#why-bless-your-heart

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Six Swans for a fairytale retelling?

I finally filled this prompt by writing "Without Words" as my story for the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge. Since I put the story in a separate post, I'm going to self-indulgently use this ask to provide some author's notes.

For quite a few years now, I've had the idea to retell the ending of this fairy tale from the prince's point of view. It's so dramatic! He's protected this woman for years, and had to be deeply in love to do so, and now he's faced with enough evidence that he has to put her to death. How do you deal with that? I fully intended to use his POV to fill this prompt, yet, every time I tried, I couldn't make it interesting enough to hold my attention.

Then a few weeks back, I had the image of the prince begging his wife to speak, while she had to stand strong and refuse, despite the pain it causes both of them. This became much more interesting (and easier to write as a short retelling), because the prince's conflict comes from not knowing, while her conflict comes from fully knowing what's going on and having to make the hard choice not to save herself.

From the first spark of this idea, the couple was named Eliza and Christian. Eliza because of Andersen's fairy tale, of course, and Christian because Andersen's tale is Danish, and Denmark has had ten kings named Christian. His name became even more thematically fitting when I decided to write this story for the Inklings Challenge.

I debated whether I should retell the "Six Swans" version where the heroine is accused of killing her three children, or the "Wild Swans" route where she's just accused of witchcraft. The witchcraft charge is enough to condemn her to death, is more directly related to her task, and makes her story parallel her stepmother's better. However, the missing children angle made this much more painful and implied a stronger bond between the two of them. They're not only married, but they've had three children together! He's protected her against two different accusations of murder! The fact that he's been so supportive up to this point makes it even more dramatic when he finally is forced to execute her.

It does seem a bit ridiculous that he's let this go on long enough to lose three children, but that just adds to the drama of the moment. Christian knows Eliza well enough that he doesn't believe she could kill their children, but after three murders, the evidence is getting harder and harder to explain away, and even the king has to obey the law, so he signed the execution order to prevent rebellion from his government.

If I hadn't written that opening scene, I'd probably be rolling my eyes at some of the language--"the way our souls entwine"? Really? Who talks like that? But sometimes you just gotta write something very, very sappy. It's good for the soul. And I have a good excuse because I posted on Valentine's Day.

On a structural level, my favorite line in the story is probably, "Does the prisoner have any last words?" I was struggling with how to transition between Eliza musing about Christian and her brothers to the moment of breaking the curse, when that line of dialogue occurred to me, and the scene fell into place. It's a standard line for this type of scene, while tying in perfectly to the specific conflict here. Plus, it stops the guards from tying up Eliza long enough to keep her arms free for shirt-throwing.

This story taught me a lot about how to strategically use telling vs. showing. The standard points of the fairy tale--the breaking of the curse, the reunion with her brothers, the mother-in-law's crime, and the recovery of the children--are all told, rather than shown, because this story is about the bond between Eliza and Christian, and stopping to show anything else distracts from that. Like, I had tried to show the brothers explaining about the curse and the lost children, but that tangled me up in the logistics of the scene, and made me drop the thread of Eliza and Christian's relationship. Reducing it to summary allowed me to keep the focus where it needed to be.

I am sad I had to push her brothers so far into the background. That family bond is such an important part of the fairy tale, but the story's focus means I only get to name one brother.

Usually, one of the youngest brothers is stuck with the swan's wing, but I gave it to the eldest, because 1) I wanted to be different, 2) In the limited space, it allowed me to feature both her eldest brother and the swan wing brother at the same time, 3) giving the wing to the crown prince creates much more interesting conflict.

Retellings that give the youngest brother the wing usually go on and on about how he's torn between his ordinary human life and the freedom of life as a swan, and that's so whiny and boring to me. Giving it to the eldest brother, however, has concrete political consequences. He's crown prince! Will the people accept a king with the permanent mark of a curse? Can he leverage this imagery to his advantage? Now that he's lost his dominant hand (I made sure to make it as inconvenient as possible), he can neither write nor hold a sword, which could have profound effect on his reign. Giving him the wing could be a bit like Rabadash's curse in The Horse and His Boy--something that forces him to prioritize peace--especially since I've written him as a bit of a war-monger. Even with his limited amount of page-time, he fascinates me, and I'd kind of like to see where his story goes.

