#and the subject of Jude and his dreams came up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eu-nicola · 8 months

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Jude Bellingham x barca femi player enemies to loversss !!! Omfg the potential ! Angry fans and a surprise pregnancy to the mix. Also was the single mom anon. Your writing was very good and your english was perfect !! Lots of love and well wishes 💜💜

Jude Bellingham x Reader

sorry english isn’t my first language

I didn't correct it so I apologize for the mistakes

I don't know if it was what you wanted but I liked it

enjoy it

They had taught you to hate Real Madrid since you knew it and it was always like that and it was always going to be like that, the rivalry you had with each person from that club was bigger than anything.

You had even fight with your friends over that, so it was a subject they didn’t talk about and even less when you started playing for Barça.

It was your dream come true to have played since you were little for the club you always loved and now the fact of being able to play in the first division was coming true, and actually after this it was two years since you came up and it really was the best two years of your life without any single injury or even serious pain, you were at the top until what happened and after what seemed like a long and heavy season for you were injured, full of setbacks, although the good side of this is that vacations were coming up where you planned to recover one hundred percent to start as best you should.

You and your family had decided to travel to England for your recovery and private training which was approved by your club so you were more than happy to travel. The first weeks they made sure that you did not do anything that could harm you and you were with practically all the doctors at your disposal as your family wanted and after a thousand things to do, you could finally start training.

Your own coach gave you the idea that it would be a good idea for you to go out one night to clear your head without having to go to a club, but you had no better idea than to go to one because you wanted to know what the clubs were like in England, especially in Birmingham, so You asked your older brother to accompany you and obviously he was not going to say no to an outing.

They had told you about a good club, in fact the best club they told you, but you certainly didn't remember the name and you didn't really care, you just wanted to go out and see what you would find. When you arrived it didn't seem like a big deal but as the night went on you changed your mind, the atmosphere had become different and the people seemed more fun and you even saw a few players from the English team but nothing special.

When you began to feel a little dizzy, you decided to go to the bathroom under the gaze of your brother from afar all the time in case something happened to you, while you were walking to the bathroom you did not notice that a boy was walking just as fast as you with whom you collided and As soon as you saw him, you realized who Jude Bellingham was, the new Real player, he tried to stop you and apologize but you ignored him and continued on your way, after a while you thought you had lost him but not really, the idiot had waited outside the bathroom.

"I was just apologizing, it wasn't a big deal." He told you as soon as you came out of the bathroom. "If you knew that it is a psychopath to wait for a woman outside the bathroom in a club."

"Are you always like this?" "As well as?".

"A bitch with people." He surprised you that he called you that and even he seemed to you the most unpleasant man at that moment and many would believe that you would be exaggerating but not for you. “Yes, when they are Madridistas rats”. You responded by trying to leave.

"And who are you to call me that?" You were angry at that point but you didn't care about someone you didn't plan to see again.

When you got back to your brother you didn't feel like staying there anymore so you told him it was time to go and he agreed after a boring night at his house with no woman to bring home. After that night you had to get up early and continue with your training, you didn't have time to check your cell phone and even less see what was being talked about, when you finally finished you could finally see that someone on twitter was talking about the discussion you had with Jude.

Your own coach gave you the idea that it would be a good idea for you to go out one night to clear your head without having to go to a club, but you couldn’t think of a better idea than to go to one because you wanted to know what the clubs were like in England, especially . in Birmingham, so you asked your older brother to come with you and he obviously wasn’t going to say no to a date.

They had told you about a good club, in fact the best club they told you, but you probably didn’t remember the name and didn’t really care, you just wanted to go out and see what you could find. When you arrived it didn’t look like much but as the night went on you changed your mind, the atmosphere had become different and the people seemed more fun and you even saw some players from the English team but nothing special.

When you started to feel a little dizzy, you decided to go to the bathroom under the eyes of your brother from afar all the time in case something happened to you, while you were walking to the bathroom you didn’t notice that a boy was walking. just as fast as you with whom you collided and as soon as you saw him you realized who Jude Bellingham was, the new Real player, he tried to stop you and apologize but you ignored him and continued on your way, after a while you thought you had lost him but no Really, the idiot had waited outside the bathroom.

“I was just apologizing, it wasn’t a big deal.” He told you as soon as you came out of the bathroom. “If you only knew it’s a psycho to wait for a woman outside a bathroom in a club.”

“You are always like that?” “As well as?”.

“A bitch with people.” You were surprised that he called you that and even he seemed to you the most unpleasant man at that moment and many would believe that you would be exaggerating but not for you. “Yes, when they are Madrid rats.” You responded by trying to leave.

“And who are you to call me that?” You were angry at the time but you didn’t care about someone you didn’t plan to see again.

When you got back to your brother you didn’t feel like staying there anymore, so you told him it was time to go and he agreed after a boring night at his house with no woman to take. After that night you had to get up early and continue your training, you didn’t have time to check your cell phone and even less see what was being talked about, when you finally finished you could finally see that someone on twitter was talking about the argument you had with Jude.

"Are you stupid?" Your father asked as he entered the kitchen where you were having breakfast.

"What's going on?". "People saw you in a club fighting with a Madridista, he is not a good image for us and you know it."

“Yeah I know but how was I supposed to know they were going to see me argue, you were far from people so the ones who saw us are definitely nosy bitches.”

"This is nothing but I don't want to be seen with someone from Madrid again, do you understand?" At this point you had already tired of hating the madridistas just because your family said so, you didn't even care about them, the only thing for you was barça and the national team.

"Yes father":

After that little incident you didn't hear from him again and it was fine with you you didn't want to know anything else. At the end of the holidays you were already recovered, although you still couldn't play for your safety, they kept you on the bench for three games until everyone was one hundred percent sure that you would not get injured again and that's how it was, you came back better than ever and wanting to scoring goals in each of the matches, you felt at your best again.

For a few weeks you noticed on social networks that the event that had happened a while ago with Jude was not completely forgotten, there were people who were on your side and others on his side, although no one knows what the true conversation you had with him was. He, about 3 months had passed until you saw him again but this time he was in Barcelona for a match against Barça that you were planning to attend, you made sure to sit in a place where everything looked perfect and what better than to be forward with the other fans.

As it had always been a match with a lot of spark between the players and more so when Jude intentionally kicked one of our players, there everyone came out in defense which ended in Jude's expulsion immediately for making such a mess, at the end of the game. game Barça had won 3-0.

And from your place you saw Madrid leave sad because of his defeat, but your attention was focused especially on Jude, who was his first loss with his new team, so he was certainly more discouraged than the others. Before everyone finished passing you left the place and forgot about him.

It was July 10 and it was your 20th birthday so you decided to go out to celebrate with your friends at a club near where you lived, during the day you had spent it with your family and friends but at night things had to get better and You wanted to go out and celebrate like you haven't done in a long time. It was already like 3 am and while you were dancing in the distance you could see that Jude was in the same place, he was sitting with a girl on his legs while they were kissing you were watching him for a while at the same time you were dancing so that no one would notice when Your friend caught your attention and you stopped looking at them.

You didn't know how much time had passed but suddenly you felt a hand on your hip as you were about to hit the person who had touched you and before you could even do it he stopped you and pulled you closer to him and maybe it was The first time you didn't know what to say so you just glared at him and jerked out of his grip, at that moment you didn't see him but he laughed at you for the silly way you were acting so he followed you again and before you could escape he took your arm again to attract you.

"Let go". "You are always like that?".

"He's fucking with me right? You already asked that question once but at least you were sober." You spit in his face. "And you're still the same...".

"Of what? Say it, let's go." You wanted to slap him in the face for being as stupid as all the men on earth, I took you out of your thoughts when he pounced like that and kissed you by the nape of the neck so that you couldn't separate and even if you could, you wouldn't have done it after seeing how good his lips felt on yours.

When he finally released you neither of them said anything but they got away from there as fast as they could and he took you to the house where he was staying, at first you hesitated to stay there with him but as soon as they arrived and he kissed you again all the doubts or coherences that you might have had had vanished in the fastest way.

That night he took you in all the possible ways he could have done and you liked every moment, the way he admired you or how he smiled when he heard you say his name also the way he touched you making you feel in the clouds . In the morning you left very early before he woke up trying to forget every detail of a night that you knew would be impossible for you, even if it was something.

When you got back home you went back to bed until you woke up at 10 am because your phone kept ringing with instagram messages from Jude and thousands of twitter notifications tagging you and him too.

“Oh god, why always me?”.

After that you didn't answer again and you continued with your business waiting for your father to kill you, so something that almost happened appeared on the internet. Your father's way of being was well known and how demanding he was with you, do you remember the first time you talked about your family in an interview and a few minutes later the social networks were flooded with comments about your family that you were not interested in? , there were many who had supported your father because thanks to that you were always a winner and many others criticized him for his actions but despite everything you loved him and thanks to that you were who you were.

You and Jude didn't see each other again and the fans seemed to have calmed down at times but they always came out again when they uploaded photos of him with a woman tagging you or talking about you as if they had been a couple at some point. Your life continued as normal, your training for you was more and more demanding by order of your father and your body and mind demanded more each day. In the first days of August you felt worse and worse but that did not prevent you from giving your maximum in your training sessions and in the matches until your body gave no more and in one of the matches they collided with you and that was what overflowed the drop of the glass of water.

That was the last thing you remembered and when you opened your eyes again you were in the hospital with your mother next to you asleep in a chair you barely tried to get up your mother felt your movement and quickly approached you to hug you and ask how you were doing. which you still couldn't answer because you were so confused.

"What happened?". You asked. "Oh my baby."

You said your mother to hug you but trying not to hurt you.

“Is everything okay mom?” Your mother looked at you for a moment before answering but first she took your hand and at this point you were worried about what she might say.

“The doctors have told me that everything is fine but…”. “What’s up mom please.”

“You are pregnant”. You were in shock, you even almost fainted again, there were a thousand and one thoughts going through your head and you didn’t know which one to listen to, you didn’t even listen to what your mother was telling you and not even if your father already knew the news.

“Daddy know?” “Yes and he is very disappointed but he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

After that you asked your mother for some time to rest and think about what was happening to you, you were still too young to have a baby and you were also at the peak of your career to give up now you didn’t really know what you wanted . to do but first of all you had to talk to Jude because this was something that involved both of them.

Your father hadn’t spoken to you since the hospital and you knew he was going to stay that way until he got over it but in the meantime you had bigger problems like talking to Jude.

As he said he went to look for you and at all times he tried to start a conversation with you but you barely said a couple of words during the trip, when they arrived at his house he helped you to lower your bag and get comfortable in his house but the nerves were growing worse so while he was in his kitchen looking for a glass of water you just said it.

“I’m pregnant and it’s yours.” Never in your life had you said something so fast and this shocked him, he stood still for a moment without even saying anything until you decided to approach him. “Can you say something?”.

“You’re sure?”. He asked and you didn’t know if he was asking if he was the father or if you were sure you were pregnant so you just said yes.

He didn’t say anything to you and he took you in his arms to get up and start turning you around with a smile on his face. “OH GOD I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER.” He was screaming so you knew he was very happy about the news.

“Are you happy?”. “Of course I’m happy there’s going to be a mini me.”

“Unfortunately”. You told him making a joke. “Because I hope he looks like me.”

“What will happen to your career?” He asked you something you hadn’t thought about. “I still don’t know what I do know is that I want the baby and if it is necessary to postpone my career for a while, I will.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to throw everything away for me.” “I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it because this is partly something I always wanted and they never let me even think about it.”

“Because?”. tea asked as he hugged you. “My father always saw a star in me and the children could not interrupt my path so I could not even think about starting a family.”

“But now you’re going to have one and with one of the people he hates the most, poor man with everything he’s going to have to process.” Jude said as he laughed at his comment.

“Do you think people are going to get mad?” Asked.

“Maybe but it doesn’t matter, they are not going to raise the child.”

“Of course not”.

That same night you stayed at his hou se and a short time later you announced on Instagram that you were going to stop playing soccer, to which everyone will be surprised and nobody knew why you had made that decision, so for several months of hiding and not showing up. In public, the speculation had been enormous everywhere and when you turned 7 months pregnant you thought it was time to tell the news.

You were expecting a man with the man least thought of by all, many were moved and many others were upset by the news after that you felt a weight less and you did not care what you thought because you were fine with your life and with your family and the most important you were okay with Jude.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #football fanfic #footballer fic #football #footballer one shot #footballer #fc barcelona #real madrid #x reader #jude bellingham x y/n

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therecordconnection · 10 months

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Ranting and Raving: "Telephone Line" by Electric Light Orchestra

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In the early seventies, when the breakup of the Beatles was still fresh and still being mourned, many people asked who (or what) could ever replace them. Asking which group was the second coming of the Beatles is like asking for a definitive answer on what the Great American Novel is. You’ll get possible answers, but you’ll never get the answer. Of the various options I’ve heard in my lifetime, only two answers make sense. The first is everything Paul McCartney did with Wings in the seventies.

The second answer is Electric Light Orchestra.

Jeff Lynne is the Beatles fanboy to end them all. He’s made it no secret. He’s lived out the fantasies that every Beatles lover could imagine. He’s played songs with three of them (never got to jam with John Lennon), he’s produced for George Harrison (the album Cloud Nine in 1987) and got to be in a band with him (Traveling Wilburys), he’s produced for Paul McCartney (songs on Flaming Pie in 1997), hell, he even got to produce the Beatles themselves when they reunited and brought John’s final demos to life (“Real Love” and “Free as a Bird” for Anthology in 1995). John even called ELO “Son of Beatles” during a radio interview in 1974. Lynne’s dream with ELO was to pick up where the Beatles left off with “I Am the Walrus” and he absolutely did.

There is no ELO without the Beatles, but I do think there are several ways Lynne stands out from the Lennon/McCartney model of songwriting. For starters, Lennon/McCartney started the Beatles with silly love songs like “Love Me Do,” “Please Please Me,” and “All My Loving.” It was only during the second half that they started writing about stranger things and getting weird with it. Lynne did the reverse. He started ELO with weird science-fiction and fantasy concepts. “Kuiama” is a song about a soldier trying to comfort an orphan girl while also having to be the one to explain he killed her parents. “From the Sun to the World” might be about the apocalypse. “Bluebird is Dead” is about somebody learning about and coming to terms with death because their bluebird is no longer moving. The entire Eldorado album tells a story of someone lost in dreams, going from dream world to dream world a la Quantum Leap in the hopes that they will find the mythical city of Eldorado. In short, the first few ELO albums are strange progressive rock that’s more in line with the sound of the Moody Blues, not the Beatles-inspired pop rock that would define their golden years.

