Hello! I’m Blue, she/her, probably Older Than You.
I write fic sometimes! You can find it under my fic tag. My longer fic is also cross posted on my ao3! Find me at TheBluestBluebird over there.
I also reblog a lot of stuff. Mostly Descendants, but sometimes also classic Disney, Twisted Wonderland, and other DCOMS.
I am old. I was on livejournal. I don’t believe in policing what other people read or write. I do write about dicks sometimes, so please mind the tags/notes if that’s something you don’t want to read. I try to warn appropriately, but drop me a line if you think I’ve missed something and I’m happy to add warnings.
the direct-to-tumblr sequel to Ambiguously Bisexual Flirting Time.
"Hey, Evie?"
It's one in the morning.
Icy fingers ghost over Evie's exposed hand. It's already the end of September, but Auradon is so warm compared to the Isle that she'd dared to sleep without gloves on.
"Eves?"
She pulls her hands in tighter. She's asleep. She's sound asleep and she's just dreaming about being woken up.
"I know you're up. How d'you know when someone's flirting?"
Oh. Well, if there's gossip to be had, she could wake up just a little bit.
"Hmmmm?" Evie mumbles. She'll wake up, really. It's just that her eyes feel so nice and comfortable closed like this, and it seems terribly unladylike to pry them open while they're resting so sweetly.
The icy fingers are back, and this time they're jabbing at the gaps in between her curlers.
"Evieeeee," Carlos whines. "Wake up. Mal's in my bed, so I neeeeeed you to get up and let me in yours."
Evie yawns, and is rewarded with some dirty fingers in her mouth.
She bites down.
"OW!"
"Serves you right," she yawns. "Try that again and I'll bite them off. Who are you flirting with?"
"Nobody."
"Mhm. Liar."
"Well, yeah. Can I get in with you?"
Evie rolls over to release the corner of her covers, and is immediately rewarded with a bundle of bony knees and elbows crawling under her blanket.
"We'll be in trouble if we're caught," she whispers, opening her arms so that Carlos can pillow his head in the gap. They know how to sleep together. It's different now, with a full size mattress to cuddle on and a dorm room that's all their own, but their bodies still fit together just the same. "You'll get a lecture about my wanton ways. How I'm leading you on a path of sin and wickedness. You'll have to resist my feminine wiles."
"I don't like girls."
Evie giggles. "I know. Your head is in my tits."
"Tits are nice," Carlos says softly, speaking mostly to her right breast. "I'm gay, not blind. I know you're pretty."
Evie pats at his head until he lays it all the way down. Cuddling is a lot nicer now that he doesn't smell like an ashtray all the time. Showers and a school-wide ban on cigarettes have done wonders for his overall hygiene. Also, the barrier between him and his mother. She still doesn't know if he actually smoked, or if the smell was just a consequence of living in Hell Hall. "But you don't know when somebody's flirting with you?"
"Don't make fun of meeee..."
"You're the one who brought it up. Who do you want to flirt with?"
"No one. It's dumb. I don't wanna talk about it anymore."
"Baby."
"You're so mean," Carlos grumbles. "Just 'cause I'm the youngest. You all think I'm a kid."
This boy, honestly. Evie strokes her hands through his hair until it's mostly out of her mouth. "I'm not insulting you. It's a pet name. Tell me all your flirting woes, baby."
Carlos sighs.
"....if a guy takes you out in the woods and uh, calls you a good boy, that's flirting, right?"
THIS.
BOY.
Evie squeezes him in tight so he can't run away. She's the expert on feelings, and she knows that Carlos prefers to avoid his until there's no other choice. She's great at holding on to her crew and forcing them to confront their feelings. She's done it for Mal too, when they were trying to figure out how to navigate her breakup with a minimum of bloodshed. She's great at this part.
"Well, in a totally theoretical sense, assuming this didn't actually happen, and it's just an if it were going to happen, yes. That would be flirting."
His head thumps down on her shoulder. "Great. Cool. Fabulous."
She already knows, but the first rule of gossip is to never reveal what you know, so she asks anyway. "Who was it?"
"I don't wanna talk about it?" Carlos says, but his voice tips up at the end, all wobbly. They don't talk about feelings, but this is him asking for her to pry. The waver is an opening in the oyster shell around his heart, and oh, Evie's got a knife.
Designed this cap-sleeved stunner for Mal’s first major press conference as a princess. Cameras flashing, reporters shouting chaos, but make it couture. This dress was made to catch the light and command the room.
Details fit for a dragon queen:
Embroidered lace at the collar, because royalty should never be boring
Hand-sewn rectangular sequins = shimmer with every step
Embroidered ribbon at the waist to cinch that silhouette just right
INVISIBLE HEELS (yes, really) clear straps so the gold ornamental dragons on the toes steal the show
She looked fierce, flawless, and totally in control. That’s the real power of a good dress: it doesn’t just change how the world sees you it reminds you who you are.
So when it came time to design this dreamy dress, I went full ethereal. Think: delicate white fabric + clear sequins with an iridescent shimmer. The result? A soft pop of rainbow that brings the magic without screaming for attention.
STYLE TIP:
The all-white look isn’t just for formal nights in the castle. You can totally rock it with a crisp white blouse and jeans, or some tailored white shorts. Mixing white and cream? Yes, please.