With the brothers so blithely talking about going home and taking Eliza with them, I imagine that in the interim of seven years, events have transpired that have eliminated the stepmother as a threat. Going home is just going home to a beloved father, not going to war.

Initially, I had wanted Eliza's first spoken word to be her husband's name. When that proved to be impractical in the execution scene, I considered giving her no dialogue, to prove that she doesn't need words to be a force in the story. Making her one word of direct dialogue be her husband's name felt like the perfect compromise.

In offering to let Eliza take the children, Christian is really being reckless. He blithely talks of transferring the crown, but any one of his kids--who he's offering to let grow up in a foreign country--could one day decide to take advantage of their valid claim to the throne to try to take over his kingdom. He's really lucky that Eliza forgave him.

Portraying the final kiss as "I let my silence speak for me", was not intentionally inspired by Gaskell's habit of referring to kissing scenes as "delicious silence", but I'm kind of pleased by the connection.

I'm proud of that final line. Ties everything up so neatly and concisely.

[fictionadventurer]

🎧 (bonus if you have an actual playlist for the vibes)

I've already answered what the general vibe of the soundtrack would be, and it's far too early to have an actual playlist built up. The vibes would be somewhere between a Narnia or LotR soundtrack and the '05 P&P soundtrack.

The closest thing I have to a playlist song is that Lily and the explorer's dynamic is somewhat lifted from the couple at the center of my "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" science fantasy retelling, and the song I associate with them is "All for You" by Sister Hazel. Only because I happened to hear the song when I was brainstorming their story, and I used it to imagine a light, fun, happy bonding moment between them.

[hualianschild]

absolutely love it when they put details like this

[joemerl]

I like how your stories always use the sci-fi ideas to explore interesting philosophical/moral issues.

I'd spend a little more time detailing how they searched the ship and discovered all the other bodies. It would help you really feel how stressed and upset Zakai would be by the time he makes his comment near the end.

Who wants to beta-read a short story?

Sailor’s Lament

The melody of this folk song is traditionally ascribed to a crewmember on board the West, a 2675 ship that was discovered in 2681 with the bodies of its five crew and missing the body of its captain. Lyrics vary, but the following is the most common version.

Captain took a walk just yesterday, But the rest of us in this ship are bound to stay. And the stars might be lovely, but they’re cold, Chasing sunset in another sky, you will never grow old, Chasing sunset in another sky, you will never grow old.

Wish I’d listened to my mother when she said, ‘Ships are full of just the waiting dead.’ Because now the air is poison, and I can’t think anymore, It’s been sixty-seven days since we left shore.

“Hey, Zakai!” Gi leaned back in his pilot’s chair, eyes disappearing into a grin that showed off his missing teeth. “Come to see where the magic happens?”

“Looking for my dad, actually.”

“He’ll be here in a minute.” Gi waved a hand encouragingly. “You can wait with me.”

“Thanks.” Zakai leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen how it works in here,” he said, to fill the silence.

“Oh yeah, it’s actually really simple. See, here—“ Gi pointed to one screen, “That’s our origin point. And there—“ he pointed to another, “That’s our destination. Then this right here—“ he patted the console in front of his chair, “This is the important part. This controls the stitching mechanism. Lets me pull that—” the first screen — “and that—” the second screen — “together, so I can put a stitch between the two. Then instead of having to travel the whole fabric of space, we only have to travel the length of the stitch. Simple.” He grinned again. “Not easy. There’s so many ways to mess it up and kill us all that it’s easier to count the ways we don’t all die.” He paused expectantly, and Zakai dutifully delivered the set-up. 

“How many ways is that?”