The reason for all of this preamble is because “Telephone Line” is a pivotal moment in ELO’s story, both for their success and for Lynne as a songwriter. It’s when Lynne turned into a full on pop songwriter and his songs started focusing more on ordinary situations for ordinary people as opposed to the strange, almost otherworldly ideas that dominated the first ELO albums. It started with the album Face the Music in 1975, it was perfected the year after with A New World Record and “Telephone Line,” which might be one of Lynne’s best.

Jeff Lynne is a strange entity, both as a songwriter and as a guy. I wrote about his love for the Beatles and his connection to them because as a songwriter, he defies the Lennon/McCartney model because none of the songs are about him. At all. He would get inspired by things that happened in his real life, but he himself is never the subject of the song. No trace of the man is left on the page of his biggest hits. Like McCartney, he writes melodic, catchy, heartfelt songs and delivers them with love and sincerity. It’s a big reason why people still love the band so many years later. He’s good at what he does. However, McCartney also wears his heart on his sleeve and plenty of songs are about him. “Let It Be” famously came to him after he had a dream of his mother giving him advice while he was knee-deep in the rough final days of the Beatles. “Hey Jude” was famously written as a way to comfort Julian Lennon when his dad left his first wife for Yoko Ono. “Silly Love Songs” was a response to Lennon saying that silly love songs are the only kind of song he writes, with McCartney famously asking, “What’s wrong with that?” In short, a lot of lyrics to McCartney’s songs are personal to him in one way or another. John Lennon, on the other hand, rejected that. Words only mattered in the context of fitting into a song or what he was thinking about in a certain moment. It could be complete nonsense for all he cared. He once famously told a fan outside his door, “You just take words, and you stick them together and see if they have any meaning. Some of them do, some of them don't.” Lynne takes the best qualities of both Beatles. The words sound like they could be personal to him, but they’re just words to a song he wrote and they just happened to make a good song idea. Lynne himself talks about it in a radio show interview from 2001:

“Telephone Line” was like a song that was-- You know, I knew somebody, I knew a girl in America and I would phone her. But it was an imaginary story. I pictured a guy who phoned up this girl. And all he ever got was a ring tone, just rang out for days, y'know. And obviously he couldn't do that now. Somebody... some electronic thing would answer it and tell you to clear off or something. But this was just the loneliness of the long distance telephone call.

Whenever we fall in love with a song, we have a hunger to learn what the inspiration for it was. When lyrics to a song really resonate, we often want to learn what caused them to be written. People always wonder what Uncle Joey on Full House did to warrant Alanis Morrisette to write a song like “You Oughta Know.” People debated like Ancient Greek philosophers trying to figure out who Carly Simon wrote “You’re So Vain” about. We care about the performer behind the song, whether it matters or not. Tina Turner didn’t write “What’s Love Got to Do With It?”, but she may as well have, due to the way she performs it and the details of her abusive marriage to Ike Turner fitting the lyrics so well. ELO remains lyrically interesting due to Jeff Lynne remaining a sort of mystery man. We’re talking about a guy who hasn’t been seen in public or on stage without sunglasses on for close to forty years! The reason being that if you ever saw Jeff Lynne’s eyes you would probably start seeing those colors that only shrimp can see. He also has a habit of explaining his songs much in the way that Paul McCartney does, which is to say that he says something about how the song got written, but what he says usually doesn’t explain a hell of a lot.

I talk about the impersonalness of Lynne because I think that helps to illustrate what a great performer he is. “Telephone Line” is fantastic. Every note of it. I can’t think of another song where loneliness has been expressed in a more melancholic, wistful, and almost desperate manner. There’s so many little moments that make this song so wonderful. That keyboard in the beginning that’s mimicking a phone being dialed. Those sad, glittery keyboard notes that lead into the verses. The way the first verse sounds like Lynne is singing from an answering machine. The way the drum beat comes in after Lynne says “Hey” and begins the second verse. The way those gorgeous strings fill the empty spaces between Lynne’s lyrics and follow the lead of his vocal melody. It’s all so wonderful. There’s a reason Lynne got inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. A New World Record is also around the time he really perfected the production side of ELO. This song still sounds fantastic even now. That vocal harmony and blending of Lynne and bassist/vocalist Kelly Groucutt during the chorus is just wonderful. Lynne gets a lot of credit for ELO, but I think he still needs a nod on his production work. You don’t get to produce for the likes of the Beatles, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, and Del Shannon unless you know what you’re doing. Compare this to the first couple ELO albums, where Lynne was just stacking layers of instruments on top of each other, to this and the difference is night and day. This entire song is a musical treasure from one of the best that was just entering the top of his game.

Similar songs on this topic, like New Edition’s “Mr. Telephone Man” and “Misunderstanding” by Genesis, don’t work the same way. It’s mostly because they’re too poppy and you immediately know why the girl isn’t answering. For New Edition, it’s because she’s cheating and in the case of Genesis, it’s because the person trying to be reached isn’t dating the narrator. Lynne keeps the nature of the relationship ambiguous and the song is better for it. It’s clear that he’s singing to a person he was dating or at least romantically involved with (“Don’t you realize the things we did we did / Were all for real? Not a dream”) but this phone call could be coming from a one night stand or an ex he hasn’t spoken to in months. Up to you to decide. Whatever the case, Lynne delivers those first lines with such longing, such care, sadness, and desperation that you can’t help but want to root for him. It’s such an earnest way to start.

Hello, how are you? Have you been alright through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely Lonely nights? That's what I'd say I'd tell you everything if you'd pick up that telephone

You don’t know what happened between these two people, but you know that he’s at least trying to make an effort to fix it. It’s unclear whether he’s singing this song to an answering machine, or he’s just holding the phone to his ear and hearing a telephone ring endlessly. Either way, it’s tragic. It’s also a place all of us have been at one time or another. Things happen and we try desperately to call (or text, in the modern world) and fix things but the person on the other side of the line just lets it ring (or ignores it or blocks you). A lesser song would pick anger as the driving emotion for the song or just make the whole thing sad and have it revolve around a relationship that has ended. Instead, Lynne goes for a scenario where two people are separated, but the relationship can still be saved if they both work together and talk it out. This is highlighted in the chorus when he sings, “I’m living in twilight.”

“Telephone Line” isn’t a love song, but it isn’t a break up song either. It’s something much worse: an inbetween song. It’s a song that represents the worst moments that come with the end of a relationship: the ones where you know things aren’t looking good and it’ll probably end in despair and heartbreak, but something inside you still wants to fight for it. Something inside you wants things to work out and you don’t care how sad and desperate you might sound trying to save it because it’s the only thing that matters in that moment. The ringing of the telephone represents those moments in time where you’re trying to save something, but the other person has given up. The endless ringing is “the hint,” that (hopefully) clear sign that you should give up and accept that things are over. There’s genuine melancholy to “Telephone Line” and I think Lynne strikes that wonderful balance between “someone who desperately wants to fix a broken relationship they still see hope for” and “pathetic loser who won’t take a hint and looks foolish for continuing to try.” The final verse of the song illustrates this balance wonderfully.

Okay, so no one's answering Well, can't you just let it ring a little longer, longer, longer? I'll just sit tight, in shadows of the night Let it ring forevermore

He accepts that this isn’t working, but he’s still not ready to give up because the hope that maybe the other person will answer is still driving him to try. One of the reasons I think this song has lasted is due to how we all have stories of losing friends, loved ones, romantic partners, etc. because they simply stopped talking to us. Sometimes it’s because we’re in the wrong, sometimes we’re given no reason and we’re left to figure out what happened. Regardless, Lynne took that relatable situation and he spun it into ELO’s first single that went Gold.

Whatever the outcome of this song is, we’ll never know. The song ends with the chorus repeated until fade out. We end up living in twilight the same way that the narrator is. The song will always be stuck in that inbetween. If we’re lucky, we’ll hear it ring forever more.

#original post #ranting and raving #electric light orchestra #elo #music criticism

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mmmmalo · 2 years

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Hiveswap Reread Pt. 1

Current takeway is that in the same way that Psycholonials focuses on China paranoia (plot: a leftist Chinese-American infects the world with revolution alongside the "China virus" of Covid 19) Hiveswap is very much about Red Scares directed at Russia, Cold War nuclear anxieties, and those fears' persistence past the end of the USSR. Like the game's set in '94, but Jude still won't touch Tetris cause it's got Commie germs.

Trolls emerge from anxieties, so the red scare may go a ways towards explaining why Fozzer is a communist (until he isn't) and Boldir took her wardrobe from a SPY VS SPY cartoon. The structural power of slurs in Homestuck trained me to seek potential terms of perjoration so I looked up Russian stereotypes and was reminded of the country's popular association with bears, which turned my thoughts toward Bronya Ursama (ursa mama > mama bear). It turns out "nyanya" (няня) is a Russian word for babysitter! and "bronya" (броня) itself means Armor. My first instinct was to read Armored Mamabear as a reference to Alphonse Elric, since Bronya's clapping motion is reminiscent of the alchemical prayer performed by those who attempt Human Transmutation -- a suitable topic for the brooding caverns -- and Alphonse in particular dreamed of motherhood, repeatedly storing life in the belly of his casings. There's even a moment where you the reader "CLAP YOUR HAND over your mouth to keep from GAGGING", implicitly connecting Bronya's gesture to an Alternian paradigm of birth, vomiting.

But perhaps instead of "vomiting", we should say "purging": the name "Armor" also seems to designate Bronya as a feminine Stalin (meaning 'Steel'). "There's no leader, but do as I say" positions Bronya as leader within a very old joke mocking the persistence of heirarchy in a political system (Communism) ostensibly aimed at eliminating class division. "Protect the Mothergrub" becomes "PROTECT THE MOTHERLAND". Bronya's pronounced terror towards possible purges marks her as a stereotypical subject of Stalinism, but she's also positioned as the purger: "babysitting" acquires a morbid connotation through Alternia's deadliest ass, such that Bronya's odd sense of responsibility (she says she can't be friends with someone she can't TAKE CARE OF) implies not only a need for control but also a need for killing power in all relationships. Only trust who you can crush.The successful route (which avoids purges!) involves persuading Bronya to relinquish her iron grip and trust the People to lead themselves. The route looks at Stalin and goes I Could Fix Her.

I laughed the moment I started Bronya's route: her designated song, the Phantasmagoric Waltz, sounds like it came straight out of the Nutcracker, Tchaikovsky's famous ballet. The joke suggest Joey's love of ballet might function as a signifier of Russian culture in Hiveswap -- and perhaps her love of tap dance would likewise become an American signifier? Joey's dream of uniting the dance styles would then suggest achieving unity of opposed political entities... but I worry that "unity" implies "domination". Joey shuns guns but her tap shoes are sometimes discussed as though they are guns, eg when Joey claims they would blast a pile of garbage apart. So the (eventual, not yet) combination of dances would come to represent war? More to that point:

My initial notes emphasized the element of interactivity, but if the gyroscope functioned as a representation of an atom, this would effectively be saying that Joey's tap shoes are nukes? (This approach is colored by One Piece, which uses a large orrery within a Tree of Knowledge shaped liked a mushroom cloud to represent nuclear capability. ) In which case "unity" would mean outright destruction.

Either way, Joey's itchy trigger toes become parcel to the general air of (nuclear) war anxiety that pervades the story. I suspect Joey's outspoken hatred of animal death is similarly a reaction to Laika, the dog who died aboard Sputnik-2 (one of several test satellites whose flight path above the US initiated panic over potential orbital missile strikes). The flashlight is our satellite symbol: Jude's treehouse (like Terezi's before him) locates him metaphorically in the numinous aether*, using a flashlight to blink morse code messages like a satellite beaming information down to Earth. When Joey finds her own flashlight, she refers to it as a tomb for all the Pogs she finds inside instead of batteries. Pogs means dogs here: it's a nightmare of finding a satellite filled with dead Laikas. Puppy Surprise is having puppies!

* I also wonder if (again inflected by One Piece) if Jude's burning fall foliage might represent a mushroom cloud? But I'll focus on the other approach for now.

So a fear of orbital missile strikes (and an urge for preemptive strikes?) is linked to the weaponization of the flashlight. One of the paintings in the hallway features a horse scared of lightning (violence from above!), the bolts of which Jude has stickered over with an alien invasion (violence from above!) whose tractor beams of abduction resemble the rays of a satellite flashlight. Unsure what to make of Joey turning the invasion into birthday party though...

Brief diversion from Red Scare speculation: the game seems to imply that Jude's pet is Lord English? in addition to being a serpent, as others have already concluded. The toy castle at the foot of Jude's door, the one with Lord English's winking face for a gate, has a counterpart across the hall: in the other painting (Venus of Urbino), a dog at the foot of the bed has been modified with a sticker of a winking dog's face. The shared expression marks Lord English as a pet... but just as importantly, the parallel draws a line between the reposed/nude Venus ("churched up" with some clothing by a prudish/bashful Joey) and Jude's room. 5 interpretive angles occur to me, not necessarily mutually exclusive:

1. The myriad KEEP OUT signs on Jude's door can be superimposed onto Venus, relaying a sense that Joey views her attraction to women as improper (as the clothes she drew on might've already indicated), and/or a sense that the world around Joey disapproves

2. The nudity is superimposed on Jude, suggesting a repressed attraction to her brother. Earlier Joey expressed annoyance that the clouds (juxtaposed with Jude's tree house) were "ephemeral and UNTOUCHABLE" a sentiment which if redirected at Jude suggest annoyance with the incest taboo.

3. The two above combine into an antisemitic gesture, a desire to "church up" (ie convert) the Jews. This relies on pun drawn from Alternia: "archery" is rendered Jewish by fixating on the "ARK" component, part of Alternia's tongue-in-cheek depiction of a post-ChristianGenocide world. The plush Sufferer in the hall (struck by one of Jude's many arrows) invokes this facet of the fantasy -- it also meshes with the fear of Russian missile strikes invoked by Jude, perhaps leaning into the old conspiracy theory that Communism was a Jewish plot.

4. Supposing for a moment that Joey were a trans girl, we could integrate Lord English (or rather, the serpent he represents) into the equation: the phallus becomes the guard dog of femininity, the beast preventing its attainment... a glimpse into Joey's school life reveals that kids call her a POSER when she tries to talk about GAMES, which might be leveraged towards Joey experiencing transphobia: the association of girls with roleplay is part of Alternia's underlying transphobia, as best I can tell. Unless it's just plain old misogyny to say girls are categorically "false"? Perhaps both...

