then, Anne was unpopular, but it was said basically, that...those who knew her, loved her, and those that didn't were, at the least, captivated by her despite themselves.

How much of her contemporary slander was from people that had only ever glimpsed her? I think we forget that when we forget how late the sixth-finger and other misc. deformities were alleged. 'Goggle-eyed whore' is the mark of someone who saw her from enough of an distance that the only feature of note was those infamous, large eyes.

Often people confuse charisma with popularity, very often they go together but they are not interchangeable, not synonymous. Charisma can only take effect within intimate contexts. As such, it's true that Anne had one but not so much the other.

Who knows how she might have fared, popularity-wise, if she'd had the powers of radio, TV, etc at her disposal...they're creative reimaginings out of her control/remit, but she has those now and seems to have done better on that front in immortality than she did in mortality/life.

What we have basically is two elements -- "royal mistress" and "threatening the image of the monarchy", and maybe even a little “marrying for love [when royal]”. These are all broad narrative stripes that are seen as “scandalous”, all seen as disruptive, against status quo, so they are always going to inspire creators. At the end of the day, the hand-wringing over that inspiration rings ... insipid? Naiive? Take your pick. 

[edenspetals]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰🥀꒱ rishima ៸៸

ଓ.° “ I'll be queen. And you, doll, will rule at my side. ’

·⊰ species: avian human ( peacock )

·⊰ sex: female

·⊰ age: 500+

·⊰ hair colour: black

·⊰ eye colour: magenta

·⊰ mbti: ISTJ

·⊰ about: a princess of her species and the last in line to the throne, rishima is a woman of intelligence and diligence. she is considered to be exceptionally pale and has medium-length black hair which is often curled at the ends. her eyes are magenta and she often dons black eyeliner along the rim of her eyelids. her lips almost always have their signature dark red lipstick. from the back of her head extends a series of black peacock feathers and running from the base of her back is a long, peacock tail that, like her head feathers, are black in colour. her nails are typically kept sharp, often mimicking that of talons, she prefers painting them black or the same red as her lipstick. her outfits consist of black and red sarees. she has a red vermilion mark painted on her forehead. it is common to find her with gold bangles around her wrists or adorned in other jewelry such as earrings and black veils. due to her species' element, at times her feathers may ignite flames on them if she finds herself growing irritated — this can transcend into her feathers and self in general being doused with flames to become what is known as their 'amber form'.

rishima is royalty and lives majority of her life in the palace, however, as stated she is the last in line for the throne. while her intelligence might be far greater than the rest of her family, she is considered to be the runt among them. due to this she has developed a hatred towards them and vows to prove to them that brains is in fact, over brawn. her goal is to eventually become first in line and if she can help it — queen. how does she intend to do that? by cutting off loose-ends, of course. be it by means of framing or more fatal options, she has been planning and orchestrating a grand scheme — while still keeping the facade of the disinterested, antisocial scientist.

while she may be quiet, that does not mean that she is afraid to speak her mind. if anything, she thinks out loud. she appears to be indifferent majority of the time, silently observing situations and involving herself where she sees fit. she is not the most social of individuals and often coops herself up in the palace laboratory or library, either working on experiments, making potions, burying her nose in a book or drafting out the next steps of her plan. she has quite the silver tongue and be quite cunning when needed. as stated she is very intelligent — scarily so. she can be temperamental and vengeful, not forgetting when someone has done her wrong.

this indifference doesn't waver at first with a lover, at least on the outside. it would take some time to get her softer side out of her but that doesn't mean she would care any less should you happen to catch her eye. in the beginning she would be closed off due to the fact that she is not necessarily the best with emotions — but once she accepts her feelings for you, things will definitely seem smoother. she has a surprisingly nurturing nature and is both concerned for your well-being and protective of you in more ways than one. she can be quite teasing and not to mention: shameless. this is expressed through her nicknames for you along with her actions. she tends to be more physically affectionate as her verbal affection has no filter / is quite blunt and at times she feels as though it may throw you off. rishima really does require a person who will be equally as nurturing as she tends to have a habit of overworking herself. on those nights she often requires a little of coaxing to leave her lab but once she does, she's all over you in a matter of minutes. adores letting you rest on her while she strokes your hair but will not be opposed to switching positions and letting you pet her feathers.

·⊰ strengths:

ଓ.°fire manipulation — her species is often mistaken for phoenixes due to their ability to manifest fire. she is able to manifest and control this element

ଓ.°enhanced agility & speed — her agility and speed are heightened due to her hollow skeleton. this makes her extremely light on her feet and graceful

ଓ.°sixth sense — her reaction time is enhanced and she has the ability to sense danger or threats before they strike

·⊰ weakness:

ଓ.°water — while water in itself does not hurt her in her normal form, it can easily subdue her if she's using her flames. if she is in her amber form, water can go as far as being fatal to her

ଓ.°iron — the purer that the iron is, the more lethal that it can be for this avian species. lower concentrations tend to weaken her while higher concentrations can become fatal

ଓ.°black magic — one of the most practical ways to subdue her species, she tends to be more susceptible to dark magic as peacocks are considered to be pure species

[jalapeno-princess]

Something There

Prince Mark X Princess reader

Genre: Angst (fluff and potentially smut in the future chapters but this specific chapter is just full of angst).

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Ever since you were a little girl, you have been groomed to follow the ways of being royalty. Being a princess had it’s perks; you got to attend all of these fancy balls and parties, you lived in an enormous palace with your family and your best friend just so happened to be a prince of a neighboring kingdom. Everything was seemingly perfect. You barely had any worries other than what you would be like as queen once you would take over the family reign from your parents. You were still so young to be considering what your life would be like in the future, but your parents don’t give you much of a choice once you find out that they have given your hand away in marriage without your knowledge or consent. Although you knew it was going to happen sooner or later and you’ve accepted your fate, you weren’t ready to find out just who you were going to marry--and when it turns out that the man you are meant to spend the rest of your life with just so happens to be the same man you hate with a burning passion.

“Y/n! Are you ready yet? The Parks will be here any minute!” 

You giggled softly to yourself at your mother’s hasty words as your chambermaid helped you with the final touches on your hair. That word never set well with you seeing as how Elizabeth—or Lizzie was more like a second mother to you rather than someone who was meant to work for you and do as she was told by your parents. 

It wasn’t as though your family was ever mean to her or treated her as a servant. In fact, she was practically family; all of the people who worked your your family were more than just servants and it didn’t feel right calling any of them that. When you were first born, Elizabeth was hired to be your nanny and it was only for up until you were old enough to go to school. However, you quickly grew attached to her and her sweet, gentle and kind-hearted personality. 

There were times that you felt as though she was more of a mother to you than your own mother and since you hardly had any friends, she was your confidant and seemingly your best friend. She finished curling the last piece of your hair and playfully squeezed your side as she noticed the wide grin that hasn’t left your face since you heard of the news that Jinyoung was coming over to the palace. 

“You look beautiful as always my dear. I’m sure Jinyoung won’t be able to take his eyes off of you. He never seems to every time he comes over.”

If the blush wasn’t already extremely prominent earlier, now you were sure you must have been as red as a tomato. With the last few touches of powder on your nose; although it really wasn’t needed, Lizzie helped you in to your gown, and gave you a sweet smile as she took in you and all of your beautiful glory. 

“Time to meet Prince Charming.” 

Right as your mom had her hand the doorknob, ready to twist it open, you barely spared her a glance or even a polite greeting before storming past her in to the hallway. You mentally cursed yourself for not asking where the older boy was beforehand; your humble abode or so your parents referred it to was in more or less words gigantic. There were a lot more rooms than your family of five really needed. Twenty-five bedrooms, eighteen baths, three kitchens, a garden, six libraries—honestly you would have been content living in a simple three bedroom house. 

You’ve been living in the palace from the moment you were born. All you have ever known was this life. Being a member of the royal family—but not just any member. The heir to the throne. You were the oldest sibling of your parents children. Your sister Angelina was fourteen and your brother Theodore was only seven. It was only natural for you to be the next in line for queen. However, you were growing tired of this life. 

Sure, you were extremely grateful for the many blessings that you had because of who you were. You had a roof above your head, you had a great education, a family that loved you, people who took care of you and people who adored you—you were very lucky to be who you were. However, if you had the choice, you would run away; run away with the wonderful man you were only moments away from reuniting with after going weeks without seeing him. 

The thought of settling down, moving in to a quaint little farmhouse and starting a family with Jinyoung never failed to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. You’ve known Jinyoung for almost your entire life. In fact, both his and your parents barely gave either of you enough time to learn how to talk before having you play with one another. 

Since you were a little girl, Jinyoung was one of the only people your age that you could call a friend. It wasn’t until less than a year ago did your friendship with the handsome prince develop in to something more. You weren’t necessarily dating; Jinyoung claimed it was because he was aware of the fact that royals never got to choose their life partners—parents would decide who their children would spend the rest of their lives with. 

Normally, it was with the child of another royal family and in most cases, the eldest child of either family would get married first. You were hoping that your parents brought the two of you together as friends for a reason; so that maybe one day you would become Mrs.Park Jinyoung. Sure, deep down you knew that it wasn’t exactly the most plausible situation but you were hoping and sometimes you’ve prayed that your dreams of marrying Jinyoung would one day come true. 

You were still considerably young to be getting married; twenty-one was still an age of adolescence yet you were anticipating your parents giving you away to a future king in less than a year. Until then though, you and Jinyoung were selfish and began to see each other in secret. There were times where you’d sneak out through your window to meet him at a nearby park somewhere or he’d climb a tree just outside your bedroom and you’d find yourselves reading a bunch of books, stealing kisses from each other and just basking in the presence of the other. 

As much as you didn’t want to say that your life was rough just because you had everything you could ever want and need—life as a royal could get very rough. There were so many eyes on you; everyone seemingly judged your every move and kept up with all the members of your family. If anyone were to find out about your secret rendezvous with Jinyoung, you were confident that you’d be the talk of the entire town. Plus, you were afraid of the consequences that came with going against your parents wishes or what was considered tradition. 

Whenever you’d look at Jinyoung or even just think about him, it was in those moments that you wish you were a common person. The number one thing your heart desired was to spend the rest of your life with the person you loved, not the person your parents set you up with just so that your families would receive social gain and growth in power. You were miserable—not being able to choose your own destiny was heartbreaking and extremely unfair. 

Jinyoung was verbal about how unhappy he was that he couldn’t be to you what he wanted to. No matter how hard either of you could try to hide it, there was no ignoring the fact that you and Jinyoung were simply not meant to be. That never stopped you and Jinyoung from doing whatever it was that your hearts desired together. Wherever life ended up taking you, he would always be your first true love. 

You were racing down the hallway and wasted no time in guessing where the Parks could have been. The party being held tonight had been planned for months now; neither your father nor your mother went in to detail about what this party was for, but then again your parents were notorious for throwing parties without any actual reason behind them. People would come from near and far, all around the country just to be able to say they attended one of your family’s parties. 

Your parents would have entertainment, music, delicious food, beautiful decorations and just nothing but the best ambiance and atmosphere. Once you finally made your way in to the ballroom, your eyes immediately landed on his devastatingly handsome features. God, Park Jinyoung was just the definition of perfect. He was currently dressed in a black suit and a red tie; a combination that you’ve mentioned to him a few times that you found very attractive. It brought a smirk to your face knowing that he was probably thinking about you while deciding what to wear tonight. 

He had yet to notice you since he was kneeling on the ground, having a conversation with your younger brother. Watching the two of them interact and hearing the little boy laugh at what you were sure had to be a corny joke of his, you could feel your heart growing heavy. Jinyoung was such a gentleman and took care of both your siblings as if they were his own. He was also extremely kind-hearted and generous towards your parents. They would always ask when the next time he would come over was. He blended right in with your family—you were hopeful that maybe, just maybe your parents would find it in their hearts to break that stupid tradition and allow you and Jinyoung to be together. 

You didn’t realize that you were so focused on the current state of your relationship with Jinyoung to notice that he was now walking towards you. The gentle squeeze of your hip broke you out of your thoughts as he dragged his fingers along the side of your cheek; causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. 

“Hey princess. I’ve missed you so much. Have you missed me? You look stunning by the way. Simply gorgeous. How’s my favorite girl doing?” 

If you weren’t in the middle of the grand ballroom where anyone could have seen the two of you interacting, you probably would have kissed him. His lips looked so soft and so pretty and with he way he was eying you up and down, licking and biting his bottom lip—you wanted to show him the effect his unwavering gaze was having on you. 

“I’m doing a lot better now that you’re here. I’ve missed you too Jinyoung. You look very handsome.” 

He sent you a flirtatious wink and motioned towards the direction of the library you frequently visited. Any time he hinted towards being intimate with you, you could physically feel your heart beat against your chest. Right as the response of agreement was on the tip of your tongue, a soft voice interrupted any plans you were moments away from having with the older boy. 

“Y/n! You look beautiful sweetheart! How have you been? Jinyoung hasn’t stopped talking about you since our last visit—oh, sorry dear, I didn’t mean to—well, it’s not like you try to hide your excitement anyway. It’s so nice to see you again. Where are your parents?” 

Mrs.Park pulled you in to a hug and allowed you to greet Mr.Park. To your dismay, in your peripheral vision, you could see the last person you felt like interacting with tonight. The sight of him made your skin crawl and you were sure that if you were to see yourself, you’d be wearing a scowl on your face. 

“Mark, sweetie. Aren’t you going to say hello?” 

You absentmindedly rolled your eyes at his mother’s curiosity. By his not so subtle scoff and the way he looked around at everyone and everything but you, it was clear that he had the same feelings of disgust as you were currently experiencing. Mark Tuan—he was Jinyoung’s older brother. The oldest of the Park siblings. Why he had a different last name than your best friend; you had yet to understand but you never asked since it wasn’t your business. You just assumed that maybe he took his mother’s maiden name while Jinyoung took their father’s last name. 

You’ve known Mark for as long as you’ve known Jinyoung—but unlike the close knit relationship you held with his younger brother, you wanted nothing to do with the sarcastic asshole that was Mark Tuan. Honestly, you could tell by his actions alone that Mark hated you. He had to; there was no real explanation as to why he was so cold towards you and why he made it his responsibility to ignore you and pretend as if you didn’t exist. 

When you were younger, you, Jinyoung and Mark often played with each other whenever you’d visit their castle or when they’d come over to your palace. At one point, maybe when you were six and Mark was eight, you considered yourself closer to him than you were with Jinyoung. He was a lot more fun and outgoing when you all were younger—but time was a bitch wasn’t she? 

When he turned fourteen, that’s when he ended up cutting you from his life completely. It’s been almost ten years and you still had a difficult time comprehending his rough and crude demeanor towards you. You’ve asked Jinyoung on multiple occasions why Mark changed out of the blue; was something going on at home that seemingly changed him in to such a prick that lived to displease you? 

Was it something you said or did that you didn’t realize back then? You weren’t going to lie, you missed Mark. Well—you missed the old Mark. The Mark that would read chapter books to you before you could even read on your own. The same Mark that stayed up till three in the morning with you because you had a nightmare and were too afraid to go back to sleep. 

Sure, you should have asked him yourself what led him in to turning against you so that maybe, you’d be able to move on from it and stop blaming yourself for something that was out of your hands. But you were a coward and you were afraid that his behavior was all in your mind. Before anyone could say anything, he stormed past you and made his way in the direction of the kitchen. His mother gave you an apologetic look before bowing in remorse. 

“I’m so sorry about him y/n, he’s had an exhausting day but that’s no excuse. We’d better go look for your parents. There’s a lot we need to talk about. You two go have fun. Jinyoung sweetheart, maybe later you can go keep your brother company. We all know how he feels about these parties. It’s always a pleasure seeing you y/n.” 

You gave the older lady a gentle smile and allowed both Jinyoung’s parents on their way before motioning him towards your favorite hideaway. You were tempted to reach for his hand which was practically second nature to the two of you, but you were afraid of someone seeing the sudden movement of affection and you refused to allow someone get the two of you in trouble just so they could make a couple more bucks. 

It didn’t take you long to make it to the library but once you finally did and locked the door behind you, Jinyoung wasted no time in pulling you against his chest. He swiftly shoved his face in the crook of your neck and left a couple of sloppy kisses against your jaw before looking down at you with a sad smile. His hand was cold as he cupped your cheek and as soon as his lips melded perfectly with yours, all the hostility you felt from earlier with that unnecessary interaction with Mark disappeared. All that mattered in that moment was the beautiful boy who’s embrace you were currently in. 

“I’m sorry he’s such an ass. You don’t deserve that kind of mistreatment.” 

Out of all the things Jinyoung could say or do, something about the way he cared so much about you and showed you as much as he would tell you made you feel as though your heart was about to jump from out of your chest. If you had it your way, you would have ran away with the boy in question and got hitched a long time ago. It was like this every time you’d be around his entire family. More so whenever Mark was around. 