“One. Good ship, good crew, good directions, good follow-through, good plans, good luck, have them all, or else you’re—”

Captain Cherhart stepped through the doorway, and Gi cleared his throat. “Well, you get the idea,” he told Zakai, turning back to his console. “Everything proceeding according to schedule, Captain.”

“Good.” Captain Cherhart nodded at Zakai and sat down next to Gi. 

Zakai started to leave, but the captain’s voice stopped him in the doorway. “Zakai, hold it.” Captain Cherhart leaned forward, tapping on the screen. “Gi, is that what I think it is?”

Gi’s fingers flew across the controls, and then he looked up. “Captain, it’s the West.”

“What?” Zakai asked.

“It’s a ship that went missing six years back,” Captain Cherhart told him, standing up. He clapped a hand on Gi’s shoulder. “Set course to intercept.”

Gi nodded.

“Open a channel to the crew.”

“Channel open.”

Captain Cherhart cleared his throat. “Crew, meet me in the ready room in fifteen.” He looked at Gi. “We’ll have made intercept by then?”

Gi flicked a final switch. “Easily, Captain.”

"See we do." The captain waved Zakai out of the door. "If you see anyone on the way down, let them know what's happening."

It was a small crew, all told. Captain and pilot, two engineers and three hands. It was a small ship too, though. Five people in the ready room felt plenty full, especially as Zakai tried to answer as many questions as he could.

After a while, Captain Cherhart walked in. He answered a few more questions, then explained that they were intercepting with a derelict and they were taking on a recovery mission. “Gi's with me on navigation. Jerrit, Doyle, Zakai, you’ll be the away team. Nacky, Ellis, you’re support.”

He looked over his crew. “I want this by the numbers. Away team, you don’t loosen your tethers for anything. Get in, pull the data and bring back any bodies. Support team, the minute anything starts to look the tiniest bit funny, you pull them out. Don’t you dare wait to see if it’s anything actually serious. Got me?”

“Got you,” everyone answered in chorus. Cherhart nodded and left.

Everyone scattered to prepare for their assigned roles.

Jerrit pulled on his gloves. “I just hope that this isn’t a Challenger-type situation.” 

“What’s that?” Zakai asked.

Jerrit exchanged a look with Doyle. “It was a ship,” he said, “About fifty, sixty years back now.”

“Unlucky name for a start,” Doyle chimed in.

“That’s right. Anyway, it was headed out on a routine supply run. Same route it’d done a dozen times before, empty hold, nothing that should’ve gone wrong. Then home base gets a message.”

“I can quote it by heart,” Doyle added. “All officers dead on bridge including captain. Possibly whole crew dead."

Jerrit nodded. “The Serendipity was a passenger ship nearby so they detoured to provide aid. Before they could get there though, they received a second message. Just two words. “I die.””

Zakai shuddered.

“When the Serendipity got there,” Doyle said, his voice hushed, “They sent three crew over. Standard procedure, full suits.” 

“The cameras were on a direct link back to the ship.” Jerrit tapped the camera on his own shoulder to demonstrate. “The crew was scattered throughout, all dead. No marks on the bodies, but every single one was twisted with outstretched arms, like they’d been trying to fight someone — or something — off.” He leaned in close to Zakai, his voice almost a whisper. “Before the crew could return to the ship, the cameras cut out. The Serendipity tried to reestablish a connection, tried to get their men back, but it was too late. The last signal anyone ever received —”

“YOU DIE!” Doyle yelled in a harsh, guttural tone, grabbing Zakai from the back. 

Zakai yelped, then felt his face flush red as Jerrit and Doyle doubled over laughing. “That’s not funny,” he complained, but Jerrit and Doyle just laughed harder, imitating his yelp and jump. 

Feeling hot and embarrassed, Zakai continued to strap on his suit. 

Nacky and Ellis came into the room, and Jerrit retold the event for their benefit, Doyle standing in as Zakai and jumping into a starfish position with a little-girl scream at the final punchline. Ellis laughed, but Nacky shook her head.