But there's a bit on the staircase to the attic where Joey remarks she would like the plush caterpillar more if it were to spin a chrysalis (ie become a fairy), which again scans as trans imagery in the context of the house's immersion in Alternian lore... I presume the remark is self-reflexive, but I suppose Joey might simply like if all icky boys became girls, Jude included? But then after saying that dancing on the stairs is dangerous (you could break your legs!), she dances ballet for the caterpillar alone and incurs the risk -- this scans as an invocation of Tavros, whose accident was parcel to Alternia's denigration/depictions of f*gs (read as a blanket term for "feminine men"... though it's possible "masculine women" are being denigrated in the same breath? Bluh)

5. Back to the Red Scare: in the wake of Bronya and the Mothergrub, perhaps we might read Venus as representative of the Motherland! The apparent desire for union with the feminine (in terms of romance or identity) would fall victim to the same violence haunting the unity of tap and ballet: it means destruction, conquest! Those godless (ie Jewish??) communists need to be Churched Up, PERMANENTLY....

...or something like that, that's my understanding of the conspiracies at play so far. Next time, we go downstairs!

#hiveswap #antisemitism #joey #jude #bronya #slav mapping #nukes

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skyefullofdaisies · 2 years

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Just got back from Fantastic Beasts: The Secret of Dumbledore.

This movie. My God. It’s so damn good. I understand the hate against it but it’s a terrible thing because in my opinion this is probably the best of the 3. It’s a shame we won’t get 4 & 5 likely. Be warned this is gonna largely be a Grindledore post, ha.

I don’t buy that the cafe scene is a dream sequence. If Albus had woken up after this scene it would have made more sense. It screams of a memory or them meeting in a dream given the white that surrounds them but I 100% believe they actually met up. Don’t even get me started with Albus sitting there with his eyes closed and Gellert shows up watching and smiling at him as Albus sits there with his eyes closed. What kind of longing for an ex-lover shit is that? 3 min in and I was dying with that scene alone. Ya’ll warned me this movie would destroy me when it came to Grindledore and you weren’t fuckin kidding. Jesus. Gellert was totally loving flirting with Albus at that cafe.

Then Gellert sitting there staring moodily out of the window at Nurmengard as he has a vision of Albus. Man is constantly seeing him throughout the entire movie. I know one of the arguments from the antis is that Gellert sent Credence after Albus so he clearly doesn’t love him but that is bulllllshit. There’s no way that Gellert, who considers Albus his only equal, truly thought that Credence had a chance in hell of killing him. I don’t buy it.

Another argument I’ve seen is that Grindlewald doesn’t love Albus. He’s just manipulating Albus’s obvious love that he clearly still has for Gellert. I can why that impression is given but that dueling scene? The Gif sets don’t do it justice. First it was Albus suggesting that they could “free each other” to Gellert who completely changes the subject and won’t even acknowledge the possibility of breaking the pact. Even if that scene wasn’t included in the movie that final duel certainly leaves little doubt of how Gellert feels. Do we get to hear an “I love you” from Gellert to Albus? No. But we don’t really need it, do we?

What the gif sets can’t do, and what I didn’t realize until seeing the movie, is show when they’re standing there with their hands over each others hearts is that you can HEAR their heartbeats. That moment is intense. More so for Gellert in my opinion because he looks almost thunderstruck as he realizes that he can’t kill Albus. That he simply won’t. As he truly realizes he’s still in love with Albus. That he never stopped. They make Albus’s lingering love for Gellert slap you in the face obvious but it isn’t until the dueling scene that you really see the depth of Gellert’s love, in my opinion. This scene is done so well by Jude and Mads.

It is absolutely no hate against Johnny Depp however Mads embodies Grindlewald better. The chemistry with him and Jude is electric. We know Mads can do the villain in love with his, on paper, “enemy.” Jude is just amazing. I can’t praise these two enough. Then when Albus walks away from Gellert? The look on his face? My God. He knew Albus wasn’t choosing him again and it was killing him. Then to end it with “I’m not your enemy. Then or now.” Clearly those words were meant for Albus more than anyone else. Gellert loves that man so much. Much more happens in the movie, I know, but Grindledore outshines it all, in my opinion. Thanks for sticking with this post if someone decides to read my fangirling

#albus x gellert #grindledore #dumbledore x grindelwald #fbtsod spoilers

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visd3stele · 3 years

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Oak and the throne

summary:

TW: none

A/N: I always hoped Jude and Cardan would keep the throne, so I'm glad Oak likes the mortal world so much :)

Next one should be up by thirsday

Thank you so much for the request, hope it's what you expected. xoxo

@britishbookworm2 requested here

masterlist

"Oak! Come back here," Jude's voice carried through the palace. Despite years of dealing with stubborn faes in the council, eliciting orders to soldiers and servants alike and talking down to her subjects as Cardan does, her voice was steady, even and almost sweet as she yelled after her little brother.

Little brother. The thought seemed out of place. In his years in the mortal world, Oak had a growth spurt, while she remained the same. Young, not yen an adult, yet passed through much more than her elders could claim to.

"No!" Oak shouted back, though he stopped in the middle of the throne room. "No," and he turned back to Jude, walking fast with his now bigger, stronger goat legs. "You promised me I won't have to take over if I don't want to. Well, guess what, Jude? I don't!"

He didn't tower over her like she expected. His bent knees cutting from his height. But Oak, the boy she used to lean down to hug and kiss on top of his horned head, still stood taller than her at the throne's dais.

"You should have taken it in writing, little brother." Cardan chimed in, bemused. A glare from his wife shut him up, though still smirking, and the High King opened a second bottle of wine.

"Oak," Jude begin again. "I know it's not ideal. When all this started, you were so young. I get it's a little scary and overwhelming. But it's your birthright..."

"It's Cardan's birthright too." Oak protested, crossing his arms over his chest after pointing a hand towards the King sitting on the throne's dais. His tail bounced left and right in amusement as he raised the bottle towards his half brother and gulped down a mouthful of wine.

"Speaking of Cardan," Jude seized the opportunity, "he didn't want to be High King either. But he got used to it. He came to like it. Tell him, oh, dear husband." The look the High Queen gave her lover contradicted her words, for nothing short of a clear threat shone in her eyes. The fae just smiled to himself, used to his wife's antics. He made a show of getting up on his feet, taking a few steps forward with his normal care free elegancy, when Oak's words stopped him.

"If he likes it that much, why can't Cardan still be King? I thought you liked to be Queen, too, Jude. Don't you?"

Both the warrior mortal and the peaceful fae stood glued in their places. Perplexed. Twenty years ago, when she started her ascension to the throne, Jude did so with only one purpose in mind: put that crown on Oak's head. Every decision she made, each plotting and scheming should have led to the celebration of High King Oak of Greenbriar line. Didn't it?

Now that she thought about it, things changed. Jude couldn't say when or how exactly. But at some point between then and now, she started to see herself as the real queen. High Queen in her right, not just a replacement until Oak is old enough.

Maybe it was when she choose to love Cardan and he made her his equal by splitting the throne in two ostentatious ones right in the middle of the room. Maybe it was when the Court of Shadows gifted her the title as a nickname. Jude wouldn't admit even to herself how much though she'd given to that afterwards. Or maybe it was recently, in the years after breaking Cardan's curse. Years spent ruling together, bringing up a better Elfhame than either of them grew up in.

As for Cardan, the High King's eyes darted to the crown, fingers itching to pick it up and place it atop his head. To give it a light push so it'd lean on one side, but never falling. As if it clinged to him. As if it chose him.

It's true, the youngest prince - as he thought himself for so long - never craved the throne. Why would he? He was the least favorite child, not good enough to deserve their father's attention. His mother's love. So how could he be a good king? But after Jude tricked him and all Elfhame bowed to him, looked up to him, something shift inside him. Cardan actually enjoyed the process of thinking through a court scheme. The insides of a carefully given order - a pawn in a bigger game. He found it entertaining to search ways to deal with the council, to make them bow to his whims. And when he married Jude and those whims matured into interests, well, building a kingdom of dreams none he or his wife dared to ever hope for, leaving such a legacy behind, he, Cardan Greenbriar, the pitiful prince, it felt right.

"You don't wish to rule, Oak?" Cardan asked, more concern than he ever spoke with lacing his voice.

"No! Never did, never will."

Jude could recognize a bit of Vivi in the way Oak said it, rolling his eyes and putting accent on certain vowels. But Vivi insisted it wasn't unusual in the mortal world, humans using this sort of speech all the time. Thinking about it, seeing her little brother clear for the first time she summoned him in Fairyland, Jude realized Oak would look out of place in fae's clothes. The green hoodie he wore and dark grey jeans fitted him perfectly.

"But would you be alright there? Hiding your real self, your magic?"

"I'm not hiding, Jude," Oak's voice softened. His big sister didn't want to ruin his life. She was looking after him, his happiness in the only way she knew how. The Fae way. "I mean, yes, people see what I want them to, what with the glamour and all. But it doesn't mean I don't get to be myself. I go to college, you know? Herbologist," he chuckled to himself. "I like it. I have friends, and... and one day, when I'll meet my Heather, then I'll skip to telling her the truth and... I don't know what then, but it'll be fine. I'll be fine, Jude. I promise."

It took several minutes for Jude to reply. She eyed Oak the entire time, her mind swerling, trying to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. Eventually, she saw his truth, just like when she faced hers own: she wouldn't fit in the mortal world, she loved Cardan, she was the High Queen. And Oak? Oak would make a great herbologist - whatever that was - because he doesn't fit in Elfhame anymore. And she won't be the one to crush him or his hopes.

She nodded her head, Cardan's cue to drop a silly, drunk-like, huge smile and take the crowns in his hands.

"Promise you'll visit, though."

It was Oak's turn to nod, a grin pulling his lips upward. "Of course. I can stay for dinner, if you promise not to offer me a court or something."

Jude laughed. "I think we can do that." She turned to her husband, who hummed distracted and tucked a loose strand behind her year, putting extra effort in to trace the soft, round edge of it with his fingers. Cardan, then, crowned her, tilting his head. To no one's surprise his own tolkien of kinghood didn't fell, despite its crooked position.

"Unless a gift is required by tradition, brother dearest," Cardan said, "fret not. You'll be seeing nothing from us." And without waiting to see if Oak is following, he spooned his wife, his queen, in his arms, leading her to the dining table. All the way there, the king peppered his heart's chosen one with kisses, whispering promising for the night. Silk words about a royal celebration in their suit and implications of a new heir to the throne, now that the one they'd planned for decided to go to a mortal college and stay there.

Oak smiled. Truthfully and heartfully. No, he won't be High King. But he felt like he owned the whole world hours later, when he got back to his dorm and picked up his pen to write some notes on next friday's homework.

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plaidbooks · 2 years

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Ask a Dad part 2

A/N: Like I said, I’ve had thoughts about this story (and no, I couldn’t think of a better title, thanks). The beginning of this story is more based around reader and Jude, but Sonny will become more of a character later, I promise. The thing with Sonny, though, is that you all know his character, so it doesn’t need as much explanation yet.

Again, for non-Americans, Freshman is 9th grade (14/15yo), Sophomore is 10th (15/16yo), Junior is 11th (16/17yo), and Senior is 12th (17/18).

Part 1

Tags: none

Words: 1092

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @beardsanddetectives @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

It was Saturday, which meant it was grocery shopping day. On Saturdays, you took Jude out to lunch, catching up with your weeks, asking about school and life. Once no longer hungry, you’d both go grocery shopping for the week. This usually worked out because if Jude was hungry when shopping, you’d end up buying half the grocery store…which still happened sometimes; he was sixteen, and he was growing fast. Which meant he had become a black hole when it came to food.

The other reason he shopped with you was because he’d grab things that he could make for nights when you were late coming home, or just couldn’t bring yourself to cook. Plus, he had a better memory than you did at the end of a busy week, and he’d make sure nothing on the list was forgotten.

You always made two stops on shopping day; Costco for the big, bulk buying, and the local grocery store for the perishables like deli meat, produce, and dairy products. Costco was done first, and now you were buying the rest of the little things.

“I don’t know—I’m interested in art,” Jude started, “but I don’t know if I want to make a career out of it. I’ve heard that making a job out of a hobby could make you start to hate it.”

It was true that he liked art, and he was very good—at least, you thought so. His drawings seemed so masterful, but you also didn’t understand much about art. You paid attention when he tried to explain different styles, and would take him to museums, but it all went over your head most of the time. You understood “art pretty,” and that was about it.

“Well, have you talked to your teacher about it? She always says such nice things about your art,” you asked.

Jude threw a package of shredded cheese into the cart. “Yeah, I have…but she seems, I don’t know, kinda spacey? I don’t think she’s the best person to place my future in.”

“Maybe you should talk to the school counselor. Make a list of three or four things you may like as a career and sit down with him,” you suggested. College and career talk was always a bit of a sore subject for you; you had such dreams of college, then never applied. You had met your ex your junior year, and slowly, all your dreams for yourself had vanished.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Jude dart across the store, away from you. You followed in a panic, pushing your cart and wondering what happened. But your eyes widened when you saw what he had, and you slowed to a walk. Jude hadn’t been running away from you; he was heading towards something. Or rather, someone.

“Oh my god, are you Sonny? From ‘Ask a Dad’ on youtube?” Jude asked the man he had run up to.

The man turned towards Jude, and you gasped; it was absolutely him. “Oh!” he said, surprised before smiling. “Y—yeah, that’s me.”

“Can I get a picture with you? Please?” your son asked.

Sonny seemed genuinely taken aback, and you suddenly remembered your manners. You steered your cart over to the two, giving Sonny an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, sir—I hope my son didn’t offend you,” you said, reaching and grabbing Jude’s arm. He muttered a soft, “but mom, it’s Sonny,” to you, but you just tightened your grip in warning.

Sonny smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach; he was even more attractive in real life. “No, it’s fine! I’ve just never been recognized in public before—I was a bit shocked. But absolutely you can have a picture.”

You released Jude’s arm and watched in surprise as they took a selfie together. You had no idea Sonny even lived in New York, let alone shopped in the same store as you. Almost unconsciously, your eyes drifted to his shopping cart, curious. He was buying a lot of vegetables, and a lot of ingredients to make things. You knew from his videos that he made his own pasta noodles, and you saw the makings in his cart.

