#jude jabbers

[xxblairexxss]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Upcoming short blurb + social media au!

༊*·˚ Jibber-jabber (Mason Mount x reader)

In which you pulled a prank on Mason by talking gibberish and jumping from topic to topic to see if he would get annoyed.

༊*·˚ Prime (Jude Bellingham x reader)

In which you invited Jude to your sister’s housewarming party and he played football with your nephew but he ended up crying because Jude wouldn’t give him the ball.

[neon-nuisance]

EMERGENCY ETSY SALE BC MY INSURANCE SUCKS ASS

SO! my insurance is refusing to cover therapy since i switched, despite being told id be covered. So i now owe $200USD! im going to be doing a 25% discount on etsy, if you could rb this and help me out, its mean a lot! use coupon 'EMERGENCY' at checkout!’

[anonniemousefics]

The Nine Terrifying Moons | Chapter Three

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Synopsis: Based on the response to this post. :) Jude’s not sure what she expected motherhood to be like, but it isn’t this.  

(SO MUCH FLUFF HERE. Really. Just. The fluffiest. I can’t help myself.)

Chapter Three: The Third

I think maybe I am meant to be a cautionary tale, not a happy ending.

I think that someone who has manipulated and lied and schemed as much as I have is destined only for tragedy.

And now it’s finally come for me.

I think this over and over again, like a spell I’m chanting to grant myself some measure of grim acceptance, while Cardan and I ride a ragwort horse all the way to the mortal realm. It’s the best course of action we can come up with in the moment of panic.

The moment I knew we were facing a potentially devastating complication, I wanted – no, needed – a human doctor.

Pregnancy is rare among the Folk, and I now find I’m not interested in trusting faerie midwives with a decidedly human condition. If there is something wrong with me, or with our baby, I want to know what it is, everything about it. I don’t trust anyone who might want to strike a deal for my child’s wellbeing or concoct some potion that, while saving the pregnancy, also gives our baby a third eye or snaggle-teeth or an appetite for blood. I’m also having flashbacks of a conversation long ago with Oriana, when she divulged details of Oak’s horrific birth. How there’d been complications that had cost Liriope her life. How Oriana herself had carved the baby out of her friend’s stomach.

I shudder hard at the recollection and press my cheek hard against Cardan’s back as we ride, my face between his shoulder blades. Hard pass. On every bit of that. Just – one massive hard pass. We are finding a real doctor.

Cardan didn’t even argue. Though he insisted it was time to tell The Court of Shadows, if only for safety reasons while we made an unannounced, unplanned emergency run to the mortal realm.

Nothing goes like either of us had hoped. There are no tears of joy. There are only tight, grim expressions and tense words while plans are made. How we will prevent our enemies from learning of the child and our absence. How we will remain protected while among mortals.

I have hardly a word of help to offer, and that alone is horrifying. I have always schemed and survived – it’s what I am. But there, instead, I can only sit with a hand at my flat stomach, my sole focus on willing this little rebel in me to hear her mother’s first command.

Don’t go. Please. I love you.

Please stay.

Please.

I’ve resented this for weeks, and now I’m begging for the nausea, the aches, the exhaustion to stay – all of it. Any reassurance that I’m not losing this newfound love before I’ve even really gotten to know it.

But I also wonder if I should just accept fate. I have always felt from the beginning that I did not deserve this. That I am stealing a happiness that I have not earned.

“How are you faring?” Cardan asks me over his shoulder, the whine of the wind in my ears. We’re somewhere over the sea, jostled by the roll of the ragwort horse’s gallop beneath us.

“The same,” I answer. Sick. Dizzy. Terrified of what comes next. Unconsciously, I grip his body to mine harder. He’s tense, every muscle on edge. This is unlike any journey we’ve made yet. There’s nothing to fight, and still everything to lose.

“Nearly there,” says Cardan, but it sounds like he’s saying it more for his own benefit. He hates the journey over the sea, the precariousness of ragwort horse travel. I’m not in any state to offer reassurances, or even tease him to lighten the mood.

Sure enough, the clouds part, and the city lights along the coast of Maine wink up at us. It’s evening, and dark beneath a heavy rain cloud, and as soon as we’re low enough, we’re being pelted with sheets of rain. By the time the ragwort horse alights its oaken-hooves on the pavement, Cardan and I are both soaked to the skin.

We dismount, invisible beneath a glamour, at the far end of a hospital parking lot. The sign at the entrance glows with a red cross and the name, Down East Community Hospital. It was the best I could think of to do at a moment’s notice: instruct the ragwort horse to find us an emergency room.

I wrap my arms around myself as Cardan holds out a hand to gather up the horse. The leaves of its mane and the bark-like coat of its body begin to curl in on itself, like a plant rolling in on itself for the night. A moment later, it’s only a few leafy twigs that Cardan can hide in his pocket.

We both look absurd, and I’m just now realizing it. We look like we’ve just run out of a community theatre dress rehearsal for a low-budget melodrama. Cardan’s tried to dress down, but he’s still Cardan, and he’s wearing tight black trousers and tall boots over his calves. He’s thrown one of the zip-up hoodies I keep in my wardrobe for trips to the mortal realm over a loose white shirt. He also must have been feeling particularly festive this morning after last night’s romp, and he’d gone and added a bit of kohl to his eyes before I’d woken up and shit hit the fan. And he’s still wearing gold rings all over his fingers and in his pointed ears. Combined with his soaked, inky hair, he looks a bit like a member of an 80’s rock cover band who’s recovering from being pushed into a pool.

It’s kind of nice. He rarely looks a mess. It makes me feel like we’re in this together, at least.

For my part, I didn’t let Tatterfell braid my auburn hair today, and now it’s just long and windblown, so I’ve tried to pull it all to one side to keep it managed. I’m wearing a simple pair of brown trousers with little silken flats that were my least flashy pair of shoes. I’ve got a shirt and olive-colored vest on beneath a hoodie similar to Cardan’s that was supposed to keep me warm, but now it’s sopping wet.

We both pulls the hoods on our sweatshirts up over our heads as we make a mad dash for the automatic sliding doors of the ER, racing against the onslaught of rain. Once we’re inside the vestibule between sliding doors, I stop a moment to grab Cardan’s arm and gather myself. He puts a bejeweled hand over mine, his expression tightened in concern.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confess, breathless. Hospitals, emergency rooms, doctors. It’s all foreign to me.

“I’ve done it even less.” Cardan’s looking more pale by the minute. The rising terror in both of us is palpable.

“I should call Vivi,” I spout, and Cardan’s nodding furiously in agreement, for once graciously not pointing out how he’s been saying this very thing for weeks.

But when I look around, there’s not a phone in sight. There’s only a poorly lit waiting room on the other side of the glass vestibule, and bored-looking nurses waiting at intake windows. Shit. Shit. How do mortals do this? How to they get treatments for mortal ailments and weaknesses and not fall to pieces fretting over their inherent, inevitable vulnerability in the process?

Suddenly, the surety of immortality is looking rather cowardly by comparison.

“Maybe one of the nurses will let me commandeer a phone,” I mutter, and I let my fingers slide from Cardan’s arm to his hand. My palm is starting to sweat when he laces our fingers together, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The glass door to the waiting room slides with a hissing whisper, and inside there are people crowded in the cheap chairs lining the walls. Somewhere, a toddler is wailing out of sheer boredom while the evening news anchors jabber on a TV mounted in the far corner above a potted plant. Cardan’s already drawing stares with his ominous, messy appearance. He found a beanie in the pocket of the sweatshirt to cover the pointed tips of his ears, but there’s still kohl streaking his prominent cheekbones. I’m gonna need to clean him up at some point.

Right now, all I’m focused on is slipping into the first open intake seat and figuring out how in the hell I’m going to see a doctor for the first time in my mortal life. I am going to be brave. I have trained for nothing less.

“Hi, how can we help you today?” says a warm-looking middle-aged nurse behind the desk. She has short grey hair and floral scrubs, and a pair of readers perched on the bridge of her nose. Her badge says her name is Josie.

“Um.” My mouth feels dry, but I push on anyway. “I am—I am pregnant, and, um, I’m having some…” I draw in a shaking breath. Why is this so hard? “Some bleeding. I think I need to see a doctor right away.”

“Of course, honey,” Josie says, and peers over her readers. “Have you spoken with your OB?”

“I don’t have one,” I shake my head, my face starting to flush as Josie’s concern increases. I’ve never felt like I belonged in the mortal realm, and it’s never felt more apparent that I’m an outsider.

“Okaaay,” Josie says, slowly, adjusting her readers as she turns to her computer. “Let’s get you registered. Name?”

I hesitate again. I’ve never given my name in any sort of official capacity here among mortals. Especially not since I’d gotten married. What do I want to be called?

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar,” I hear myself answer. From the chair beside me, Cardan titters a little amused laugh to himself and then bites it back when I shoot him a look. He likes the sound of it, too.

“Okaaay,” Josie says again, pecking at her keyboard. “I’m gonna need you to spell that for me, honey.”

I appall Josie further as the registration process yields the fact that I have neither a driver’s license nor an insurance card. With each of Josie’s judgmental sighs, I can sense Cardan stiffening with repressed irritation next to me, and it’s only stressing me out more. I should have had a talk with him first about promising not to curse anyone. I’m half-expecting Josie to sprout cat ears at any minute.

“While we can’t legally decline services based on insurance,” Josie says, doing little to suppress her concern, “I will need you to sign this agreement that says you understand that, since you are not presenting insurance today, you will be personally responsible for the entire cost of today’s visit.” And she shifts a clipboard toward me.