He always seemed to apologize for his brother’s brash actions and responses and you weren’t exactly fond of him anymore, but you did think about him every now and then. You wondered why things ended up the way that they were now—if he ever thought about you in a way other than disgust and hatred, and if he wished your friendship was what it used to be when you were kids. It didn’t matter though; you had many other things to worry about like one day ruling your kingdom and preparing for marriage. 

“Hey, everything okay?” 

You failed to realize that you were dozing off at the thought of Mark to listen to whatever it was Jinyoung was probably telling you. He continued to give you a look of pure curiosity but you refused to let him know what was going on in your mind. As much as you trusted Jinyoung with your life, you didn’t think he would understand why his brother was now taking up the capacity of your thoughts. 

“I’m fine. Shall we go to the library—“

“Not so fast you two. The last time you snuck off to the library, nobody could find you for hours. There is meaning behind tonight’s party and a very important announcement will be made. Let’s go.” 

A soft sigh fell from your lips; but it was quickly replaced by a child like grin and blush on your cheeks at the thought of what you and Jinyoung had been doing that warm summer day and why none of the staff nor either of your families could locate the two of you. 

By instinct, Jinyoung reached for your hand—one of his favorite things to do with you was hold your hand. On multiple occasions, he has told you that holding your hand made him feel safe and at ease. You were his own personal security blanket. Unfortunately, it was as if he remembered that you weren’t alone. He was quick to retract his hand as he was to reach for yours and it sent a rush of sadness to your chest. If only you could be affectionate with him without having to worry what others would say or think. Hell, you couldn’t give less of a shit if the town were to talk about going against your parent’s wishes to be with the person who owned your entire being. Every time you thought about the future; living in a castle somewhere in the country, having a bunch of kids running around and ruling the Kingdom—Jinyoung was always right there by your side. 

“Maybe we can sneak off later once my parents make the announcement.” 

He hummed in agreement, but didn’t turn to look at you which was odd. With every chance he could get, he’d look at you while you talked or did practically anything. He just really loved looking at you. Now, his shoulders looked slumped and his excited demeanor from earlier was no longer. This made you wonder if he was upset that the both of you couldn’t get your alone time or if there was something weighing heavy on his mind. 

He didn’t seemed bothered when you practically threw yourself in his arms not too long ago but then again, Park Jinyoung was the king of poker faces. If something ever did bother him, you could never tell because he’d never showed it no matter how troubled he was. As you walked in to the dining room, you were surprised to see just how beautifully it was decorated. Sure, your parents would set up the entire palace to look amazing with every party and event that your family held, but something about tonight was different and it worried you that you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“I forgot to tell you, you look breathtaking as always. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” 

You looked up at him and smiled fervently—grinning cheek to cheek. Every time he complimented you, you’d feel like a little school girl who had been flirted with by her crush. Jinyoung always knew exactly what to say to make you feel like the most important person in the room. When you entered the ballroom, all eyes immediately turned to face you. You were surprised to see just how many people your parents invited. 

Whatever reason they were throwing this party had to be a pretty big deal. You recognized some of the guests to be fellow kings and queens with their families—there was also a couple of dukes and duchesses, governors, mayors and just a lot of important and very powerful people invited. However, you had a feeling with the way everyone seemingly turned their attention to you that this party had to do with you in some way. It wasn’t your birthday, nor did you think you accomplished anything worth celebrating. So why did everyone seem so interested in your sudden appearance? 

“Jinyoung.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it just me, or is everyone looking at me?” 

He gently squeezed at your side while leading you towards the table that your families were sitting at. The sight of Mark also gazing at you caused your stomach to tighten. As a princess, you were used to this kind of attention—but that was only when you knew the meaning behind it. Right now, you felt uncomfortable and that was an understatement. Mark wasn’t helping with the blank expression on his face. Thankfully, Jinyoung’s presence was taking your mind off of the anxiety building up in your chest. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl here. That’s why. I can’t stop looking at you either. Don’t worry about it too much okay? Let’s just enjoy tonight. When we think everyone is distracted, then we can dismiss ourselves and have our own party. How does that sound?” 

As much as you wanted to be excited at the thought of finally being alone with the older boy, you couldn’t push back the thought that something bad was about to happen. It was hard to put your finger on it, but something just didn’t feel right. You nodded slowly in agreement, just so that he wouldn’t ask you any more questions. You began to come up with different excuses to leave, but you didn’t want to hear it from your mother. 

To your surprise, the night went off without a hitch; although you were still very anxious for reasons you didn’t even know yourself. Since you spent most of the night talking with Jinyoung, you were unable to witness the way Mark was sending daggers across of the table but you could feel him staring at you. As the night went on and it neared the end of the party, you slowly began to relax. Whatever reason the party was thrown for had yet to be made known of, so you assumed your parents either forgot or the reason wasn’t too important. 

“Jinyoung.”

“Hmm?”

“I think they’re all distracted. Everyone is either drunk or exhausted and what better time to go than when everyone is—“

“Everyone. I have a very important announcement to make. Please gather around.” 

You released a frustrated sigh as all the party guests gathered around the dining hall—filled with curiosity as to what your mother had to say. The suspense has been eating you away at the seams this entire night. Although you had yet to find out exactly what your mother had planned to confess, it didn’t take a genius to know you were involved in the announcement somehow. She grasped at your fathers hand and pulled him next to her; the look of worry on her face didn’t go unnoticed by you. In fact, you had a gut feeling that she probably wanted him there by her side for moral support. 

“You all know, that in every royal family the first child is the heir of the kingdom. Our beautiful daughter y/n is going to be twenty-two soon. Although I do believe she is still so young, her father and I have decided that it is time for her to settle down and get married in order to continue our family name for many generations to come.” 

As those words fell from her lips, you could feel your throat drying up. Nobody—neither your mom nor your dad said anything of the sort to you. Marriage? Your mom said so herself, you were still so young. Why were they having you get married and why didn’t they talk about this with you before humiliating you in front of hundreds of your guests? This is why she seemed tense the entire day; you should have known there was more to this party than just a simple celebration. Never does she worry about your timeliness like she did earlier. It was all making sense to you—she was worried that you were going to make a run for it if you were aware of what was going to go down tonight. 

“Y/n—“

Your parents turned towards you and you completely ignored the look of remorse on your father’s face. How could they do this to you? Jinyoung’s hand slowly made its way up your arm and you were grateful he was trying his best to calm you down because you were only seconds away from having a panic attack. The idea of marriage didn’t bother you. You’ve always dreamt about getting married for such a long time now, but you weren’t ready yet. Especially because you were well aware that the beautiful man who was attempting to take your mind off of your unfortunate situation would not be the man you would call your king—your husband. To your dismay, it only got worse from there. Your mother’s next words made your head spin and you were ready to throw up. 

“My husband and I along with the Park family have decided to unite as one in order to better control and take responsibility of our two kingdoms. Our two kingdoms will now become one on marriage. Since they’re both the eldest, Y/n and their oldest son Mark are set to marry in two months—“ 

You couldn’t even let her finish before storming out of there completely. The atmosphere was suffocating and you were on the verge of passing out. Just at the sound of his name with yours in the same sentence as marriage made your head spin. 

There was no way—no way in hell that you were going to marry Mark Tuan. They couldn’t force you to marry him. You haven’t had a genuine conversation with him for over nine years and every time you did have to talk with him, his words were always filled with malice and disgust. You were extremely vocal about the fact that your friendship with Mark was no longer what it used to be when the two of you were kids. Your mother knew all about your grudge against the older boy and how he always tried to make you feel bad about yourself, so why did either of your parents feel like setting up an arranged marriage with a man you were sure wanted nothing to do with you? 

Did you do something to anger them? Did they just so happen to find out about you and Jinyoung and were angry with the idea of you sneaking behind their backs and going against royal tradition? How could they force you to marry the brother of the man who was the rightful owner of your heart? There was no way you could do it. 

There was no way you could ever see Mark in a way other than disgust. How could you spend your life with someone you’ve spent more time bickering with and insulting than having an actual decent interaction? You can’t even remember the last time he said hello to you without throwing in a crude comment. Once you made it to your room, you slammed the door and sank to the ground while tears built up in your eyes. 

Since you ran without hearing the entire announcement, you failed to learn all of the details behind the marriage but you didn’t care. You were set on running away—or at least you weren’t going to give up without a fight. You were old enough to make your own decisions. As much as you loved your parents, you couldn’t help but think that marrying you off to Mark was to bring more power and wealth to both his family and yours. 

Bringing up the idea of marrying Jinyoung was weighing heavy on your heart—you would still be becoming one kingdom, but just with a different son. Your parents brought you and Jinyoung together all those years ago for a reason didn’t they? Was it not to get the two of you to become close so that you’d get used to one another and end up agreeing to marriage? God, you wanted to scream to the top of your lungs but nothing was coming out. You felt defeated—broken, helpless. 

You didn’t know how long you were sitting on the ground for, but when you heard the soft knock on your door you were hoping that it was the only person you wanted to see right now. Knowing how he could be though, there was a chance it wasn’t Jinyoung. He was the kind of person who wanted to give you your space for a few moments before allowing you to lean on him and as much as that was a quality of his that you admired, there was nothing you wanted more than for him to hold you and to tell you that everything was going to be alright. You were met with disappointment when you opened the door to Lizzie, but that was only because she wasn’t Jinyoung. 

Jinyoung. 

How was he feeling at the news? The two of you might not have been an actual couple, but there was a mutual unspoken agreement that you belonged to each other. His heart was yours just as much as yours was his. He was the man whose wedding ring you wanted on your finger. He was the man whose arms you wanted to fall asleep in and whose kisses you wanted to be waken up with in the morning. You wanted nothing more than to have mini Jinyoung’s running around the palace and you wanted to rule the kingdom with him by your side. 

Due to tradition however, you accepted the fact that the life of your dreams would never happen. The two of you kept sneaking around and ignoring the fact that the chances of the two of you actually ending up together were even more slimmer than the chances of him becoming king one day. However, you held on tightly to the hope that one day, your parents would come to the conclusion that tradition is stupid and there’s no legitimate reason as to why royal families continued to follow it. 

Did he know about this? There’s no way he could have. He would have warned you wouldn’t he? Both you and Jinyoung told one another every single thing that went on in your life. Whether it was good news or bad—he’d celebrate with you if something good happened and he’d comfort you if the world wasn’t on your side. If he even had the slightest hunch about his parents along with your parents wanting to marry off you and Mark, he would have told you about it. Or at least, you would want him to. But you couldn’t read minds; you didn’t know what he was thinking and this now made you wonder—what did Mark think? Did he know about the arranged marriage? 

Was he as hurt and disturbed at the news? Did he run away like you had not too long ago or was he currently trying to get his parents to change their minds? Everything was just too much and your mind was racing. Thankfully, instead of saying anything, Lizzie pulled you in to her arms and softly began to run her fingers through your hair. She didn’t say anything as she consoled you which is what you preferred. It boggled your mind sometimes; she was more of a mother to you than your own. Your parents were always so busy with their duties to really pay attention to you and your siblings. 

Lizzie practically raised you, which is why you weren’t surprised that she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. You couldn’t even count on two hands just how many times you’ve cried in front of her and how she got you to settle down before things got worse. When you felt her run her thumbs right under your eyes, that’s when you were made aware that you were crying. Though, who could blame you? 

Sure, you’ve been groomed to do whatever your parents told you to and you were aware of the fact that it was highly likely for your hand to be given away in marriage to someone not of your choice since you were old enough to grasp the idea of marriage. Yet—you weren’t prepared to go along with any of this. Once Lizzie felt as though your sobs slowly silenced, she led you over to your bed and had you sit down before taking her place right next to you. With all the energy you could muster, you placed your head on her shoulder as a exasperated groan fell from your lips. 

“I know I should have known something like this was coming, but I don’t think I can do this.” The comforting touch of both her hands on either sides of your arms relaxed you quite a bit, but you were still so frustrated. 

“I know sweetheart and I’m so sorry it has to be this way—but you and I both know you have to. There’s no getting out of this.” 

She was right; you’d never have enough courage to run away and you were confident that even if he did care about you and wanted to be with you, Jinyoung loved his mother too much to do such a thing like that. You too loved your parents too much to dishonor them by not going along with their wishes. However, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to choose yourself first this time. From the moment you realized you were a princess, you followed every single one of your parents orders no matter how much you disagreed with it. This time around was different. This time—your heart desired to put yourself first and there was no way in hell you were going to take Mark’s last name and move in to the same palace as him. 

“But Lizzie—“

“No buts my dear. I know, trust me. I wish things could be different, but this is an example of why being a royal isn’t all that people assume it to be. Yes, you have privilege and luxury, but at a cost. In your situation, you can’t be with the person you love. Hey, Mark seems like a nice guy and he’s very good looking—“

“Haha, very funny. Mark Tuan? Nice? I don’t think those three words belong in the same sentence. He’s the biggest asshole I know. He hates my guts. You don’t see the way he looks at me Liz, it’s like I’m the scum of this earth—the dirt underneath his fancy dress shoes. This marriage will never work.” 

She got up from the bed and you looked up at her in curiosity but she didn’t give you any chance to ask what she was doing before the older lady made her way over to your closet. A tiny smile rose on your face as you saw her preparing your nightgown; you were ready to call it a night after the mess of events you just went through and you could only pray neither your parents were going to come find you and bring you back outside. As she helped you out of your dress, you released a sigh of comfort. One would think being a princess was so much fun because you got to dress up for parties, but if you had the choice you would wear a pan suit. 

“He doesn’t hate you—and before you give me that look, I actually observe the way he looks at you. You on the other hand, I don’t think you get to see the way he looks at you. You’re too busy ogling his younger brother to even notice him at all. I don’t think it’s my old eyes deceiving me, but I think he looks at you—well not at you, but he looks at Jinyoung in jealousy.” 

You couldn’t help yourself; a sarcastic chuckle came from the back of your throat at her revelation. Mark? Jealous? Of what? What was there for him to be jealous of? By the knowing look on her face, and from past experiences of how slow you were whenever it came to realizing things, she opened her mouth and spoke before you could even ask what  she was referring to. 

“He really has no reason to be jealous. You’re just being silly. Why would he be jealous of Jinyoung?” 

As much as you admired and loved Lizzie, you couldn’t believe one word that was coming out of her mouth. There was no way Mark would ever see Jinyoung as competition and they weren’t exactly close, but at least they were civil. 

“Why would he be jealous? Well, there’s a lot I don’t know about their relationship but what does Jinyoung have that Mark doesn’t?”

“You.”

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

[beauty-gone-bad]

Are The Rumors True? Has Porn Princess Riley Reid (a.k.a. Paige Riley) Heard The Calling Of Summer Wedding Bells?

The rumors of wedding bells for porn-whore (with respect) Riley Reid are in fact not rumors at all, but indeed very true.

Ashley Mathews (Riley) did in fact marry Pavel "Pasha" Petkuns (an athlete and professional "fall guy" of sorts) in mid-2021.

As for previous relationships, there have been a couple, each time ending with Ashley being given an ultimatum; "Porn, or Me." And as any of us should do if treated with such contempt and disrespect, Miss Mathews chose the cause of said ultimatum, in this case, porn.

Ashley however has mentioned that she at times considered whether or not she's made the right decision by choosing to stand her ground. She wanted what any of us want, to truly be loved for who we are, deep down inside. And she was beginning to feel that porn may be keeping her from finding true love.

Sadly, most guys couldn't see past her career choice. What such people don't understand is that being a porn queen is what she does for a living. But what you do to support yourself isn't who you are. That's merely what you do to provide for yourself. Unfortunately many folks (both male and female) think of women that work in porn to be nothing more than a common prostitute.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged." With what measure of harshness or forgiveness that you judge others, it will be with that same measure of harshness or forgiveness that you will be judged to determine whether you spend eternity in Heaven or Hell.

Thus it's best if we don't pass judgment on others.

(Matthew 7:1-5)

Porn has treated actress Riley Reid very well. But make no mistake about it, when not engaged in work as Riley, she's pure Ashley Mathews through and through. She's somebody's daughter, somebody's wife, and regardless of her chosen career path, she is no less worthy of respect as a woman, as a person, and as a loving, kind-hearted soul.

If you're like many of her fans, you likely first learned of Riley Reid from seeing her work in porn. Some of us that are a bit older, first discovered her when she was using the stage name Paige Riley. Either way, those of us that enjoy her work have focused mostly on Riley, the dancer and porn actress. But the thing about porn is that though the sex is very much real, the rest of it is in fact just acting.

Think of the love scene in the movie Top Gun; Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis yield to desire and passion, while in the background the rock music group Berlin sings "Take My Breath Away."

Except that there was no penetration, the scene was pretty convincing. Yet Tom and Kelly weren't in love with each other. The same goes with workers in porn. On-screen is just their job. But the connection that two people in love share, that they save for their personal life.