“There we go,” Sonny said after the picture was taken, and you flicked your eyes back to him, embarrassed about being so nosy.

Jude turned to you, “do you want a pic, mom? You’re a bigger fan than I am.”

Sonny looked to you, those bright blues locked to your eyes, and you felt like the store went up about ten degrees.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you managed, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your shopping,” you added on, turning your cart around, planning to take your son and flee.

Sonny’s smile widened. “It’s really no problem; it’s nice to know I have at least two fans of the show.”

“Um, only two?” Jude said. “Your videos get thousands of views!”

Sonny blinked, obviously confused before he covered it was a smile. “Ah, I guess I don’t pay much attention to it. It’s just a little hobby.”

Embarrassed enough for the rest of your life, you linked your arm with Jude’s. “Okay, let’s let Sonny get back to his shopping—we still need to finish ours.” You turned to Sonny, “thank you for being so kind; it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, eyes crinkling with his grin. God, he’s cute, you thought, and your face heated. Unable to think of what to say, you turned and walked away, dragging your son with you.

Once far enough away, you said, “we need to work on your manners, young man. How should you approach people?”

Jude groaned, rolling his eyes. “Excuse me, sir—but mom, it was Sonny! He’s, like, famous!”

“That doesn’t mean you treat him any differently than anyone else,” you asserted. But even so, you were glad that he seemed just as nice as he did in his videos. It would’ve been devastating if he had been a jerk to your son.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you continued shopping, always keeping one eye on Jude and another checking your surroundings, almost hoping to run into Sonny again, if only to see that smile directed at you once more.

It wasn’t until you were home, groceries put away, that Jude showed you the picture. Sonny had a hand up in a wave, and it was then that you noticed he still wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

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blueathens · 2 years

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Evermore Masterlist

Remember: I will be writing other fics along with these so just be patient with both, and some songs will take longer than other’s because of inspiration, so any help is much appreciated too. You can also suggest other people, but the ones above doesn’t mean I will add them to my general masterlist, they are just ones I’ll write for these songs.

Attention: All stories that I write is purely fanfiction and when I write about real people it is once again purely fiction. I don’t know them in real life and all my ideas are my own. Also please don’t steal my work. Thank you.

Warning: Don’t steal my work thank you! Also all summaries are subject to change :)

Masterlist

Willow - (Jude Bellingham) ↬ The adventure of two well known people trying to date one another.

Champagne Problems - (Mason Mount) ↬ Mason was planning to propose, but she left before he could ask.

Gold Rush - (Charles Leclerc) ↬ She is aware of her boyfriend beauty - in fact everyone is - and she can’t help but feel a little jealous that everyone wants him the same way she has him.

‘Tis The Damn Season - (Pedri González) ↬ Just a small town girl returning for the holidays after she left to chase her dreams of being an actress. (Sequel to Dorothea)

Tolerate It - (Peter Parker) ↬ Despite them still being together, Y/n continues to give Peter all of her love, but he only tolerates it for his heart belongs to another.

No Body No Crime - (Mason Mount) ↬ Mason is certain that the woman sat in front of him had something to do with the crimes he’s been crazily investigating, but she was just too damn good at hiding the truth. (Detective AU!)

Happiness - (Rúben Dias) ↬ Rúben goes through the process of healing after a break-up.

Dorothea - (Pedri González) ↬ Just a small town girl leaving everything behind her as she jumps onto a plane to chase her dreams of being an actress.

Coney Island - (Rúben Dias) ↬ The falls of a relationship from two different pair of eyes - she wants his forgiveness and he wants hers.

Ivy - (Jorginho, ft Mason Mount) ↬ In which an old flame walks back into her life whilst her marriage with her husband is falling apart.

Cowboy Like Me - (Rúben Dias) ↬ Strangers to lovers with the guy who checks out every library book before her.

Long Story Short - (TASM!Peter Parker) ↬ Peter dates a star who had fallen from their pedestal due to private information being leaked, however, Peter is there to help her survive.

Closure - (Jess Mariano) ↬ Their closure came in a letter, in a book, in a song, but never face-to-face.

Evermore - (Jess Mariano) ↬ The letters continue as Jess guides his girlfriend with her depression. (Sequel to Closure).

Right Where You Left Me - (Peter Parker) ↬ Y/n still remembers Peter, but he never came back to find her. But she continues to go to the café every Sunday in hopes he will fulfil his promise.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell imagine #mason mount imagine #marcus rashford #jorgingo #jude bellingham #john stones #ben white #declan rice #mason mount #ruben loftus cheek #jadon sancho #jesse lingard #kepa arrizabalaga #christian pulisic #blueathensfics

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booknerdteen · 3 years

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Review Time!

★★★★★

❞𝑵𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒔, 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔.❞

How does one review such a book? Not that I didn’t like it. But what do I do when a book leaves me so speechless as for me to put a hold on writing the review for weeks?

Summary- I will give you a one-sentence summary-

Siblings, once inseparable- gone astray, now get a chance to remake the world on their own terms.

Thoughts- When everyone was talking about this, I heard mixed opinions. Most of them were good- stating that this book is now one of their favorites but some stated that this book is falsely representing a brother-sister relationship and is making a statutory relationship seem ok. When you make such accusations against a book- you have to back it up, none of those people who told me that actually did. So I went for it- for the book that would surely break my heart.

Can you guess what it did?

Break my heart × a million. I am not exaggerating when I say that this book was magnificent. I personally don’t read a lot of YA contemporary and when I do I usually don’t end up liking them because they were too mushy or boring. That was not the case with this book. In fact, It was quite the opposite. When I sat down to finish this book I didn’t know what was coming my way. I didn’t think a book with such a cheesy title will get to me. But I have never been so wrong in my life. Maybe it was my low expectations… or my cluelessness to what was coming my way. But I fell. And I fell hard. Truth be told, I haven’t fallen from quite this high before. Not in a while. So let this be a warning for the rant that’s about to come.

One of the things that stood out about this book was… well… everything. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever read before. But to start of this rant- The Writing. The writing was breathtaking. There was air in every word. Meaning behind every expression and it never got boring. It never tired me. Not one second of this 371-page book was I confused or bored. What did I feel you ask?

I felt-

Anger

Frustration

Love

Disgust

Fear

You might as well search up a list of emotions cause I felt all of ‘em except anything to indicate that I got tired or bored of this book. It makes me wonder about Jandy Nelson’s other works like The Sky Is Everywhere which I will be reading soon. The writing was so enlightening and didn’t need to say things for you to understand- you just did? Because you get so emerged and swept away in the writing and the story.

❞𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚.❞

The plot was something entirely different. It let you know that this world is fiction but it’s also realistic fiction. The plot swept you away but not all the time. Sometimes it left you to sweep yourself up in the air and do your own thing. It sometimes left you to your own devices- to think what you want and dream and make theories that could be the all or nothing. And although this was mostly character-driven. The plot drove me crazy. It took me to places I never thought I could venture into with my imagination.

The Diverse Characters of this book were the strong point. They weren’t that many characters but the few characters we had had a significant impact on the plot and the overall story. Jude, Noah, Mom, Dad, Oscar, Guillermo, Grandma, Brian. I was so immersed in what the characters were feeling that I forgot that I myself had feelings. Jude was human. She felt. She felt and fell. She felt and fell hard. At some points, she was selfish. She thought only of herself but that was human too. When I think about Jude, I sometimes think of stupid- that she thought It’d be ok for her and Oscar to be together. A character with so much pain and heartbreak. Jude was insanely human, and people hated her for that. I loved how imperfect Jude was. Aren’t we always asking authors for more realistic characters? Characters that aren’t so perfect? Well, here she is. Noah was interesting. Not in a bad way, not in a good way either. He was just interesting. Very interesting. We got his point of view as well and it was nice to see both perspectives although Jude’s chapters were in the future while Noah’s was in the past. Noah was in love, and he got his heart broken- multiple times. He always went back to the place he found comfort in. He always got back to drawing. So when he stopped it was obvious that something serious was wrong. Something more than what’s obvious. The character growth with Noah was outstanding. His anxiety and self-consciousness were also interesting. It made me think of how much a person can hide deep inside. How much can one lock up until it all comes out bursting?

Although this book is not for everyone, It worked for me. The exploration of a very tough subject is amazing. How carefully and beautifully all of them were dealt with was awesome. This is not just a romance. There are plenty of sub-genres in this book and switching through different timelines and perspectives was refreshing. All the different characters were so layered and came out so flawed and imperfect. I loved each of them (except Zephyr and Fry) greatly and wholeheartedly. Sure, it took me a while to get used to Jude because she wasn’t a very likable character at the start, but like all the other characters, she rubbed off on me.

Overall- I’ll give you the sun was more than a brother-sister relationship gone wrong. It was an entire world remade by just two people. I’ll give you the sun is an entire family reunited. It’s a dream coming true. It’s love being spread. It’s about how in your eyes- anything is possible. Even if you don’t think so. There is more than one thing in life. So take it all in. The trees, the people, the earth. Take the sun in. Because believe it or not, someone will one day say “I’ll give you the sun.”

|Trigger/Content Warnings- child neglect, anxiety, anger issues, car accident, loss of a loved one (parent), death, alcoholism, guilt, depression, rape (statutory), slut-shaming, suicidal thoughts|

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pollyaunt · 3 years

Text

The Prom: Jurdan High School au Chapter 5

Fandom: TFOTA | Ch 6

Warnings: None

Summary: Jude and Cardan have hated each other but are forced to work together. Let's see how there story ends.

A/N: hi hi hi you're going to love this chapter as well !!!

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Chapter 5:

I didn't see Cardan for the next four days. No calls. No texts. He didn't even come to school.

Maybe it meant that our kiss was nothing to him. Maybe it was just a distraction. Or a joke. Or a trick.

No that couldn't be possible, could it?

"Earth to here, Jude!"

I saw Lil glaring at me.

"Sorry what?"

"I asked for whom are your eyes wandering around the whole school and cafeteria?" She gestured with her hands around the cafeteria.

"Um no-one," I lied.

"Anyone asked you for Prom yet?" I am thankful for the change of subject.

"Uhh not yet," this time I was speaking the truth.

"What?! Prom is in two days!"

"I know and I also told you nobody will ask me for Prom," I reminded her.

"That's not true. Someone will ask. We still have two days." We both knew that was a lie.

================================================

After the break, I went to my locker. When I shut the locker and whirled around, I ran into someone.

Not someone but Cardan.

I glared at him first then turned the other way, walking towards my classroom.

He first smiled at me then looked startled at my action.

I was only a few steps away when he stopped my by clutching my hand, whirled me around and locked a door. Wait locked a door?

I realized he took me to an empty classroom.

"What's wrong?" His tone was dangerously calm.

I scoffed, "Oh I don't know. I kissed a boy and then he ignored me for next 4 days and then suddenly came up to me and asked, 'What's wrong?'"

"Jude, about that...." Silence as I expected.

"I get it. It was too soon for you. I'll be professional with you for the rest of the semester. I'm sorry," just as I was about to leave, he turned me around for the second time and pressed his lips on mine.

Unlike our first kiss, this was more gentle. His lips were soft as feather. He placed his hands on the side of my waist and I hooked my legs around his waist, pressing my back against the wall.

We broke apart panting hard.

"Will you go to Prom with me?" His question startled me enough to think maybe this was a dream.

He dropped me, looking anxious and I asked, "What did you say?"

"Will you go to Prom with me?" Oh my god!

"HELL YES, OMG!!!" I kissed him once more and could feel his smile through it.

"I didn't ignore you. I was just nervous that maybe you'll say no about this," he confessed with an embarrassing smile.

I smiled back and said, "I would love to go Prom with you,"

He pressed his forehead against mine, interlacing our fingers together.

The bell rang and he let go of me.

"Seems like I missed the class," we laughed at that.

"I'll see you on Prom. I can't wait," he kissed me forehead and I muttered, "Me too,"

Prom was going to be amazing this year.

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I hope you liked it and I'll not be posting tomorrow since I need a holiday myself. Much love.

taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @thekingdomofelfhame @greenbriarxrose @cinnamonsketchdust @charincharge @clockworkgraystairs @jurdanhell @jurdannet @nee-naw-nee-naw-beepbeep @loves-books

#jurdan au #high school #tfota au #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #madoc #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdan fanfic #vivi duarte #taryn x locke #nicasia #valerian #modern au

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halseyhazzard · 3 years

Text

The Redemption of Judee Sill

Halsey Hazzard, fall 2018

for a writing class on pop culture criticism “So much sensationalist bullshit has been written about Judee Sill (by people who never knew her) focusing on her days as a hooker and a junkie.” So begins Pat Thomas’s interview with Tommy Peltier, a longtime friend and collaborator of Sill’s, in the liner notes to the recently and lovingly compiled “Songs of Rapture and Redemption: Rarities & Live.” He’s not wrong; in nearly all of the writing on Sill, her music, an inimitable blend of gospel, folk and country at once bluesy and baroque, plays second fiddle to the stranger- and sadder-than-fiction story of her all-too-brief life. Her eponymous 1971 debut and 1973’s Heart Food were met with praise from critics and her fellow songwriters alike; in 1973 Steve Holden called Judee a “most gifted artist, one who continues to promise almost more than I dare hope for.” Unfortunately — for Sill and for those who loved her, and for those of us who love her music — much of that promise never came to pass. She died in obscurity in 1979, leaving behind an unfinished third record and quietly ascending to the pantheon of young, brilliant musicians who died too soon.

It’s hard to write about Sill without relying on sensationalist bullshit. I suppose in writing this at all I’m contributing to the problem, but like so many others, I have joined the ranks of Sill’s devoted disciples, compelled to tell and retell her story to rectify fate’s perceived cruel disservice to a great talent. What emerges is not always a faithful portrait of the complicated artist Sill was, but rather a shifting and sometimes contradictory fable that cements Sill’s status as a legend — not, as she might have hoped, as “an extremely famous or notorious person,” but rather as the subject of a “story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated.”