“Oh, look, love,” Cardan suddenly chimes in. He slides a wet leaf from his pocket across the registration desk as his voice takes on the heady, dangerous quality of magic. He’s conjuring a glamour. “I think you can see all of the insurance information you require here.”

“Oh, good, you found your card!” Josie exclaims, delighted, as she takes the leaf and begins happily clacking away at her keyboard.

“Do not get carried away,” I hiss at Cardan while Josie’s distracted. “That should be a one time thing.”

But Cardan just slits his kohl-lined eyes at me, looking like the smug bastard he’s always been, and leans an elbow on the registration desk, throwing Josie a coy smile. The glamour in his voice when he speaks again is just as sinfully seductive.

“And Josie, my sweet,” he says, “you’ll let my wife borrow your phone to speak with her sister, won’t you, dearest?”

“Of course, Mr. Greenbriar,” Josie replies, with the charmed-sweet smile of the glamoured. She shifts her desk phone to me, handing me the handset. “Just press nine for outgoing calls, honey,” she tells me.

I’m frowning at Cardan’s wicked smirk as I accept the phone.

“I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” I whisper to him while Josie types away. He grins at me. I don’t really want to admit that he’s just been pretty useful, and he knows it.

Regardless of how ill-gotten this privilege is, I do need Vivi. I dial her cell phone, one of two numbers I know, and wait while it rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“She might be screening her calls,” I say to Josie, sheepishly. “Her father is…” Oh, how to describe what Madoc is like these days. “…over-bearing and tricky.” And I hang up and try again. Josie gives a tight, uncomfortable smile, peering over her readers.

“You are not concerned about how unusual this is,” Cardan tells her, the glamour dripping off his voice, and I smack his arm to get him to stop. Josie settles again as the phone keeps ringing.

I have to hang up and dial two more times before Vivi finally picks up. She sounds irritated when she answers.

“Vivi, this is Jude,” I say, slumping in relief that she’s finally answered.

“Jude? Seriously? What?” The annoyance in her voice vanishes as she’s scrambling to understand. “You’re calling me? Where are you? Are you ok?”

“I’m at the Down East Community Hospital emergency room,” I say. “Can you come?”

“Oh, my God.” It sounds like Vivi’s suddenly frantically looking for her keys. “Yes, I’m coming. I’ll be there. Why are you there? What’s going on?”

“It’s a lot to explain over the phone,” I say, slowly, white-knuckling the handset. “I’m ok, and Cardan’s here, but I just really need you.” I hate it more than anything, but I can’t keep the frightened younger sister out of my voice now that I’m actually talking to Vivi about this. The first rush of relief hits me when Vivi replies without hesitation:

“Ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’m on my way.”

I let out a long breath as I hand the phone back to Josie.

“The nurse will call you back when they’re ready for you,” says Josie, and gestures to the crowded waiting room. “Have a seat.”

“Or--” Cardan starts, leaning forward, and I know he’s about to throw out another glamour to speed things along. In the blink of an eye, I clap a hand over his mouth before he can say another word.

“Thank you,” I tell Josie, through a gritted smile, and urge Cardan to move along.

“Your moral stance on glamours ought to have a loophole where our child is concerned,” Cardan gripes as we shuffle to the nearest available two chairs.

“You Folk are like addicts with glamours,” I snap back as we take a seat. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“I believe I’ve proven myself capable of great restraint,” Cardan says, looking miffed for a moment until a People magazine on a nearby table catches his eye and his curiosity of mortals gets the better of him.

He has the right idea, I think. Distraction would be the key to getting my mind off the blood and not falling apart right now. I’ve done everything I can at this point, and now we must wait.

I busy myself for a moment by wrapping the cuff of my sleeve over my fingers and wiping off the rain-splattered streaks of kohl off Cardan’s face, so that the father of my child looks less like the troubled D-list celebrities his People magazine is trashing. He’s not drawing any less attention, but there’s not much either of us can do about that. If you’re not accustomed to the allure of the Folk, it’s nigh impossible to not stare and stare and try to decipher what it is about them that’s so otherworldly. But at least now they’re staring for the right reasons and not at his ruined eyeliner.

With nothing more at arm’s length to distract me, I rest my head against the wallpaper behind me and let my vision go unfocused in the general direction of the TV in the corner. I don’t want to think about the whining toddler in the room, who’s mad at his mother for not bringing the right stuffed animal with them to the hospital. What would I do with a half-human child in Faerie who fell ill or wounded? What would we do? Would the land let Cardan heal him? Would we have to make this journey again? What if I forgot the right stuffed animal, too??

Amazing that I’m suddenly assuming this child is going to survive whatever’s happening now, I realize, and this worry spiral is helping no one.

Once upon a time, I’d been the girl determined to become a thing feared. What has happened inside me, that I’m now this terrified woman? I hate it. I hate it, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“You’re not afraid of that everything will change?” I remember asking Cardan, three moons ago. I had thrown out the last of my birth control that day. We’d snuck away from a revel to lie beneath the massive tree that grew out of the top of the palace of Elfhame, staring at the stars above and dreaming of what they could hold.

Cardan looked to me, his hands behind his head in the loam, his crown slightly askew. He smiled, and the moonlight made him almost too beautiful to bear.

“I cherish every change you’ve ever brought me, Jude,” he said, and he stretched out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers softly lingering at its rounded edges. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“You’ve not always felt so gracious about the changes I’ve foisted upon you,” I pointed out. “And you don’t get to exile me now if my parenting pisses you off.”

I’m not sure what I thought he’d think of such a statement, but it was out in the night air anyway. His gold-rimmed eyes darkened as he pulled his hand back, folding it over his chest. I watched him as he stared up at the stars again, waiting for his response, and with each second, regret began to sink in.

“I consider myself fairly thick-skinned,” he said at last, “but that was uncalled for.”

“I was teasing--” I started, but he shot me a dark look.

“There was a measure of truth in your voice,” he countered. “You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”

“I don’t see what you’re so put out about,” I huffed, pulling back to glare at the night sky. “You weren’t the one living in exile.”

“Not this again,” Cardan groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Five years, Jude. It’s been five years,” he sighed into his palms.

“And now we’re discussing children, and it’s a very large and potentially aggravating change,” I said. “Maybe I am a little wary.”

“Of me?” The moment I saw the unguarded devastation on Cardan’s face, it was like I’d slapped him, and not in the fun way. I wanted to be swallowed down by the loam, covered in a grassy grave. Everything about this was awful. I wanted children with this man. Why was I dredging up ancient history?

But Cardan had been right. There’d been a measure of truth to it. It’s been a deliriously wonderful five years, but we are not entirely new people. We have a terrible past. And I feared what demons a significant change like this could summon.

When I didn’t answer right away, Cardan sat up so his back was to me, burying his head in his hands.

“Cardan…” I shifted so that I was propped up on my hands.

“What else can I give you to make this right?” he fretted to the ground in front of him. “I have given you everything. Every part of me, everything you see before you. It was wrong for both of us to take our games as far as we did, but I would have thought by now--”

“It was an off-handed comment made in poor taste.” I wanted to put a stop to everything that was happening. Rewind the whole evening.

Instead, he looked over his shoulder at me, visibly aching.

“I will not be like my father. I refuse it,” he retorted, and when I cocked my head to the side, not understanding, he went on. “Eldred collected consorts and sired children the way some people curate shoes: to suit his vanity. And I have that in spades already; there’s no need to spawn more. What I would want for a child, more than anything, is to not know what it is to grow up as an accessory. To not fear that his mother will be discarded. Jude, if you cannot trust so little of me, then this is poorly timed. Perhaps we need another five years. Or ten. Or however long you require.”

I sat up and scooted next to him, tucking my chin against his shoulder.

“I trust you,” I assured him in a whisper, and, as if he couldn’t help it, his eyes closed as he leaned his head towards mine. He smelled like oakwood and leather, like everything I’ve ever wanted. “I would not still be with you if I did not trust you.”

I wanted to push back the thick curls from his forehead, and so I did. And held my palm against his jaw as I leaned my forehead to his while the stars twinkled overhead.

Five years later, and sometimes we’re still finding little bits of armor that need to come off. For me, becoming a fearsome thing is not an option for handling motherhood, just as Cardan refuses to mirror his father’s vanity. But when I take off this bit of armor, this need to be feared and respected, it feels as if there is nothing underneath yet. Only vulnerability. Only terror.

I think of it now, in the ER waiting room of the Down East Community Hospital, while I snake my arm through his, looking at him while he’s ogling People magazine. He looks a mess, and there is no one I trust more. I’m still not convinced we’re shining examples of excellent would-be parents. But I’m afraid and vulnerable in the worst ways, and there’s no one I’d rather see me through it.

“Eldred would never have done something like this for any of his consorts,” I point out to him in a whisper, and he looks back at me with a pleased smirk.

“You are my wife,” he indicates, and gives my cold knuckles a swift kiss before turning back to whatever filth is engrossing him in People.

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar?” There’s a nurse at the emergency room door calling my name. I draw in a breath. Here we go.

The nurse in blue scrubs takes my vitals and makes us somewhat comfortable in a makeshift space where we’re surrounded by taupe-colored curtains on three sides while I wait on a hospital bed. There’s a squeaky grey plastic chair for Cardan to sit on, and no more TV or People magazine – just the assurance that a doctor will see me soon. And then we’re left with our dread to stare at the taupe curtains around us, listening to the squeak of hurried shoe soles against linoleum and the occasional beeping of hospital pagers. The air is acrid, like someone’s tried to scrub it clean, and it’s making my stomach lurch. It must show on my face as I swallow hard against the rising bile, because Cardan swiftly hands me a blue plastic barf bag that the nurse has left him in charge of. He’s wary of my empty threats to aim for his shoes.

