He called it my 'furry little problem' in company.

'Sup? I'm Leah. 27(lol I just changed this and realized I haven't used tumblr in 3 years). She/Her. Hufflepuff. "I . . . am a librarian." Welcome to my blog of everything: Harry Potter's dead parents. Percabeth. Miraculous trash. Memes. 👌 Find me on FanFiction.net under this url (without the dashes). Previously LeahLumos.

[jacksdreams]

Just imagining Feyre painting Sam for the Queen of Terrasen, after gently asking to glimpse the memory. No power, no politics. Just one High Lady honoring the grief of another queen, returning to her a boy lost too soon, smiling like he still had forever.

[allrightevanss1123]

It's so interesting to me how more people don't headcanon Lily as a lower-class, class-conscious person, considering she grew up in a heavily industrial town in the '60s and '70s and literally befriended Severus -I'm wearing my mother's blouses because of how poor I am- Snape for YEARS.

​Like, why would she not also be poor? Her family was 90% likely from the working class, living on minimum wage. I don't mind when people make her middle-class, but for me, reading about her being upper-middle-class and comfortable with money is atrocious. I don't think the Evans family struggled as much as Snape's did (considering JKR literally slaps you and yells POOR POOR POOR in your face when describing young Snape), but they probably could barely manage to pull themselves together after spending a day in Diagon Alley buying Lily's yearly school requirements.

​I've never seen people talk or write about this possibility, and like I said, it's SO baffling to me because in my head, it's almost like canon. It also explains how comfortable Petunia was with making Harry spend years in Dudley's hand me downs. (while spoiling Dudley rotten, which is a literal trauma response)

it also has SO MUCH potential as a dynamic when she starts pining with james, who absolutely has NO concept of money (although I think it has a massive risk of turning into a richalphaguy-pooromegagirl slop)

I write about it because I love bringing class dynamics into fanfic spaces to deepen the characters, but I'd LOVE to see more people talk about it.

[brightestwitch123]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/85112776

i am thinking of youuuuu what you would dooo!!

hi world!!! here’s a short jily one shot (and my first)

[justascrollingghost]

Celaena was who she had to be

Lillian was who she wanted to be

Aelin is who she is

This whole Sam loved Celaena, Chaol loved Lillian and Rowan loved Aelin stuff is completely missing the point - Rowan didn’t just love Aelin. Rowan loved who she was at her core. Sam and Chaol loved the pieces she gave them but Rowan collected all the pieces, made a fucking jigsaw and decided he was keeping it

[fizpup]

Get real.

[pastelpolitoed]

tumblr glitched while loading this, so instead of "dude get real" being the punchline, it was like this cat put on glasses for the first time and their friend was just. a legit dog. and not like them at all.

[fizpup]

This is killing me

[waywardsestras]

[mocca-latte-in-my-veins]

Oh Fuck off, what's next, The David? La Pieta??

[apolladay]

Sexiest math operation?

+

-

×

÷

Voting ended onMar 2

[rogueinkglitch]

[veryberryskye]

yeah i like to give my blessing to the most pathetic looking weak little knight at the tournament. she can’t even look me in the eye when i give her my flower and she stutters out that she’ll do her best or something of the like. i think its funny when she has to cry and beg my forgiveness and i get to say “such a shame, i suppose my hand in marriage will have to go to someone else…” and then i get to hear her whimper like a dog. ive done this like 6 times alrea-

did she just win.

[the-stew-goblin]

I shall prepare a stew for the wedding! Extra salt!

[veryberryskye]

wait wait wait stew goblin wait

[peachdelta]

get ready for the wedding

[galahadwilder]

The fact that she’s done this 6 times already with the same knight indicates some things that she might not have realized

[deerly-departed]

Lily Evans - Year 7

[melbush]

i love finding out what degrees my mutuals have. like what the fuck do you mean you do law? you’re a doctor who blog

[deathi]

any suggestions of good fics about jude & cardan? preferably big ones, so I can drown myself again in this couple. ✨

[elucubrare]

You’ve heard of “i didn’t say it was good, i said i liked it,” get ready for “i said it had some technical problems & didn’t fully deliver on its themes, not that i didn’t like it”

[vampsb4tramps]

I saw a tiktok that was saying that if a piece of media is well written with no plot holes, no loose ends, satisfied endings for everyone in canon, there’s not much fanfics cause the fandom isn’t starving. I didn’t think much about it until I check out TCP tags on Ao3.