“Leave the boy be,” she said in her deep, rich accent, “It’s not nice to tease the little ones.” 

Jerrit shrugged and turned away. 

Zakai shot Nacky a grateful look, and she smiled and winked at him. Feeling his heart beat faster, Zakai ducked his head and focused on tightening his suit buckles.

Nacky had long hair that she kept in small, tight dreadlocks, and a warm laugh that made Zakai want to fall down at her feet. Jerrit was obviously crazy about her, but when Zakai had asked about it he’d just gotten smacked over the back of his head. “Not on board,” Jerrit had told him, ��Never on board.”

Doyle knocked Zakai on the shoulder with a helmet, and Zakai accepted it from him. One, two, three, four locks. Check the airflow. Green light. Thumbs up. Last four locks. Check the radio. "Test, test." "Check, check." Thumbs up.

Captain Cherhart came back in to do the final round of checks, the way he always did. Thump and tug each potential point of failure with a final blow to the helmet for good luck. Satisfied, he stood in front of his away crew, taking Nacky's radio so they could hear his voice in their ears. "Find out what you can. Stay safe." He handed the radio back to Nacky and they all gave him a final thumbs-up before filing into the airlock as Ellis started the cycle.

They clipped their tethers to the line. That is, it was called a line, but it was really more of a flexible rod. Jerrit took the lead, Zakai in the middle, and Doyle behind. The airlock opened and they started to cross. Pulling themselves slowly, carefully, hand over hand, they climbed up away from the ship and then lowered themselves back down to the West.

The feel of gravity changing its mind made Zakai's stomach turn, and he was too focused on not throwing up in his helmet to notice how Jerrit managed to get the West's airlock open. He was able to focus again once his feet were on the deck.

It was strange to stand on the deck of a ship that wasn't humming. It made the inside of Zakai's helmet feel quieter than quiet. Emergency lighting, red and dull, added to the close, claustrophobic feel.

Jerrit signaled that he was going to unclip his tether and Zakai nodded. Crouching, he wrapped both arms around Jerrit's waist. Even without power a ships' gravity would work, but by the numbers was by the numbers. With a single smooth movement Jerrit moved his anchor to the West's lockpoint. He tugged on it hard, then pounded Zakai's shoulder twice. Safe to let go. Zakai signaled that he was ready and Doyle grabbed on to him while Jerrit made the switch. Then Jerrit stepped past and held on to Doyle while he moved his own tether.

"Home," Jerrit radioed, "Transfer made safely. Battery power appears to be on. Continuing into the main body."

"Copy."

It was hard to hear much of anything through the helmets, but the servos of the airlock were still old enough to put Zakai's teeth on edge.

They stepped through the airlock into the West's ready room. Jerrit waved the others forward and they followed him, playing out their tethers. Through the ready room and into the dim main corridor.

Zakai realized he had been holding his breath and let it out.

So far it looked like a ship. An older ship, yes, and dimly lit, but a regular ship. No gaping holes, no sucking vacuum, no radioactive slump.

“What do you think happened?” Neither Jerrit or Doyle said anything, and Zakai asked again, louder. Still no response, and he waved his hand to get their attention. Doyle looked at him quizzically through the face shield, then tapped his helmet. 

Feeling his cheeks flush, Zakai pressed the button to turn on his radio, on the away channel. He asked the question again.

"Engine failure, if I had to guess," Jerrit radioed back. "Air's here, but it's poison."

"Escape pods are still on deck," Doyle's radio interrupted. "Couldn't have been slow like that, or they'd have bailed."

"Black box will tell us." Jerrit checked his screen, then pointed up ahead. That was where the bridge would be. Careful to keep their tethers from tangling, Zakai and Doyle followed him, one on either side of the corridor.

Zakai's foot caught on something and he tripped. He fell to the floor hard. Doyle and Jerrit turned to see, as Zakai pulled himself up to a sitting position, switching on his light.