“Jude, are you decent?” calls a voice from the other side of the curtain. “You have visitors.”

The curtains scrape against their tracks on the ceiling, and I can’t hold back a relief grin at the sight of Vivi and Heather.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” It’s all Vivi can say as she sweeps in to wrap me in a hug.

“Hey,” Heather graciously greets Cardan while the two are awkward to the side. She’s looking effortlessly cool, with her shoulder-length pink hair in soft waves. She has holes in her jeans in all the right places, and she’s wearing a breezy, colorful boho top that shows off her brown shoulders. I try to give her a wave while Vivi is squeezing the life out of me.

“What are you doing here?” Vivi demands when she pulls away, holding me by the shoulders. She’s given her golden hair a short, edgey chop that almost hides the pointed tips of her half-fae ears when it falls the right way. She tends to favor t-shirts and jeans, but today she’s in tight black pants and a grey v-neck under a jacket, and I’m hoping I haven’t interrupted a date.

“Well.” I shift a glance between the two of them, simultaneously gladdened that they’re here and nervous with how I now I have break the news. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out…” And then Vivi gasps.

“Are you pregnant?!” she squeaks.

“Oh, my God, V,” Heather rolls her eyes. “You can’t ask people if they’re pregnant.”

“She’s right, though,” I interject. “I am.”

“Jude!” Vivi exclaims, fondly, and takes my face in her hands, and, for a brief moment, I realize this is all I’ve been wanting for weeks. I grin, sheepishly. Then Vivi narrows her cat-like eyes at Cardan.

“You knocked up my sister?” she jabs.

“Bold of you to assume it’s mine,” he quips back, and Vivi feigns a disgusted gasp as throw the empty barf bag at him.

“Force of habit,” Cardan tells Heather with a shrug.

“Congratulations, Cardan,” Heather replies, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“But why are you here?” Vivi turns to me again. “Does Taryn know? Does Madoc?”

“No on both counts,” I shake my head. “It’s early. And we’re here because--” Ugh, I hate this. I hate this. “I started bleeding.”

“Oh, no.” Heather’s face is etched with genuine concern. It’s been a roller coaster of a few minutes.

“But why are you here?” Vivi tries again, and I see what she’s getting at. Why not be seen to by the royal midwives?

“I’m mortal,” I say, quietly. “This is a mortal thing. I felt like I needed a mortal doctor.”

And Vivi takes my face in her hands.

“I completely, one-hundred-percent agree,” she says, whole-heartedly, and there’s relief there, too. She’s always wanted me to spend more time in the mortal realm.

We crowd around the hospital bed for a while to catch up. Heather makes a run to the vending machine to bring back some snacks, and soon the tightness in my chest is releasing and unwinding. This was the distraction I needed. For a few minutes there, I could almost forget what had brought us to this weird, curtained-off corner to begin with.

But then the curtain scrape on the track again. There’s an orderly waiting there in blue scrubs, pushing a wheelchair.

“They’re ready for you in ultrasound now, Jude,” he tells me, and indicates that I’m supposed to ride in the chair. I bristle at the gesture. I’m not sure of the last time I’ve been asked to do something so vulnerable and humiliating. I am not ill. I don’t need this.

Vivi notices and puts a hand at my arm.

“It’s just standard hospital procedure, Jude,” she says, in her tone of voice she uses to convince Oak to eat vegetables.

So I comply. Heather and Vivi tell us they’ll wait for us to get back, and then we’re off. Cardan follows the orderly, and every once and awhile, I hear him having to jog to catch up – he’s easily distracted by what all the mortals are up to in this place.

I’m wheeled into a dark room with an exam table. Next to it is a bunch of strange equipment I’ve never seen before – screens and wands and all sort of buttons. A technician waits for us there, a woman in pink scrubs with a badge that says her name is Brenna. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back tight against her scalp, and she has kind brown eyes that smile when she tells me to make myself comfortable on the exam table.

“And is this Dad?” Brenna wants to know, cheerfully waving Cardan in to have a seat on a grey plastic chair next to me.

“Not my dad,” I say, not understanding the question at first. Then it dawns on me. “I mean, he’s the father, yes. Of the baby.” Oh, my God. This is off to a great start. Cardan’s trying very hard to not laugh outright at me and failing miserably. His laugh comes out like one long snort.

“Happens all the time,” Brenna says, with another cheerful wave, which makes me wonder why she’s still asking it, then.

“First baby?” Brenna now wants to know, making small talk while she’s queuing up her equipment.

“First everything,” I reply, hoping that will explain my nerves. “First baby, first ultrasound, first try.”

“Oh.” Brenna sounds impressed and looks to Cardan as she wheels around in her swivel chair. “Nice shootin’, Tex,” she tells him, with a wink.

“Thank you, Brenna,” Cardan accepts graciously, puffing out his chest a little. I roll my eyes.

“This may be the only time I’m ever complimented on my marksmanship,” he tells me. “Let me have this moment.”

“All right!” Brenna interrupts. “Let’s see what you’re cookin’ in there, mama.”

She rolls up my shirt and tucks in some scratchy paper into my leggings. Then squirts some cold gel across my abdomen. I watch in fascination while she rolls her device over my stomach, and then she turns her screen to us.

“And here’s your little guy,” she says. “Or gal. Can’t tell yet, obviously.”

For a moment, time stops.

Next to me, Cardan draws in a breath.

Something squirmy and alive curls and stretches in the grainy black and white pixels of Brenna’s screen. It doesn’t look quite human. Or fae. It looks kind of alien, if I’m being honest. But I can see its tiny limbs and the outline of its perfectly round head, and it’s moving. Like a manic little seahorse, our little shrimp is bobbing all over the place, alive and well.

“Looking good,” Brenna says, and Cardan barks out a surprised laugh. I’m smiling so hard my face might break.  

“Oh, I was sure I’d stabbed it,” Cardan sighs in relief, slumping in his seat, and it’s my turn to laugh.

“That’s not actually possible,” Brenna tells him, and maybe now he’ll believe it. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicks and clacks at some buttons, then turns a knob. Pushes a little harder on my abdomen.

A fluttering, steady whooshing sound fills the speakers in the room. I don’t know when I grabbed Cardan’s hand, but I’m squeezing it hard now. I glance at him. He’s utterly transfixed on the screen, his dark eyes wide, his lips parted. He looks like how I feel when I’m in bearing witness to great and ancient magic.

This isn’t all vomit and exhaustion. This is happening. This is real.

We are making something new. Something entirely unique. Like magic.

“Ok, this might be your issue.” Brenna breaks the enchantment, zooming in on something dark on her screen. My heart, which moments before felt like it might burst, squeezes and contracts in panic now.

“This is a sub-chorionic hematoma,” she says, pointing to the screen and making some notes. “The doctor will explain all this to you.”

“What is it?” Cardan’s voice is tight, panic thinly-veiled. “Is it dangerous?”

“They’re pretty common,” says Brenna, not looking at us while she takes measurements and notes. Like she drops these kinds of bombs regularly. “It’s basically an accumulation of blood between the uterine wall and the fetal membrane. It can cause bleeding, especially as the baby gets bigger and jostles it around. They usually resolve without much issue.”

“Usually?” Cardan’s not assuaged.

“Well, again,” Brenna says, looking at him sidelong, “the doctor will read this and give his advice. But it can increase the risk of miscarriage in some cases. Not always, though. The doctor will tell you how he wants you to treat it, but it usually involves some bed rest or limited activity, nothing too strenuous or crazy. Don’t go horse-back riding!” And she laughs as if only a crazy person would get on a horse while pregnant.

I look to Cardan. He looks to me. It’s hit us at the same time.

The ragwort horse.

How the hell are we getting home?

“Huh.” I barely had time to digest my realization about the ragwort horse before Brenna was back with more. She swivels the device on my stomach around some more. Cocks her head to the side.

“Are either of you a twin?” she asks.

Cardan points at me like I’ve done something wrong he doesn’t want to be blamed for.

“Why?” I ask, slowly, cautiously.

“It does run in families,” Brenna says, and turns the screen to us again. “And I’m seeing two babies here.” She looks back at Cardan. “And on the first try, Tex,” she says, looking impressed again.

Now, nothing feels real. I think I might leave my body. There are two squirmy aliens in the black and white screen, the lazier of the two now floating into view. Brenna adjusts the knobs some more to bring the new heartbeat into focus, just as strong as the first.

“Jude.” I can’t decipher what Cardan’s feeling now. He looks unlike I’ve ever seen him before. Something between elation and sheer dread is warring between his wide eyes and furrowed brow. He grips at the beanie over his hair like he’s trying to keep his own head from flying off.

“Are you and your twin identical?” Brenna asks. I nod, stupidly.

“These, too,” she nods, and points at the screen. “See: they’re sharing a sac.” She draws in a deep breath. “This does elevate the risk more, with the hematoma. The doctor will go over all of this with you. But I’ll bet he’ll want you on some kind of bed rest. Weekly check-ups. That sort of thing.” And then she squints hard at the screen. “What is that?” she wonders aloud. “Is that a tail?”

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, but he’s so flustered and shell-shocked, he’s forgotten to use the glamour.

“I think I might, though.” Brenna squints harder.

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, louder and hurried, this time with the weight of magic heavy in his tone. “Everything you see looks normal to you.”

A glamoured smile flutters over Brenna’s pleasant features as she lifts the device from my belly and clicks off her equipment.

“Everything looks normal,” she hums, happily. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Everything but the hematoma, right?” I cock my head to the side as she rolls away her swivel chair. “The doctor will speak to us about that.”