BONUS:
Add a bright heel or flat for a little pop of color (think fairy wings meets fashion week).
Because sometimes, the fairest look of all… is just wearing white like you own the throne.
Something I think is really interesting in especially as storied and archetype-laden a genre as classical fantasy is the oddity created by ostensibly counterpart archetypes that are not handled the same way. That’s a bit of a heavy statement so let me explain.
Imagine Prince Charming. We know this character so well we usually make fun of him. But briefly, discard all irony and return to the core of the character: gleaming and debonair, elegantly mannered but of fiery passion, duelist and romantic and impeccably dressed. If possessed of a vice, may be arrogant, but come on, if you’re Prince Charming, you know you’re hot stuff.
Prince Charming is usually presented as the male equivalent to the female Noble Princess- but the truth is, these characters are not the same. They may have qualities in common, but they are handled and utilized differently in stories.
This may have a frustrating root- because of assumptions made about men and women, what a woman should be and what a man ought to aspire to- but it need not be only taken as a frustrating bug in the system. Archetypes, after all, only exist meaningfully in fiction as ingredients on the chef’s table. Some of them might nauseate, but others are perfectly good, if you just trim off some bits and mix them up with new friends.
Imagine, with no jokes or subversions, a female prince charming. Gleaming smile, court mannerisms, gold brocade and tailored historical suits with a fencing rapier and a wit just as quick, impeccable hair and understated jewelry, possibly dressing ‘down’ as a conspicuously stylish hunter or wayfarer to get some adventuring on but she’ll do just a nicely in her fancy doublet and white gloves.
And likewise, imagine without mockery, a male princess; soft-spoken, sheltered but wise, compassionate and mystical, beloved by his people, earnest and profound in his desire to help. Precious, vulnerable, and yet compelled with the bravery to move mountains and challenge boundaries, wrapped in airy and shimmering layers that give him an ethereal or ghostly sort of presence, bare or slipper-shod feet that grace the earth untarnished.
Because if the truth is we think different things about ‘a king’ as opposed to ‘a queen’, if the Empress and Emperor in tarot have different meanings, and we take that together with the truth that men and women can be, and are, anything within the bounds of human capability and even beyond that in the land of fiction- then you can get a lot of intrigue out of tropes you might think are too tired to play straight merely by reminding yourself that an evil wizard and a wicked witch are not the same archetype… and nobody said a wicked witch HAS to be a woman.
(Now, this is a lot of fun, but it is also worth being careful about! You may have to rethink stuff while mixing up your character archetypes like this- it can’t necessarily be a total cut-and-paste job. Always make sure when rehoming your tropes that you are careful they play nicely with your character’s other qualities- or, play badly in a way that is significant and done on purpose.)
Hey so at least in the Descendants universe do you think Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather told everyone that Maleficent was the one that sent everyone else into a hundred year sleep
(At least cuz Audrey makes an aside to Queen Leah to stay away for Mal “unless she wants to take another hundred year nap” which to me inherently implies they think Maleficent did that to everyone)
⊹ How do they treat people who can't do anything for them? Waitstaff? strangers? people they'll never see again? this is the oldest trick in the book for a reason. It works. How someone behaves toward people with no social utility tells you everything about their actual values versus the values they perform for an audience.
⊹ What's their relationship with their own body? Are they comfortable in it or is it something they carry around like a problem? do they take up space or make themselves small? are they aware of how they look or completely indifferent? Physicality is psychology and most writers forget the body entirely until someone needs to throw a punch.
⊹ What do they lie about and why. Not dramatic plot lies necessarily. the small everyday ones. the things they exaggerate or omit or reframe. Because people don't lie randomly, they lie to protect something. Find what your character is protecting and you'll find what they're afraid of. That fear is the ENGINE!!
⊹ Who did they used to be? not their whole backstory. just: who were they before the thing that changed them. because that person is still in there somewhere, showing up in small ways, wanting things the current version of them would never admit to. The ghost of a former self is one of the most interesting things you can write into a character without ever stating it directly.
⊹ What would make them walk away?? from the goal. from the relationship. from the person they're trying to be. everyone has a breaking point and it should be specific to them, and please not a generic "too much" but the exact thing, the particular betrayal or loss or realisation that would finally be enough. know this even if the story never reaches it.
⊹ What do they love that has nothing to do with the plot?? a specific kind of light in the afternoon. the smell of old paperback books. bad television they watch without apology. something small that belongs only to them. details like this cost you nothing and they make the reader believe in a person completely. characters who only care about plot-relevant things are not people. they're chess pieces. sorry not sorry.
two Hooklets, deeply confused at the circumstances they have found themselves in, and one CJ!
I think it’s very reasonable to assume that CJ was dragged around and treated like a pet until she was old enough to protest the treatment. I’ve known enough large farming families that I can vividly remember the older kids slinging the younger ones around like some particularly heavy stuffed animals. Who needs a baby doll when you have a baby sister to dress up and drag around??
That being said, I think Harriet used to stuff CJ in a backpack and bring her to school, like, all the time. She’s her special little dolly. Her weighted blanket who sleeps on her head. Her perfect baby sister who will wear whatever stupid thing she dresses her up in, even if that thing is a pile of seaweed.