The story goes something like this: Judee Sill was born Judith Lynne Sill to an average, unhappy middle class household in Los Angeles in 1944. She fell in with a rough crowd, got married, committed a series of crimes, got addicted to various drugs, went to jail, got married again. Eventually she cleaned up her act, put the gospel licks she’d learned in reform school to good use, and became the first act signed to David Geffen’s Asylum label. She put out two albums of intricate songs that married earthly desire and longing for heavenly salvation, populated with lonely cowboy types and vigilantes that sometimes seemed strikingly similar to Jesus. For a few shining years it seemed like Sill had made it. It soon became clear (the story goes) that fame was not what fate had in store for her. Until 2003, when Rhino issued Judee Sill and Heart Food on CDs for the first time as part of its Handmade series, Sill was “[u]nlamented and all but forgotten.” These are the words of Barney Hoskyns, who in a 2004 Guardian profile declared “[t]he tragic Judee Sill is well overdue for (re)discovery.” Since then, interest in Sill’s life and music has steadily increased thanks to a series of posthumous reissues and releases: 2005’s “Dreams Come True,” a two-disk set of unreleased recordings mixed by Jim O’Rourke (Sonic Youth, Wilco); Live in London: The BBC Recordings 1972-1973, released in 2007; and “Chariot of Astral Light,” an intimate collaboration with aforementioned Tommy Peltier recorded in the ‘70s and finally released in 2004.

In a review of the 2004 Intervention reissue of Judee Sill titled “The Judee Sill Cult Continues, This Time at 45RPM,” Michael Fremer of Analogplanet writes, “sometimes "legends" are created and nurtured simply by tragic circumstances. In Judee Sill's case add wasted talent and unfulfilled great promise that add up to a movie worthy story.” Sill’s life has yet to inspire a movie (although a seemingly-deserted IMDB page indicates at least one attempt at a documentary), but songwriter Laura Veirs’ “Song for Judee,” renders the Judee Sill legend in sparse yet cinematic detail. In it, Veirs’ voice echoes on top of warm, jangling guitars, the apparently upbeat melody betrayed by the sadness of the story it tells:

“You wrote “The Kiss” and it is beautiful

I can listen again and again

You never really got a break

From the car wrecks and the pain”

The crux of the Judee Sill legend is captured in these lines, which immediately identify Sill’s work with the tragic events of her life. Sill’s music is mentioned in Veir’s lyric but once, and only glancingly; it’s not even clear “The Kiss” is a song, or “Judee” a songwriter. Veirs’ appreciation for her music is given is as pretext for why the listener should care about Sill’s life, but it’s clear the main attraction here is tragedy. The rest of this atypical ode is not praise, but a retelling, addressed to Sill herself, of key moments in the legend of her life. What emerges is a tellingly concise fable that identifies Sill with the lonely phantom cowboys who populate her lyrical landscape.

Veirs appears to have lifted her narrative and several phrases from the BBC documentary. She mines in particular the commentary from Peltier, who says Sill was his best friend and shares the insights that would come to compose Veirs’ chorus: “You loved the Sons of the Pioneers and the Hollywood cowboy stars/you were just trying to put a hand to where we are.” She also borrows, nearly word-for-word, an introduction Judee gave during one of her London radio performances in 1972, describing her time “living in a ‘55 Cadillac, five people sleeping in shifts.” This almost creates an intimacy with Sill, whom Veirs had never met; however, there remains an insurmountable distance. Sill had been dead 35 years — as long as she was alive — by the time this ode was composed. While Veirs hints at Sill’s troubles in the first verse, only in the last verse does she make explicit what happened: “They found you with a needle in your arm, beloved books strewn ‘round at your feet”. The revelation gives the chorus retroactive prophetic relevance. The past tense, once wistful, is now crushing.

Her death, like her life, became part of the legend. There are general points of agreement: she had been in several car accidents, was using heroin again, and died of an overdose just after Thanksgiving 1979. Everything else is less clear. Though her death certificate reports she was found dead in her house in North Hollywood, a persistent rumor suggested she had disappeared to Mexico to live out her final days. Her death was reported as a suicide, but family members and friends maintain that the note found near her, a characteristic musing on death and redemption, was an idea for a song.

The title of a 2014 BBC Radio documentary by Ruth Barnes says it all: “The Lost Genius of Judee Sill.” Sill’s genius is preceded by its lostness. Sill herself comes last. Her music is mentioned too, of course. They quote Sill’s self-description of her work as “country-cult-baroque” and her professed influences, Bach and Pythagoras. (In some versions of the quote, Ray Charles is thrown in.) Yet every time, it seems, someone brings up that she wrote “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” about JD Souther, that Graham Nash produced it. She was the inaugural artist on David Geffen’s Asylum, we’re told, .She opened for Crosby Stills and Nash, and Cat Stevens, and Gordon Lightfoot — and so on. These revelations are usually accompanied by astonishment at the fact that she failed to find the commercial success of her peers, despite her comparable — perhaps superior — talents.

Many have offered explanations about how this happened. There is a general consensus that her falling-out with Geffen played a role. It’s not exactly clear what happened. The word “faggot” was involved, but whether it was said live or on the radio, in reference to Geffen himself or a pair of his pink shoes, is up for debate. Whatever she said severed their relationship. Some contend that she may have been in love with him, and was hurt when he spurned her advances. Others point out that she was growing frustrated with what she saw as his lack of promotion for her music. By this point, she was already making no secret of her disdain for the “snotty rock bands” she had to open for, and I doubt this did her any favors.

The contradictions in people’s stories exacerbate the larger-than-life quality of her life and times, as do the many cliches used to tell her story. Headlines variously declare her “a star that fame forgot,” “L.A.’s doomed lady of the canyon who lost her genius to drugs,” a “mystic” who “walked among us.” The human Judee Sill is lost somewhere beneath this sensationalism. It is no wonder why her friends and family members, Tommy Peltier chief among them, feel so compelled to set the record straight by providing their version of events. In his remarks in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption,” Peltier is quick to discourage speculation about her drug use and past prostitution, declaring instead “She was just the most beautiful person.”

“Beautiful,” you may recall, was the only word Laura Veirs could come up with to describe “The Kiss.” When I first heard “The Kiss,” I was immediately struck by how inadequate the word was to describe what I was hearing. The song showcases the best of her efforts to induce mathematically precise intervals into intricate melodies that aren’t so much heard as felt. Her lyrics, confusing the sacred and profane, ride the thin ridge between love and logic, devotion and desperation. Over shifting and plaintive piano Sill sings a eulogy to stars bursting in the sky and begs a lover — god? — to come and hold her “while you show me how to fly.” I first heard “The Kiss” in a YouTube video, one of few that survives of her performing, whose introduction insists that she herself was determined to be a successful musician. Ironically, the video shows precisely why perhaps she couldn’t be: severe and guileless, Sill hunches over the piano as if it were all that exists, engrossed in the song’s intense and uncommercial emotional intensity.

Sill’s idiosyncrasies are on full display in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption”, a compilation whose greatest strength is its commitment to capturing the artist and all her contradictions in her own words. The sleeve features a candid photograph of a smiling Sill, alongside several of her paintings and drawings. The tracks included are a combination of live recordings, demos, and studio outtakes that lay bare the deceptive complexity of her compositions. In the Boston Music Hall performance that opens the record, Sill, armed only with an acoustic guitar, tells the audience “I’m going to sing you a few little songs before David [Crosby] and Graham [Nash] get here. I’d like to sing you this song called “The Vigilante”. It’s new, I hope I remember the words.” The self-effacing introduction notwithstanding, what follows is nothing short of revelatory.

An early highlight is “Enchanted Sky Machines,” a bluesy number about waiting for the end of the world where she trades her distinctive fingerpicking for pentecostal piano licks she picked up in reform school. There is an aching earnestness to the way she sings of swallowing her yearning, and it carries over into “The Archetypal Man,” which begins with Sill singing the song’s opening harpsichord solo. Before “Crayon Angels,” she describes how she would call up friends as she was writing the album and sing them instrumental solos, joking that it must have been hard for them to like her in those days. The crowd is in on it, and her self-deprecating humor belies a clear confidence in her talents and her musical vision that is justified by the virtuosic grace of her playing. Sill was a perfectionist who demanded and deserved creative control, a notoriously laborious songwriter who could be a tyrant in the studio, and these tendencies are on full display even in this humble solo set. When she introduces her second last song, “The Lamb Ran Away With the Crown,” she enunciates every word, then repeats it again — ”with. the. crown.” — determined to ensure the the audience walks away knowing exactly what she was saying.

The set ends with Judee’s signature song, “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” which had only just been released to radio two days prior. She calmly reveals the song’s inspiration, an unhappy relationship with a “bandit and a heartbreaker,” and describes waking up one day with the conviction “that even that wretched bastard was not beyond redemption.” Her diction is clear, her tone less so. The audience, nonetheless moved, cheers and laughs. She goes on: “It’s true, I swear. It saved me, this song. It was writing this song or suicide. It’s called “Jesus is a Crossmaker” and I hope you like it.” Her voice seems monotonous for such an emotional confession, but that stops mattering as soon as the song begins.

Instantly her singing voice, freed from the perfectionism of her studio recordings, reveals itself as strikingly human. Precise, unadorned, free of vibrato, it is flat in places, sharp in others, yet cuts to the rhythmic core of each note. She struggles with a few of the intervals she has given herself to sing, but this only enhances the song, giving human voice to the mathematical precision of her compositions, linking the downtrodden with the divine. With her unpretentious voice and deceptively simple language, she strives to speak redemption into being. Her longing for it is audible.

Such longing is a key theme in much of sill’s work, and nowhere is it more pronounced than in “Crayon Angels”:

Crayon Angel songs are slightly out of tune

But I'm sure I'm not to blame

Nothing's happened, but I think it will soon

So I sit here waiting for God and a train to the Astral plane

Later in the song, she confesses “Guess reality is not as it seems so I sit here hoping for truth, and a ride to the other side”. Sill knows the truth she longs for is unattainable, at least in this lifetime — but she remains unflagging in her belief in something. It is this belief that motivates her music. To characterize Sill as a god-given genius laid low by fate undercuts her formidable musical ambition, and the sincerity with which she approached her craft. The work she created was not purely inspired by the divine, but instead strove for it, confronting the inevitable impossibility of reaching perfection with the all-too-human drive for beauty in the face of death. Still, one gets the sense that Sill herself, enthralled as she was with cowboy stories and cosmic secrets, might appreciate the mythic proportions her life story has taken. I like to think that she’s made it to the Astral plane, and that wherever she is, she’s smiling.

#h: assignment #h: 2018 #judee sill #music criticism #folk music #songs of rapture and redemption

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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

Note

O.M.G!!! I loved your recent jurdan fic sooo much!! Can you write when she tells Cardan she’s pregnant?? Can Cardan get emotionally excited??I love their softness and excitement... love you 😍

Hello dear!!! Thank you so much for your words!

I’m sorry it took me long but my job is a pain in the ass and I don’t have as much time as I would like to write. Buuut here it is!

It also came out longer than I expected bc apparently I can’t keep things easy.