He looked at what he had tripped over.

"Doyle, Jerrit," Zakai radioed, his voice trembling slightly, "I... I think it’s one of the crew.”Jerrit kneeled next to him, a steadying hand on Zakai’s shoulder. The body was huddled over, as if for warmth.

It was the first dead body Zakai had ever seen, and he fought down the rising nausea as Jerrit investigated. 

“It looks like he died of natural causes. Just laid down and never got up.” Jerrit waved Doyle over. “The manifest says there were six total. Since the ship's intact they probably had time to move around.” 

Zakai shuddered at the thought of those still, black skeletons with them onboard. 

Doyle was already pulling a plastic bag out of his kit. With quick, deft movements he and Jerrit enveloped the tragic bundle, sealing it away from view. When they rolled it away it left a dark stain behind that Zakai tried not to think about. 

Jerrit radioed back to the ship. “Home, we’ve got one deceased recovered, please advise.” 

There was a moment of silence, then Nacky’s voice crackled through. “Captain says continue advance if safe to do so. Do not remove helmets. Quarantine room being prepared.”

Doyle swore something muffled through the helmet. “He’s going to want us to carry them all back,” he said, on the away team’s channel. Then he clicked back on to the home channel. “Received. We’ll keep you updated.”

"Bridge is just a turn away," Jerrit told them. "You got the burn kit, Doyle?"

"You think we'll be locked out?"

Jerrit shrugged expressively. "Didn't die where they stood. Either bridge couldn't work or they couldn't get to it."

"One way to find out."

Sure enough, before long Doyle bent over the bridge's door, cutting through the thick metal. The pieces fell away and they stepped into the lifeless bridge. Empty, dark, and ordinary. A blinking green light showed the black box, and Jerrit pulled it out of the console, tucking it into Zakai's kit. There was nothing else to find, and Jerrit waved them back out into the corridor. "Home, data retreived," he radioed, and then to the others, "Let's get to work."

In school Zakai had been made to learn the decatime system, and there were a lot of people who argued that it made a lot more sense to use that in space instead of the antiquated base-sixty earth-style system. Nobody ever really made the switch though, so it took them the best part of several hours to locate, wrap, transport, and stow five bodies. They never found the sixth one.

Later Zakai would try to explain to himself that he had been tired, and nerve-wracked, and sore. It was just an excuse. What he had been was selfish and bratty.

Captain Cherhart sat down for dinner at six o'clock on the dot every twenty-four hours. It wasn't strictly mandatory to join him, but everyone did. It usually turned into an informal discussion of the day's events, part debriefing, part strategizing. Predictably, the topic of discussion was the West and the recovered bodies. The conversations dragged on, circling interminably around the same subject. What would have happened, what wouldn't have happened. What should be done with them, what could be done with them.

Zakai scowled down at his plate, pushing the protein mush into different piles. “I don’t see why it matters so much,” he said, to everybody and nobody. “It’s not like we can make any difference. They’re dead.”

Everyone stopped talking. 

Captain Cherhart looked at Zakai for a long time. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “That’s why it matters.”

Deliberately, he pushed aside his plate and leaned forward on the table, clasping his hands. “They’re dead, and we’re alive. For now. One day, we’re going to die too.” He looked around the table. “Maybe not out here. Maybe not for a long time. But someday, and if we want to be able to trust that people will care, that means we have to care. All of us have to care, every time. That’s the promise our species makes to the dead. That we’ll care.”

Nobody said anything.

Captain Cherhart looked at his hands. “You know,” he said, “Lots of animals understand death. Some of them even have funerals.

"Feeling sad about death, that doesn’t really mean anything. What matters is that we keep promises to the dead. That’s what makes us any different, and if they’re right about there being other intelligent life out there, that’s the kind of thing we’re going to have to prove.

"We’re going to have to prove that we’re promise-keepers.”

The silence stretched out uncomfortably long before the captain finally stood. 