So in the end, yes, whatever Riley Reid has done with her body in the name of working as a pornstar, Ashley Mathews' body did those things too. But in her heart, Ashley was still hoping to find love, regardless of how she made her living as Riley in the process.

But what does it matter if a guy is married to a gal that's only been with five men, or if she's been with fifty, or more? There are very few of us (both men and women) that can honestly claim that we are pure, a virgin, having never known a partner for sex. If any of us have had sex with someone that we aren't married to, then even if just once, both parties in that moment have given into whoring around. Once, or one-hundred times, neither is any better, or any worse a person than the other.

Upon hearing the news of Ashley "Riley Reid" Mathews getting married, many people decided to troll both Pasha and Ashley separately on social media. And many of those trolls in their self-righteousness decended upon the newlyweds with horribly mean comments, when most of those trolls were likely guilty of far worse.

In the end, it's none of our business. Yet Pasha and Ashley, two people in love, decided to share their joy and happiness with us, only to be ridiculed and slandered by the very people they included in their wonderful news. What goes around comes around, and those trolls will one day receive an equal portion of their own medicine.

+ + + + + + + + + + +

Pasha, you are a very lucky guy. May you always look at Ashley the way you do in these photos.

Dear Ashley, don't let those trolls get to you. Your girl-next-door beauty, personality, and sense of humor are testament of who you really are. Those of us that are your true fans wish you and Pasha much wellness, happiness, and both financial and emotional security. May you both feel the same way about each other for years to come as you do this the year you married.

(maKenny)

[gloryofluv]

Traditionally Obscure Chapter 28

A nice transitional chapter? I think so.

Previous Chapter

Rosa came down the staircase and heard deep laughter in the sitting room nearby. She breathed and entered the room to see the tall, framed magician with bound-back hair. His dark hair highlighted his sharp azure eyes. He was smiling and in the midst of explaining some adventure. By Luke’s grin, it likely had more than typical amusement.

“It was a blunder,” Carl laughed and shook his head.

Ester covered her laughter as the princesses giggled. Vyn was smiling, but when his eyes met Rosa’s form, he wagged two fingers toward her. Carl noted the action and turned with a wild smile.

“Ms. Rosa! How wonderful to see you,” He chuckled and skipped over to her.

“Mr. Carl,” Rosa beamed.

He bowed and tilted his head. “How are you in Svart? Has it been decent to you in your stay?”

“Very much. I’m absolutely charmed by the country,” she declared.

Carl grinned and pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket. With a flash of sparks, it turned into a small porcelain blackbird. He offered it in his palm toward her. “This is our bird in Svart. Just as beautiful as you, My Lady.”

“Carl, you’ve made your point,” Vyn said in a flat tone.

He smirked back at Vyn. When he spoke, it was playful and in his native tongue. Carl covered the bird with his hand, and it disappeared. Vyn’s smile faded, and he spoke with a bit of force.

“I wouldn’t test him; he’s in pain,” Rosa added.

Carl was still speaking to Vyn and asked a clear question pointing to her.

“Yes,” Vyn said with a nod. “Should she agree.”

The princesses gasped and nearly jumped from their seats to skip over to Vyn, speaking to him swiftly. Rosa’s eyebrows raised, and she glanced at Luke, who shrugged his shoulders. It was unusual, that was certain.

“He says you shall be joining him for his visits to the estate more often,” Carl explained.

Rosa smiled and rocked her head before walking toward Vyn’s chair. “Now, ladies, your cousin is grumpy today. Don’t nag him,” she teased while touching their shoulders.

The princesses pouted and went to sit back down. Vyn curled his lips and gestured to the seat nearby. “Please sit, Rosa. Tea will be brought in shortly.”

“Seems Vilhelm is quite authoritative today,” Carl chuckled and walked over to the empty armchair.

“Indeed,” Ester breathed.

Rosa crossed her leg over the other and smiled at Carl. “So tell me. How have you been since the last we’ve seen each other? Have you been working on any new acts?”

Carl rocked his hand from side to side and snorted. “It is always in progress. I’m pleased you’re interested in hearing more about my future shows. Is magic not a staple in your life currently?”

“Vyn actually showed me such a wonderful trick, similar to your handkerchief one,” Rosa declared.

“Vilhelm, you shouldn’t be revealing the secrets of the trade,” Carl laughed.

Vyn chuckled and shook his head. “Not nearly as proficient as yours, Carl.”

“Oh, a compliment? I’m touched, Your Grace,” Carl replied and bowed his head with a smile.

“Comedy doesn’t suit you,” Vyn voiced.

Luke scratched his head. “Are you both friends?”

“Quite, from school. You see, Vilhelm and I shared the same dormitory. While others were out jostling about during recess hours, we were in our room working on magic and science,” Carl chuckled.

Two workers came into the room with trays and set them on the table. Rosa waited for them to finish and excuse themselves with bows before she stood up and began dressing the cups. She turned her attention to the magician and tilted her head.

“I’d like to hear more about this dormitory. You both bunked together?” Rosa asked.

Carl grinned and rocked his head. “It seems Vilhelm hasn’t been revealing any of our school days to you, Ms. Rosa. I was not in the exhilarated classes such as him, but we did trade fantastic stories when he wasn’t excelling at some sport or class.”

“So, he was like this even as a child? Vyn, do you ever relax?” Luke inquired as his eyebrows skewed.

“Says the man who went to college the first year of high school,” Rosa tutted.

“High school, ah, that is,” Carl wavered and then spoke to Vyn in his native tongue.

“No, I was already a second-year graduate by then,” Vyn clarified.

“Wait, just a second here,” Luke huffed. “You were a second-year graduate at the start of high school?”

Ester arched an eyebrow. “Nephew, why is this a surprise? Don’t you have two degrees?”

Vyn’s smile was pleasant, but there was a glint in his eyes. “Yes, as it seems, time isn’t factored into Ph.D.’s.”

Carl rocked his head and pointed his index finger at Vyn. “Vilhelm, now that you’re a duke, when do you plan to come back so I can set up a show for you. It would be quite the honor to host such in your honor.”

“Oh, Vil said he’d be home for the dressage competition!” Sasha rushed out with a smile.

“We’re trying to insist he comes out for fall harvest,” Elsa voiced.

“Cousins, we talked about this,” Vyn tutted and shook his head. “Patience.”

“Ladies, are you in your final year of tutelage?” Carl questioned the princesses.

They rocked their heads, and Sasha exhaled. “Vil says we have to finish with accelerated studies due to the last two years.”

Luke cocked his head like a lost puppy. “Okay, I don’t know about this royal stuff. Why did the two years matter?”

Ester cleared her throat and nodded. “Mr. Pearce, in Svart, the royal family, stands for head of the country. We represent the sacred precedence all the country holds to tradition. When my King husband was diagnosed by the royal physicians, he was given less than a year. We as the family must put all tasks and business on hold that could be.”

“So, this is like an exaggerated version of how we see our government heads in Stellis?” Luke questioned.

Ester rocked her head and touched her chest. “We are the symbol of prosperity and kindness. Anointed for a higher standard of life. The king is our shining star, and without a bright shine of guidance, the country's leadership isn’t balanced. That is why we have three different branches to run our land.”

“Aristocratic, Government and State,” Vyn added.

“That’s interesting,” Rosa nodded while serving the princesses and queen tea and turned to Vyn. “So, your title does grant you a form of leadership then?”

Vyn nodded as Rosa offered him a cup after the ladies. “Thank you, Rosa. I influence the word of the Aristocracy, yes. My uncle was very forceful about how he believed in checks and balances in his country.”

Carl waved his index finger. “And so the wheel moves and spins. Vilhelm, we always knew you were going not to be a spoke, but the lever.”

Luke adjusted his coat and hummed. “Vyn, if you’re the head of the aristocracy, then how are you going back to Stellis?”

“Ah, yes, Vilhelm, I was going to see about your plan,” Carl took the teacup Rosa handed him. “Thank you, My Lady.”

Rosa gave Luke a cup before sitting down herself. “I’m interested to hear about your plan as well, Dr. Richter.”

Vyn sipped his cup and reached over for a folder with a small wince. “Alright, if you insist.”

He handed Rosa the green folder, and she set down her tea to shuffle through it. It was pragmatic and genuinely a piece of art as far as plans go. Vyn has everything plotted in a manner of telecommunications, video sessions with the other leaders of the aristocracy, and scheduled visitations.

“I’m so impressed,” Rosa gasped. “Not that I should be shocked. You have always been impressive.”

Vyn gestured to Carl. “What my friend here hasn’t announced from his mischievous passions in magic is that he’s remarkably wonderful at communications. He is here to receive my certifications to give to the different international companies based in the east of my province.”

Rosa arched her eyebrows and glanced over at Carl. “Oh, I hadn’t a clue. That’s excellent. It does make sense how you’re so excellent at magic then, Mr. Carl. You know how people perceive their surroundings.”

Carl grinned and rocked his head. “It does help. I’m happy to see your skills of awareness are sharp. However, your enjoyment of magic is a sign of partaking in the tender parts of life.”

“Thank you; I’d like to think there needs to be joy in life because there’s so much difficulty as it is,” Rosa agreed before nibbling on a danish.

Ester moved her hair from her shoulder and smiled. “It seems my nephew keeps useful friends.”

“It certainly does,” Rosa laughed.

Luke reached over and snatched up the folder from Rosa. He was glancing over the papers with an intense scowl as his coral eyes shot between pages. The princesses whispered to each other a moment and then nodded.

“Cousin, can we at least break tradition for your birthday this year?” Sasha asked.

Vyn exhaled and glanced over at Ester. She raised her eyebrows and slanted her head. “It wouldn’t be a horrible thing to celebrate your birthday with a ball. It doesn’t go against tradition if you don’t require the attendance of the present royal family,” she nodded.

He adjusted his golden glasses and rocked his head. “Fine, we shall throw a party.”

The girls clapped; however, Rosa scowled. “How is that not breaking the rules? Sorry, I’m still learning.”

“Well, My Lady, as long as the current royal family doesn’t engage with social events and the entire family doesn’t publicly engage in courting or international events, then private engagements are welcome,” Carl explained before glancing over at Ester. “Your Majesty, did I miss anything?”

Ester shook her head. “As always, you have proven to remain knowledgeable of Svartian traditions.”

Rosa tilted her head. “So, the dressage competition is just countrywide, which is allowed? Also, that’s why Sasha and Elsa can’t engage with social events like the summer fashion show in Paris?”

“Royal life is complex,” Ester laughed. “It’s alright, Rosa. It’s a different world.”

Vyn shifted and bent with a bit of effort to retrieve a pastry. Carl waved him off and stood up, grabbing a plate before offering it to him after selecting pastries. “My friend, you need to let your injuries mend.”

“Yes, well, I can test my own limitations,” Vyn grumbled and took the offer. “Thank you.”

“No, you need to recover,” Ester declared with a glare. “Vilhelm, that isn’t a request. As head of this household, you will take care of yourself.”

Luke handed the folder back to Rosa and nodded. “That’s an excellent proposal, Vyn. However, my only concern is how you expect to maintain all of your requirements in both countries.”

Rosa set it aside and sipped her tea. “If anyone is capable of doing it, Dr. Richter can.”

“It’s plenty to take on, Rosa. You don’t understand the intricacies of running several operations at once,” Luke sighed.

“Pardon me, but you don’t need to talk down to me, Luke. I understand very well the issues that he’s facing,” Rosa groaned.

Luke gasped as his cheeks tinted. “Rosa, I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just plenty to do.”

“Which, Luke, I’ve plotted out. I have known of my uncle’s issues for years and laid out this plan on the off chance that my Uncle Ruthgar would need assistance,” Vyn exhaled.

“Quite intricate,” Carl nodded.

“I think we shall enjoy a few tricks that our friend has prepared are in order after tea,” Vyn hummed and set down his plate. “Aunt, I believe you wanted some time to relax before our departure tomorrow?”

Ester cleared her throat. “Of course, nephew,” she bobbed her head and stood up. “Ladies, behave for our guests.”

The princesses waved to their mother, and Ester left the room. Rosa noted the subtext of the conversation. Now that she had confirmation that she ran the two companies that originated in Svart, Rosa could understand the subtleties. Vyn stood up and rocked his head. “Shall we head to the ballroom? I believe you brought in the pieces for your show, correct? I know it won’t be as exquisite, but still enjoyable.”

Carl grinned and jumped from his chair. “Of course, Your Grace,” he chuckled and bowed deeply.

Vyn sighed. “Don’t, please.”

Luke glanced at the princesses and shrugged. “He always seems to be in a disagreeable mood.”

“Don’t worry, he isn’t,” Carl chuckled and gestured to them. “Let me perform for you before you leave. I did promise Ms. Rosa to show her something new next time we met.”

Rosa took Vyn’s arm and rocked her head with a smile. “I look forward to it.”

The group left toward the ballroom, but on their way, Rosa noted a cracked door. She had paused only long enough to note a woman speaking in the native language. It wasn’t demure like Ester’s usual tone. It was severe and authoritative.

Vyn glanced at her and tilted his head as they fell behind the group. “She’s quite fierce,” he whispered.

“Yes, and the perfect person to assist with your duties as well. I’m finding that you and your aunt are far more similar than I suspected,” Rosa agreed.

His smile stretched. “Actually, I was estimating you both are more alike than you suspect, Rosa. Let’s enjoy the rest of our evening in Svart. We have a long journey home tomorrow,” he replied before they continued their path to the ballroom.

[dwellordream]

the best laid plans

day 1 for @wayhavensummer because this is the only prompt I'll have time to do this week!

T Rating (for one brief mention of sex and one brief reference to emotional abuse) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2300 words

The migraine cuts her to her core, and Esme can’t even manage the usual dose of guilt and hesitance she’d feel about canceling plans with Tina. They were supposed to go away this weekend, and Esme hasn’t been on a vacation since uni, but right now she couldn’t even make her way out of her flat, never mind into a car for a seven hour drive down the coast. 

She feels like vomiting, the pain is so intense, as if she’d been concussed. Migraines have been a constant for her since puberty; she has a vivid memory of her first one, when she was thirteen, and the long wait in the nurse’s office at the private school her mother paid so much money for. The same mother who eventually sent someone else to pick her up, ninety minutes after the first phone call. 

Esme doesn’t even remember who it was; some Agency intern? A vampire? A demon? Whoever it was, they brought her home, gave her some painkillers, and told her to sleep it off. She woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, to a still empty house. Rebecca had come home briefly to leave a note for her about some leftovers in the fridge and another one excusing her from school the next day if need be, and then gone straight back to work. 

Maybe Esme should have been outraged or hurt by this, but she doesn’t recall feeling much of anything at the time beyond hunger, when the pain had finally receded enough to think straight. She ate the leftovers cold in their sterile, silent kitchen, and put herself back to bed.

The migraines had intensified through high school, to the point where her mother considered putting her on permanent medication, before receding just before she went away to university. After that they were far more infrequent, which was both a blessing and a curse- it was easy to forget what the pain felt like, and to feel like it was weak, lazy of her to let it get the best of her. 

Bobby certainly didn’t help matters; the first one Esme had during their relationship came around shortly after they’d had sex for the first few times, and Bobby quickly became convinced this was her version of ‘not tonight, dear, I have a headache-’. That she was, for some ludicrous reason, exaggerating her migraines. 

If she didn’t want to have sex with him, she’d never had much of an issue saying as much, bluntly, clinically. Another thing he despaired of- her lack of social graces, her insistence on saying exactly what she meant, in her usual ‘ice queen’ manner. Now he had reason to call her frigid in more ways than one. 

Esme still isn’t sure how things between them ever lasted as long as seven torturous months. She assumes they both had a private masochistic streak- why else would two people who made one another so blatantly unhappy stay together? 

Bobby isn’t here now, of course, to whinge and moan about her ignoring him, but there’s still a little voice in her head telling her to get up and stop acting like a baby when the evening rolls around. The pain has greatly lessened, thankfully, and she’s hungry, which is usually a good sign, but she’s also exhausted and cranky and generally miserable, feeling as though an entire day was wasted, one she could have spent with her best friend, on her way to a vacation. 

Now, again, she is alone in a dark room. She slowly rolls over onto her side, bracing for a wave of pain or nausea, then pushes herself up onto her elbows and gropes at her night table for her phone. She has several missed calls and texts. Two from Tina, one from her mother, and one from Felix, which is the most recent, about thirty minutes ago. 

Felix H: omw over to drop stuff off. 30 min???

She checks the time, then jumps, almost bashing her head into the headboard, when she hears a quiet knock at her door. For a moment Esme considers lying back down and not answering it; Felix can be persistent but he would never try to break her door down, especially when he knows she’s ill. 

Then she clambers out of bed, some instinct driving her, a desperate kind of loneliness- for an instant tears spring to her eyes, as if she were a child again, terrified of being left alone, that she will just miss him, that she will pull open the door and he will already be gone-

“Ez?”