Anyway, ENJOY! LOVE U TOO!

~~~~

JUDE TELLS CARDAN SHE’S PREGNANT

Jude had spent half of her life learning how to face danger.

Years and years of training, creating strategies, fighting and even killing when she needed to.

Gods above, she was the Queen.

The High Queen of Elfhame, and she was shrinking on one corner of her sister Vivi’s bathroom; staring at the little pharmaceutic device, the third one, showing the result.

Jude carved her face with shaking hands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She muttered, her breathing harsh.

This was supposed to be an ordinary weekend.

One year had passed since her official coronation and occasionally she liked to spend a day or two at the human world with Vivi, Heather and little Oak. Sometimes Cardan came with her, partially she suspected, since he’d caught some fascination for Sephora stores and some human customs, he claimed, he wanted to experience.

This time though, he’d stayed back in Elfhame, to attend some meetings Jude didn’t want to be part of.

Everything was going fine, they went to the park, to the movie theater and at last to the pizza place near her sister’s house, where Oak asked for Jude’s favorite to honor her visit. What she didn’t expect, was the sudden nausea that crept up her stomach as soon as the pizza arrived, making her ran to the toilet in a couple of seconds.

It didn’t take much time for Vivi to suspect what was going on, even with Jude’s insistence on it probably being a stomach bug.

On their way back to her apartment, she bought Jude three different pregnancy tests under the argument that “one could never know”. Then filled her with orange juice and waited. And waited.

So here she was. With three positive results. Pregnant.

A loud knock on the door made her jump. “JUDE? Is everything alright?? You’ve been there ages! Are you done??”

“Let her be Viv, don’t make her more nervous than she already is…” That was Heather.

“What? I’m not. I just want to know if-”

Jude stood and opened the door stopping her mid-sentence.

Two pairs of eyes stared at her expectantly. She pursed her lips and took in a deep breath.

“So, apparently I’m pregnant.” She said to no one in particular. The words sounded strange in her mouth, as if she wasn’t the one saying them.

“Are… are you sure?” Viv’s face had lost all track of emotion. Jude quirked an eyebrow and handed her sister the pregnancy tests.

What came next was a bunch of screaming and “oh my gods” and Heather swearing she’d dreamed about it a few nights ago. Maybe something else about a bet between her sister and Madoc.

Jude was only hearing half of it. Instead her mind was worrying about one thing only. Cardan. How in hell was she going to tell him? How was he going to react?

She didn’t even know how she felt.

They didn’t talk much about the subject. Some comments from the Court members about them providing heirs had quickly turned into inside jokes she and Cardan occasionally teased each other with. But joking about it was very different to this. To actually being pregnant. To carry life inside her that someday would become a baby, a child. For her to become a mother. For them to become parents.

How was a parent supposed to be to begin with? She’d grown up with her kidnapper, a cold-blood murderer as the only parental figure. Her husband didn’t have a better role model.

And now they’ll have to raise a new creature into this world. It was too much to digest in one day.

The next morning, she returned to Elfhame. Still with no clue of how to tell Cardan the news.

She found their chambers empty, and took the chance to take a bath and put on her queenly clothes before going to search for her husband. She needed to tell him immediately, before her sense of fake bravery vanished.

“Last time I saw him, Your Highness, he was on his way to his mother chambers.” Fand told her. Jude rolled her eyes and groaned, that was the last place where she wanted to go but her hands had already started to tremble, if she waited more time she wouldn’t be able to do it.

One step away from Asha’s door she hesitated. Jude had meant to knock, but the door was already half-opened and she could hear voices coming out.

“Seriously Cardan, how long are you going to keep this up?” Asha sounded annoyed. “You had your fun with the mortal girl, why keeping her at all?”

“She is my wife.” Was all he answered.

Jude leaned just a bit so she could peer inside the room. Cardan stood before his mother, who rested on a pile of cushions. His back faced the door so she couldn’t see his expression.

Asha sighed.

“That didn’t stop you from vanishing her once. And we are not at war anymore so I doubt her fighting skills are needed much.” she shrugged. “Aren’t you just bored already?”

Jude could see Cardan’s fist tightly closed. “I don’t see why my personal decisions affect you mother, nor why should I explain them to you.” His voice sounded strained. “As for Jude, she is no weapon just designed for war, and her staying is not for you to decide or even mention.”

Asha’s lips quirked just a little. “Ah, I see now. My dear son, are you not capable to see all of the pleasures you are denying yourself just for a whim?” She raised to her feet and rested one of her perfect hands on Cardan’s shoulder. “It is not rare for Kings to take mistresses, and let me tell you, I know several beauties who would do anything for the opportunity.”

Jude’s ears were ringing with rage. How dare she suggested such thing? To even consider the possibility of Cardan taking some vulgar… she shook her head, not even finishing the thought of it. She was so focused in her desire to take Asha’s head and slam her into the floor she couldn’t hear his answer.

Asha laughed in a cruel way that make Jude’s stomach turn as she came back to reality. Oh gods, was she going to be sick again?

“You ought to think of the future of your people too, you know. Elfhame will need an heir someday. And do you think the folk will not prefer a precious pure fae, instead of some half breed…” Asha’s eyes darted to the side and locked with Jude’s, making her heart skip a beat. “With filthy human blood?”

Jude took a step back, feeling tears stinging behind her eyes. She knew what Asha was doing, that bitch, knowing she was listening behind the door. But it didn’t matter, not as her heart hammered with such intensity it was starting to hurt. Not as her throat closed in anger and impotence, making her hard to breath.

So she just turned and rushed far from there.

Somehow she reached one of the back balconies and stood there, staring at the sea under her. Jude knew she would be a filthy human for some of the folk for the rest of her days. She’d grown with that knowledge and she didn’t care anymore. But now, it was not only her. It would never be only her ever again. Was she really that stupid for allowing this to happen to someone else? Not only someone else, but her own child? Would Cardan even agree to the idea?

Minutes passed. Even hours maybe, but she didn’t move. She felt as if she’d forgotten how to.

Light steps sounded behind her.

“Jude?” Cardan’s voice somehow filled her with something between peace and anxiousness, remembering why she was searching for him in the first place.

She didn’t answer, so he continued. “I ran into Sir Fand a while ago, she told me you were looking for me. I should have been there when you arrived, I am sorry my love.”

Jude shook her head, “It’s okay.” Her voice was faint, almost a whisper. She still didn’t dare looking at him.

“Jude, is there something wrong?” He came closer to her, now standing by her side. Cardan searched her gaze but she looked down. “Have… Have I done something to upset you?”

Jude’s heart hurt at his tone.

“No, no you didn’t.” She wanted to tell him everything was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong, that she was perfectly fine. Except she was not. She just didn’t know what to say first or how. “And yes, I was… looking for you.”

She felt Cardan’s hand take hers, soft as a feather. “And you were looking for me on the sea? Unlikely, but I appreciate the effort.” He chuckled for a second, and then went back to his worried voice. “I am here now. Will you tell me what is that troubles you? You look as if you just had a nightmare.”

That wasn’t unusual. More than once Cardan had woken her up from some bad dreams, usually ones in which he didn’t return after Jude cut off the snake’s head. It always left her pale and shaky. Sometimes it happened the other way around, but they always found comfort in each other’s arms.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate being called a nightmare, even if she usually is.”

He gave her a wide grin before furrowing his brow in confusion. “Funny, I was just with her right…ah.” Realization crossed his eyes, Jude watched him clench his jaw. “You went to my mother’s chambers. You heard us.”

Jude nodded and held his hand tighter. “I heard some of it. Many of the folk will always find me to be inadequate, that’s nothing new. But I hadn’t heard any mention of it in so long that, for a moment I, I let myself believe that-“

“Jude, stop, you cannot possibly think you are not good enough. Look at what you have done for Elfhame; anyone could see that!”

“That’s not it. I know I have done things for them, saving some of their asses and stuff.” She shrugged.

“Then I am not understanding, Jude-“ With his free hand he reached for her cheek and cupped it, tugging her into a hug.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was almost a whisper, but she felt him froze.

Without letting go of her, he leaned back, wide eyed and openmouthed. “What did you just say?”

“Cardan I’m,” She closed her eyes and said louder, “I’m pregnant.”

She didn’t open her eyes, afraid to see his reaction. But instead of saying anything he just gasped and pulled her back into his arms. Jude felt his heart beating fast against her hands.

“When did you find out?”

Now it was Jude’s time to chuckle. “Yesterday, even though I was feeling odd for the past days. Oak invited me a pizza but it made me sick, Vivi guessed the rest and I took some tests.”

Cardan didn’t say anything letting her continue. “When I came back I looked for you to tell you, mostly because if I didn’t right away I would be too scared to do it after. But…”

“But you found me with my mother,” He sighed. “And what she said…gods, Jude I am so sorry. I ought to throw her back to the Tower of Forgetting.”

She couldn’t say the thought was not appealing.

“Every day of my life since I got here I was reminded of how I was different. Sometimes in the cruelest ways.” Cardan started to say something but she continued. “I am over it now, I know who I am, and I am happy with it. With you. But the thought of my own blood going through the same thing is… I am afraid of it being as hard as it was for me. I am afraid of not knowing how to make it different. Of not knowing how to be a mother. And most of all, I am afraid of not knowing how you feel about this.”

There. She’d said it. She felt herself shake, but it wasn’t until a few seconds had passed, that she realized it wasn’t her. “Cardan?”

He let go of the embrace but raised his hands to cup her face. His eyes were shimmering… and wet. He was smiling in a way she’d rarely seen, leaving her breathless for a moment.

A tear escaped his right eye and Jude quickly caught it with her thumb, still puzzled about what she was seeing.

“My love, I feel nothing but happiness at this moment.” He kissed her forehead. “I know we usually joke about this but, one part of me always wished for it to became true one day. To love and raise as we weren’t. Giving us the chance to become better than the ones who should have taken care of us.”

Jude didn’t realize she had started to cry too until he kissed her cheeks and felt them cold. Cardan looked down at her belly hesitantly, “Can I?” He asked.

She nodded and pulled his hand to where someday she was going to be the size of a watermelon. He touched her with such delicacy and devotion she almost couldn’t believe this was happening.

“We are going to have a baby.” It seemed as if he said it in order to really believe it.

“We are going to have a baby” She repeated. Beaming with emotion. “I don’t know about you but, I think the first one who should hear the good news is Asha, hopefully she’ll have a heart attack and let us be.”

Cardan laughed and shook his head. “You are insufferable, my sweet villain. But this time, I am afraid I agree with you.” At that, he took her hand and guided her back inside.

Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t be afraid at all.

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #holly black #tcp #twk #qon #jurdan au #jurdan fanfiction #pregnancy au

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booklover41802 · 4 years

Note

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic where they reunite post During Jude’s banishment but pre-queen of nothing but Jude is on a date, or Cardan thinks some guy is courting Jude and he jealously glamours the guy to leave her alone. And it leads to angst?

Of course, lovely! Thank you for the request! It turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I tweaked it a bit, but I’m happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I loved writing it.

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Jude Durate, High Queen of Elfhame, Wife to Cardan Greenbriar, was on her seventh date with a human boy. The boy was sweet, the complete opposite of the folk in Faerie. The kind of boy you fell for slowly over time until you looked at him one day and realized that you were wholly and utterly in love with him.

Jude was terrified of him. Vivi had set them up, wanting Jude to heal from the scars of Faerie, and during the month and a half she’d been in the mortal lands, she learned what people meant when they said your heart could be divided in two. Though she loved Cardan, he seemed like a dream, like she could never truly have him. Lucas was more real, more than a daydream.

Attempting to be discreet, Jude slanted her eyes to study the boy walking next to her, chattering on about mundane things. He was averagely tall with sandy blonde hair and striking emerald eyes. He looked nothing like Cardan. In her eyes, that was all that mattered. He was a distraction, a bit of fun during her banishment. After all, her delightful husband was surely doing the same.

They were walking along the pier near a beach Jude had discovered during the month away from Faerie. It was a quiet spot, away from the worrying gaze of Vivi. The boy, Lucas, suddenly smiled at her shyly, a flush reddening his cheeks to a brilliant flame. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

Jude’s heart hammered in her chest, wondering what she was getting herself into. If she said no, his disappointment would simmer awkwardly between them. If she said yes… would it be a betrayal to her vows? She swallowed the phlegm in her throat, trying to shove away all thoughts of what this small gesture meant. Without giving herself a moment to second guess what she was doing, Jude forced her lips to upturn at the corners, as though she was pleased he asked. “I would like nothing more.” She stretched out her hand and laced his fingers with hers, secretly enjoying the feel of his smooth palm against her calloused one. Lucas’s eyes widened imperceptibly at her move.

Wonderment filling his gaze, Lucas studied her scarred palm. “Where did you get this scar from?” He traced the scar she had received when she pledged her loyalty to Dain with reverence.

What was she to tell him? She couldn’t very well say that she had cut open her own palm in order to gain the protection of the Prince of Elfhame. He would think her mad, and then who knows what would happen to her. She would have to lie, as she did about most things. Her mortal ability to skirt around the truth came in handy once more. “Childhood accident. You know how kids are. Magnets for disaster!”

Lucas chuckled, the fading light of the sun hitting the golden flecks of his eyes as he turned his head towards her. “I know exactly what you mean!” His fingers danced over her scar lightly, lovingly while his other hand traced circles in the sand. “When I was six years old, and learning how to ride a bike, I lost control and crashed right into a big old maple tree! Cut open my arm horribly. My grandma almost had a heart attack with the amount of blood that was on me.” When he mentioned his grandma, his face took on a softened look, his full lips fondly turning up as he reminisced on the past.

“Both of us are covered in scars, as the two accident prone children we were.” She was deflecting, she knew, from the truth. But it was the only way to keep him safe from her past.

From the corner of her eye, Jude saw a Golden Retriever huddled up against a building, with the faint shimmer of wings hovering in her peripheral vision. Jude’s pace slowed down as the pixie tormenting the dog smirked at her, taunting her. Even now, far away from Court, her past continued to haunt her, reminding her how she did not fit into the mortal world. She would never be safe here.

Lucas, oblivious to the pixie and her racing thoughts, pointed out a landmark on the far side of the coast. “That lighthouse over there is where I lost my first tooth. I was so excited by the ships, I wiggled my loose tooth a little too hard. Blood gushed all over me, staining my favorite shirt. My parents fussed over me for days. I even had the tooth fairy visit me for the first time. Found a whole dollar underneath my pillow the next morning.”

The tooth fairy. Such a human tradition. Jude had never experienced it, as her parents had been murdered before her teeth fell out.

A few people moved around the two of them on the sidewalk, not wanting to interfere with the moment they were having. Jude, not aware they would be seen by anybody, blushed fiercely. She looked away from the fond looks people threw her way, and pulled Lucas to a stop. She dragged him over to the sand, far away from the pixie, and made to sit down. Mercifully, he didn’t question it. “What are your parents like?” She asked, trying, and failing, to calm her nerves.

“They were wonderful people from what I can remember. Every Saturday night they took me to the lighthouse to look at the ships docking in the harbor. My father worked there, and rarely left his post. The sea called to him, as it does to me.” Ships now were now pulling in, guided by the beam of light pouring out from the top of the lighthouse. Lucas watched the boats, a fascinated look taking over his features.

As the sun set over the horizon, glowing softly with pinks, purples, and oranges, gulls crying out in the distance, waves crashing against the beach, Jude felt a sense of peace settle over her, despite the pixie. With Lucas it was easy to feel safe, to let her mind drift away. In another life, she pictured herself with him. Forcing the words out around the memories of Cardan, she softly asked, “Have your parents died?”

With a rueful smile, Lucas looked up at the sky watching the seagulls circle overhead, his eyes far away. “Yeah. They died in a fire when I was eight. My grandparents raised me after that. It was hard to accept that they were gone for a while. I couldn’t even go to the lighthouse without thinking of them, of having the memories crash over me like the waves against the shore.” He was becoming detached, distant.

Jude did something she never expected herself to do. Gently, she took his hand out of hers, pulling his face towards her, so that they were eye to eye. “My parents died when I was seven. I guess we’re both orphans. I was raised by an… uncle after that with my two sisters. You’re not alone. Orphans always find each other, searching for a home in one another, hoping they will finally belong somewhere.”