“What hematoma?” Brenna’s still smiling as she stands with her clipboard. “Everything looks normal. I’m going to call an orderly, but pretty much you’re free to go. Congratulations!”

“Cardan,” I accuse under my breath as she leaves, leveling a glare at him.

“You are carrying twins.” He’s just agape at me, either unaware or unrattled by how the poor wording in his glamour just muddled everything.

“The doctor won’t know about the hematoma now!” I exclaim.

“We’ll scrounge up another one somewhere,” Cardan waves me off. “Jude. Twins.”

It’s not helping me feel any better, him saying it over and over again. I slump into my hands, weighted by disbelief and frustration. What am I going to do? This can’t possibly be real, can it?

“I am going to get so huge,” I moan into my palms in self-pity. I know it’s vain, but at the moment, it’s all I can think. In the land of willowy Folk, I already stick out like a sore thumb. Now I’m going to be a sore and massively swollen thumb.

Cardan’s shifted to stand in front of me on the exam table. And he runs his hands up and down my arms, almost reverent.

“You are magnificent,” he reassures me, softly, and presses a kiss against my head.

“Why are you not freaking out?” I ask, and pull him by the hoodie pockets so I can hug him again if I need it. I think I may need it. “This is two babies. We don’t even know Thing One about taking care of one baby, and now there will be two.”

“We may require a few more house cats,” Cardan jokes, and when I scowl, he asks, “That’s still not amusing? I shall persist. One of these days.”

“You know, I hear that’s a mortal fatherhood trait,” I point out. “Persisting over and over with the same unamusing joke to the embarrassment of everyone around you.” And I wrap my arms around his waist as I look up at him. He’s warm, and everything is a little more bearable when he’s close and smiling.

“I think you are implying that I’m excelling at fatherhood so far,” Cardan grins down at me, and I’m surprised to see it looks as if his gold-rimmed eyes are glistening.

“Are you all right?” I ask, softening at the sight. He blinks, furiously, as he buries his long fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close as he looks over my face.

“I just--” His voice is hoarse when he starts, so he clears it and tries again. “This is more than I ever dared to consider,” he says. “I did not dream that this kind of life would ever be an option for me. Family that looked after each other, that loved each other – that always seemed to me to be a strictly mortal gift. As if the Folk had bargained for everlasting life long ago and forsook all hope of familial love in the process. I had accepted that it wasn’t mine to have. But you.”

He shifts his hands so that he holds my face, and I feel swallowed by the adoration in his admission. All I can do is close my eyes as he holds me. I can think of nothing else when his nose brushes my forehead.

“I am overcome by all you have given me,” he whispers, and I think I might cry. My hands twist in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears.

“I love your words,” I whisper back, “but you give me too much credit.” I pull back to look at his mirthful, glistening eyes and say: “If it were left up to me, I would never have given you twins.”

He laughs outright, unguarded and thrilled.

“Lucky for me, then,” he says, and kisses me.

I have kissed him hundreds, maybe thousands of times. We have shared passionate, unbridled kisses and desperate, devouring kisses. We’ve kissed at quick partings, and we’ve kissed with soft, gentle comfort. I like everything about them all. But this is something entirely new, something that surprises me still. It’s filled with gratitude and promises and dreams of the future, and though it is intimate, I would not have felt ashamed if someone had walked in.

It’s the kiss of complete trust, and in that moment, I feel assured that, in Cardan, I have not made a mistake. There is much to figure out still. But this is right.

So, we will have twins. I will meet this challenge with resolve. For right now, anyway, the quantity of babies is the least of our concerns.

“How in the hell am I supposed to get home?” I ask, the moment we pull apart. Cardan rests his hands on my shoulders, screwing up his beautiful mouth in thought. The ragwort horse. The bed rest. The doctor we must scrounge up somewhere. There are a dozen new bullets swirling on a to-do list, and none of them lead us back to Faerie any time soon.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he confesses. “Which further complicates matters, because there is absolutely no chance that I am leaving you here.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I say, and press back a smile. “And also glad,” I add.

Cardan meets my smile with a little wicked smirk of his own.

“Is it time we scheme together once again?” he asks.

We cannot get home until this is resolved, and we cannot leave Faerie ungoverned. I have no idea where to even start on this problem.

But that’s certainly never stopped us before.

There’s a knock at the door. The orderly has arrived with the wheelchair to take us back to Vivi and Heather. I give Cardan a secret, knowing smile.

“I suppose it is,” I agree.

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

Tag list! Let me know if you’d like to be added: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @emmabookworm08, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, 

[booklover41802]

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic sequel where Cardan eventually wins back Jude’s love? The sequel to your Cardan finding Jude on a date and gets jealous fanfic?

Of course!! This was one of my favorite prompts to write. I absolutely love Jurdan with all my heart.

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Cardan

Day 1

With Jude’s return, Cardan had issued a revel be thrown in honor of their Queen. The folk had no objections, as they never passed up an opportunity to drink and party.

However, though his Jude had returned with him to Faerie, he had left bloodshed and heartbreak in his wake in his quest to bring her home. The consequences of his actions had not been worth what he had done to his love, who was his no longer. 

Cardan studied Jude on the throne next to his, noting the blank stare, and rigidity in her limbs. One would almost think she was a statue if she didn’t blink from time to time. Cardan was worried this state of being was permanent. There was no fire, no wicked triumph flickering through her stance. A blank nothingness now sat where his lively Jude had once resided. “Jude, darling, would you like to dance?” He’d asked her many things before, and she hadn’t responded, but perhaps this time…

He leaned forward and rested his fingers under his chin in mild contemplation. Jude’s chest slowly inhaled and exhaled, her stare fixed straight ahead on the revel that celebrated without the two of them. The briefest dance of pain shot across her brown eyes before that too vanished and was replaced by a vacant expression that she so often donned.

Cardan should give her space, after all, she did lose her mortal love due to his own pride. If only he had just listened to her and explained himself. Even given her an egregious declaration of love, perhaps things would be different. 

Then, just as he was about to resume his grumpy posture on the throne, she mechanically turned her head and whispered, “Not with you. Not again.” For a moment her hand came up and fingered the pearl necklace around her throat before once again facing the revel, as though she hadn’t just knocked the wind out of him.

Cardan didn’t quite know what to do. He was a terrible husband.

The revel shouted and danced and drank while he sunk further into his sorrows with each passing minute. Jude hated him, and he did not know how to live with that realization. A straggler stumbling past offered him a cup of wine, and he heartily gulped it down, hoping to drown out his thoughts.

Day 2

With a light knock, Cardan announced his arrival at Jude’s doors. She had been reinstated into her old chambers when she’d been seneschal, keeping the door locked at all times. The human heart was a fickle thing, yet he was sure it could be persuaded with an astounding declaration. Or was he the fool for not understanding the emotions of his love? 

As if to spare him from his conflicting thoughts, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Jude within. Dark circles coated the underside of her red eyes, indicating she hadn’t slept one bit. Despite her appearance, however, she was dressed in a high neck onyx dress. Lace appliques adorned the bodice and the sleeves of the gown. The only thing she needed now was a veil, and she’d be complete for a funeral. “What do you want?” Her voice was low, cold. 

He was not wanted here, that much he knew. He brought his hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I wanted to invite you on a stroll about the castle. Doing so day after day by myself is quite lonesome, wouldn’t you agree?”

The response he received was a spark of fire lighting her features, her gaze burning through him. It was almost like a warning that if he stepped any closer to the flames, he’d get burned by the heat. “It’s almost as lonesome as spending your entire life alone, wouldn’t you agree? Without a lover, life seems a bit empty, yes?”

He wasn’t stupid enough to suggest that they were lovers, and she needn’t look any farther for such things. It was his fault she was in this state of mind. “Of course. Perhaps we could share a meal later together if you are not up for a walk.”

“Perhaps.” The door proceeded to shut in his face, no definite answer given to him. Cardan sank down to the floor and rested his head against the wooden paneling. He was pathetic. He could run Faerie just fine, but when it came to Jude, he was lost. Maybe it would just be better for him to sit and wait outside her room until they were to eat. 

Just for a few minutes, he would wait. But he was awfully tired after getting no sleep last night. He would shut his eyes for a moment and then get back to work. A few minutes.... that’s all.

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He was startled awake when he seemed to fall backward for no apparent reason. The reason became clear as he lay on the floor of Jude’s room, the door clearly having been opened by her. Her mouth was open in an o shape, the most emotion he’d seen from her in days. He grinned ridiculously at her, causing the blank mask to once again fall into place. “You look beautiful,” he said, admiring the way the sun hit her eyes. They were a caramel glow against her smooth skin. 

“So I’ve been told.”

Quickly he slid into a standing position, casually leaning against the doorframe, acting as though he hadn’t fallen asleep outside her door. He had no idea how long he’d been out, and he felt too embarrassed to ask. “My dearest, Jude, I beseech you to accompany me to the dining hall.” For good measure, he sinuously bowed, smirking at her beneath lowered brows.

She released her grip on the door and backed away a few steps. “It’s only two in the afternoon.” 

“Ah...so it is.” This meant he had been sleeping for… four hours. Were his cheeks burning? He could feel a blush creeping up his face at the realization he’d fallen asleep outside his wife’s door for hours. What his advisors must think of the king who can’t stay away from his love. 

“Were you waiting outside my door this entire time?”

His eyes darted around the room, not wanting to meet her fierce gaze. “No. I-I got a lot of work done today. I didn’t fall asleep outside your door, no.”

Her forehead creased as she looked at him in confusion. “I didn’t say you fell asleep… did you?”