“Gi, we’ve got permission to take that alternate route. After you’ve finished eating, we’ll start plugging it in. If our luck holds, we’ll be making landfall on our original schedule.”

Gi nodded, and Captain Cherhart left. Everyone finished their meals without another word. His face burning, Zakai forced himself to eat slowly, waiting until he was the only one left at the table.

When he left the galley, Gi was waiting for him in the hall.

“What?” Zakai snapped, suddenly angry. The last thing he wanted was a lecture.

“You’re fine,” Gi said quickly. “I get what you meant, just that you didn’t want us falling behind if we don’t have to. I get it.”

Zakai felt the anger die out as quickly as it had flared up, replaced by shame. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Gi reached up and put a hand on Zakai’s shoulder. “Look,” he told him, “You’re learning. And when somebody’s learning, that means that everyone else gets reminded. Your dad’s a good captain, back there, that wasn’t a scolding. Okay? It was you learning and us being reminded. Nobody’s going to hold it against you.” 

“Thanks,” Zakai said again, and slumped against the wall. “I can’t believe what a jerk I sounded like.”

“Hey, we’ve all been there.” Gi looked down the hallway. “Look, I’ve already done most of the calculations, so we should be finished plugging in that new route in fifteen minutes or so. Once that’s done, how about you go and talk to your dad, okay? It’s too small a ship for things to be awkward between you.”

“Okay.”

Gi smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes before he turned and headed towards the navigation compartment.

Sitting down, Zakai waited. Finally, Gi came back out and nodded at him before heading off towards his bunk.

Taking a deep breath, Zakai stood up and walked down the hall. Reaching the end, he hesitated for just a second, then stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Dad,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

The captain didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” Zakai said again. “I should’ve... I was going to say that I should have known how important this whole thing was, how much it matters, but I did, and I don’t know why I was pretending that I didn’t. You were right, and I knew you were right, and I should’ve never tried to say otherwise.” He took a deep breath. “Do you forgive me?”

Captain Cherhart turned the pilot’s chair towards Zakai without looking at him. “Take a seat,” he said.

Zakai obeyed.

Cherhart pulled up his data files on the console and scrubbed through one of them, an audio file. “I want you to listen to this,” he said, pressing play.

A thin, soft melody filtered through, cracking from a hoarse throat. It was a low and slow song, sweet and simple. It wasn’t anything Zakai had heard before, but somehow it still sounded familiar. Like a lullaby.

The singer finished, then went back to the beginning, one, two, three times before Cherhart turned it off and they sat in silence together.

“It’s a nice song,” Zakai finally said.

“It’s beautiful.” Cherhart sat back. “I don’t know if he wrote it himself or if it was something he brought from home, but it comforted him. So he sang it. And now he’s gone, but we have his song.” 

Zakai thought about that for a while. Finally he asked, “Do we know what happened yet?”

“I got the report about an hour ago. They were able to identify the bodies from the data and records we sent, the only one missing was the captain.” 

Zakai nodded. “That must be why everything was locked down. Without his access codes, they didn’t really have a choice.”

Cherhart sighed. “That’s right. I can’t tell if he walked out first, and that’s how they got lost, or if he realized that they were lost and walked out instead of waiting to see what was going to run out first.”

“That’s awful.”

“He was a coward.” Captain Cherhart sounded angry, and Zakai looked at him, surprised. “I don’t care which one it was. No matter how bad it gets, you make a promise to the ship, the crew, everyone back home you leave behind and everyone at the destination you’re going to meet. You don’t get to walk out on that. Ever.”

“Because it matters.”

His dad looked back at him and smiled. “That’s right, son,” he said softly. “It matters.”