He’s right there when she yanks open the door, the chain still in place. Esme undoes it and pulls the door open all the way. Felix is staring at her, a small bag of groceries in hand. Vampires have far better temperature regulation than humans but it’s obvious he is feeling the heat; for once he’s not wearing a beanie or any kind of hat or cap at all. 

He’s gotten his hair braided recently; Esme looks at him for a moment, staggered by the fact, as always, that even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of her narrow hallway. Felix’s dark skin has a sheen all its own, magnified by his golden eyes. 

He prods her shoulder gently with the pad of his thumb. “If you faint on me, I’m gonna drop your gifts.”

“My gifts?” Esme shakes her head, leading the way back into her darkened flat. It’s much more cluttered than usual; she never finished packing for the trip she was supposed to take today. 

Felix does not reach for a light switch; he has perfect vision in the dark, and light from the parking lot is spilling through her blinds. Instead he sets the bag on her counter and sorts through it as enthusiastically as Santa Claus on Christmas, or a child sorting through their Halloween candy. 

“Min tea,” he says, “cold packs, squash, sweet potatoes, brown rice, dried cranberries…”

“Did you just look up ‘what to eat and drink for a migraine’?” Esme manages to ask, bemused. 

He looks up, a sheepish smile quirking at his soft lips. “If I say yes…”

“I’m impressed,” she says. “And.. thank you. Very much. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t have to supply my ailing girlfriend with nutritious food and drink?” he waves the bottle of mint teat in her face vigorously. 

“Ailing? I’m not eighty five years old, Felix.”

“That’s right, I’m the old man here,’ he cackles, then amends, “Or, will be. Technically we’re not that far apart in age but eventually when you start decaying-,”

“Decaying?” As usual, his word choice both horrifies and amuses her. 

Felix has even less of a filter than her, but with the opposite effect. She comes across as cold and controlling. He comes across as… well, ‘space cadet’ has been used a few times, but Esme likens it to a time traveler. Only, not from the past, and not quite from the future. A parallel visitor. Something out of the Twilight Zone, only… warm and colorful and eager to please. That’s Felix.

He shrugs. “Succumbing to the elements?”

“I’m not a castle,” she mutters, but pours herself a cup of cold mint tea. Will it be as good as if she’d brewed it herself here at home, no, but at the moment she doesn’t care. 

He puts the rest away in her small fridge while she drinks, leaving out the cranberries, then circles warily, as if approaching a wild animal, when she finishes off her cup. “Can I-,” his fingers ghost along the back of her neck. The hairs there raise and she shivers violently, but not in fear or pain. 

“Yes,” she murmurs, then leans back into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her. 

They scuttle over to the sofa like that, and ease down together. Felix is not terribly tall, and she is average height, so there’s scarcely a few inches between them. Esme has always liked that. All the others she’s been with had towered over her, and it made her feel spoilt and delicate in an undesirable, bratty kind of way, as if she were childish, some little princess to be coddled and indulged. Or maybe that’s just her projecting onto everything else that makes up a relationship besides height differences. 

For now, she is content to lie back so her head rests against Felix’s, cheek to cheek. His is silken smooth; she knows he is fastidious about shaving, the same as her. 

“You’re feeling better, though?” he murmurs, and snakes a hand under her pyjama top as if to check. Splayed warm against her belly, it tickles for an instant and she smiles. 

“Yes. It’s mostly passed. I’m just tired. And annoyed. Tina was really looking forward to this trip. She’ll still have fun by herself, but it was supposed to be the two of us, and I’m always canceling plans.”

“You are not,” says Felix, reasonably. “You’re just busy. And you couldn’t help it this time, you were sick. She knows that.”

Esme nods; for all his jokes and quips, Felix is always sensible in a manner that she finds comforting- stating the obvious isn’t such a bad thing when dealing with someone like her. 

“I hate being sick,” she murmurs, rolling onto her side so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her more securely, even intertwines their legs. Felix sleeps like this too, though at this point he’s only spent the night a few times. 

Esme is taking things as slowly as she dares, given all the other factors at play- her mother, their work, the rest of the team, the fact that he is a vampire from another dimension and she is the human equivalent of dry toast… 

“I kind of like it,” Felix confesses, with just enough lilt in his voice that she knows he’s half teasing.

Esme grumbles vengefully into his shirt. He smells like coconut butter and vanilla. She doesn’t know if that’s his aftershave or just the essence of Felix, refined to the purest degree. Sometimes he smells like cinnamon to her, or lavender and honeysuckle. 

Felix tolerates these assessments but likes to claim that it’s him producing some kind of super pheromones perfectly designed for luring in unsuspecting human prey. Or his girlfriend. Or both. 

Esme has not been anyone’s girlfriend in a long time. Years. It feels very strange. Before him, it’d been so long since she’d even touched anyone, besides Tina or her mother or shaking hands. That absence did not hurt Esme. But being with Felix is like an unexpected delight. Free dessert. Extra sprinkles on your sundae. Any number of juvenile metaphors she should be above, but isn’t. 

“You’re not going to ask why I like it?” He is winding his fingers through her hair, which she let down from its usual tight ponytail to ease the tension on her scalp.

“Because you like to mock me?” she ventures.

“No,” says Felix. “Because you would have gone away with Tina, and now I get to see you. And hold you.” He presses an astoundingly gentle kiss to her brow, like a feather.

Esme feels a queer stab of guilt. “I didn’t know you’d minded so much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says quickly. “I was happy for you to get away for once. I’m not going to third wheel you and your best friend.”

“I think the terms refers to the opposite-,”

“Hush hush,” he interrupts, which gets a giggle out of her. “But this is like… an unexpected delight.”

The back of her neck prickles. “Can you read minds?” she asks, half serious.

“Not yet,” he sounds smug. “I have great intuition.”

“Because you’re a vampire?”

“No, because I’m me,” he boasts. “Look at Ava’s intuition. Terrible.”

Esme laughs again. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“She’s always expecting the worse. And Nat swings in the other direction. Always wants to play nice and hug it out.”

“And Mason?” Esme teases, feeling energetic enough not to raise her head so her chin is on his chest. Their noses are almost touching.

“Eh… he’s alright,” Felix breathes, and then closes the gap with a kiss. 

Esme kisses him back, more passionately than she’d meant to, and only stops it when he starts to sit up so she is straddling his lap. 

“I don’t think I can…”

“Eat some cranberries?” He grins impishly and hands her the bag from the coffee table.

Esme smiles and bumps her forehead against his, something she did impulsively after their first kiss and which he never let her live down. 

“What are we, cats?” he says, on cue, but brushes his nose and lips down her cheek and onto her neck, as if to nuzzle her in turn. “Eat some fruit before your migraine comes back. Do you want me to put some of this stuff away?”

“No,” she says, pushing him back down on the sofa. “Just- stay with me, please?”

“Alright,” he agrees, amiable as ever, and reaches for the remote. “This can be like our vacation, yeah? The Felix and Esme Show. The Fezme Show-,”

“No,” she groans, but wriggles off him to curl up beside him instead, a handful of cranberries rising to her mouth as he flips through the channels.

He settles on an episode of Columbo. Felix hasn’t really seen much in the way of TV, and so reruns mean nothing to him. But it means everything to her. They keep the volume on very low, and he gets up at one point to open the windows more, even as the faint sounds of the parking lot outside drift in- the buzz of the lights, doors opening and closing, the crunch of gravel. 

Esme falls asleep sagging onto him, cranberries in her lap, mouth half open while Felix watches, riveted in the light of the screen, as the detective closes the case.

[radamazard]

From Me to We

This is my piece for the DJWifiZine! Everyone who contributed to it is honestly awesome and so talented, so you should go check it out at @thedjwifizine

You can download it here!

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

The lights flickered in time with a tired sigh, throwing darkness over pages that had already left Nino feeling increasingly frustrated. What was it about old timey books that made them so… so obtuse!

Had it's previous owners meant to mock him? If so then he guessed they ought to congratulate themselves. Never before had anything left him feeling so completely and utterly defeated.

With that thought and a heavy groan, Nino let the tome hit the cushion beside him.

“Waaaaayzz,” he whined, earning a dry look from the kwami. “How the sweet heck am I meant to read this crap? No offence. I know this is, like, your idea of fun and all, buuuut…”

“None taken,” Wayzz replied, drifting down to sit upon his holder’s shoulder. “I understand that it is a rather…” he paused, seemingly taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “...dull and dense text. But you were chosen to inherit this role, and with it comes certain responsibilities. Such as-”

“Readin’ old books drier than the Sahara Desert?” Nino scoffed, leaning back into the worn comfort of his couch.

“At least you’re allowed to read them!”

Ah, he was wondering when she was going to join the conversation.

Across the room from him, grumbling to herself from her squeaky desk chair, sat Alya. Her legs were crossed and her form hunched, a sure sign that she wasn't quite over being scolded by the tiny god of protection earlier this evening.

“Aww, come on, babe.” Nino attempted to assure her. “I promise, you're not missin’ out on anything exciting here!”

Well, not anything that he himself would find exciting. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure why he'd had the title of guardian thrust upon him. Hero stuff wasn't really something he was passionate about. It was just something he did outta a sense of duty.

Alya though? Now SHE was someone who woulda been squealing at the opportunity. She dug this kinda shit.

Thick, boring books full of lore and secrets that had to be decoded and unravelled?

The responsibility of deciding who was worthy of the same power they wielded, and who could never be allowed even near a miraculous?

The weight that such a position held, and the changes it would bring with it?

That was right up her alley!

It was the ultimate hero's life, all stress and life altering decisions and sooo much information that it made his brain wanna shrivel up and roll right outta his head. This was her dream, not his.

Yet here they sat, neither of them pleased with the cards they'd been dealt.

Man, was life ever a bitch.

“.... Okay, so maybe it'd be exciting to you,” Nino conceded as his girlfriend threw him an irritated glare, one that only softened as she took note of how exhausted he seemed.

Alya pulled herself away from her desk, crossing the room in a few quick steps before she dropped herself next to her beloved with a graceless thump.

“I know you're not trying to make me feel like shit, boo,” she assured him, although with how he slouched into her side Alya was getting the feeling that, perhaps, he felt he had failed in that. “It's just…”

A strong arm wrapped itself around Nino’s shoulder, and with one smooth motion he was pulled into the warmth of Alya’s embrace. It was a comfort, a silent reassurance that no ill feelings were shared between them. That even if the situation was less than ideal, they refused to let it sour their bond.

“Sucks major ass?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Neens~”

Alya felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips, one that was awfully contagious as she caught sight of the same beauty blossoming upon her boyfriend's gorgeous face.

“You know I'd give ya the damn title if I could, right?” Nino said with a slight shrug. “I wasn't really gunning for something like this. Or even remotely wanting it.”

“Maybe that's why the old fart gave it to ya,” Trixx chimed in, his sudden presence making the couple jolt comically. Alya threw a pointed look at her kwami, one that went entirely ignored by the mini master of mischief.

“Just saying! I mean, isn't that what boring old humans do? Give power to those that don't want it?”

“As much as I disagree with his choice of words and blatant disrespect for my former master,” Wayzz retorted with an air of annoyance. “Trixx does have a fair point. I do believe that Mas- that Fu’s choice, or at least part of it, was based on a lack of desire. One that does not desire power is far less likely to abuse it.”

Wayzz’s own lack of tactfulness earned him a nasty look, from both his chosen and his fiery partner. Unlike Trixx though, he at least had the decency to appear guilty, knowing that he lacked a certain level of social savvy. The fox instead had whizzed off to find a new place to nap. How typical of him.

“I did not mean anything offensive by it,” the kwami quickly added. “I do not believe that Miss Alya would ever abuse such power! You have proven to be a hero of great honour and responsibility, and I would never wish to besmirch your name with such dirty implications…”

“I'd hope not, little dude,” Nino said firmly, the sternness in his gaze starting to melt as Alya relaxed beside him, along with her grip that held his lanky frame. “I love ya, but Als is my frickin’ Queen. I ain't about to let anyone talk smack about her, not even you.”

“I would never. In fact, if it would assure your fears, I will let it be known that Miss Alya was Fu’s second pick.”

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the slight cry of shock that fell from Alya's slackened jaw.

“You… You can't be serious! Was I- I could of- What?!”

“Oh, but I am. You possess a brilliant mind, and a passion for knowledge and the history of us kwamis that is both pure and unrivalled by anyone alive today. To be completely honest, the perfect guardian lies somewhere between you both. It made the decision terribly hard…”

As he trailed off the silence returned. Unlike last time though, it stretched out, filling several long lasting minutes.

Nino felt Alya’s cheek come to rest upon his head, and even from where he rested, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, he could hear her heart race. Was it excitement, the idea that she was thought of so highly by someone she deeply respected? He hoped so. She deserved at least that.

No, she deserved so much more.

“You right there, Als?” Nino whispered against her skin, laying a gentle kiss to her thrumming pulse. To his delight he felt her shiver beneath his lips, egging him on to smother her in a flurry of feather light affections.

“I will be once you stop being such a damn lovable DORK,” Alya shot back, her cheeks ablaze. It wasn't often that Nino managed to catch her off guard as such, not that she was complaining of course. She loved him dearly, with his sweet tenderness and near endless patience for her more… wild ways.

But right now was meant to be serious talk time!

“Well excuuuuuse me, Princess!”

Oh, how her eyes rolled.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You know, the one where I was ALMOST THE GUARDIAN? I seriously can't believe that I was this close to being allowed to read the same book that you wanna throw in a fire!” Up went her hands, and with them Wayzz, who hopped out of the way of any further hand shenanigans and took refuge on the arm of their couch.

“Like, come on universe! I'm sorry that we can't just fuse or mind meld or be co-guardians or something equally as ridiculous!”

“Man, that last one woulda been hella sweet. Could you imagine? This shit would be so much easier if we could tackle it together. That damn book would be halfway understood by the end of the year if you were actually allowed to read it!”

Together they sighed, almost dreamily, as though the idea was but a wish, one fit only for fairytales. Or perhaps a low budget rom com, like the ones they enjoyed playfully mocking every Friday evening. Ah, for their lives to be so stupidly simple.

“Don't even say it, babe. Don't give me dreams that can't be fulfil-”

“Co… Guardians?” Wayzz interjected, drawing their gazes to his suddenly pondering form. “I hadn't thought of that option. Neither of us had. It certainly isn't traditional, but Ma- but Fu has never been one to follow tradition. Does that truly matter now in the scheme of things?”

His tiny brow creased in deep thought, so much so that they feared he may give himself a headache. Then, without warning, the kwami was zipping across the room, coming to rest upon the coffee table where Nino’s phone lay.

“What are yo-”

“I am contacting Fu. This new guardianship is only days old, you see. We should still be able to make amendments. With this new idea presented I believe we may be able to reach a more agreeable situation for all.”

“You… You mean…”

“Yes, Miss Alya. Now please, a moment of silence.”

The couple shared a look of bewilderment, one that swiftly morphed into giddy delight as the meaning of Wayzz's words and the hushed conversation he was having, started to settle in.

“You don't think…?” She started.

“Heck yeah I think!”

“I wasn't even being- well okay, I HAD thought of it before, but I didn't seriously think that it could happen! But now it’s- Neens, I might-!”

Excited giggles burst forth between them, both barely able to contain the jittering joy that flourished between them. What once had seemed like a sore point now pulsed with a new life, promising a future that held them together closer than ever before.

Strange, how quickly one’s night could turn from a grouchy sort of sour to a sweet, bubbly delight.

Together they tittered, their conversation an excited mess of hardly hushed whispers and tightly gripped hands. The energy was punctured by a familiar, yet sharp throat clearing, which snapped their attention back to the awaiting kwami.

“Although our conversation was brief, and we will meet at a later date to discuss the details, we are both in agreement. A Co-Guardianship is something we are willing to trial. If you will both agree to this arrangement, that is.”

Wayzz watched with a delighted chuckle, already braced for the squeals and hollering of joy that were soon to follow. Ah, to be young and so wonderfully human, to find such happiness in something shared.

“Are you kidding, little dude? Of freaking course I agree to this shit! Als, did ya hear what he sa-”

“SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!” Alya shouted in pure, unfiltered glee. Within seconds she was reaching across her boyfriend, grabbing the tome that had been the source of so many nasty feelings not even half an hour ago.

Nino’s easy laugh filled her ears, and soon it vibrated against her lips, gobbled up by a kiss of pure, vibrant glee that left them both more than a little love drunk.

“I swear, I- no, WE won't let you down!”

We.

Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

We, as in friends.

We, as in lovers.

We, as in heroic partners.

We, the Co-Guardians of the Miraculous, together until death do us part.

[imagine-loki]

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven worked diligently in Loki’s rooms. More than once, she had accidentally done something wrong but Loki was rarely there through the day so she was able to fix her mistake before he was there to realise there was something amiss. When he was there, he tended to be quiet and disinterested in anything bar what he was doing at that time. It told her a lot about his personality. He was a recluse by nature. She spoke a few times with some of the other maids through the day and learnt a little more about her intended. Thor, as she had recalled from the last time they had seen one another those many years before, was still incredible social and outgoing, Loki, who even then was introverted, was more so now. When she tried to press more about his behaviour, she was always getting the same answer, very little. He kept to himself and only joined Thor and his friends when it was required to do so. 