He checked his wrist, exclaiming, “Oh, look at the time, I have important things to do you know! The High King has time for no one.” She still looked so utterly bewildered that he blurted out, “Except you, of course, I’ll always make time for you. Good night!” And with that, he bolted out the door, leaving a trail of embarrassment behind him. “Idiot,” he murmured under his breath.

He walked very fast to his room after that, to avoid another awkward encounter. He didn’t trust himself to spout coherent thoughts at the moment.

Day 7

One week since Jude had returned with him to Faerie, and she still wore nothing other than black and gray, the colors of mourning. Was she mourning for the life she could have had, or for the boy who offered her his heart? Cardan could never give her safety and security like the boy could. There was nothing similar between the two of them, and Cardan was quite jealous over that.

He cut into his food a bit more savagely. “Are you planning to scowl like that all evening, your majesty?” At the sound of Nicasia’s voice cutting through the hall, he whipped his head into the air. Why was she here? She was interrupting a wonderful meal between him and Jude, even though they were seated on opposite ends of the table, and Jude hadn’t responded to him once. 

Nicasia’s strut through the wide, double doors radiated confidence, which is why Cardan was surprised when she practically fell on him. Her slim fingers roved against the fabric on his shoulders, inching her way up towards his face. “What are you doing here, Nicasia,” Cardan bit out, annoyed at her presence. 

She pouted, her eyes glittering with disappointment. “Is that any way to greet an old friend, Cardan?” Cardan took a page out of Jude’s book and stared at her blankly. Nicasia rolled her eyes and elegantly dropped into the chair on his right-hand side. As if she was invited. As if she was wanted here. “I was tasked by the Undersea to bring the peace treaty.” 

“Peace treaty?” He raised a brow, his gaze darting to Jude. The way she was looking at Nicasia, one would think she was trying to singe her where she sat. Was Jude… jealous?

Nicasia jabbered on and on, but Cardan was exhilarated by this thought. He couldn’t even focus on the conversation. He cut Nicasia off with a hand and rose to his feet. The legs of the chair scraped back menacingly in the silence that now echoed in the room. “Send the paperwork up to my chambers, I’ll sign what is necessary.” He ignored her sputters and threats, focusing on Jude.

Her face betrayed nothing, but Cardan was sure he didn’t mistake the look she had given Nicasia. He strode by her chair, letting his tail wrap around her arm that was under the table. She inhaled imperceptibly. 

Cardan smirked as he exited the room. 

Day 30

Though Cardan had signed a peace treaty with the Undersea kingdom, they still felt the need to declare an all-out war between land and sea if Jude wasn’t handed over to them. It seems as though Nicasia had whispered a few twisted statements to her mother. Both of the women believed they were entitled to Cardan’s right to rule. Humans can’t be the High Queen, Nicasia had sneered.

Cardan had brushed her off, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Things had been going so well with Jude, that he had ignored Nicasia’s attempts at flirting. All he seemed to make were mistakes these days.

He sighed as yet another hurricane swirled and churned just on the borders between their kingdoms. For days the Undersea had been taunting them all with thinly veiled threats. If by the end of the week, Jude still resided within the castle, their land would be destroyed. Queen Orlagh did not take well to a human queen on the throne. 

Muttering under his breath, he shoved himself out of his chair and stalked out of his room to do something incredibly stupid.

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Cardan softly knocked on Jude’s door, waiting for the telltale sound of her feet pattering against the ground. When the door swung open, Cardan was surprised that she wasn’t wearing her mourning clothes anymore. Instead, she wore a royal blue tunic, and dark pants over soft, leather boots. The pearl necklace still lingered at her throat, though. She looked to him with expectant eyes. “Are you here because of what the Undersea is demanding?”

He fidgeted with his hand. The words were practically jumping off his lips, words he had kept silent for so long. “Yes I-”

“I’ll go. I’ll do what Queen Orlagh wants.” 

Needless to say, Cardan didn’t expect that answer. “Actually, I was going to say that I was about to head to the shore to try and work things out without you there.”

She shook her mane of curly hair, her lips downturned. “I’m the reason Orlagh and Nicasia are threatening to turn Faerie into a landslide. It’s only fair I offer myself up.”

Cardan dared a step into her room, and when she didn’t object, he took another until they were close enough to kiss. But Cardan merely grasped her hands and held them in his own. “My darling, you are the light of my life, and I admire your courage, but you are not to face the Undersea again.” The way Jude had been after coming back from being in their clutches for a month was not something he wanted to relive. “I wanted to tell you something before I left.”

“What is it?”

He took a breath, preparing himself for rejection. “No matter what has happened between us these last few months, I love you more than the moon loves the sun, more than the stars love the sky. You are my one true love, and I never want you to believe otherwise.”

A shocked expression overtook her, her grip going slack. Cardan was sure this was a sign of rejection and quickly fled to the Undersea, where he planned to offer himself in her stead. It was the only way. 

Day 31

After offering himself to Queen Orlagh and being laughed off, he had returned to the castle, dejected, but with a plan. He had requested the queen meet with him again for a different negotiation, and she had begrudgingly agreed. This time, he would bring Jude with him, but he was the High King of Elfhame. The land responded to him and his will. He would either bring down the entire Undersea or die trying.

If he died, it was of no consequence to him as long as his Jude was safe. As long as Jude made it out alive, his quest would be a success. She had slowly opened up to him as the weeks had passed. She now kept her door open for Cardan at all times. 

As the pair of them exited the castle together, hand in hand, Cardan felt an exuberant burst of joy exploding in his heart. “What are you planning to offer the Undersea?” Jude asked, turning towards him, with an adorable scrunch to her forehead.

“What they desire the most.” Bloodshed.

“I know you tried to barter for yourself to be their prisoner instead of me. You know I can handle myself against them, I don’t need you to protect me against the world.”

He tried a grin and immediately felt it slide it off his face. Today wasn’t the day for side smirks and debauchery. “I am fully aware of what you are capable of, Jude. But do you not think for a second that I am protecting my heart? It may be cracked, and in shambles, yet you carry it. I do not want to lose it quite so soon.”

“Cardan-” Jude was cut off as the sandy border of the Undersea came into view. Queen Orlagh and Nicasia hovered just below the surface.

“How sweet, the faerie confessing his love to the mortal.” Nicasia sneered, snickering behind her hands. 

“What have you come to offer us this time, Cardan, High King of Elfhame.” Orlagh ignored her daughter and examined Cardan with suspicion coating her features. It was clear that there was no trust between both parties. 

Cardan released his hand from Jude’s, feeling the vibrations of the land, along with the sea. He took a breath and moved his hand through the air, drawing up his connection. It felt like a small tingling sensation at first, but gradually pinpricks of light punctured the air, drawn to his touch. His gaze landed on Nicasia who had drawn herself up out of the water, legs replacing her tail.

Cardan smirked and released the tension building up in his chest. Immediately Nicasia was pulled against a tree and held in a lover’s embrace by the branches. She shrieked and yelled for Orlagh. “I offer you your daughter unharmed if you do not concede to my rule. I do not wish to be a tyrant, but I will become one if you do not let my chain of succession be. I have chosen Jude, and you will not interfere with my affairs again.” To prove his point, the branches squeezed Nicasia tighter. 

Torn between saving her successor, and winning this fight, Orlagh said, “You are not the green boy everyone says, your majesty. It seems you do have a skill set worth keeping an eye on. But,” she smiled, “Humans have no right to this land. That much I will never admit.”

“And you are not the mighty Queen everyone believes you to be. You are no more than a power-hungry creature who grapples for a position that is slipping out of your grasp.”

Jude took a small step forward. “Human I may be, but you were the arrogant one who did not deign to check if I was able to be glamoured. You are the reason I was banished in the first place. I accept your right to rule, as much as you accept mine.” Jude’s chin jutted out in a show of confidence. There was nothing but pure, unrelenting rage raging in the depths of her eyes. She wanted revenge and she was about to explode. 

Orlagh glanced between the three of them and noticed how Jude’s hand curled into a fist. Noticed how the land began to respond to her movements. Noticed how a boulder was suddenly rocketing its way towards the tree where Nicasia was encased. “I concede! I accept your right to rule. Just give me back my daughter unharmed.”

Cardan and Jude smiled, grinning with their teeth. Nicasia was released, the branches of the tree slithering back to its normal position. The bounder stopped its descent inches from wreaking havoc upon the bark. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Orlagh’s jaw clenched. “Leave my daughter alone, and I will leave your… wife unharmed.”

“I would love nothing more.”

Nicasia stumbled back into the water, throwing reproachful looks our way. 

But it mattered not to me, not as Jude looked at me, truly looked at me, and grinned. Her eyes softly shone, in a way that they hadn’t done in quite some time.

Day 65

Two months after Jude’s return and she no longer was the silent piece of marble she was when she first arrived back in Elfhame. The pair of them had shared the same bed for the first time in a long time. Her scent of citrus and oak trees imprinted itself into the sheets.

Nothing had happened last night, save for the intimacy of being close. Yet somehow they had ended up in each other’s arms sometime during the night. Her warmth seeped into his clothes, creating a bubble of security around the two of them. He ran a slow, steady hand through her thick mane of hair. Her lids remain firmly shut, but he could see her eyes rapidly moving. Carefully so not to disturb her, Cardan traced a light finger across her smooth skin.

He craved touch, and intimacy with her like he had never had with anyone before. He’d had lovers in the past, but with Jude, he wanted everything. He couldn’t contain his selfish desires, wanting her all to himself. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

Before he could move away, she cracked open an eye and took him in. He didn’t dare move, not as she looked very intently into his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he breathed.

 For a few moments, Jude didn’t say anything, as she took him in. Her eyes were still sleepy, and her lips upturned in a small smile. Cardan ran a hand across her bare arms, while she shivered, goosebumps rising across her flesh. “If I’m waking up next to you, I don’t mind being woken.” 