[eden-lore]

Living for how jude went from "idk how i feel about killing" to "oops he's dead" to "i fuck with this actually, everybody's dying now"

I saw someone say cardan didnt get any less awful, jude just got worse and god im so here for it. Give my girl her unapologetic murder hobby. She deserves it

[itslaeka]

I'm dropping my fanarts here 🌱

[lidiasloca]

Can you pls write a fic of the folk of the air in the bomb or roach pov, just one of them third wheeling Jude and Cardan.

cardan's confession

jude x cardan

during the wicked king

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“Liliver?” Someone knocks hard on the door, their impatience clear. I leave the plants on the table, and a second knock follows, more insistent.

“I’m amidst the making of a potion for the Queen,” I shout back.

When I hear no response, I walk to the door and open it. In front of me stands a young knight from the High King’s guard. I frown, silently questioning him.

“It’s the King,” he says.

I sigh, knowing all too well what he wants from me: nothing less than an immediate cure for the High Queen, who fell from the sky yesterday after I shot her in a deadly fight that had left her gravely wounded. Yes, he expects me to work a miracle.

“Where is he?” I ask, irritation creeping into my voice, which narrows the knight's gaze in accusation of my discourtesy. I care not.

“The High King of Elfhame is in the throne room with the Living Council.” I nod, having nothing more to say, and begin to walk away.

As I make my way there, my thoughts drift to Cardan and his recent behavior. I know he’s worried, stressed, and sad, but he must understand that even with his royal authority, there’s no amount of power that can make Jude wake up any sooner or healthier. Yet every time I try to explain this, he denies it.

I really miss when the Queen was in charge.

Finally, I reach my destination. I push open the doors, and among the Council members, I spot Cardan deep in conversation with someone I believe is Randalin.

I’m close enough that the King notices me and waves Randalin away in a way that makes me smirk. Randalin huffs in offense but parts anyway.

“Liliver.” His tone suggests a question, so I reply, “You called for me?”

I can’t help but linger my eyes on his face, not for any reason other than to note his disheveled state. Beautiful or not, everyone can see how tired he looks—almost sickly.

His hesitant voice pulls me from my thoughts. “I did. I wanted to discuss something.”

He takes a few steps closer, glancing briefly behind me, likely checking the Council members who are too busy to notice our exchange.

“I wanted to talk about something that could help my wife.” His wife. As if I didn’t know Jude myself. “Vivienne, her sister, mentioned human healers.” I didn’t think he’d fall into delusions so quickly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, trying to muster a royal tone that doesn’t match the desperation in his eyes.

I remain silent for a moment, hesitant to shatter his fragile hope, but I believe it’s better he confronts reality sooner rather than later. “Cardan, you have to stop this. It’s not good for you. You have to believe she’ll be fine, not force it.”

I expect him to be angry, but instead, his face turns sorrowful, and I worry that the sight of the King crying before his Council would only shatter the strength they look to him for in this time of war.

“But will she?” he asks. As I consider my response, I take his arm and lead him to a private room behind the dais, seeking some solitude. He smiles sadly as we enter, and I’m confused enough to ask, “Why are you smiling?”

“It’s not the best choice of room to soothe me,” he replies, leaving me perplexed. Yet his gaze shifts, silently asking for a change of subject, so I oblige.

“Cardan, you clearly have a lot going on. We all do. So do yourself a favor and talk to me. I can help you, you know? I could give you advice, put you in your place, even kill who you ask me to. But you need to talk to someone, and I’m a good option,” I say quickly, almost in one breath.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and he shuts it again.

Silent seconds pass before he speaks very softly. “It could work. They are more familiar with human sickness.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s referring to the human healers he mentioned, completely ignoring my earlier suggestion.

I sigh and move to the couch to sit, gesturing for him to join me. “Oh no. I can’t. Not on that couch.”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean, you can’t?” Suddenly, the High King of Elfhame blushes in front of me. I’m taken aback, about to ask why, but he shakes his head, signaling the end of the subject.

After a few seconds, he steps closer and says, “Yes. I do need someone to talk to.” I smile amicably, feeling a sense of triumph that I might have convinced him.

“So, you’re finally willing to tell me what’s going on with Jude?” His eyebrows rise, as if shocked. I’d think him dim-witted if he truly believed I didn’t see the connection between them.