Twice, he asked about his intended and Light Elf customs but he seemed mostly disinterested in the entire situation. What she did find irksome was her interest in him growing as a result of their time in close proximity. She noticed a lot of what they liked was somewhat similar. They liked books of the same genre, even the art he had in his rooms were akin to that she liked. It irked her, not because she did not wish that they were similar but because it meant that had he been less of a twit, they would have been well suited which was more annoying. 

She also found it bothersome that he was so good looking. She had seen good looking elves all her life but Loki had an elegance even most Light Elves did not possess. It was highly distracting. It almost caused issues when Loki was changing for a bath and she did not know so and walked into the bathroom thinking he had not yet returned to his rooms only to see him in just his tight leather pants which caused her mind to stagger for a moment and for her to stare open-mouthed. Loki turned just as she shut her mouth again though her red face may have given her thoughts on the matter away. For his part, Loki stated nothing on the matter and merely told her that he required a towel. 

It did not take Raven long to see just why she never seemed to see Loki come in and out of his rooms. His seidr, she realised, was far stronger than she had ever seen in Alfheim, the home of the ancient art. He simply teleported in and out as he chose. She was relieved that she never did any snooping while she was there, there was more than one occasion that she only knew of Loki’s return when he stood beside her or when he called her name. She did not wish to invade his privacy so she never had any intention to do so but it was clear that such would not be wise. Raven hoped that if they had nothing else to work with, they would have the respect not to invade one another’s privacy. The manner in which Loki spoke to her told her that Loki was genuine when he asked questions and not prying invasively. 

“Branna?” 

Raven rushed from the desk she was cleaning that was covered in papers that Loki was clearly writing, the official crest on the top, the one thing she did notice, telling her that they were official in manner and to do with the House of Odin and the titles Loki held as his son and made her way to the bed-chamber, which had been empty when she made the bed only twenty minutes before and the door to the room had not been opened at any stage. “Good afternoon, You Highness, how can I assist you?” In truth, Loki rarely came back to his rooms at the current time, telling her that something was different, the manner in which he spoke told her that he was bothered by something. “Is everything alright?” “Lord Arton of Alfheim, do you know that name?” Loki demanded. 

Raven’s brows furrowed. “I do, Your Highness?” Arton was a Lord of the Alfheim court.” “What is the relationship between him and Princess Raven?” Loki’s nostrils flared as he spoke. 

The look on Loki’s face was comical, she could not help but laugh to herself. “Before the announcement of your betrothal to her Highness, they were sweethearts and he voiced his intentions to marry her to her in private but not in court. After that, he took a post away from the city to not see her before her marriage to stop there being any controversy or indeed perhaps to fall out of love with her.” She was entirely honest in her words, she and Arton were such. She loved him dearly but the day it was announced to the court that she was promised to Loki, he merely said his farewells by letter and left the city. It broke her heart but she accepted her lot. Being the daughter of a king, she knew her role in her family. It made sense to her that such would happen, her feeling of being an imposter in her own family decreased when she was told of her future, it made sense. It hurt but it made sense all the same. “May I ask why you would ask such?”

“So they are not still involved?” “No, Your Highness, Lord Arton left the city and cut all contact from what I am aware.” It was entirely true. Raven had no idea if Arton had tried to reach her once more since his leaving. 

“Pity, it could have caused enough of a ruckus to stop this marriage,” Loki growled. “So she is not a maiden?” “She is as much one as you are.” Raven snarked in return. 

Loki eyed her, shocked at her statement. “What if I said I was not experienced in that manner?” Raven shrugged. “Hardly startling that the God of Lies would live up to his name, I would think. Would you like me to get anything from the kitchens for you, Your Highness?” Loki shook his head, stunned by her words into silence. “Very well, I will go and take a small break so.” She turned and walked away from him, smirking to herself at being able to silence him, something even the Allmother stated was not possible. 

* Sitting in the staffroom of the royal family’s servants, Raven sat with a drink in her hand, proud of her achievement for the day, though interested in Loki’s words. She knew he was not still a virgin, not because she had physically seen him with anyone but because of her source of information, Thor. 

Since Thor realised who she really was and she explained what she was doing posing as a maid, on two occasions, the pair spoke in private with regards to Loki mostly, though Thor had a few questions on Alfheim also which she gave her answers to as they were with regards to their future interactions in a positive manner. He was startled to see that for the most part, she was not overly informed on different realm matters but he also understood that with different cultures to the role of princesses, she was bound by Alfheim social norms. He told her all he could on what he knew of Loki’s past excursions. He had not been overly forthcoming with his exploits but as Thor had burst into his rooms once to see him with a young noblewoman, he knew that at the very least, Loki was not a virgin, something Raven was able to get out of him. When he asked her why she was so interested in such, he found himself erupting in laughter when she explained that she simply wished to know if he actually had any experience for fear she’d need to bestow a book on him as to not be left wanting otherwise. 

“Branna?” Raven looked at the servant in front of her, wondering when she ever introduced herself to him to say he knew her name. “You are Branna, aren’t you?” Raven gave a small polite smile. “I am.” “Her Majesty, the Allmother is requesting you join her for a few moments.” “Of course, where will I find her?” In truth, Raven was not particularly in the mood to speak with the Allmother, she was enjoying her own company, something she was all too used to. 

“Their Majesties’ quarters.” The servant informed her. “You will require this to enter.” He extended his hand and in it, there was a small broach in his hand. 

Taking it from him, she attached it to her sash, knowing it permitted her access to the Allfather and Allmother’s quarters. With a slight nod, Raven rose to her feet and went about going to meet the Allmother, wondering what was the reason for her calling on her. 

The Einherjar that stood guard outside the rooms of the Aesir King and Queen took no interest in the Elven maid that walked by. The broach she donned could not be falsified. Were it to be fraudulent, it would quickly be made clear as she would be painfully incapacitated. Gently, she knocked on the door for one of the staff inside to answer the servant who had been sent to find her informing her that he had to go on another errand after finding her for the Allmother. For a moment, no one answered, but then the door seemed to open yet no one was behind it. Raven looked around baffled to see that indeed, there was no one at the door. 

“Over here.” She turned to see Frigga standing in the far side of the room, facing towards a balcony. “I just need to speak with you a few moments.” “Is everything alright, Allmother?” “I see my older son’s memory is not as bad as some think it to be.” She smiled as she spoke. “So many dismiss Thor as some bumbling idiot with nothing but good looks and muscles but there is a brain in there too.” “He remembered me, yes. Or should I say, he remembered me as a youth where apparently he noted my features had not yet grown to proportion.” Raven half laughed as she did recall herself as a youth and indeed she did need to grow into herself. “He will be accused of being stupid more than once without others seeing just how sly he is, I think.” She recalled how the maid, Hannah, told her how Thor noted her pain in her shoes. “He notices more than you would think.” “Loki is not the only sly son I have, Thor usually just uses his slyness to defeat others in fights.”

Raven nodded slightly before looking around worriedly. 

“You have nothing to fear. All of my maids and the servants have all found themselves with duties that require them all to be out of the room right now and my husband is currently speaking with General Tyr apparently about some old deal with Vanaheim but were they to be honest, they are simply gossiping like two old women.” 

Raven bit her lips together at Frigga’s words, trying not to laugh at how she spoke of her husband. “Is there a reason you called me here in such a manner, Allmother? Please, do not think me to be rude. I do like speaking with you, only I have something of a feeling that something is afoot?”

“I will have to announce to Loki today that he is to be wed in a month.”

“A month! So soon?” Raven had thought that the normal tradition of three months of celebrations from introduction to marriage would be upheld. 

“Outside factors require it to be so soon. You will have to be formally introduced to Loki in the near future. I thought it only fair to inform you before Loki is told so that when he returns to his rooms, his reaction would not startle you.” 

“I…” Raven stopped and inhaled deeply. “Thank you, Allmother.” She bowed slightly. “When am I required to return home to collect my belongings?”

Frigga frowned slightly at her. “You are home now.” Her words were said with kindness but it did not feel like such to Raven. “You can, of course, return to Alfheim if you require to but your mother offered to have your belongings brought so you do not have to worry about returning. I know the Bifrost can be uncomfortable.”

“No, I am sure my mother will organise everything. I had most of it ready before I left, anyway.” 

“Yet, you seem somewhat uncertain?”

“I just did not expect it to be so sudden.” That was nothing but the truth, Raven was caught unawares by it. 

“I gather that you are still undecided as to my son’s personality?”

“With all due respect, Allmother. The time I have been here is not enough to assess the true nature of any being, much less one as complex as Loki.” 

“You saying that alone shows you have made some assessment on him.” 

Raven did not know what to say. She knew there was a high probability of the Aesir monarch asking what she had come to think of her son. She did not want to lie but her assessment thus far was not great either. “I am still learning his mannerisms. He is very quiet and introverted, it is hard to fully see his demeanour in its entirety. He is careful of his actions around others. I sense him checking to see if he is alone and when he sees me there, he seems to contain himself or hide himself in some manners. It is most peculiar and slightly uncomfortable.”

“Loki is a sensitive soul, he does not like to show vulnerability to anyone, even me,” Frigga explained. 

Raven had nothing more to say. She considered how to politely remove herself from the room without insulting Frigga when a large bell tolled across the city. 

“I guess that is my indication to tell him what is to come.” Frigga straightened her attire. “I am sorry you need to be told in this manner.”  

“Thank you for taking the time to tell me, Allmother.” Raven bowed slightly. “Shall I get him for you? He should be back from his usual afternoon activities.” 

“Please.” Frigga smiled politely, noting her wish to remove herself from the room. 

Raven rushed through the halls, oblivious to her surrounds. Upon her return to Loki’s rooms, she was startled to see that he was not there. “Your Highness?” 

“What were you doing in my parent’s rooms alone with my mother?” Loki appeared out of nowhere beside her, looking at her curiously. 

“Alone?” “All of her maids and my father’s servants have mysteriously found themselves required elsewhere, and you were alone with her, why was that?” He repeated, his tone more clipped. 

Raven contemplated her options on what to tell him for a moment. “The Allmother sent one of the Allfather’s servants to retrieve me to discuss a particular matter. I did notice that their chambers seemed void of staff considering the time of day but as it is not my concern, I did not voice any opinions I had on the matter.” There were no lies in her word and she could see Loki searching for such. 

“What was the matter that you discussed?” Loki could not find any inclination that she gave him anything other than the truth. 

“How to assist you in a manner forthcoming. I was also asked to tell you that she wants to speak with you.” 

“What is it?” “That is for her to discuss with you. I was told to say nothing of the matters discussed.” 

Loki placed his hand on her arm, trying to pull her back towards him. It was a natural reaction, but Raven twisted her arm around in a manner that broke the grip before gripping his hand and pulling it into a lock. Loki, due to not expecting her to react in such a manner, was caught off-guard. When Raven realised what she did, she let go immediately and stood back awaiting admonishment. “I am so sorry.” 

“How do you know how to do that?” Loki was more intrigued than angry by her actions.

“I have brothers, it is basic self-defence.” It was true, being teased by her brothers meant she learnt how to defend herself. 

“What you did to me is a criminal offence, you could be charged for that, you are aware?” Loki smirked. 

“In a legal setting, the argument is valid to say that you touched me first and I acted in self-defence.” “But I am a prince. I will not say anything, if you tell me what I am heading towards now.” Raven eyed him cautiously, knowing full well the reason for his smirk. It made her want to slap him but knew she could not do so physically. Knowing that what she would say would affect him in some manner, she felt herself almost happy to ruin his day while also reminding herself of an ugly truth as she spoke. “She is going to inform you that a date is set for your marrying Princess Raven. It is in a month’s time.” Loki stood back, startled at what she was saying.  

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Could you please do 10 (“You made... a nest... for us?”) where omegas Lance and Reader made a nest for them and their alphas, Keith and Allura? Kinda angsty because this takes place before Keith leaves to join the Blades of Marmora.

Lowkey nsfw, like soft smut. Also!! Request are open again :) feel free to send some in!

You and Lance had been MIA for 2 days. Keith and Allura had NO idea what you were doing. It was worrisome because he was leaving soon.

He already knew that his two omegas were upset about it- you'd taken it pretty hard though, going into a full on panic attack that only Lance could calm you down from. Maybe you were still mad- maybe you were going to ignore him until he left-

"Keith," Allura hummed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're overthinking again."

He looked up at his mate and sighed. "I'm worried. What if they hate me? What if she hates me?"

"She doesn't hate you, darling. We'd know. I promise you. They're probably just having some Omega time."

"So close to when I leave though?"

"Sometimes its urgent." She sat next to him. "I remember when I was a little girl, sometimes my mother would disappear for a few days with her omega friend. Sometimes, most times, they were planned, scheduled for when it wouldn't intervene with anything. But sometimes, after something stressful, she needed time- even if it intervened with something. It's not always a choice." She ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed to relax at that, his tense muscles loosen up, just a little. "So relax. Our mates don't hate you."

He nodded slightly. "Do you think I'll be able to see them before I go?"

"I'm sure you will." She placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

Allura had always been the stronger dynamic. At least when it came to social cues and calming mates down.

Shiro was the pack leader. Keith was his right hand man- he was stronger than her in that way. Physically and authoritatively. But he relied on her so much when it came to communicating, he wasn't entirely sure HOW to communicate. They balanced eachother out, with the two omegas, it was only more balanced.

You and Lance had been best friends- since the start of the garrison. And you'd both- without his knowledge, had been infatuated with him. He wish he would've known because he wouldn't have had a problem courting the two of them. And then space happened and you met Allura. The way your eyes lit up around her hurt him, it meant you were no longer interested in him, though that was far from the truth. But the more he thought about Allura the more he realized why you like her so much. And some how him courting Lance became Allura courting him and you, and you Attempting to court him and Lance- which ended in the four person pack he was in now. He wouldn't have it any other way.

He was so so happy, happier than he thinks he'd ever been. He was infatuated with his three mates and not having them was such a painful thought. It was killing him inside.

And when he told you and Lance about his mission, the fear that flooded your eyes hurt too. You panicked and after 10 minutes of him trying to calm you down (and failing) Lance had to step in. It made him feel like a shitty Alpha. Lance was worried, yeah, but he knew Keith would be fine. Lance spent a few hours consoling keith after that.

"Keith?" Lance questioned, kneeling down and leaning against him from behind. Keith's hand immediately moved to touch Lance's arm, leaning into him.

"Yeah babe?"

"Were you worried? You smell sour." He wrinkled his nose, kissing the Alphas cheek no less.

"A little bit."

Allura snorted. "Yeah, a little bit."

He sent her a glare, his face flushing when Lance laughed.

"Whatever, come one you two. We have something to show you."

"We?" Keith raised an eyebrow, looking from lance to Allura who shrugged.

"Yes we, now c'mon." He took their hands and led them down the hallway.

"Where are we going?"

"My room."

"Is that where you've been?"

"Yep. We've got a surprise for you."

"What is it?" Keith eagerly questioned.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if he told us." Allura smiled teasingly, enjoying Keith's whine.

Eventually they stopped in front of Lance's room. "Are you two ready?"

Keith's nerves set in again. He hesitantly nodded and Allura gently squeezed his shoulder in assurance.

Lance grinned and opened the door, tapping in, urging his Alphas to do the same.

They stepped in, taken aback by what they saw.

A nest.

The nest was huge, adorned in stolen articles of clothing or stuffed animals the Alphas had given. The there you sat in the middle, back to the door. It smelled sweeter than usual, you did. Keith internally groaned. Your heat was just around the corner, he'd forgotten all about it. They both had. Some Alphas they were.

"It's a beautiful nest," Allura hummed, smiling softly as she kissed Lance gently.

"We made it for all of us. It took us two days."

Keith's head snapped up. "Us?"

"Yeah, all of us. Isn't that right princess?" He looked over his shoulder to you.

You rubbed the back of your neck and nodded, clearly embarrassed with such a feat, terrified they'd hate it.

"You guys- you guys...made a nest...for us?" Keith's voice was shakey.

"We wanted to spend this heat with you," you mumbled, "before you leave."

We. We as in Lance AND you.

Leaving. He wrinkled his nose. He was leaving soon. Leaving all this behind. Lance's heat did always align with yours, but what usually happened, was that you went into heat which pushed Lance into his. The fact that both of his omegas were ready for him to finally help had him spinning.

"Are...are you sure?" He asked, eyes trailing you as you stood up, turning around to face them. You walked over, stepping over the blankets and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you sniffed. "I'm sorry for panicking and then not coming to see you. I'm sure it didn't feel good."