Cardan was dumbstruck by how alluring her morning voice was. She was so unlike the sharp queen in moments of wakefulness. She was… gorgeous. Her sleep mussed hair, and… Cardan blushed as he realized she was wearing one of his shirts. He had passed out before her, so he didn’t know she had put it on. “You’re wearing my clothes,” he stammered out. He didn’t know how to react. His inner heart flared up with desire, as he realized what this meant. She was no longer keeping him at a distance. As if they were the most natural movements in the world, he shifted his weight so he was on top of her.

His arms wrapped around her middle, while his head nestled between her shoulder blades and neck. He hardly dared a breath, as Jude said,  “I missed you, Cardan. Even when I hated you, I wanted you.” His breath caught in his throat, he wasn’t prepared for such an open and honest statement. “I’m yours, I always have been. Despite what occurred in the mortal world, my guilty heart still desires you.”

His tail wrapped around her ankle and pulled her closer as if she might disappear at any moment. “I beseech you to forgive me for all the wrongs I have committed in your name.”

“All is well, you were forgiven long ago. I feel immense guilt, but I can’t stay away from you any longer, Cardan. You almost sacrificed yourself me, how can I be angry with you when you would give up everything for me?”

He could feel her heartbeat thundering under her skin. “How could I not wish to give up everything, if it meant that you would be happy? My darling Jude, I desperately missed you. I was lost when you were away. You are the light that guides me through life. When you were angry with me, I did not know what to do. I will never make that mistake again.”

Her hand came up and brushed down the side of his face with reverence. “I did not like being angry with you, either. Let’s agree to never do such foolish things again.”

“Never again.”

In the silence that accompanied their shared bond, Jude sighed in content. “I love you, Cardan.”

Tears pricked Cardan’s eyes as he shifted a few inches. She really truly loved him, the monster that destroyed her life. His voice broke as he whispered, “I love you too, Jude. More than anything I ever have before.”

The High King and Queen of Elfhame stayed clutching one another, bonded by their love for one another, vowing to never part again.

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

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

8. Tell me lies a.k.a. the personal assistant, Occam’s razor and one more pool game (Part Two)

“Private McCready at your service!” I salute as she opens the door.

“Thanks Mike, you saved my life!” she exhales nervously and despite her words, she still seems to be in panic.

“And now get out of my way!” I push her aside and lift the guitar over my head like a baseball bat, ready to strike with it. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. You called me in a hysterical voice a few minutes ago ordering me to bring a guitar and not to ask anything. So I thought someone, maybe a rubber had broken into your room and I had to eliminate him using the guitar as a weapon. Or is it a phone stalker who threatens you with killing your family if you don’t sing him Edelweiss from The Sound of Music immediately?”

“Very funny, Mike. I need it because…I just need it.” she grabs the instrument in question out of my hands.

“Ha, you won’t get away with it so easily! I brought Stone’s guitar risking life and limb for you, I deserve more than…”

“What? Stone’s guitar?” she frowns disgusted and tries to tuck it back into my hands.

“What’s your problem? When I opened the case of mine, I noticed that one of the strings had broken. So I asked him to lend his one. Neither is it infected with plague nor with cholera and I didn’t tell him I was going to give it further to you so do you need it or not?” This domestic war of them has started annoying me, they act like pouting children.

“I do but… but what if he finds out I used it? He’s like a deerhound, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me…” she sighs in a softer voice.

“I can take care of myself, trust me, it remains our secret.” I wink as she finally accepts the guitar I handed her again.

“Thanks, bye, Mike…” she moves back into the small hallway and is about to close the door but I prevent it by stopping it with my foot.

“Hey, seriously… you don’t even tell me what you want to do with it, you just kick me out?” I ask insulted.

“I want to play it. Bye…” she makes one more attempt to get rid of me but this time I decide to be relentless and slip in closing the door quickly behind myself.

“I’m a lead guitarist, remember? Maybe I could even help you with whatever you’re going to do…”

“Okay…” she finally agrees and follows me defeated.

“Spill me!”

“Well… I have a few… musical ideas aaaand… I want to work on them but I reached a stage where I can’t make it out without a guitar.”

“Ah, songwriting? What’s the style? Do you write lyrics too? If you need a solo I can…”

“Hey, easy… I have only the melody of the vocal part more or less and I can hear parts of the accompaniment in my head too but I need to try it by actually playing it …”

“Then what are you waiting for? Play it!” I clap my hands impatiently.

“I need my notes…” she starts searching in her notebook until she rests at a page full of letter and number codes.

“That’s unbelievable… I mean, you do it exactly the other way around than us, our songs get written while strumming around and we only write down the chords afterwards… I mean Stone, Jeff and Ed, I’m not really a part of it…”

“Sometimes I do it that way too… it depends on my mood, I practiced harmonizing enough that I can write basic melodies with accompaniment without using any instrument, especially in classical musical styles. But as I’ve said this time…”

“You’re an alien. And I’m super envious. But let’s hear the song!” I cut her off excitedly. “Sorry, I mean… it’s interesting and all but I’m too curious to wait any longer.”

“It… it goes somehow like this…” she starts humming a simple melody, it’s meditative and yet progressive at the same time as the chords she’s playing get added to her voice. She stops playing at dissonant chords and corrects her notes but keeps humming. After the last notes she stares in front of herself lowering her head. Although I can’t see her face of her braids, guessing of her flaming ears I assume she’s reddened.

“I… I like it, it’s cool… really… hey… Earth to Jude!” I lower my head too forcing her to look at me. She finally reciprocates my smile and closes the notebook.

“Please don’t be too critical about my guitar skills, I’m just a lame self-taught player…”

“On one hand, you’re not lame, on the other hand, I can give you some advice if you want to…” “Really? That would be great. My first problem is my left wrist, I can’t find the optimal position…”

“I think you should…” As I lean closer I glance at her wristwatch. “Jesus, Judy, it’s already 6 p.m.!!!” I exclaim.

“And… what?” she furrows her eyebrows.

“Jeff is to show up at 6:30, isn’t he?”

“And…? We have thirty minutes until then so…” she insists with a clueless shrug fidgeting with the strings.

“You should prepare for your date. Try on clothes, do your makeup or do whatever girls usually do before dates…”

“It’s not a date and I…”

“Jude, believe or not it doesn’t depend on how you call it. He bought shaving foam, after shave and deodorant in large quantities and I know this because I was with him.”

Not that Jeff has problems with personal hygiene but buying a whole drug store isn’t typical of him.

“Shaving foam?” she repeats desperately.

“Exactly.” I nod. Okay, she’s finally started realizing what I’m talking about.

“Deodorant?” her face looks all the more miserable, if that’s possible at all.

“Yep. And he was even whistling all morning. So please go and wash your hair at least.”

“Hey, it’s not even grea…”

“Jude.”

“Okay, I’m going.” she drags herself towards the bathroom but suddenly turns back with a threatening expression as she notices me sneaking towards the door.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she orders pointing at me with her index finger.

“Jesus…” I sigh and sit back onto the bed.

And now? What the hell should I do? I’m sitting in someone else’s hotel room like a watchdog and I don’t even know why… I pick up her notebook from the nightstand, lean back carefully not to sink too deep into the pillow and begin to study her notes. Although I can’t understand much of them, I get lost in them for long minutes trying to figure out her concept. I start to the ringing of the phone on the nightstand, it’s set to a low volume so Judy can’t hear it over the sound of running water. Fuck… should I ignore or answer it? I have nothing to do with her private conversations but what if it’s important, what if something happened in her family or… Shit.

“Hello?”

“…”

“Hello? Who’s speaking? I mean, who’s not speaking?”

“Uh, uhm, sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number…” a young, female voice apologizes.

“No, I mean, here’s room number 116.”

“Sure? You’re definitely not Judith Camden or Karrie Keyes…”

“Uh, oh… I’m… I’m the… the personal assistant of Miss Camden, Mr…. Mr…” Shit, why is that I’m not able to improvise in problematic situations? I bend my neck in ninety degrees to be able to read anything from the book she left open on the bed. “Mr. Sforzato?” I utter finally although it rather sounds like I’m questioning since I’m not sure at all I pronounced the word correctly.

“Mr. Sforzato?” the woman on the other end of the phone lets out a short, melodic laughter. “That’s interesting, your voice is very familiar, I would swear I’ve heard it somewhere… would you keep talking, I wanna figure out… how long has my sister had a personal assistant, anyway?” she chats on playfully.

“Being in the showbusiness, she realized she needed someone who helped her with managing time. Staff members are also very busy, I’m responsible for her program schedule.”

“Hahaha, then please ask her if she has a few minutes for her sister?” Effie??? The KISS fanatic little sister? I need a few seconds to rearrange my thoughts although hearing that she’s smiling while she’s speaking doesn’t help much…

“Oh, Miss Camden? It’s a pleasure to meet… hear you but I’m afraid Miss Judy can’t come to the phone right now, she’s preparing her toilet for an evening invitation which may involve romantic elements too…”

“SO SHE’S HAVING A DATE WITH JEFF AMENT, IT’S TRUE THEN!!!” she screams suddenly in the phone. “I have to talk to her, Mike, it’s extremely important! Otherwise she’ll screw up everything!”

Yeah, that’s very likely to happen if she goes on like this…

“As I mentioned, my name is Mr. Sforzato and she’s truly washing her hair so…”

“Okay, then we skip to plan B. Did she leave her glasses in the room?”

“Why is that so important?”

“Did she or not?” the sweet voice has turned definitively into the yelling of a drill instructor.

“Yes, she did, they’re on the nightstand.” I mutter unwillingly.