“You mean, what’s going on with Jude being severely injured? The High Queen of Elfhame being severely injured?” He replies flatly, as if explaining it to a child.

“No, I mean, what’s going on with you being so sorrowful because of Jude being injured, as if she hadn’t been hurt every hour of every day since we’ve known her.”

He looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t considered that. “I don't think you understand. The Queen, a great model for Elfhame, is severely injured, especially now that we are at war, which makes our land vulnerable. That is what’s going on.”

I’m beginning to get angry, but I know him well enough to recognize he’s deflecting to avoid a deeper conversation.

I cover my eyes with the heels of my hands, my elbows resting on my knees. I can’t believe that, in the middle of a war, my biggest concern is still the feelings of the High King. “Cardan, you can’t seriously think I don’t know. Just don’t act stupid in front of me, please.”

He stays silent for too long, so I look up at him and continue, “You and Jude! Oh, please. Don’t make that face. There is something between you two.”

I almost shout, and I wonder where the limits of our friendship lie, because, friendly or not, he’s still the King.

I think he finally surrenders when he says faintly, “How can you know?” I laugh.

“How? Cardan, the way you look at her. The way you keep asking for news about her. The way the land turned dull when you exiled her. The way you’re in constant pain because she is in pain. It’s everywhere, and it’s obvious.”

For a moment, I think of Van, wishing I could say all of this to him.

But then I focus on Cardan, unsure of what he truly feels. “Tell me, do you—” I stop abruptly when I see the tears pooling in his eyes.

“I do,” he finishes for me, his tone vulnerable yet serious. “I do love her.”

I’m taken aback, stunned that he’s admitted it aloud, even though I suspected as much.

I stand and approach him, feeling the need to reassure him. I know what he’s going through, and I think I need this connection myself. I place my hand on his wrist, urging him to look down at me.

Before I can speak, he says, “But I can’t tell her that now, and that’s my fault.” I close my eyes at the weight of his guilt.

“Cardan, she’ll wake up when she’s ready. There’s no rushing her body to heal itself faster,” I remind him gently.

He stares at me, expression blank. I expect him to reject my words, end the conversation, or remain silent, but instead, he simply nods. There’s a sadness in the way he does it, a sense of acceptance.

I press on, “But you know she’ll be fine, right? Because she will.” He looks up at me, giving a smile that lacks conviction.

“She better be, because I have to tell her,” he says eventually. “I have to tell her that I love her.”

-Characters by Holly Black

[lidiasloca]

the joker and the queen

jude x cardan

post-queen of nothing

cardan's pov

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

"I might have the king." Jude smirks to herself as she raises the bet.

I stare down at my hand—a miserable one, if I’m being honest. Still, I could make something work if the king of hearts showed up on the River.

But of course, the very card I need is likely resting in her hand, leaving my fortune in her grasp.

"I hate this game," I mutter, both in words and with the irritated look on my face.

"Don’t be a sore loser," she teases, and if my queen weren’t wearing that infuriating yet irresistible smile—one I suspect I’ve taught her myself—I’d remind her of the inherent advantage she holds in this so-called "poker, Jude's version," complete with rules she and her sisters invented.

Rules I barely understand, courtesy of a rushed, one-minute explanation before the game began.

"I haven’t lost yet, love," I say, grabbing her wine glass since mine is already empty. I take a sip, one I desperately need.

Naively, I match her raise. Roach, who we’ve roped into dealing, flips the final card.

No king.

Which means: I have nothing. I lose. Jude wins. And mercifully, the game is over.

She sets down her cards with a triumphant flourish, revealing the king that pairs with the queen of hearts already on the table—a pair that, according to Duarte’s rules, is unbeatable.

"Yes! I knew you’d win," Taryn cheers from Jude’s side.

Unlike Jude’s poker partner, my teammate, Vivi, snorts in disapproval. "How are you so bad at this?" she asks, not for the first time.

We were paired together—yet another odd rule—and both Vivi and Taryn had already lost, leaving Jude and me as the last players standing.

"It’s not as if you did any better," I shoot back, watching Roach drag away the pile of our team's money—"The Immortals with a Weakness for Mortals," as Vivi so lovingly named us.

"Don’t be too hard on my king, will you?" Jude says, grinning at me.

The way she says "my king" sends a warm, familiar sensation through me, even if she’s clearly mocking me. "He’s not that bad. I’m just that good," she adds with a chuckle, making me laugh despite myself.