The sea rocked against the sand, splashing the two of them with little droplets. Neither noticed, too lost in the depthless ache they felt deep in their chests.

Reaching out a shaky hand, Lucas brushed away a stray strand of hair that was stuck against her cheek. “I think I’ve found my home.”

Knowing she was already damned, Jude leaned forward and drew Lucas into her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of cedar, the sea, with faint undercurrents of spices. She shut her eyes, relishing the feel of safety in his arms.

His breath tickled her ear as he moved towards her. “What was your childhood like? You never talk about it.” Immediately she stiffened, memories flashing by of a gentry member biting off the tip of her ring finger, another yanking her out from under a table at a revel and being tormented and glamoured, wearing rowan berries everywhere to avoid her mortality betraying her.

A childhood that was no childhood at all.

“It was a childhood like no other,” she choked out.

He pulled back, grasping her forearms and looking into her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore subject, I only wish to know you more.”

Before she could answer she was hit with the scent of roses, citrus and the overwhelming smell of wine. There was only one being with that aroma that she knew. Cardan.

Sure enough, there he glided behind her on the sand, his black eyes boring into her, burning her like a brand. His tail peeked out from his trousers, gently swaying in the wind. A cruel grin bedecked his face, as he narrowed in on the boy who held her in his arms.

“Jude?” Lucas asked, drawing her gaze away from her husband. Gods. Her husband. The King of Elfhame was here. In the mortal lands. And here she was, on a date.

“Sorry, I-I think I’m getting tired.” Behind Lucas’s back, Cardan snickered.

Lucas nodded, eyes roving over her too bright eyes, the fake smile adorning her lips. “Before we turn in, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Just a moment.” Reaching in the back pocket of his pants, Lucas drew out a necklace with a sterling silver ring hung on the chain. The ring twisted around a small pearl, edged with small gems placed around the base. The ring was simple, beautiful. Perfect.

She was speechless. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” But just as she said it, the raven haired boy from her past crept into her vision, patiently waiting for her to go over to him. Lucas didn’t notice, too lost in Jude to see anything beyond.

Lucas gently swung the necklace around Jude’s throat, carefully securing the latch. He lifted up the hair that was trapped by the chain. Jude smiled softly at the gift, and at the boy who had given it to her without a second thought, attempting to block out Cardan so she could remember this moment without the stain of Faerie. “I found the pearl when I was out at sea a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I made it myself last night. It’s a promise necklace, since I didn’t know what size ring you wore. A promise that, one day, we’ll be married.”

Jude’s smile slipped off her face. “Marriage?” Unbeknownst to him, she was already married to another, her heart belonged to another. In another life, perhaps, this could have worked, but things being the way they were, it wouldn’t last. She had duties and promises to fulfill.

Behind them, Cardan had gone stone-still, his tail twitching back and forth. A strange light filled his eyes, the golden ring around his pupil disappearing, his mouth set in a hard line. It was an odd sight to see. Cardan standing on the sand on a mortal beach with his extravagant clothing studded with gems and jewels, his crown perched haphazardly on his head. Of course he brought his crown, as though he was reminding Jude of who he was. If any mortals noticed him, they didn’t let on. He must have been glamoured, for everyone casually flowed around him as though he wasn’t even there.

Lucas twisted around to see why Jude kept looking over his shoulder, and found nothing, for he couldn’t see the ghost from her past. “What do you keep looking at? Have I moved too fast?” He turned to look at her once more, a heartbreaking expression on his face. The confusion hurt Jude as she could never tell him the truth. Never let him know who she really was, and where she had come from.

“Just-Just a dog. I like dogs, that’s all.”

Carefully Lucas reached for her forearms and pulled her towards him until they were mere feet apart. Cardan moved closer.

“Jude. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you with my declarations. It’s just that I know you’re what I want. I know I’ve only known you for a little over a month, but with each passing day I fall in love with you a little bit more. Your wit, your intellect, your dimples, that look you get when you think no one is looking, when you look happy and relaxed, your guard let down. I love you, Jude. If you don’t feel as strongly as me, I understand, I do. I’m prepared to wait a thousand years.” He nestled his face into her neck, his sandy hair tickling her skin.

Unconsciously she began to run her fingers through his soft hair, wondering if he could feel her racing heart. “Lucas-” She started, about to break his heart, to let him down easy, but suddenly, he jerked under her touch, as if he were a puppet and a puppet master had pulled his strings.

He pulled back as if in a trance, his limbs rigid, rose to his full height and began to walk away. Jude scrambled to her feet and attempted to pull him around. Oblivious to her, he kept marching forwards towards Cardan, never looking back. She hurried in front of him, to see his face. A glazed look had overtaken his features, a blissful expression on his peaceful face. “Lucas?”

There was no answer, no matter how hard she willed him to stop, no matter how many times she shouted his name, there was nothing. No sign of the boy who had given her his heart. So, defeated, she stopped trying to get him to halt and followed him towards the boy who had shattered her life.

Cardan was smirking at her, his hands placed casually in his pockets. “Hello, my darling Jude. How are the mortal lands treating you?” He purred, as soon as Jude was within range. He held out his arms to her, wanting to draw her into a hug, but she crossed her arms, unwilling to give him what he desired.

When she saw Cardan again, she thought she’d be overjoyed, to leap at the chance to go back. But she was angry. So unbelievably angry she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. “After banishing me and betraying my trust, you ask how I am? You show up, unannounced, mind you, and expect me to embrace you with open arms? No. I shall not. And you glamoured my date.” Jude frowned, her lips curling downwards, looking at Lucas’s dazed expression next to the King of Elfhame.

He dropped his arms, a wounded expression on his face. “I come in peace, to offer you a chance to return. I thought after all my letters, you would understand my regret and how much I wish to see you home.”

Letters? There had been nothing but silence. “Is this another one of your tricks? To get to me to sympathize with you? I never received anything. And Faerie is not my home. I am mortal, as I am so often reminded, and replaceable. I have no home, not anymore, not after you banished me. I cannot return.”

Again, the small smile danced across his lips, as if this were a game. “Have I finally outwitted you, Jude Durate, master of tricks and wit?”

“What are you talking about?” The way he looked at her sent shivers down her spine. She had forgotten how he made her feel. Every touch, every look was as though a fire was exploding in her heart. Passion and desire warred over her common sense until she had given in to the whims of her deepest wants. Look how that had turned out.

Love was a fickle thing. It made you lose all sense until you were a love-stricken fool, incapable of seeing the ugly truth, wanting to believe the best of your partner. Love had turned her into the Court Jester. Playing tricks for them all until she had lost her balance and everything came crashing down around her while everyone laughed. A cascade of disaster.

Cardan took a step closer until they were sharing breath, every feeling she had forced down deep rose up again at the close proximity they were in. Cautiously, as if he didn’t want to startle her, he gently ran a finger down his face. “You could have returned any time you wanted. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. Are you not Faerie’s Queen? Are you not my wife?”

Jude felt the world closing in on her as she realized just what this meant. She could have pardoned herself. She was a fool, blinded by her wounded feelings. “Wife in name only. Who banishes their wife the day after they are married? You could have warned me, at least. Instead you let me go off into the mortal world, thinking I’d never see you again. I thought I knew better than to get involved with a Faerie, a King at that.” Now Cardan turned his attention to Lucas, still looking for all the world a love-sick puppy. “Is this mortal the better option?” Cardan’s lip curled. “A mortal who doesn’t even have decent fashion sense.” Cardan eyed Lucas’s clothes seriously, as if his very existence was an affront to everything Cardan stood for.

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything except get mixed up with the wrong person.”

Cardan roughly got hold of Lucas’s shirt and pulled him close in an intimate embrace. “Faerie leaves scars to everyone who passes through. You cannot pass through the fire unburned. So he shall suffer the consequences of trying to marry my wife.”

“Cardan what are you-” Faster than she could follow, faster than she knew he could move, he whipped out a knife from the folds of his tunic and slashed Lucas’s forearm, cutting through fabric - with her own blade for that matter. Lucas didn’t even flinch, the glamour erasing any emotion he felt.

Cardan released the boy, his chest heaving, blade dripping in blood, staining the golden flecks of sand a brilliant red.

She lunged forwards trying to sop up the blood with the edge of her dress that had begun to drip down through the torn folds of his shirt. The only thing she accomplished was soaking the blood into her clothes and skin.

“Now the remnants of Faerie will forever be etched upon his skin. He’ll always possess the fear of the land and the retaliation he’ll receive if he decides to chase after you again.” He looked proud of himself, as though he did something worthy or noble. “Come back with me, Jude. Let us return, as King and Queen, as Husband and Wife.”

How dare Cardan believe he had the right to mark a mortal like so, and expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to return to him with open arms. “I will only return with you if you promise to leave Lucas alone. No assassin’s sent after him, no poison in his cup. No harm ever to come to him.” Her heart bled for the boy who had done nothing wrong other than fall in love with the wrong person.

Cardan’s tail twitched back and forth as he contemplated her offer. “If that is what you wish, I shall grant it.” He waved his hand and Lucas lumbered away, arm still bleeding profusely.

They watched the boy stumble his way back to his home, listened to the shrieks that accompanied his arrival. Jude hated it. Hated that she was the reason for his pain.

“You have me back, but I swear to you I will hate you until I die for what you have done. You will never have me as you once did. I’ll be your Wife and Queen in name only.”

“I brought your sword, Nightfell, back from Vivi.” He held out the gleaming blade, as some sort of peace offering. Blood still dripped from the metal. She took it, only because the sword gave her comfort.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly. “Take me back, Cardan.”

“If that is what you wish.”

Jude reached up and fingered the necklace that lay on her collarbone, comforted by the pearl that slid smoothly through her fingers.

When they reached the bright green fields of Faerie, Jude was welcomed back with open arms. She smiled politely, accepted the congratulations, but felt an emptiness, as though she was missing a limb.

Faerie would never be her home again, nor would the Mortal Lands. She had been cursed to be a wanderer, never to have a place to feel safe. Once she had thought it was Cardan, but she was wrong. She was alone, just as she always was.

Cardan

As Cardan took hold of Jude’s arm to transport her back to Faerie, he wondered if he had done the right thing by glamouring her date and cutting him on the arm with Jude’s blade. He had thought she’d be proud of what he did, as she often resorted to more violent methods at Court. Perhaps he made an error, acted too rashly. Cardan did not know how he could make it up to her.

Although he had achieved his goal of bringing Jude home, the cost had been too high. Whatever love had been between them, was now squandered into the dirt, crushed beneath his crown. If he had simply been Cardan, and not Cardan, High King of Elfhame, would she still hate him as fiercely as she did? Was it the crown that made him act so impulsively? Or was it because he couldn’t bear to see Jude with someone else?

The awful feeling of jealousy was like a cancer, infecting his mind until he knew nothing else. All he saw was a boy courting his love, his Jude, and he had never wanted to kill a mortal so much before. He once swore to himself he would never spill blood by his own hand, but for Jude, he would do anything.

Yet now, as they were back at Court, Cardan noticed the distance now on Jude’s face as Oriana welcomed Jude back. Noticed how she kept touching the necklace at her throat.

When Jude looked at him, it was with a cold emptiness, a reserved impasse. He loved her still, but it seemed as though they were enemies once again.

Jude Durate, his wife, his Queen, hated him. He did not know if they could come back from it.

Tags: @webcraft4eveh, @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic

#ask #thank you so much for the ask #booklover41802 answers #my writing #jude durate #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #the folk of air #tcp #twk #qon #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing

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padawanlost · 4 years

Note

Do you think anakin might be narcissistic or might have narcissistic traits?

No, I don’t. But, please, let’s remember I’m not a mental health professional (I just like Google :P). Here are some Symptoms and behaviors someone Narcissistic personality disorder might display:

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance: Nope.

“I am convinced, Master Yoda,” said Palpatine. “I know that, as a rule, I leave the strategic planning to you and your Jedi Council and the GAR war cabinet—but in this case I feel compelled to intervene. It was only thanks to young Master Skywalker that Kothlis—and before it Bothawui—did not fall into Separatist hands. But Anakin is only one man—and the Jedi cannot expect him to save the day every day.” Anakin closed his eyes. Please, please, stop talking now, Chancellor. Really. Just stop.[…]“Anakin, Anakin.” He shook his head, ruefully smiling. “I embarrassed you, didn’t I?” He felt heat rush into his face. “No, sir, I—” “Yes, I did,” said Palpatine. “You can say it. I won’t bite.” […] [Anakin] couldn’t speak for a moment. This is the most important man in the galaxy … and he speaks to me as though I’m his own flesh and blood. He has cared about me since I was a boy. “Chancellor …” He had to wait a moment before he could trust his voice. “Please, don’t ever doubt my regard for you. It’s too deep for words.” Eyes moistening, Palpatine smoothed the nap of his rich blue velvet trousers. “I know it makes you uncomfortable when I praise you in public, Anakin. Particularly to Master Yoda or Master Kenobi.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration: Nope. Anakin wanted to be accepted and respected for his achievements, nothing more.

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it: Nope.

He wasn’t sure why, beyond the fact that he didn’t relish responsibility for—or power over—others. And she talked too much. And she was far too cocky, in that naive, chirpy, why-can’t-we-fix-it way, as if he and the clone troopers had never been in combat before. When it came to battle—well, he’d still take lessons from them, thanks. And she could do the same. [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

• Exaggerate achievements and talents: Nope. Anakin talents and achievements are not exaggerated. It’s a fact that he was the one of the best ever.

“So you don’t believe in it?” “I didn’t say that.” Shaking his head, Obi-Wan stared at the floor. “Qui-Gon believed in it. And I believed in him. And there’s no escaping the fact you’re the most gifted Jedi the Temple has ever seen.” He looked up. “So if Yoda’s reluctant to risk you, Anakin, it’s not on a whim. He has good reason.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

• Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate: nope. Anakin’s only recurring fantasy was saving slaves:

When the war was over he’d go back to Tatooine and see. When the war was over he’d buy any child he found enslaved to Watto and find them a home where they might live and love in safety. Belonging to no one but themselves. I should have done it before now. Wasn’t that my other childhood dream? Become a Jedi and free the slaves. Instead I became a Jedi and let myself forget. Let them convince me that it’s not our job to remake the Republic. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

I know now that I should have paid more attention to his words. But I was eager to tell him about my dream of becoming a Jedi and freeing the slaves on Tatooine. [Todd Strasser. Anakin Skywalker Journal]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people: nope

“But—” Gathering his thoughts, disciplining himself, he watched Anakin scoop up one small excited boy, too young to kick the ball, and zoom him overhead like a fighter chasing a vulture droid. The boy nearly sickened himself with laughing. “Greti, are you saying—” […]Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior: nope.

“I think—” Anakin kicked his heel against the polished marble floor. “I think I hate it when I can’t stop my men from getting hurt. From dying. I think—” “What?” he prompted, when Anakin didn’t continue. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” “It matters, Anakin,” he said gently. “What you think matters.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want: nope.

She sat down again. “I understand. This is war. You have to look at the big picture. You can’t afford to see the little people.” Scurrying like rodents. Sacrificed for the greater good. “That’s not true!” Anakin protested. “That’s what the big picture is. Lots and lots and lots of little people. You matter, Bant’ena. The friends you lost on Taratos Four, they matter. We’re fighting this war so no more like them will die.” He was very sweet. Very young. Full of grand ideals and breathtaking, intuitive compassion. She looked at Master Kenobi. Now, there was a pragmatist, a man possessed of a scientist’s soul. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others: nope.

“Oh. That’s right.” There was still dried blood on her fingers, and a dull, throbbing pain in her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” He caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Be envious of others and believe others envy them: nope