“Hide them.”

“What? No, why would I…”

“I said hide them! Shesgotcontactlensesbutshestoolazythowearthemandsheshidingherstunningeyesallthetimesoyouhavetohelpplease!” she jabbers with one breath and I can hear that Judy begins to dry her hair in the meantime.

“You can’t be serious, I’m not gonna interfere with her…”

“Mike, you’ve probably noticed how awkward my sister can be with guys so I would really appreciate if you would help me prevent a possible disaster, plus, you would help your bandmate too, is that really such a huge ask?” she tries again in a mellower voice. Okay, mellow is a mild expression, I could listen to her reading even the phonebook for days… I try to think coherently and find out more counter arguments but Judy turns the hairdryer off and to my biggest surprise my instant reaction is to grab her glasses and put them under the pillow. I mutter a quiet “done” into the receiver and hang up placing it cautiosly back onto the phone device.

“I gave it up, it’s too late, I can’t dry my hair properly.” Judy storms out of the bathroom; her face is framed by her half-wet strands. This is the first time I’ve seen her wearing her hair down which is much longer than I thought.

“Do you see my glasses somewhere?” she circles neurotically in the room, groping the furniture.

“No, I don’t, didn’t you leave them in the bathroom?” I deadpan pretending to lean against the pillow again. I should work on my abs, I can’t hold myself in this fake position for long…

“No, I’m sure I left them somewhere here… Shit, I can’t go to an exhibition twinkling like a mole…” she keeps panicking.

“But you have contact lenses, don’t you?” I inquire casually or at least I’m trying to sound like that.

“Yes and I hate them but I don’t seem to have any other choice…” she hurries back in the bathroom and begins to rummage in her wash bag.

“I should leave, y’know, it would be awkward if Jeff found me in your room so…” I straighten up and fix the pillow to hide the temples of the glasses. “Just be cool, it’s just a date, Jeff is a great guy, you’ll have fun.” I send her an encouraging smile and wave at her before leaving, which she responds with a blind, mechanic copy of my move.

I have to wait for the elevator in the floor for a while. As it arrives and its door opens, I bump into the freshly shaved, grinning Jeff. Jesus, he’s wearing an ironed shirt.

“Wish me luck.” he reaches his fist towards me and I hit mine automatically against it. As he passes me by I can smell the fragrance chemtrail of male perfume he’s streaking on his way to Judy’s room. I sigh shaking my head but entering the elevator my thoughts wander back to the only thing which has been on my mind for long minutes: what should I do to get to hear that voice again?

***

“So you’re a real renaissance man, aren’t you?” I ask Jeff while we’re walking back to our hotel which isn’t near the gallery at all but feeling the mild, spring weather Jeff suggested not taking a cab. Normally, I would enjoy evening walks but since Beth informed me about Jeff’s possible intentions and Mike prevented me from ignoring them, I’ve been just panicking. Jeff’s friend, Zach is a really nice guy and – thank goodness – a great talker as well so I didn’t experience awkward silence at the exhibition for one single minute. And even when other guests stole him from us, I could use his photos as excuses for talking about anything but private topics. But now we’re all alone and damn, how come I was able to talk to him effortless until this morning and since we left the gallery I’ve felt like someone put a sixteen ton weigh on my chest? I had the feeling that Jeff told Zach why he had chosen me as his partner for this evening. Not that he dropped any hints about us but the way he looked at us… or was it only my usual paranoia? Stop overthinking everything…

“Hey, are you trying to say that my clothes aren’t fashionable anymore?” he snickers nudging me gently on the shoulder with that of his.

“Well, I didn’t mean it exactly that way but once you came up with it…” I grin and feel his fingers clenching my throat playfully and gently from behind. “Okay, okay, your clothes are cool, haute couture, really.” Nope, your hats are ridiculous but who am I to inform you about it?

“Oookay, I’ll spare your life.” his fingers release my neck reluctantly.

And the girl felt butterflies in her stomach… Nope, that’s a different story, the girl doesn’t feel anything except for cold sweat. We walk on silently for a while but I don’t like this silence as the only thing I can think about is asking myself again and again: what the hell I’m doing here with him?

“But seriously, A: you’re an athlete. You play basketball and you’re a skater guy.” I pick up the thread again overtalking the voices in my head. Anyway, he has an athletic body, right? Girls like guys with athletic body, right? But damn, I wish his calves weren’t so thick.

“And that doesn’t mean anything, I’m pretty sure that Leonardo da Vinci wasn’t familiar with either of them.” he keeps joking about my choice of words.

“You can’t be sure, he even tried to invent a tank…”

“… that is almost a skateboard?”

“Haha, I don’t let you distract me, B: you’re an artist. I saw you drawing a few times but when you mentioned art school, somehow my brain didn’t put the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle together…” I go on compulsively. He’s artistic, that means he’s sensitive, right? And sensitive guys are gentle and caring, right? But how can he draw with those sausage fingers?

“I studied graphic design but the program was canceled so I quit college and moved with my hardcore band to Seattle. But I didn’t give up making art stuff, luckily Ed has the same enthusiasm about creative projects as me… You know, before his arrival I felt like a lonely fighter, I couldn’t really share my ideas with Mike or Stone.”

“It’s understandable. Stone doesn’t seem to be a very artistic type.” I snort as I imagine him fighting clumsily with paper scissors while he’s trying to create doilies.

“Believe or not, he’s not a total jerk, he’s got emotions, he only refuses consistently to show them and can’t handle if someone does it either. You should have seen his face when Ed gave him one of the collages he made during his flight from San Diego to Seattle, he was like “Jesus, he’s an alien, we should send him back before it’s too late!”

We both burst out laughing. But his smile is nice, isn’t it? Manly. His nostrils are unrealistically wide, though. There was a picture of a Neanderthal in the history classroom of my former high school. But how did that come to mind? My brain is messing with me.

“But as we began to have more and more gigs, I suggested to Ed starting a newsletter for our friends and fans and he totally liked the idea, I could also count on him when I helped Cameron, you know, the guy who directed the movie in which we played… And if you remember the cover of Ten, in the background you can see the text “Pearl Jam” with huge letters… it was Ed and me who made those letters, we cut them out of planks and painted them… it was a challenge since Mike was chasing a cat around us, our first drummer, Dave was sleeping drunk in the corner and Stone… you know, he supported us spiritually.”

“Ah, so he basically did nothing apart from throwing in witty remarks…”

“Exactly, how did you figure it out?” Jeff laughs pretending astonishment.

“The guy is predictable. Anyway, C: you’re a musician. And not an average musician but also a songwriter.”

“…and…?”

“And? And??? Jesus, Jeff, maybe it’s not a big deal to you since you’re surrounded by talented bands all the time but being able to compose something new is a huge gift! A lot of musicians would kill if they could do it too, having good ears is one thing but songwriting… that’s another league.”

Ears. Gosh, I hate his earrings. Why can’t he be just a plain guy who wears denims with shirts or tees?

“I don’t know, it comes naturally to me, I’ve always written songs with all of my bands… Deranged Diction, Green River, Mother Love Bone…”

“Actually, I was at a Mother Love Bone show a few years ago.”

“Really? When? Where?” his face lights up of surprise.

“I don’t know, I totally forgot about it but Effie reminded me of it when I was pondering if I should call Karrie back. But I can clearly remember that I was pretty pissed off.”

“Hahaha, why? Did we suck that much?”

“No, I just didn’t want to go there at all. Effie was to meet her crush there and our parents probably suspected something because they allowed her to go only if I would go with her too. So you can imagine, she wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea and neither was I since I wanted to stay at home with my scores and practice, maybe feeling sorry for myself for five minutes every hour… Unwillingly, though, but I accompanied her.”

“And did you enjoy the show?”

“Honestly, I can’t remember much of it… Of course as Effie found her crush, she didn’t give a shit about me anymore and they spent the evening with making out so I was surprised it was her of us two who had remembered anything from it…”

“You should have chosen a guy for yourself too and made out with him.” he grins audaciously.

No, no way, Jeff Ament, I’m not going to talk about making out with you… I mean talk with you. About making out. Damn.

“I leaned against the wall and was fuming the whole evening. As for the gig, all I can remember is you singer…”

“Andy?”

“Yeah… and… uh, sorry for saying this but I thought he acted like a clown, I mean, talking to the people on the balcony in a concert venue where there isn’t any balcony?”

Yeah, Judy, you’re doing it great, insulting his dead friend is a perfect change of topic, keep it up…

“Hehe, yeah, a typical andyism, acting as if you were playing in a huge arena even if your only audience are the doormen of the bar…” he smiles in front of himself but a painful feature appears on his face at the same time.

“I was rude, sorry, I know you were friends and…” I gibber awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize, the fact he died doesn’t mean we can’t talk honestly about him. Anyway, when Stone came up with idea of playing with him, I was against it, I knew about his problems and his extravagant style was too much for me… But as I got to know him better I realized how warm-hearted and talented he was…”

“He was a real showman, right?”

“Absolutely…” he sinks back into his memories. Great. If you don’t want the guy to flirt with you, make him sad. Date tips for psychos, lesson one. But suddenly a faint fragment of that night flashes through my brain.

“And… and… you know what I can remember apart from Andy? An exceptionally distasteful leopard vest.” Jesus, what if it was him who was wearing it? Please tell me it wasn’t you, please tell me it wasn’t you…

“Oh yeah, it was Stone’s favorite piece of cloth at that time.” Phew. Thank goodness. What? Stone???

“At least you can blackmail him with the photos of him in that vest till the end of time…”

“Unfortunately it’s not that simple… he has pics of me wearing spandex leggings on stage so…” he snickers. “And to tell the truth, we were more familiar with the use of eyeliner than most girls.”