He placed a hand on the back of your head, the other securing the small of your back. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "It's okay baby, don't worry about it. But are you positive that you want us with you two for heat? This'll be the first time,"

"Yeah, we're sure. We talked about it. As long as it's okay with you two...I mean not too long ago we were talking about mating- if you-" you paused, "if you two want to still do that, we'd be okay with it too."

Both Keith and Alluras stomachs did flips, their hearts sang with joy. They'd wanted to mate for sometime, theybwere just waiting for their Omegas to become comfortable with the idea and decide.

He lifted your head, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours. You leaned up into his touch, closing your eyes and taking him in.

Lance smiled, taking Alluras hand. He was happy they'd made up. Allura flashed him the told you so smile and Lance rolled his eyes.

The two of you finally pulled away, red and panting. "I'd be more than happy to spend heat with you." Keith whispered. "And even happier to mate."

You smiled, hugging him again before looking at Allura. Her soft smile made you melt.

"My queen," she kissed your nose, picking you up, twirling gently. "I'd love too." She pressed kisses to your cheek before kissing your lips.

She set you down. You took her hand and lead her into the nest. "Come on Alpha. I want to show you " your usual smile was back, your eyes sparkled again and for now you could forget that one of your Alphas was leaving.

She followed you in, smiling gently as she watched you point everything out.

"So that's where the jacket went," she teased, watching you flush.

"Ye-yeah- it smelled like you and it was soft."

"And that one too." It was Lance's turn to blush- he shoved Keith.

"Shut up! You have at least four of my shirts."

"I don't!"

"You do!"

"Shut up," he crossed his arms.

"Come here," Allura crooned, taking your hand while the other two argued. You happily obligated. She sat on the edge if the bed, pulling you so you stood between her legs. She hummed as her eyes scanned over your body. "Lean down, omega."

Her hands slid from where they sat on your hips, up your shirt as you leaned down, connecting your lips with hers. She rubbed circles into your side. You threaded your fingers through her thick white hair, relishing in the kiss. She ran her tongue across your bottom lip, humming again when your opened your mouth so her tongue could poke yours.

Her hands moved farther up your shirt and she pulled you so you sat snug, straddling her lap.

Then her hands moved down, cupping and gripping your ass, pulling your hips to grind hers. A small moan slipped past your lips and your eyelids fluttered.

"You're already so wet. We've been neglecting you, hmm?" Allura whispered, her voice thick. She was weak first you, just that noise had her throbbing.

Lance and Keith ceased their arguing, looking over with curious eyes. "Yes, you have." He said as a matter of factly.

"Oh?" Keith smiled, pulling him close. "Let's make it up to you then." He took Lance's chin in his hand and turned his head to look at you and Allura. You were grinding against her thigh, slick dripping down your legs through the thin shorts you had put on. Your face was red and your eyes were closed as she urged you on.

"Good girl," she whispered. "Get yourself off however you'd like, you're so good " she kissed the omegas neck.

"Look at her- all messy for her Alpha." Keith whispered. "Do you want that?"

Lance was red again, his stomach swirled and he felt the familiar warmth in his lower abdomen. "Yeah," he breathed. "I do."

"I want these off," Keith tapped his leg. Keith wanted his pants off.

"But she's got hers on," he whined.

"But its gonna feel a lot better for you if you're bear, riding my thigh, won't it."

Lance paused, the thought of keiths denim against his skin did sound good. He'd done it before, it always felt good. So Lance obliged. Discarding his pants.

Guess they were starting early.

[nancypullen]

We're Home

Actually, we've been home for a couple of days- I'm just exhausted. Not even sure why I'm tired, probably from wondering if the people on our flights were super spreaders. Honestly, the airports and flights were better than I expected. The airports looked like ghost towns, security screening took mere seconds, and flying into Baltimore our flight was about half full. Coming home our flights were packed and that made me nervous. We're vaccinated and we never took our masks off in the airports or onboard - I'm not sure what else we could have done. I'd never forgive myself if we carried this awful virus to our sweet, unvaccinated grandgirl. ANYWAY... Our trip was quick but productive. We covered a lot of ground and definitely know where we would and would not like to live. I took notes because I knew that it would all become a blur..."Which town was that blue house in?" We still love Chestertown. It offers an awful lot, especially for people staring retirement in the face. The only problem with Chestertown is that the housing inventory is limited. We saw an adorable house that had been flipped - top to bottom with gorgeous HGTV worthy finishes. But they saved money by not installing central air. As a woman of a certain age, there are some things I'm not willing to compromise on and good air conditioning is one of them. The closer we looked the more it seemed that money wasn't the only reason for leaving out the HVAC update, that perhaps the electrical wasn't upgraded on the (old) home and might not support a system. Farewell, beautiful kitchen. I love the way you look but I'm not willing to sweat inside my home.

We found several neighborhoods in Easton that we liked - quiet, wooded, lovely homes, and convenient to everything from healthcare to shopping. Easton also has a charming downtown. Loads of history, sweet parks, fun shops and restaurants. We explored a bit and sat outside Storm & Daughters ice cream shop and enjoyed a cone. There's a lot to like about Easton and it's definitely at the top of our list. Bonus, Talbot County property taxes are quite reasonable. Just down the road from Easton we toured Denton. It's a small but vibrant town. They boast a cute, historic downtown, and seemed to have an involved community. We found a couple of neighborhoods that we really liked, one even had lots for sale. The downside is that even though it's just a few miles to Easton and Talbot County, Denton is in Caroline County and the property taxes are much higher. Still okay, but high enough to make me pump the brakes. We're definitely not taking Denton off the list, but we'd probably opt for less house there. I'll be honest, my favorite house was in Denton. It ticked ALL of my boxes. Roomy, updated kitchen, pantry, walk-in closets, garage. The back yard was postage stamp sized, but we're not getting any younger so it's fine. The neighborhood was delightful and convenient to so much.

I checked on the property taxes for 2020...almost four thousand. Get outta' here. I know that we're really spoiled with low property taxes here in Wilson County, and we understand that we'll pay more in Maryland...but...ugh. Right now there are people in New Hampshire saying, "Four grand?? That's a steal! Buy it!" It's all perspective and something I'll have to work on. We traveled town to town, loving some of them and putting others in our rear view as fast as possible. Centreville? Loved it, but pricey. Ridgely? NOPE. Rock Hall? Charming, loved the Harbor Woods neighborhood, but they have one mom & pop grocery store and I didn't even see a clinic anywhere. It's 30 minutes to Chestertown, some of it through a wildlife refuge where my brain was screaming "SNAKES!". Adorable, but no. I think it will be Chestertown or Easton for us. Exploring the Eastern Shore was a fabulous history lesson and I'm eager to learn more. Back in the day they were big on their monarchs. There's Queen Anne, Princess Anne, Queenstown, Caroline County, and so on. In a pretty park in downtown Centreville there's a really lovely statue of Queen Anne. Some 271 years after Queen Anne of England signed the charter that created Queen Anne County on Maryland's Eastern Shore, a statue in her honor was unveiled by her namesake, the current Princess Anne. I'll bet that was a big day in Centreville. The statue shows the queen seated, holding the charter she's just signed and a little spaniel sleeps behind her chair. I thought I'd snapped a couple of pictures, but all I can find is this really bad video.

I was more in love with that tree than with the statue. Just across the street from that park was an Irish pub named O' Shucks. In my mind that was amusing, like saying darn it. More likely it has something to do with shucking oysters.

Beyond all the royalty and colonial settlements of the 1600 and 1700 hundreds, the Eastern Shore also has a rich history of Underground Railroad and abolitionist activity. Cambridge was the birthplace of Harriet Tubman and there's a museum and plenty of historic spots documenting her fearless work. Over in Easton they're proud of native son, Frederick Douglass. His story is fascinating, from slave to statesman. He was self-taught - a brilliant orator and writer, responsible for great social reformation, tireless in his pursuit of equality and fairness. He was a staunch supporter of women's suffrage, saying, "In this denial of the right to participate in government, not merely the degradation of woman and the perpetuation of a great injustice happens, but the maiming and repudiation of one-half of the moral and intellectual power of the government of the world." In other words, by not allowing women a vote our country was wasting half of its intellect. Here in Tennessee you'll find proudly displayed busts of KKK leaders in government buildings. Our parks are home to statues of the confederate generals who fought to keep slavery alive. Don't give me that B.S. about the Civil War being about state's rights. Ask yourself, a state's right to do what? Enslave people! It was economically beneficial for the south to enrich itself on the backs of slaves. Okay, I'm rambling- from property taxes to Civil War issues. None of which you probably care about. The very best part of the trip was, of course, quality time with the grandgirl. And oh, she is grand. We played princesses, we did a craft, we read books and made snacks. We squeezed a whole lot of fun and love into a short visit. She's smart, funny, curious, sweet, and beautiful. That's my 100% unbiased opinion. No matter which town we land in, it's closer to her and we'll get to enjoy all of the milestones that are so important. FaceTime is fine in a pinch, but nothing beats being there. Time for me to hush and get a couple of things done around here. There's laundry to fold and a dishwasher to unload. I'm currently sitting at my desk, gazing out at the gardens (the pumpkin plants were 3/4 dead when we came home and I'm not taking any heroic measures to save them) and loving what September is showing me so far. I love this month, the light hits differently and everything seems to calm down. After the busy, blazing summer months it's a welcome change. We still have some hot weather ahead, but there's a hint of change in the air.

Also, I'd like to add that IT'S JUST 53 DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN!!!

I'm getting happier by the day. Join me. Stay safe, stay well, and start stashing away some candy for the kids. XOXO, Nancy

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Okay so the sad marriage scenario about MC and Xenia not being able to be together broke me… what if it’s the same thing, but MC has to marry Ruelle?!

Written by @riverleafing

Ruelle rolls her eyes. “Like they suggested, marriage is only for making heirs, right? What use would it be otherwise? She’s already a Queen.”

“That just it!” Piama snaps. “She doesn’t need to marry equal or higher. She should be free to marry for love no matter their position!”

“Weird to hear a Spring princess say that. You lot social-climb faster than ivy on a trellis.”

“Well maybe I’d prefer fighting to marry the one I Iove, equal or not!”

Their bickering increases to a point that MC tries to tune them out. She turns to Xenia. “Oh, Love, what am I to do? If the council insists the people of the city require I marry soon, and to someone… someone who has never been married before?”

Xenia closes her eyes a moment, gathering herself before answering coolly. “It’s true, the traditions in Altadellys hold on to superstitions too strongly for a new Queen to try otherwise. Politically, it would not be in your best interests.”

Behind them, Ruelle’s voice barely audibly growls, “And if I seized the chance?”

A thump against MC’s dresser causes everyone to look over to Piama. Her face flushed in embarrassment.

Xenia’s eyes casts to Ruelle just in time to see her hands disappear from Piama’s hips.

“Pardon me, your highness. I…” Piama bows her head, “I merely stumbled ungracefully.”

Xenia pulls MC’s attention back, “You should select a noble from one of the houses. To ensure the security of the crown. And for the future of the people, produce an heir that they will trust in to follow.”

“Frost,” MC breathes out with a sense of helplessness. “Why must it be so complicated?”

“For the usual rotting Season rules and circumstances,” Ruelle grumbles to the room, distancing herself from Piama once again.

“Is there really no way to keep you so near anymore, Xenia?” MC’s eyes go tearful as she sits on the edge of her bed.

“Must I truly marry someone I barely know or trust?”

Xenia tenderly grasps MC’s hands, petting over her knuckles with her thumbs. “We will control everything we can,” she offers with a confident tone. “We’ll choose a viable, and malleable, option. Someone who shall serve well enough to our benefit.”

Piama sits beside MC, linking arms and rubbing a forearm in comfort. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here to work things out as best we can.”

Seeing the two comfort MC, Ruelle draws her brows together and approaches to pat MC’s head.

MC smiles at her friends weakly, but grateful.

Xenia continues, “It may take some time, however. There aren’t very many princes or princesses who would easily keep your best interests in mind.”

Ruelle goes still before frowning deeply. Her strong hands grip her daggers firmly for her own support. “Mistress Xenia, I could offer myself to–”

“No,” Piama interrupts. “Absolutely not you.”

Piama adamantly reasons with Xenia and MC, “Ruelle hasn’t even been trained as a princess. What would she do for diplomacy as a Queen? Stab the policy makers?” She places a hand against her chest confidently. “I am trained. I don’t seek more than friendship from MC, and I get along with you in Autumn well enough. Why not have it be me?”

Ruelle grimaces, apparently annoyed at the outburst. “Piama–”

Piama stands sharply, marching over to glare up at Ruelle with her stormy-blue eyes. “You said you weren’t even interested in signing any marriage contracts for now. You wouldn’t do that with anyone. You told me! You promised.”

Piama gasps. Suddenly feeling eyes at her back, she drops her head. The warm earthen tone of her face flushes darker. “Oh, I… Please excuse me, your Highness.” Piama turns and rushes out the door before anyone can respond.

Ruelle’s autumnal eyes flash to Xenia. “And an olemus token,” she adds to her unfinished offer. “MC would always have something close and to treasure then.”

Xenia pins Ruelle with her sharp gaze. “Perhaps.”

.

Ruelle hesitates, then nods and dismisses herself from the room.

MC stands with a deep sigh, walking to the window. “Is it wise, Xenia?”

Xenia turns her gaze on MC, studying her. Eventually responding, “Winter would be unwise; spring would cause imbalance for the other seasons; summer could work, but few have a personality you would find tolerable…and as for Autumn? Well, I suppose we all have our challenges.”

She stands and saunters closer to MC, placing a set of hands on MC’s hips, and the others warmly against her sleeved arms.

MC speaks her thoughts to the window. “Well, Ruelle’s not a stranger. You trust her. And, with her, we would see each other frequently - won’t we?” MC looks over her shoulder.

Xenia’s gaze roams over her face, considering. “It’s true. Very few would I trust to keep you safe, and autonomous, as much as she would. But when married, my time with either of you would need to appear… more measured.”

MC turns fully. “Well, you know I trust you, your guidance and intentions,” MC responds genuinely. But anyone could read on her face that MC was still hurting.

Xenia brushes an errant strand of hair behind MC’s ear, and smiles warmly at her. “That’s a good girl.”

The phrase does not fill MC with the usual, familiar warmth.

“As for tonight, I must have time to consider the best strategies from here.” Xenia’s face turns pained. “I regret not being prepared to protect you from this outcome. The emotional sacrifices we’ll need to make. How twisted they’ve worked angles–”

“All’s well,” MC reassures with a smile. “Whatever you can do to get the most out of us together, you can trust that I will embrace it.”

Xenia inclines her head slightly. Her fingers thread through MC’s hair while her other pair of hands wrap around MC’s waist. “I will do whatever I must.”

She envelops MC in a kiss that spins a world that could threaten to fall around her and she’d not care. Xenia carefully pulls away, peers into MC’s face before heading to the door. “I’ll see you before tomorrow’s council for your announcement, my Love, my Queen.”

Farther down the hall, Piama is sitting tucked into a small alcove, lit by a wide candle sconce.

Hunched and sniffling, Piama weakly speaks just loud enough for herself. “Why is this happening?” She sighs shakily. Her hand reaches out to steady herself against the cool, smooth stone, but, as if realizing something new, she stops short.

With a deep shuddering breath, a calmness begins to overtake her, punctuating the night’s stillness. A low voice suddenly murmurs from the shadows beside her, “You’ve experienced worse.”

Piama turns her head slightly towards the murmur. “Have I?”

A pregnant silence fills the air. When a length of hair moves gently across the flowers on her face, Piama presses her shimmery eyes closed and leans her cheek into the apparent wind.

A staccato of heeled boots slowly sounds approaching. Leisurely, Xenia paces out to lean against the balcony, looking up at the stars, and pretending she didn’t see Piama hurry away before her arrival. After a moment, Xenia breaks the silence with a wistful sigh.

“MC accepts your offer, Ruelle. I decided I will prepare it. The olemus.”

…

“Yes, Mistress.”

*Later that week…*

Piama shrieks at Ruelle’s sudden appearance beside her, then glares angrily.  “I hate it so much when you do that!!”

The corner of Ruelle’s lips lifts. “I enjoy catching you off guard in your gentler moments. Besides, I heard you confess to the Queen that my presence makes you feel safe.”

Piama narrows her eyes. “When the Queen and I are together ‘alone’, I would prefer to keep things between us from now on. Anyway, I need to seize every moment to keep our relationship close. It’s important for safety and happiness in my future.”

“Why not ours?”

Piama hesitates at the intent look in her eyes and suddenly serious tone. She feels heat rise in her chest. “You know very well my gran- Aunt Vo would not approve. Perhaps less of you, than as much as she does of me and my happiness.  Even showing you care for me, more so if I returned any overt affection, could spell ruin for your reputation at Altadellys. She’s done so before with people I grew close to, every time.”

“Maybe that Vo could do with a stabbing.”

Piama regards Ruelle with credulousness. “Is that how you solve all your troubles?! What if one day I get in the way of what you want? Will you stab me, too?”