The dining hall was a paneled room with soft, recessed lighting and thick red veda cloth hangings at the windows that muffled sound and cast a rosy glow on the diners. It was just like the exclusive restaurants Anakin had glimpsed on Coruscant — just like the spots the students were used to eating in, he was sure. And, like an exclusive restaurant, seating in the dining hall was subject to an unspoken code. It hadn't taken Anakin long to realize that the best tables were by the windows and he was not welcome there. He didn't know why he felt a coolness from most of the students, but he definitely felt it. When he was looking for a seat at a table, an empty chair would be pushed aside to another table, or a datapad or a pile of durasheet notes would be quickly placed on the seat. It was clear that no one wanted to sit with him. There was a power elite in the school, and everyone else fell in around it. Yet Ferus had been accepted almost immediately, and had his pick of places to sit. Was it because word had gotten out that he belonged to a powerful family on his homeworld? You can travel to the ends of the galaxy and it will be the same — those with power do not like to share. His Master had told him that once, in a voice of weary resignation. But sometimes Obi-Wan seemed to forget that Anakin had been a slave. If anyone knew about power, it was a slave. He knew about the hunger for it, and he knew about the humiliation of getting your nose rubbed in the fact that you didn't have it. He took his bowl of aromatic stew to an empty table and sat. It wasn't that he needed company. Jedi were comfortable being alone. But inside, something burned, something deep and hot that he had hoped had been long forgotten. He took a bite of stew and tasted shame and anger. It was hard to swallow, like a mouthful of sand. [Jude Watson. The School of Fear]

• Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious: nope.

Anakin was looking relieved. “Water would be greatly appreciated, thank you. Food, too, but I’ll wait for Obi-Wan to come back before I eat.” She crossed to the small kitchen table, put down the precious holoprojector, then nodded at the commercial-sized conservator her keepers had so kindly given her. “It’s entirely up to you. The water’s in there. Help yourself to as much as you like.” He drank three full bottles, hardly taking a breath. Noticing her surprise, he shrugged. “Sorry. My manners aren’t usually that bad. It’s just—it’s been a long, hard day.” “I can tell,” she said, disposing of the emptied bottles down her makeshift kitchen’s waste chute. “You should sit down. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look tired.” He considered his filthy clothes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to dirty the furniture.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office: nope. There’s no evidence of Anakin ever concerning himself over status or material possessions.

#ask #anon #anakin skywalker #sw meta #meta: anakin #txt

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Old: M. Night Shyamalan’s Twist Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/3kKtl2y

Contains spoilers for Old.

Old is the new chiller from director and screenwriter M. Night Shyamalan who is very well known for his twisty plots and rug pull endings. Fans who go to the cinema for that will not be disappointed.

Inspired by the graphic novel Sandcastle, by Pierre Oscar Lévy and Frederik Peeters, Old sees a family on a dream holiday get taken to a secluded private beach which they discover is causing them to age very rapidly. But how? And why?

Well, that’s not revealed until the end of the movie. Here we break down what happens and what it all means.

Who Dies in Old?

In short: everyone except Trent and Maddox, the now grown children of the family we begin our journey with. But characters die in different ways and that’s significant. Old is thematically MASSIVE. It essentially attempts to sum up the entire human experience in one movie, indicating a variety of ways a life could go – with twists and turns of course.

Rufus Sewell’s Charles is a doctor with racist tendencies and his rapid dementia sees him become violent. He murders rapper Mid-Sized Sedan (Aaron Pierre), tries to kill Guy (Gael García Bernal), and eventually is killed himself by Prisca (Vicky Krieps), who stabs him with a rusty implement giving him super-rapid blood poisoning. His mother has already died of what seems to be a heart condition at the start of the movie.

His wife Crystal’s (Abbey Lee) calcium deficiency causes the most horrific deterioration scene in the whole movie; her bones crunch and become contorted into hideous and unnatural shapes as they crack and then heal too quickly. It’s a medical condition, sure, but there’s an implicit judgement of Crystal in the background. The beautiful, much-younger wife of Charles is positioned as being overly fond of her looks and as she starts to age and her body lets her down, she hides in a cave in the darkness rather than be with other people.

Crystal’s daughter Kara goes from being a little kid to a teenager, is pregnant, and immediately loses the baby (harrowing). Later she tries to climb her way to freedom but falls to her death.

This is a doomed family: a disjointed group who essentially all die horribly and alone, as opposed to the family we meet at the start. Mum Prisca is thinking of divorcing Dad Guy; she’s been having an affair, but both parents love their children fiercely and ultimately love each other too.

Only Prisca and Guy are given a ‘good death’ – they live out the minutes of their lives together. The couple reunite and solve their differences, row with each other and their children but eventually make peace with themselves. Though she has lost the hearing in one ear and his vision is severely impaired, they sit together on the beach at the end of their all too short lives and agree there is nowhere they would rather be than together.

Third couple Jarin (Ken Leung) and Patricia (Nikki Amuka-Bird) have narratively significant deaths. Jarin attempts to rescue the group by swimming around the coast, but despite being a strong swimmer he doesn’t survive. This death emphasizes that the group has tried everything and can’t escape. Meanwhile Patricia dies of an epileptic episode. This becomes very significant later in the movie when we understand the drugs she’s been given have prevented an episode from happening for 16 years (more on this later).

What’s the deal with the rapper?

The first people at the island are a famous rapper (according to young Maddox) with the stage name Mid-Sized Sedan (real name Kevin) and the woman he is with. She has taken a swim (naked) and later washes up dead, sparking the first wave of conflict on the beach as racist Charles immediately accuses Kevin of murdering the woman.

As a catalyst this works narratively and comes loosely from the graphic novel Sandcastle though in Sandcastle the man is an Algerian Jeweler rather than a Black rapper.

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We do wonder though, why, when his companion swam out into the sea he wouldn’t have been a bit more bothered about that and wouldn’t have asked the others for help as soon as they arrived? Also her body doesn’t appear to be especially decomposed when she washes up (while she decomposes very rapidly once on the beach).

Any thoughts about what’s going on here? Let us know in the comments.

So what is actually going on with the beach?

Electromagnetic material surrounding the beach is causing cells to age incredibly quickly – at the rate of around a year every half an hour. The kids are still growing so their aging is more obvious than the adult characters. The adults don’t get grey hair, according to a throwaway line, because hair and cells are dead and so aren’t affected – the same reasoning why they don’t all suddenly have very long hair and fingernails.

Though the film has a strong existential and allegorical angle there is actually, in theory, a real world solution – as in, the answer is ‘science’ and not ‘magic.’ This is why there are no fish in the water on the beach, and why it’s significant that when Trent and Maddox emerge from the other side of the coral they suddenly see a school of fish. The explanation for why they can’t just leave the way they came is that reversing the rate of aging very quickly causes an enormous shock to the system (like resurfacing too fast from deep sea diving), which causes them to black out before they can get anywhere.

So why on earth has the holiday resort actively decided to send people – and these people specifically – to suffer a horrific fate on the beach?

Turns out the resort is really an incredibly elaborate front for a pharmaceutical company…

What does the pharmaceutical company want and why?

This pharmaceutical agency discovers the beach and sees the potential for whole-of-life medical trials to be carried out in just over a day. In theory these trials mean vital medicines can be tested incredibly rapidly for efficacy and also for side effects. Okay, not terribly reliably – medical trials don’t tend to involve observing patients from a distance with no actual lab tests and checks, and the beach is hardly a real-life adjacent or controlled environment. But this is the logic.

Candidates are selected who are having treatment for various specific conditions already. Prisca has a tumor which she thinks is benign, and it’s through her that her family is selected. Others on the beach with them also turn out to have conditions.

The facility has arranged all of the families’ travel and accommodation and taken their passports away from them – there (supposedly) is no evidence that they even left home, which is how the pharma is able to carry out its plans without being caught.

The system is flawed (it’s obviously massively morally flawed and also doesn’t hold up to medical scrutiny either since it’s hardly a meaningful test when it’s on individuals whose bodies don’t behave at all like regular people, but we digress…). One of the employees points out how unsound it is to put test subjects with neurological disorders in with those with conditions that do not affect the mind. Charles killing Mid-Sized Sedan and stabbing others rather interferes with the results.

On arrival guests are given specially mixed cocktails supposedly based on their preferences and dietary requirements – these cocktails are drugged with whichever experimental new treatment the lab wants to test.

Another possible hitch: surely treatments aren’t usually one dose and then you’re done for your entire lifetime? But different rules apply here, hence the children needing to eat lots of food to account for their changes in body mass but the grown ups who stay at roughly the same weight don’t have the same issue.

When the twist is finally revealed, we learn that the events we have been watching are part of trial number 43, and the team are celebrating a victory – the epilepsy drug given to Patricia (Nikki Amuka-Bird) is a success and stopped her from having a seizure for 16 years. (Just as well Charles didn’t murder her first.)

How do Trent and Maddox finally escape?

For a time it actually looks like they haven’t escaped. M. Night Shyamalan’s nefarious surveiller who has been watching the island the whole time is convinced the two have drowned.

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Thank goodness, though, that they have not. While we know countless families before them have died on the island, it still would have been almost too unpleasant not to spare these two. For a start we’ve been with them the whole movie, they’re our focal characters and all of the different actors who play the two as they grow keep us hooked. But these are all children – 11 and six at the start, who’s lives really are being stolen from them. They are not sick. They are not instrumental in progressing medical research. No fancy drugged cocktails for the kids, they are literally collateral damage – loose ends to be tied up. Kara has plummeted to her death but the now grown up Maddox and Trent (Amon Elliot and Embeth Davidtz) are the last hope.

And it turns out to be another child that is their salvation. Trent remembers that he never translated the note that his young pal Idlib (Kailen Jude) gave him in their special code. With frankly nothing more pressing to do than await his death, adult Trent decides to take a look. The amazing Idlib has given him a clue about his uncle not liking the coral. Turns out the tunnel of coral provides the sort of casing it requires for them to be able to get away from the force of the beach without immediately blacking out.

What about the diary?

The diary left by a previous islander is key to the ending of the movie, avoiding having to waste the audience’s time with police incredulity.

Back at the resort having escaped the beach, the now grown Trent spots a man he’d met when he was six and playing the (narratively handy) game ‘what’s your name, and what is your occupation?’ This guy, he remembers, is a cop.

The diary documents all the things learned by another victim of the beach and the families that were there during that trial. It documents the names of everyone on the beach, as well as the things this person – who, like Trent and Maddox, was a child when they arrived – learned during their last days. The cop is able to quickly cross reference and find that everyone on the list is a missing person, missing at the same time.

Maddox and Trent get their happy ending (kind of) – they are able to expose the dodgy pharma company, prevent any further victims, and are airlifted away after saying a sad and grateful farewell to Idlib, who is very much still a child.

We do need this ending. The film as a whole is incredibly bleak, and giving these two a chance to save the day is a tonic. Old is careful not to present this ending as too cheerful though. In the flight away from the resort Trent talks about contacting his aunt and when asked about his reaction he replies:

“How would you feel if a 50-year-old man called and said he was your six-year-old nephew?”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

They are free and they are alive, but what will happen to Trent and Maddox now is a different story.

Old is out now in cinemas.

The post Old: M. Night Shyamalan’s Twist Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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the-institute-promos · 3 years

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➤ OPEN CHARACTER: DECLAN, 33, PROFESSOR, HUMAN

FULL NAME: Declan Vaughn NICKNAME(S): Up to player PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: Up to player AGE: 33 STATUS: Professor SUBJECT: Sociology SPECIES: Human SPECIAL POWERS: Seer–visions and messages via obscure dreams; low grade empathy SEXUALITY: Up to player I AM A: Up to player I WANT A: Up to player TURN-ONS: Up to player TURN-OFFS: Up to player

➤ BIOGRAPHY

There was something to be said for a carefully detailed and story-laden family history but in Declan Vaughn’s youth, he couldn’t see it. It mattered little to him that he could trace his genealogy back to one of the first families in what would become Salem. It mattered little to him that his family was one of seers and witches. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to be part of a normal family and living in some normal city. Perhaps it was because his aunt was known to drift off mid-conversation, drawn into another episode in which she saw yet another vision. Perhaps it was due to the stories his grandmother would tell again and again of how their family had escaped the notice of the witch trials but only just barely.

Declan’s opinion changed when he had his first dream vision. He’d not understood it. What could an image of a ginger bread man falling and an arm breaking off mean, after all? More to the point, if his aunt or grandmother heard of it, they would insist that he had the gift. When his friend, John, fell out of a tree and broke his arm, Declan began to suspect they would be right. It had taken four more dreams, all very obscure in their imagery, for Declan to accept that he had been born with the gift.

As the years went on, Declan spent more and more time studying the tales of family members that came before him, learning all he could about being a seer. What became apparent was that the gift manifested in different ways and was all too random in his family and the last dream seer had died 80 years ago. So for the most part, Declan was left to struggle with his abilities largely on his own. The images and messages remained as vague as ever and nearly impossible to interpret until after the event had come to pass. Unable to rely on his gifts to be truly helpful, Declan turned his focus to a course of study that could be of some benefit. Sociology coupled with a focus on support groups for the down and out youths of the city.

And so he found himself in Boston, attending college in pursuit of his masters and working with the community in various ways. Some days he helped at the soup kitchen. Others he met with others to hand out sandwiches and blankets to those in need. His pet project however was a group for at risk teens that convened every Friday afternoon. While it was intended to be voluntary, more than one frustrated parent forced their child to attend, desperate to get them back on the straight and narrow.

Declan found that working with the kids, connecting with them, was more rewarding than he’d imagined it could be. He didn’t win every battle and sometimes a kid would fail to come back and there was little he could do about that. It made him all the more determined to save the next one. Until his belief in what he was doing was shaken to the foundation. It was never a good idea to get too close, to become too invested, because they would always leave, either to go onto living a healthy and productive life or back to the gutters or worse. However that was just what Declan had done. He’d all but fallen for one of the kids, nearly taken it to a physical level. The encounter ended before it had truly begun, as had any possible relationship between Declan and the younger man. The youth had never returned to the group.

Deeply troubled by the belief that he’d run the youth off, Declan had finished with the group and turned it over to another counselor to be run. By that point, Declan had completed his studies and received his degree. He returned home to consider his options and decide what to do with his education. If his thoughts kept returning to a certain young man, well that was only natural wasn’t it?

A month after leaving Boston, Declan was given a new vision in the early morning hours. As usual it was vague but the images where more concise than any vision before; quite simply that of a tree, young and sparsely leaved, withering and dying. For the first time, Declan was certain he knew who the images pertained to but he had no way of doing anything about the fatal portents. In an effort to distract himself from that which he could not change, Declan turned his focus to finding a teaching position. After a brief search, he settled on a position teaching sociology at a campus that seemed to cater to those who were different.

➤ PERSONALITY

✚ Attentive, caring, strict ▬ Lazy, impulsive, secretive

➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

None

➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO

Declan’s faceclaim is Jude Law. // Could Declan be right for you?

Bio written by Lo.

CURRENT BAN: NONE

Main - Plot - Rules - Ask - Apply

#supernatural rp #university rp #teacher rp #jude law #smut rp

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