[turtleblogatlast]

Every day I’m haunted by the fact the boys happily swim in sewer water

Even if it’s filtered somehow there’s no way it’s not still nasty 😭 Bet they can defeat any of their villains just by accidentally giving them diseases I swear

[lazycranberrydoodles]

i've been wanting to show off my crown prince design since november of last year lmao / follow for more xianle epic fail compilations

[yardsards]

the thing about labru vs kabumisu is that both of them have the same core appeal to me, specifically from kabru's side of things: kabru being someone who is constantly agonizing about social rules and putting on the right mask, and meeting this Weird Fucking Guy who does not (cannot) care about all those things, and so kabru slowly allows himself to be more genuine. they're both such good relationships (whether you view them romantically or platonically), why must there be so much hostility between enjoyers of these ships?

[heynhay]

you know i got halfway through this before realizing i probably subconsciously ripped the concept from an old tumblr post sorry

[aioliravioli-69]

Heyoo!

I've been hooked on nomads recently so of course I just HAD to draw something

I know the series is pretty angsty right now, so here ya go!

the quartet (I don't know what comes after trio💀) riding on one of the turtles in the sea kingdom

I was admitedly very lazy with the outfit design and honestly I'm not even gonna try and hide the fact that that turtle was 100% traced💀

I wasn't in the mood to do ANOTHER study, which uh... probably explains a lot

Oh wow, I wonder how long that took me to-

oh well😭😭😭😭

hope @captain-juuter (the author) likes it at least💀

[hyperdragon97]

I went to the local food pantry today and they have a free shop attached, so I took a few minutes to browse before heading home. I legit considered picking up a skirt just to see how this Christian-run, most likely conservative organization would react. In the end, I just picked up a couple of shirts.

Maybe next time.

[meduseld]

Okay but the thing about John Irving (The Terror, AMC version) is that he truly does *not* know he’s gay because he thinks *everyone* is like this. They would not preach at the pulpit and in the Bible about how you aren’t supposed to want to lay with a man if it wasn’t a temptation *everybody goes through*. The rules and the punishment for breaking them are there for a reason, and he thinks this is just How Things Are, you have Gay Thoughts but you don’t act on them because Jesus says Not To. 

Which is why he A) has his list of Keep The Gay Away activities and B) is so judgemental to those who do act on that attraction. Because to him it is a weakness of character and an indulgence! You don’t see the rest of us doing that, you hedonist. It’s wrong and you should be strong like us because the Righteous are capable of keeping that shit in check. He’s disgusted not as much by Hickey’s desires as by the fact that he shamelessly indulges himself. 

(The rest of the boat is going oh honey no, that’s not. Oh, John.... Well except Crozier’s bisexual ass who is like I mean yeah, he’s right?!?!)

[suolainensilakka]

Had a stressful day and then spent the rest of the evening making a compilation of Terra eye closeups to cope. Did not even remotely help with making me feel more normal but at least now I have much more extensive and obvious comparisons of his ffucking enormous prettyboy disney princess lashes oh my god what is his ISSUE

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 51

He didn't care, didn't marvel that he was soon to be airborne on one of those incredible beasts. Didn't care that tomorrow, they would all take on the dark army gathered beyond.

He'd fought in more battles, more wars, than he cared to remember. Tomorrow would be little different, save for the demons they'd slay, rather than men or Fae.

Demons like his former queen, apparently.

He had offered himself to her, had wanted her, or believed he did. And she had laughed at him. He didn't know what it meant. About her, about himself.

He'd thought his darkness, Hellas's gifts, had been drawn to her, that they'd been matched.

Perhaps the dark god had wanted him not to swear fealty to Maeve, but to kill her. To get close enough to do so.

Lorcan didn't adjust his cape against the gust of frigid air off the distant lake. Rather, he leaned into the cold, into the ice on the wind. As if it might rip away the truth.

There was no fear or pity on her face, her black hair gilded by the torches and campfires. Of all of them, she'd mastered the news with little difficulty, stepping up to the desk as if she'd been born on a battlefield.

"I didn't know," he said, voice strained.

Elide knew what he meant. "We have bigger things to worry about anyway."

He took a step toward her. "I didn't know," he said again.