“Only in the way you wish me to impale you,” Ruelle teased flirtatiously.

Piama turns away, but her cheeks flush pink at the implication. “Honestly, Ruelle. You’re too much.”

Ruelle’s warmth looms closer. “What? You don’t wish me to?”

“I wish to be loved, cared for, and tended to. You know that, don’t you? Aside from Lyris and you, and now the Queen—I hope—I’ve never had a friend who seemed to care what would become of me.”

“… Am I only to be a friend of yours, then?”

Piama sighs. “Ruelle, I know, you profess to love me but it’s… difficult for me to trust my heart to another. I’ve been fooled and hurt by so many in my life. …Besides I know I am not the only one you’ve romanced. You’ve left them all, haven’t you? Once you’ve had your way.”

“It was just sex, Piama. It wasn’t for romance.  It wasn’t for love.”

“Well, how do I know I would be any different for you? What assurance could you offer me?”

“I suppose I can’t assure you of my promise–more than with time.”

Piama turns her head, muttering, “It’s something we have so little of now, isn’t it?  You’ve offered yourself to stand in Xenia’s place as Queen Consort.”

“So that they can continue to love each other.”

Piama snaps, “Not overtly! Not satisfactorily! Just like us.”

“… So, you do love me?”

“Ruelle. I—” From the far entrance, the Queen turns a corner that enters their hall. “I can’t.”

“Piama!” the Queen calls fondly, smiling broadly as Piama hurries towards her. “I’ve been hoping to find you somewhere here!”

“Your Highness!” Piama attempts to covertly wipe the corner of her eyes.

“Have you two been arguing again? You know, you’ll need to find a way to lessen whatever it is between you when she must be seen by my side more often.”

“If it weren’t for her constant harassment, it would be much simpler Your Highness. But I shall try my best, for you.”

“And, Ruelle?  How fares my Love?”  Her eyes convey she speaks of Xenia, but her voice carries well for any listening ears.

“Very well, my Queen.  And I trust I am not alone in wanting all the excess ceremony is finally said and done.”

“Yes, you are right. I am fairly impatient for it be finished too.”

**

Over the following month, the Queen finds herself extremely busied in preparation, in a blur of traditions and efforts she cannot control. Lately, she hasn’t even heard nor seen Xenia more than on the council or for other official needs.

Naturally, the Queen is spending a lot of time with Ruelle now. It’s a challenge suddenly needing to spend more time together in the public eye, for both of them, but thankfully the MC is still able to send and receive messages from Xenia this way. Piama, too, is frequently around and—despite the occasional bickering with Ruelle—is able to excitedly guide the fashion and beautification plans for the upcoming ceremony quite well.

“It will be so romantic!” Piama clasps her hands in delight. “In front of the couple we’ll have an enormous gleaming chalice towering overhead, overflowing with flowers and red ivy to symbolize both your houses. Those flowers are popular with hummingbirds, too, so we’ll release them to flit around drinking their nectar. It will be sweet, and entirely spectacular, as befit a Queen of Altadellys!”

**

On the day of the wedding, the Queen is standing at the altar beside Ruelle as the priests from each of the houses deliver their specialized blessings.  But the MC has tuned out their droning.  With only her eyes wandering, the Queen searches for faces in the reflection of the giant silver chalice arching over their heads.  She spots Piama attempting to casually wipe away her tears. Lyris beside her with an uncharacteristic frown. Aunt Vo appearing rather smug.  And finally, there, she spots Xenia appearing…unreadable. If anything, she exudes a cool disinterest.  The MC feels an irrational stab of pain pierce her heart.

With a cordial smile plastered on her face, the Queen & Queen Consort finally must accept gifts from members of each of the houses. The continuous monotony of ceremony and practiced words seem to blend until the moment Xenia approaches the new brides.

“A gift of Autumn,” Xenia announces as two of her hands rest atop her cane while extending two others towards the Queens with long elegant fingers. Between her hands hangs an intricate silver necklace with a center drop of caged crystal. Ruelle steps forward and permits Xenia to place it around her neck.  “A child between you will be yours,” Xenia states frankly, just for her ears. “Both of yours. No one else’s.”

The MC leans in to hear her familiar voice, but only picks up the firmness of her tone. Then suddenly the Queen feels a bubbling of elation when Xenia then turns to her. Passing by the MC, Xenia inclines her head. “Autumn’s blessings for comfortable changes for both of you, your Highness.”  Xenia’s expression is arranged into one of simple cordiality before she turns to depart.  The Queen feels the twist of that invisible blade in her heart.

Piama, meanwhile approaches the bridal gifting stage. Her grey-blue eyes float over Ruelle and her voice chokes out as if she’s hardly used it.  “Your Highness?” Ruelle flinches slightly before acknowledging her greeting with a nod.  Piama approaches, presenting a small box with both hands. “A gift of Spring. Wishing you both love and…fertility.”

On a bed of magenta flowers rests a delicately carved golden timepiece, its hoop tied with a woven green and black ribbon. Ruelle’s eyes widen, glancing up to Piama, “This is…”

“The flowers are called zinnia,” Piama’s voice interrupts in a hush.  The distracted Queen catches a bit of her words, seeming to mishear. Piama’s smile seems to confirm her awareness of the somewhat similar name to Xenia. “This might serve to keep your more queenly appointments, your Highness, when necessary.” Ruelle nods and accepts the box. Her eyes watch Piama greet the Queen and gracefully depart.

From there, the evening wears on with gifts from each of the houses, again and again. The festivities last until late evening until, at last, they can retire to Queen’s chambers.

There, Ruelle removes the necklace Xenia placed around her neck, carefully opening the filigree cage of the drop.  “The Mistress purposely prepared this for you, my Queen.”  In her hand she holds a clouded black crystal, the thickness and length of her thumb.  “Do you know what an olemus is?”

“No,” the Queen takes it into her own hand, feeling a surprising warmth emanate from it. She looks at Ruelle in surprise, “What is it?”

“A part of Xenia’s essence for you. That is, something to enable you to have a child we would make, but with a considerable part of her…spirit and personality…in the making.”

“But the child would look like us?  Like you and me?”

Ruelle nods. “The stone holds her essence most strongly now but it should last, in some lessening amount, for decades to come. There’s no rush for us… for you…”  Ruelle gazes a bit at the astonished queen, then bows as she turns towards the secret passage door. “I’ll leave you to—“

“Ruelle.” The commanding voice stops her in her tracks.  “I want to try. Tonight.”

Ruelle turns to the Queen, watching her determined features shift to uncertainty.  “If…if you’re willing.”

Ruelle takes a breath. She inclines her head, and slowly begins to unbuckle her clothes, setting aside her daggers unsurprisingly to a place of easy access.

But the Queen’s eyes widen more as Ruelle’s flesh begins to be exposed. Newer than the All-Seeing Heart tattoo on Ruelle’s chest, the MC now takes in the curious tiny scars dashed across Ruelle’s arms and abdomen. She draws her eyes along the firm angles and rounded curves of a Ruelle’s long, beautifully lithe body watching her muscles stretch and contract as she pulls off the remnants of her clothing. Ruelle doesn’t seem to be made bashful by the Queen’s wandering eyes, but the MC’s cheeks flush at her own growing interest. “Wait,” she directs Ruelle. The Queen steps away and snuffs out the candles. The darkness feels intensely warm. “Now you may… Oh! …Oh my, Ruelle…”

Outside the Queen’s chamber doorway, Piama is leaning against the wall. Her body quakes and her eyes squeeze shut. “What am I doing?” She breathes out a shaky laugh at herself, bringing herself upright, wiping her cheeks. “The last of our time ran out today, anyway,” she murmurs as she heads back to her own room, reminding herself with finality. “Our time, Ruelle…my Love… It has really ended.”

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 1)

@lilyharvord hope you like it!

Masterlist

Words: 2391

It’s a universally recognized truth that a bachelor in possessing of a large fortune should need a wife. However little you may know about the feelings or points of view of such a man on his first appearance in the neighborhood, this truth is so firmly fixed in the minds of the district’s families that he was considered the legitimate property of one or the other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Barrow,” his lady told him one day, “did you know that finally the Hall of the Sun has been rented?” 

Mr. Barrow replied no and although his lack of interest was evident, his wife continued with her speech anyway, until, impatient at the absence of an answer, she asked him if he wasn’t interested in knowing who possessed enough fortune to be able to afford it. 

"You want to tell me, and I have nothing against listening,” he replied, enigmatic as always. He had always been a bizarre man, but the war accident that forced him into a wheelchair had somehow accentuated his wit and sarcasm, and despite twenty-three years had passed, his wife, a woman with a simple mind, of low intelligence and even less culture, still struggled to understand him, but somehow it seemed enough for the man, and he loved her dearly. 

“Well, my dear,” she continued, “you must know that Mrs. Long says the Hall of the Sun was rented by a young man who arrived Monday to see the place, and was so delighted that he will send his servants toward the end of the week.”

"And what’s his name, may I ask?” 

“Samos,” replied the woman, innocently. Mr. Barrow knew that name well, as it was that of the family who owned the largest mines in the kingdom, but he didn’t know if their son was a bachelor or not, an answer that soon came from his wife.

“Oh! Bachelor, my dear, you can be sure! What a beautiful thing for our girls! ”

“Why on earth? What do they have to do with it?” he asked, even though he had already guessed his wife’s plan to marry him to one of their daughters. What his spouse didn’t take into consideration was that this might not be the primary interest of the young heir to an industry that seemed to be making him richer and richer: after all, they weren’t a rich nor noble family, and all they had was earned from their work in the textile industry and his and his three sons’ military career.

“Since he’s young, it’s very likely that he can fall in love with one of our girls, and so you must visit him as soon as he arrives,” replied his wife, as if she had not understood that the flow of his thoughts had gone far beyond. 

“I see no reason to do that. You and the girls can go without me, or you can send them alone, which maybe will be better, since you’re as beautiful as they are and Mr. Samos could consider you the best of the bunch.” 

"My dear, you flatter me. Sure, I had my share of beauty, but now I don’t claim to be anything extraordinary, but don’t try to distract me: you really must go.”

 "It’s more than I can commit to doing, I assure you.”

“But think of your daughters. Just think of what arrangement it would be for one of them. The Skonos are determined to go just for this reason, and you know that they generally don’t visit newcomers. You have to go, because if you don’t, it would be impossible for us to visit him.” 

"Surely you have too many scruples: I really think that Mr. Samos will be delighted to meet you, and I’ll send through you my cordial consent to his marriage to whichever girl he prefers, although I’ll have to put in a good word for my little Mare.” 

"Do me the pleasure of not doing such a thing. Mare is nothing better than Gisa and I’m sure she isn’t half as beautiful or half as jovial as her, but you always prefer her over your other daughter.” 

"That’s because I have to balance your obvious preference for Gisa,” the man replied, and not knowing how to win that argument, Mrs. Barrow appealed to her most famous excuse, her feeble nerves.

“Ah, you don’t know how much I suffer.” 

“But I hope you will be able to heal, and live to see many young men with four thousand a year arrive in the neighborhood. ” 

“It wouldn’t do any good even if twenty came, seen that you are not going to visit them,” she replied, angrily. 

“Count on it, my dear, that when they will be twenty, I’ll go and visit every one!” he exclaimed, and walked away, leaving her to wonder if he would go or not, an answer she received the next week, during a conversation that occupied the whole family, in which her husband threw a few clues about his secret visit to Mr. Samos that morning. 

 “I’m tired of Mr. Samos!” exclaimed his wife, after a while.

“I’m sorry, but why didn’t you tell me before? If I had at least known it this morning, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to visit him. It’s really unfortunate, but since I did indeed visited him, now we can no longer avoid him,” he replied, although it really was exactly what he would’ve wanted; even if he was handsome, with an elegant appearance and formal manners, everything in him seemed forced and his expression wasn’t very nice. Even Shade, his third son, who had accompanied him in his visit, didn’t liked him that much, and it was a very strange event, given his character. Anyway, the two had decided not to spoil the enthusiasm of the women and not to instill in them any bad judgment, so, thanks to the general excitement, they retired ahead of time, followed by Bree, who had no interest in dances and social events of that kind, and which would shortly be called back to serve in the army. 

"What an excellent father you have!” exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, as soon as she was left alone with Tramy, her favorite son, and the two youngest. 

“I don’t know how you can ever repay his kindness; or mine too, for that matter. At our age, I tell you, it’s not so pleasant to make new acquaintances every day; but for your sake we would do anything. Gisa, my darling, even if you are the youngest, I really believe that Mr. Samos will be your knight at the next ball.”

Mare was used to that kind of preference, and she spent the rest of the evening speculating about when Mr. Samos would return Mr. Barrow’s visit, and deciding when they should’ve invited him to lunch. The visit was returned within a few days, but although Mr. Samos had hoped of being admitted to the presence of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard a lot, he saw only their father. The ladies were a little luckier, as they had the advantage of ascertaining, from a window upstairs, that he was wearing a black jacket and was riding a wonderful thoroughbred stallion. Immediately afterwards an invitation to dinner was sent, and Mrs. Barrow had already planned the dishes that would do her honor when a postponing reply arrived: Mr. Samos was forced to be in town the following day, and consequently was unable to accept the honor of their invitation. Mrs. Barrow was utterly shocked: she couldn’t imagine what he could do so shortly after his arrival that requested his presence at Archeon and she began to fear that he might pass quickly from one place to the other without ever stopping at the Hall of the Sun for the time due. Lady Skonos calmed her fears a little by saying that perhaps he had gone to the capital only to gather a large party for the ball, and soon afterwards news came that Mr. Samos would take twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the party. The girls worried about the number of ladies, but the day before the dance they consoled themselves by learning that, instead of twelve, he would take only six with him, the sister, a dear friend and four cousins, but when the party arrived, he made his entry into the ballroom with just four people, being them his sister, a beautiful woman with an undeniable elegance, this mysterious friend, a noble lady with the appearance of a princess, a cousin and another young man., General Calore, who immediately attracted the attention of the room for his tall and refined figure, his beautiful features and his noble bearing : the gentlemen thought him a refined-looking man, the ladies proclaimed that he was far more attractive than Mr. Samos, and he was object of great admiration for about half of the evening, up when his manner aroused a disapproval that reversed the course of his popularity; it turned out that he was proud, that he thought himself above the company and did nothing to make himself pleasant, and not even his vast estate in Harbor Bay could save him from having a hostile and unpleasant face, not to be worthy of comparison with the other guest, who had immediately made acquaintance with more people and was lively and expansive, danced every round and regretted it was over so soon. These amiable qualities spoke for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! General Calore, on his part, danced once with Miss Samos and once with Lady Haven, refused to be introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening wandering around the room, occasionally talking to someone from his group. He was the most haughty man in the world and everyone hoped he would never show up again, more than anyone else Mrs. Barrow, whose disapproval of his behavior was sharpened by a particular resentment, given he had snubbed one of her daughters: Mare Barrow had been forced by the shortage of men to remain seated for two rounds of dance, and during one of these moments, General Calore found himself standing close enough to allow her to hear unseen a conversation between him and Mr. Samos, who had stopped dancing for a few minutes and approached his friend to persuade him to join him. 

"Come on, Cal,” he said, “I have to make you dance. I hate seeing you standing there alone in such a stupid way. ” 

“I won’t do it for sure. You know how much I hate it, unless I know my lady well. In a place like this it would be unbearable. Your sisters are busy, and in the hall there’s no other woman with whom for me to dance with wouldn’t be one punishment.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be as picky as you are,” exclaimed Mr. Samos, “for all the gold in the world!” 

“You’re dancing with the only attractive girl in the room,” said General Calore, looking at Lady Skonos, “at the moment the least of your interests is gold, be it in your coffers or in the rest of the world! “ 

"There’s a friend of hers sitting right behind you: let me ask my lady to introduce you. ” 

“Who are you talking about?” asked General Calore, and turning, he looked for a moment at Mare, until, having met her gaze, he averted his and said coldly she was passable, but not pretty enough to tempt him. 

“I’m not in the mood to take care of young ladies neglected by other men, so you better go back to your lady and enjoy her smiles, because with me, you’re wasting your time.” 

Mr. Samos followed his advice, and General Calore walked away, leaving Mare with far from cordial feelings towards him. However, she told the story to her friends with great wit since she enjoyed seeing the comic side in everything and didn’t wanted to completely ruin a evening that passed pleasantly for the whole family: Gisa had been greatly admired by Lady Elane Haven and she had danced twice with Mr. Samos’ cousin, which made her as happy as her mother, albeit in a quieter way, and Mare shared the sentiment too; Tramy had never been without a lady, and that was all he cared about in a dance, and when they all returned in good spirits to the village where they lived, they found Bree and Shade still up, both very curious about the events of an evening that had raised such amazing expectations. Somehow, Shade had hoped that his sisters’ expectations on the stranger and his retinue were disappointed, but soon he found he had to hear an entirely different story, at least from Gisa’s side. 