As Taryn collects their winnings, I rise from my seat and walk over to Jude.

Around the table, everyone pauses to watch: Roach, the Bomb, Taryn with the Ghost, Vivi beside Heather, and others who were observing the game. I don’t care.

I stand beside her, looking into her deep, brown eyes, and offer her my hand.

To my surprise, she takes it without hesitation, her warm, tanned fingers curling into my cold, pale ones. She rises gracefully from her chair, lips parting in mild surprise. The teasing smile she wore a moment ago is gone, replaced by something softer. Her green silk dress, the one I picked for her—with her permission, of course—flows elegantly as she steps closer to me.

"Where?" she whispers, just for me, her breath sending goosebumps down my neck.

"Wherever."

I suddenly remember the eyes still on us, and so does Jude. She turns to Vivi, who’s now smirking as if she’s discovered our deepest secrets.

I snort, turning Jude’s face back to me with a gentle hand on her chin. I ask her again, this time with my eyes. She nods, her mischievous grin returning as I smile at her.

With her hand still in mine, I take a step back, never breaking eye contact. Everything else fades—except for Taryn’s incredulous, almost disgusted grimace as Vivi whispers something in her ear. Knowing Vivi, I probably don’t want to know what she said.

We leave the room and step into a quieter, more private space. I finally turn around to walk properly when Jude pulls me back, stopping me from crashing into a cabinet. A drink cabinet, to be exact—lucky me.

I kneel, retrieve her favorite bottle, and stash a couple of juice boxes in my pocket for good measure.

"What did you take?" she asks, as I stand and take her hand again. I ignore the question and start heading for the exit, but something stops me at the door.

I can hear the faint sound of the revel’s musicians outside.

"Wife, I have no heart for the party," I confess. I should. I’m the one who arranged it, after all. But ever since I woke from that nightmare earlier, the night has felt off. The party’s in full swing now, and there’s no undoing that, but there is another option—this quiet moment away from it all.

Jude looks at me with those soft, caring eyes—eyes I didn’t even know she had until a few months ago, when we finally dropped our armor around each other.

"Husband," she says, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek. I cherish these rare moments of tenderness from her, treasuring every one. "May I remind you that you’re the High King? If you don’t want to go, then don’t."

I smile, handing her the juice box I’d stashed away. As we both open our drinks, I continue, "And since you’re the queen—"

"The High Queen," she corrects me, smirking over her straw.

I laugh. "Yes, sorry, the High Queen. And since you’re the High Queen, you get to decide what we do instead of going to the party."

She bites her lip, pretending to think about it. "I want..." she says, trailing off as if I should already know.

"Mmm," she grins, and I grin back. I know that look all too well.

"That's what you want?" I ask, watching her expression closely. She nods, and I can’t help but smile wider as I start walking with her again.

"Why are you so happy about it?" she asks, feigning mockery. "I thought you hated Duarte’s poker."

Wait—what?

"Poker?" I repeat, incredulous. "That’s what you want to do? Again?" I sigh, shaking my head. "I thought—never mind."

But she starts laughing—full, unrestrained laughter—and I can’t help but smile too, even though I try not to.

"Okay, love, stop. It’s not that funny," I say, my attempt at a serious face failing miserably.

"You’re funny," she says, though I know she means I’m ridiculous, not amusing. "Sorry," she adds, raising an apologetic hand as her laughter dies down into a smile.

I stare at her with exaggerated judgment, which only makes her chuckle more. "I do hate Duarte’s poker," I confess, though she already knows that. "But I find it funny how terrible you are at cheating when you steal and hide cards."

"Hey! That’s not true." Jude pretends to be offended. "You really think I’m bad at it? No one’s noticed."

I laugh, pulling her closer by the waist. "Well—" I pause, reaching into the secret pocket in her dress and pulling out a hidden card. "I noticed."

She gasps, smirking. "Are you always watching me like a creep?"

"No," I say, caressing her cheek. "Not like a creep."

She grins, pulling out yet another hidden card from a pocket I didn’t even know existed. This one is the king of hearts.

"You," I say, staring down at her in amused disbelief.

"Yes," she admits with a satisfied smirk. "I stole this one too."

Of course she did. And the irony—that she once again holds the king of hearts—makes me smile like an idiot.

-Characters by Holly Black