She tipped her head back to study his face and pursed her mouth, a muscle ticking in her jaw. "Do you want me to give you some sort of absolution for it?"

"I served her for nearly five hundred years. Five hundred years, and I just thought her to be immortal and cold."

"That sounds like the definition of a Valg to me."

He bared his teeth. "You live for eons and see what it does to you, Lady."

"I don't see why you're so shocked. Even with her being immortal and cold, you loved her. You must have accepted those traits. What difference does it make what we call her, then?"

"I didn't love her."

"You certainly acted like you did."

Lorcan snarled, "Why is that the point you keep returning to, Elide? Why is it the one thing you cannot let go of?"

"Because I'm trying to understand. How you could come to love a monster."

"Why?" He pushed into her space. She didn't balk one step.

Indeed, her eyes were blazing as she hissed, "Because it will help me understand how I did the same."

Her voice snagged on the last words, and Lorcan stilled as they settled into them. He'd never ... he'd never had anyone who-

"Is it a sickness?" she demanded. "Is it something broken within you?"

"Elide." Her name was a rasp on his lips. Lorcan dared reach a hand for her. But she pulled out of reach. "If you think that because you swore the blood oath to Aelin, it means anything for you and me, you're sorely mistaken. You're immortal-I'm human. Let us not forget that little fact, either."

Lorcan nearly recoiled at the words, their horrible truth. He was five hundred years old He should walk away—he shouldn't be so damned bothered by any of this. And yet Lorcan snarled, "You're jealous. That's what truly eats away at you."

Elide barked a laugh that he'd never heard before, cruel and sharp. "Jealous? Jealous of what? That demon you served?" She squared her shoulders, a wave cresting before it smashed into the shore. "The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you."

Lorcan hated that the words landed like a blow. That he had no defenses left where she was concerned. "I'm sorry," he said. "For all of it, Elide." There, he'd said it, and laid it out before her. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

But Elide's face did not warm. "I don't care," she said, turning on her heel. "And I don't care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.

"I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her."

"And that means he earns my forgiveness?"

"No. But you have to realize that he swore the blood oath to Aelin for you. For no one else. So he could remain near you. Even knowing well enough that you will have a mortal lifespan."

The birds shifted on their feet, rustling their wings in anticipation of flight. She knew. Had known it the moment he'd knelt before Aelin. Weeks later, Elide hadn't known what to do with it, the knowledge that Lorcan had done this for her. The longing to talk to him, to work with him as they had. She'd hated herself for it. For not trying to hold on to her anger longer.

It was why she'd gone after him tonight.

Not to punish him, but herself. To remind herself of who he'd sold their queen to, how profoundly mistaken she had been.

And her parting line to him ... it was a lie.

A disgusting, hateful lie.

Elide turned to Gavriel again. "I don't—" The Lion was gone. And for the cold flight over the army, then over the sea of darkness spread between it and the ancient city, even that wise voice who had whispered for the entirety of her life had gone quiet.

[spaciebabie]

AMETHYST,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,FROM STEVENM UNIVERS..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,,,.,

[mychlapci]

i absolutely love looking up fanart of ratchet because half the people draw him as a crusty ass old man and the other half draw him all cunty and milf-y with the fattest thighs and ass and tits. its so funny. girl help they are yassifying my grandpa

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

[Photo ID: Tumblr post by why-bless-your-heart that reads "One of the things that sucks about being an animation nerd is having to live with the fact that, from a technical standpoint, the Hotel Transylvania movies are absolutely ground-breakingly staggeringly incredible.]

I don't wanna derail the post bc the following discussion of the animation and why it's so neat is rlly cool. But. The Hotel Transylvania movies are fun! They're for kids! They're silly and fun and throw in a story you might think it's primarily a romance but it's actually primarily about family. You don't need to act like things are bad bc they aren't a story for adults. Hotel Transylvania is a fun movie with genuinely emotional moments, and I'm so sick of people acting as if stories who's audience is children are inherently lesser.