“It was an absolutely delightful evening,” she was already telling, as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the house, “a magnificent dance. I wish you had been there too.” 

“Gisa was so admired that she couldn’t have been more,” explained their mother. “All they talked about was how beautiful her dress was, and Miss Samos’s friend said she would be honored to introduce her to her brother! Also, Mr. Samos’ cousin danced twice with her, just thinking about it makes me shiver with joy; she was the only one in the room that he asked for a second dance! Mr. Samos, on the other hand, invited Miss Skonos and although I was annoyed at first, I must say that I am relieved that a much older man doesn’t think at our youngest in that way. Oh! My dear!“ Mrs. Barrow went on, "I am really thrilled with his family! His sister is so beautiful and charming, I have never in my life seen anything more elegant than her dress. I really think the lace…” 

But before she could start rambling about clothing, Mare interrupted her to inform her brothers about the General rudeness. 

“But I can assure you,” added Mrs. Barrow, “that Mare hasn’t lost much for not having tickled his fancy, since he’s the most unpleasant man that exists, absolutely unworthy and unbearable. I wish your father had been there, he would’ve made him regret such an attitude bitterly! ”

[shiredded]

A white animation student’s take on Soul and POC cartoons

This got long but there’s lots of pretty pictures to go with it.

Hi, I’m Shire and I’m as white as a ripped-off Pegasus prancing on a stolen van. Feel free to add to my post, especially if you are poc. The next generation of animators needs your voice now more than ever.

My opinion doesn’t matter as much here because I’m not part of the people being represented. 

But I am part of the people to whom this film is marketed, and as the market, I think I should be Very Aware of what media does to me. 

And as the future of animation, I need to do something with what I know.

I am very white. I have blue eyes and long blond hair. I’ve seen countless protagonists, love interests, moms, and daughters that look like me. If I saw an animated character that looks like me turn into a creature for the majority of a movie, I would cheer. Bring it on! I have plenty of other representation that tells me I’m great just the way I am, and I don’t need to change to be likable. 

The moment Soul’s premise was released, many people of color expressed mistrust and disappointment on social media. Let me catch you up on the plot according to the new (march 2020) trailer. (It’s one of those dumb modern trailers that tells you the entire plot of the movie including the climax; so I recommend only watching half of it)

Our protagonist, Joe Gardner, has a rich (not in the monetary sense) and beautiful life. He has dreams! He wants to join a jazz band! So far his life looks, to me, comforting, amazing, heartfelt, and real. I’m excited to learn about his family and his music. 

Some Whoknowswhat happens, and he enters a dimension where everyone, himself included, is represented by glowing, blue, vaguely humanoid creatures. They’re adorable! But they sure as heck aren’t brown. The most common response seems to be dread at the idea of the brown human protagonist spending the majority of his screen time as a not-brown, not-human creature. 

The latest trailer definitely makes that look pretty darn true. He does spend most of the narrative - chronologically - as a blob. 

but

That isn’t the same as his screen time. 

From the look of the trailer, Joe and his not-yet-born-but-already-tired-of-life soul companion tour Joe’s story in all of its brown-skinned, human-shaped, life-loving glory. The movie is about life, not about magic beans that sing and dance about burping (though I won’t be surprised if that happens too.)

Basically! My conclusion is “it’s not as bad as it looked at first, and it looks like a wonderful story.”

but

That doesn’t mean it’s ok. 

Yes, Soul is probably going to be a really important and heartfelt story about life, the goods, the bads, the dreams, and the bonds. That story uses a fun medium to view that life; using bright, candy-bowl colors and a made-up world to draw kids in with their parents trailing behind. 

It’s a great story and there’s no reason to not create a black man for the lead role. There’s no reason not to give this story to people of color. It’s not a white story. This is great!

Except...

we’ve kind of

done this

a lot

The Book of Life and Coco also trade in their brown-skinned cast for a no-skinned cast, but I don’t know enough about Mexican culture to say those are bad and I haven't picked up on much pushback to those. There’s more nuance there, I think. 

I cut the above pics together to show how the entire ensemble changes along with the protagonist. We can lose entire casts of poc. Emperor's New Groove keeps its cast as mostly human so at least we have Pacha

And while the animals they interact with might be poc-coded, there’s nothing very special or affirming about “animals of color.” 

So, Soul.

Are we looking at the same thing here?

It’s no secret by now that this is an emerging pattern in animation. But not all poc-starring animated films have this same problem. We have Moana! With deuteragonists (basically co-protagonists) of color, heck yeah.

 Aladdin... Pocahontas... The respect those films have for their depicted culture is... an essay for another time. Mulan fits here too. the titular characters’ costars are either white, or blue, and/or straight up animals. But hey, they don’t turn into animals, and neither do the supporting cast/love interests.

Dreamworks’ Home (2015) is also worth mentioning as a poc-led film where the  deuteragonist is kind of a purple blob. But the thing I like a lot about Home is that it’s A Nice Story, where there’s no reason for the protagonist to not be poc, so she is poc. Spiderverse has a black lead with a white (or masked, or animal) supporting cast. But, spiderverse also has Miles’ dad, mom, uncle, and Penny Parker.

I’d like to see more of that.

And less of this

if you’re still having trouble seeing why this is a big deal, let’s try a little what-if scenario. 

This goes out to my fellow white girls (including LGBTA white girls, we are not immune to propaganda racism)

imagine for a second you live in a world where animation is dominated to the point of almost total saturation by protagonist after protagonist who are boys/men. You do get the occasional woman-led film, but maybe pretend that 30 to 40 percent of those films are like

(We’re pretending for a second that Queen Eleanor was the protagonist, because I couldn’t think of any animated movies where the white lady protagonist turns into and stays an animal for the majority of the film)

Or, white boys and men, how would you feel if your most popular and marketable representation was this?

Speaking of gender representation, binary trans and especially nonbinary trans people are hard pressed to find representation of who they are without the added twist of Lizard tails or horns and the hand-waving explanation of “this species doesn’t do gender” But again, that’s a different essay.

Let’s look at what we do have. In reality, we (white people) have so much representation that having a fun twist where we spend most of the movie seeing that person in glimpses between colorful, glittering felt characters that reflect our inner selves is ok. 

Wait, that aesthetic sounds kind of familiar...

But I digress. Inside Out was a successful and honestly helpful and important movie.  I have no doubt in my mind that Soul will meet and surpass it in quality and and in message. 

There is nothing wrong with turning your protagonist of color into an animal or blob for most of their own movie. 

But it’s part of a larger pattern, and that pattern tells people of color that their skin would be more fun if it was blue, or hairy, or slimy, or something. It’s fine to have films like that because heck yeah it would be fun to be a llama. But it’s also fun to not be a llama. It’s fun to be a human. It’s fun to be yourself. I don’t think children of color are told that enough. 

At least, not by mainstream studios. (The Breadwinner, produced by Cartoon Saloon)

It’s not like all these mainstream poc movies are the result of racist white producers who want us to equate people of color with animals. In fact, most of those movies these days have people of color very high up, as directors, writers, or at the very least, a pool of consultants of color.

These movies aren’t evil. They aren’t even that intrinsically racist (Pocahontas can go take a hike and rethink its life, but we knew that.) It’s that we need more than just the shape-shifting narratives of our non-white protagonists. 

It’s not like there isn’t an enormous pool of ideas, talent, visions and scripts already written and waiting to be produced. There is.

But they somehow don’t make it past the head executives, way above any creative team, who make the decisions, aiming not for top-of-the-line stories, but for the Bottom line of sales.

When Disney acquired Pixar, their main takeover was in the merchandising department. The main target for their merchandise are, honestly, white children.

So is it much of a surprise

that they are more often greenlighting things palatable for as many “discerning” mothers as possible?

I saw just as many Tiana dolls as frog toys on the front page of google, so don’t worry too much about The Princess And The Frog. Kids love her. But I didn’t find any human figures of Kenai from Brother Bear, except for dolls wearing a bear suit. 

So. What do I think of Soul? 

I think it’s going to be beautiful. I think it’s going to be a great movie.

But I also think people of color deserve more. 

Let’s take one more look at the top people who went into making this movie.

Of the six people listed here, five are white. Kemp Powers, one of the screenplay writers, is black. 

It’s cool to see women reaching power within the animation industry, but this post isn’t about us.

We need to replace the top execs and get more projects greenlit that send the message that african, asian, latinix, middle eastern, and every other non-white ethnicity is perfect and relatable as the humans they were meant to be. 

Disney is big enough that they can - and therefore should - take risks and produce movies that aren’t as “marketable” simply because art needs to be made. People need to be loved.

Come on, millennials and Gen Z. We can do better.

We Will do better.

TLDR: A lot of mainstream animation turns its protagonists of color into animals or other creatures. I (white) don’t think that’s a bad thing, except for the fact that we don’t get enough poc movies that AREN’T weird. Support Soul; it’s not going to be as bad as you think. It’s probably gonna be really good. Let’s make more good movies about people of color that stay PEOPLE of color.

[southeastasianists]

The memory of Thanaruek Laoraowirodge’s favorite Thai dish is intertwined with the memory of his grandmother, Somsri Chantra. Originally from the eastern town of Trad, Laoraowirodge vividly remembers the chicken stew that she would cook after he returned home from school.

The dish, as simple as it is, is included in his family’s upcoming cookbook, a volume that will detail the recipes created by his khun yai, or grandmother. Not surprisingly, Yai Somsri’s recipes also make up much of the menu for his family’s popular Bangkok eateries, Supanniga Eating Room and Krua Supanniga by Khunyai.

Laoraowirodge considers the upcoming tome to be the family’s first funeral cookbook. “It will include all stories of memories from our family members with khun yai, related to her life and her cooking,” he says.

Most Thais consider funeral books a way to safeguard good memories of a loved one. Distributed by family members as mourners file into the temple to say their farewells, funeral books are typically put together by grieving children or partners. Often, they document the life of the deceased, share family anecdotes and photos, and reprint important Buddhist sermons.

However, many books cannot help but include matters dear to the departed’s heart. A jewelry aficionado’s funeral book could contain a primer on spotting gem quality. For an avid foodie, it might include their favorite places for street eats, replete with histories of the vendors. Yet whether a slim pamphlet or a thick, hardcover volume, favorite family recipes have become standard funeral book content.

But legend has it that the origins of the Thai funeral book are rooted in tragedy. The first queen of King Rama V, Sunandha Kumariratana, and her daughter, Princess Karnabhorn Bejraratana, drowned in 1880 when their boat capsized on the way to the palace. Courtiers and servants who would have been able to help were rooted to the spot, for fear of breaking a law that forbade commoners from touching royals. At their funeral, King Rama V gave out 10,000 books to commemorate the lives of the queen and his daughter, but these did not include any recipes. Instead, they featured Buddhist teachings and philosophy. The nangsue anusorn ngan sop (funeral book) was born, and the custom was swiftly copied by the king’s subjects.

The motives behind this tradition, however, may not entirely stem from a desire to keep good memories of the deceased alive. “Grand families were very competitive in showing face—and still are,” says Phil Cornwel-Smith, author of Very Thai and the new book Very Bangkok. “Funeral books would have shown all the titles, awards, and ranks that the deceased had been bestowed, which would be of vital interest for the surviving relatives to publicize and justify their social position.”

While funeral books were initially considered the purview of the aristocratic elite, the bourgeois—the military, high-ranking civil servants, and wealthy merchants—were only a few steps behind. Initially, Buddhist philosophy was a popular feature, until King Rama V in 1904 proclaimed the volumes to be “not very enjoyable” and advised future books to include more interesting subject matter, such as popular Thai fables. It was only later, in the mid-20th century, when food-related matters became the norm in funeral publications.

“For grand ladies of the past, there would be far less in terms of rank to document,” says Cornwel-Smith, “so their household accomplishments would be lauded, such as recipes,” adding that one of his first jobs in Thailand was to edit a funeral booklet for a female Sino-Thai banker.

It might seem odd that Thailand would be able to nurture the unique culinary tradition of the “funeral cookbook” when cookbooks themselves were a relatively recent phenomenon. Inspired by Isabella Beeton’s The Book of Household Management, the first Thai food cookbook, Mae Khrua Hua Pa (or “Talented Women Chefs”), was published by Lady Plian Phasakorawong in 1908. Before Lady Plian’s masterwork, recipes were transmitted verbally, ideally to family or household members only. These recipes were guarded fiercely. For a family to reveal one’s culinary secrets was tantamount to ceding social cachet to another rival house. “Grand families competed in culture as much as in titles, such as quality of food and rival troupes of traditional musicians,” says Cornwel-Smith.

The publication of the first Thai cookbook finally allowed for the sharing of private culinary knowledge in the public sphere. It also reflected a general rise of literacy in the pursuit of siwalai, the Thai attempt to appear more “civilized” in the face of encroaching colonization, academics say.

The debut of Mae Khrua Hua Pa was said to have been a commercial failure because of its relatively high price. However, it has since managed to take hold of and eventually shape Thai culinary discourse—primarily through its reprinting as a souvenir for Thai funerals. In essence, it has enjoyed a second (and third, and fourth) life as a funeral cookbook for families wary of sharing their own recipes.

Other funeral cookbooks have added to the cultural conversation by keeping specific family traditions alive. The many funeral cookbooks of one of the grand houses of old Siam, the Bunnag family, detail a plethora of dishes from the homeland of Sheikh Ahmad, who arrived in the kingdom as a Persian merchant in 1600. After entering the service of King Songtham, Sheikh Ahmad eventually rose to the rank of samuha nayok (First Prime Minister), a position that many of his descendants would also hold.

Scholars such as Thai food chef David Thompson—the proud collector of at least 600 funeral cookbooks—credit the Bunnag family for bringing gang massaman (loosely translated to “Muslim curry”) to Thailand. Although hailed today as one of the most popular Thai dishes in the world, massaman curry is still classified by some Thais as “foreign” since it incorporates a mix of dried spices, while traditional Thai curries are based on fresh herbs.

Today, the family recipe for massaman curry lives on in Bunnag funeral cookbooks, and includes raisins, small potatoes, nutmeg, cumin, star anise, cardamom, mace, and the decidedly un-Thai flourish of bay leaves. In the funeral cookbook of Sheikh Ahmad’s descendent Longlaliew Bunnag, one can find Persian-inspired gems such as the aforementioned massaman, khao buree (translated loosely as “smoked rice,” the family’s own take on chicken biryani) and sai gai, a saffron-scented, syrup-soaked dessert known as jalebi in Indian cuisine.

A wealthy family into the 20th century, the Bunnag family recipes also mirror the many foreign influences that shaped the Thai upper classes. One recipe calls simply for Chinese-style egg noodles mixed with olive oil and sprinkled with “the grated cheese of your choice,” a fusion that probably would have horrified Lady Plian.

In an essay on Thailand’s culinary identity, journalist Panu Wongcha-um argues that funeral cookbooks are still shaping Thai culinary discourse. This can be amply illustrated by the menus of Michelin-starred Thai restaurants such as Nahm, Paste, and Bo.lan, whose menus are rooted in the funeral cookbooks of noble families and whose chefs are celebrities in their own right.

Chef Bo Songvisava, like her former boss David Thompson, has a sizable funeral cookbook collection of her own. Besides inspiring her cooking, the funeral cookbooks in Songvisava’s collection represent the achievements of Thai women in the only sphere once permitted to them: the home.

“Funeral books with recipes in them in the early years mostly belonged to ladies from noble families,” says Songvisava, who is in the midst of writing her own cookbook. “Printing merely a cookbook must have seemed ridiculous back then, so they used funerals as an occasion to respect the deceased and pass on her skills, knowledge, and legacy.”

Chef Jason Bailey of Paste estimates that he and his wife, fellow chef Bee Satongun, have collected several hundred funeral cookbooks. The books, while providing a snapshot of a certain time, were also helpful in showing how Thai cuisine has evolved. “We were interested in seeing how they riffed and adapted Thai recipes,” he says of past cooks.

Ultimately, the Thai funeral cookbook was born in a hothouse environment of its own, fed by royal encouragement, the threat of colonization, a dearth of spaces for female expression, and the gradual literacy of the masses. However, unlike many conventions of the past, the funeral cookbook thrives today, even popping up abroad. British food writer Alan Davidson was so charmed by the idea that he compiled a 47-page booklet of his own, to be distributed at his 2003 service. The volume included recipes for personal favorites, such as meatloaf and toad-in-the-hole.

Songvisava thinks her funeral cookbook would highlight her work at her restaurant. “The recipes that I will include in my funeral book will be the ones that are served in Bo.lan and Bo.lan only,” she says, singling out green curry with local green figs, a salad of fresh northern Thai greens adorned with grilled fish, and household essentials such as Sriracha sauce.

Her husband, co-chef Dylan Jones, says he would present a mix of Thai influences and his Australian heritage in his funeral cookbook. For him, that means two particular recipes: one for nam prik prik Thai oorn, or black pepper chili relish, and another for Vegemite on toast.