“Ugh.”

“Hey, it was in the eighties, I’m sure you made a few poor style choices too…” Should I tell him I bought this dress when I was fourteen?

“Effie tried makeups and hairstyles on me all the time but luckily I never crawled out of my cave so it is still you who takes the cake by having jumped on stage in leggings… Ah, where were we, C, right? D: Dancing?”

“It depends on what we call dancing. I took dance lessons in Big Sandy but I abandoned dancing to prevent my parents from going bankrupt due to the massive compensation they had to pay to the parents of the unlucky female victims… do you know how expensive a leg amputation is?”

Jesus, poor Mike.

“You can’t be that bad at dancing. You’re a musician, you have sense of rhythm… Singing?”

“I’m trying. I used to sing to my records while listening to them but my dad thought I was hiding a jackal in my room. Luckily my bands have always allowed me to sing the backup vocals…”

“They haven’t.” I smile mysteriously.

“What?” he asks back confused.

“As your future monitor engineer the first thing I had to learn was what the staff calls “the secret setup of Jeff’s mic.”.”

“…which means…?” he stops opposite me since in the meantime we’ve arrived back to the hotel.

“…switching it off and knock out everyone who tries to switch it back.”

“You’re not as innocent as I thought.” he smiles and the way his eyes are resting on my face makes me feel uncomfortable.

“It’s not my fault, the others told me to do so, this is the rule, I don’t want to be fired.” I play on, or at least I try to do it since despite his smile his gaze radiates some kind of confidence.

“But maybe asking out the monitor engineer could help change this rule.” he adds still staring at me. Come on, Jeff, blink finally. Blink!

“Hehe, I don’t know, Eric is the boss you know…” I babble and try to blow a strand out of my mouth since the light spring breeze started ruffling my hair.

“Soooo… we’re back. What’s next?” he asks stroking it gently away. His hands are warm and his touch is surprisingly pleasant, basketball freak bass players shouldn’t have such soft hands…“Do you want to take a walk in the park?”

In the park? But it’s dark… and there are benches there… benches are excellent for…” Alarm! ALARM!

“But we’ve been walking until now… and I’m a little bit tired and… “

Nope, I’m not, at all. Granny used to teach us that lying is a sin. But it’s only a tiny lie. It doesn’t matter.

“Or do you wanna grab some food and join the guys at the bar?” he points at a building on the other side of the street. Joining the guys after a date? What a great idea. Or what if we lay in front of a truck or jumped off a cliff?

“I’m… I’m not really hungry…” Honestly, I could eat a horse… Hey little liar… Joan Jett begins to sing treacherously in my head. Thanks Joan, this helps a lot. “My lips hurt, maybe my herpes is about to recur…” Hey little liar… I would swear I can hear Granny singing in the background, Joan, when did you hire her?

“Oh, that’s pretty inconvenient…”

“Yeah, I’ve struggled with it from time to time…” Actually, I’ve never had herpes… and I have no idea what I’m going to say when he notices tomorrow that nothing happened with my face… Hey little liar… Is this song really echoing in the street or it’s just a trick of my mind? “I can barely keep my eyes open, I think I’d rather hit the hay, tomorrow will be a looong day…”

“Yeah… but… if you don’t mind, I’d have a beer with the others… so… dream something nice.” he flashes a meaningful smile at me, strokes me on the shoulder and turns back to cross the street. I forget to answer as I stay standing in front the hotel. Okay, date checked. It could have been worse, right? And now? Jeff meets the guys and… I hope they won’t discuss it. Me. Guys don’t discuss emotional stuffs, right? Ugh. What’s the next step? Oh yeah, I should enter the building…

I walk across the lobby but before I could reach the elevator, suddenly I perk up. I hear smooth piano music and following the sound I find myself in the bar room of the hotel. Actually, a drink would be nice. God, I definitely need a drink.

[tinymixtapes]

Column: Favorite Rap Mixtapes of November & December 2018

With a cascade of releases spewing from the likes of DatPiff, LiveMixtapes, Bandcamp, and SoundCloud, it can be difficult to keep up with the overbearing yet increasingly vital mixtape game. In this column, we aim to immerse ourselves in this hyper-prolific world and share our favorite releases each month. The focus will primarily be on rap mixtapes — loosely defined here as free (or sometimes free-to-stream) digital releases — but we’ll keep things loose enough to branch out if/when we feel it necessary. (Check out October’s installment here.) Soooooo many dope mixtapes these past two months that even as TMT’s year-end coverage wrapped up like gifts bursting from Santa’s sack, our squad still jumped at the chance to pile on some final blurbs of 2018 before the ball-drop. “Overbearing?” Maybe. “Hyper-prolific?” Definitely. Multiple puns in that first sentence? Two for the price of one, hon. To that, before we get into our November and December favs, here are some “honorable mentions” that didn’t get a write-up below but are no less deserving of a spin this New Year’s Eve: Semiratruth - WAIT!, Demahjiae - Ghetto Blessings, SPNDA x Kae Tea - Mosaic EP Lil Durk - Signed to the Streets 3, City Girls - Girl Code, The Diplomats - Diplomatic Ties, Roc Marciano - Pimpstrumentals, Grimm Doza & SpaceGhostPurrp - The Haunting in New Jersey, Wiardon - Numba1Viktim, Chris Crack - Just Gimme A Minute and Thanks Uncle Trill, Bloodmoney Perez - Time is a Motherfucker, CL King - Waiting 4, and Defcee - A Mixtape As God Intended, Vol. 1 … also, three (!!!) Young Thug leaks. –Samuel Diamond --- Red Daughter, Trap Funk & Alivio - Red Funk Alivio 2 [STREAM] It’s mixtapes like this one that have us quietly missing the days when the word “rap” wasn’t in this column’s title. W/o wasting too many words justifying this tape’s inclusion, let’s just say rap is a big part of it. But so too are Afrocentrism, feminism, indigenous pride, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Brazil, baile funk, Jersey club, house, footwork, and many more elements than an admittedly limited worldview can readily identify. One hesitates to revisit clichés like the dance after the revolt or “if this doesn’t get you moving, you’re already dead,” but, well, while Google Translate tells us that alivio is Portuguese for relief, our ears, eyes, and noses tell us that the club is flooding with oppressor blood. If you missed the first drop, catch up. –Samuel Diamond --- Tommy Genesis - Tommy Genesis [STREAM] We the undersigned/unwashed jabberers at TMT have a tastynasty habit of measuring years out in loosely-themed song mixes. I bet some super astute comment section glob thinks it’s an arbitrary habit. I humbly submit that when we cycle artifacts through a series of spaces, patterns emerge. Assumptions get split. Moods and usages cross and swerve. The exceptional artifacts fit every space. Tommy Genesis, the Vancouver rapper’s debut album, pumps blood and caresses muscles like GYM, cycles want until it subsumes self, a party in the VOID. “Drive” flecks acoustic strings at the CLIFF’s edge and Charlie Heat’s ballast production on “Play With It” turns the ALLEY concave, sends come-on invocations city-wide, supercharged fuel for the COUPE. Tommy Genesis sounds like a whole damn year — wanting more is loving living. –Frank Falisi --- Peewee Longway - State of the Art [STREAM] A glaring omission from our Favorite Cover Art feature (putting him at two for the year), State of the Art finds Peewee Longway rapping as well as he ever has, retaining his distinctive style while adapting to the ever-evolving sound of the moment. Longway’s sound has always tracked the mainstream not directly but as a point of divergence; while likely not distinct enough to make him anyone’s absolute favorite rapper, he’s well-positioned for the reliable production of quality, personable raps. State of the Art is split between showpieces for relatively stock guest spots from the likes Gucci or members of Migos, and far more idiosyncratic one-offs; “Lets Be Real” (with Maxo Kream) is a Molly anthem reminiscent of some of Longway’s stranger inclinations, while “Top of the Bank” marries an Otis Redding interpolation and a cooing, celebratory hook without either seeming out of place. Longway’s more likely to retire from rap (yet again) than blow up any time soon, but State of the Art is more than enough proof that the roundest rapper working has got plenty left to give. –Corrigan B --- Adé Hakim - On To Better Things [STREAM · DOWNLOAD] In a year of SlumsNYC triumphalism — see the series of landmark releases by navy blue, King Carter, MIKE et al., culminating with Earl Sweatshirt’s Some Rap Songs — Adé Hakim a.k.a. Sixpress has been like a silent partner to the movement. Featured on most of the aforementioned and having released a couple of short but no less notable mixtapes on his own this year, Hakim closes out an already-headway-making 2018 with his most complete and progressive work to date in the aptly titled On To Better Things. Low-key, high-impact beats, rhymes, and life insights from the birthplace of hip-hop coalesce here in a freely collective but clearly self-defined gestalt. Where do we go from this? Just listen. –Samuel Diamond --- AJ Suede - Darth Sueder II: Goth Marciano [STREAM] Don’t let your current intake of “lo-fi” hip-hop begin and end with Earl’s latest album. Rapper/Producer AJ Suede has perfected his own take on the subgenre with his latest tape, Darth Sueder II, chopping lightly treated soul samples to set his seasick verses adrift on a lemon-lime sea. What he’s doing sonically isn’t boundary-breaking or avant-garde, but his ear for memorable loops that settle into the backdrop is impeccable. On “Lovable,” a meandering organ shuffles against hi-hats that eke out what should be an un-rappable rhythm; somehow, though, it’s the perfect vehicle for Suede to wax romantic about autumn leaves before launching into asides about gentrification and white people who are too quick to call the cops. Ideas are scattered throughout the brief tracks, but each one’s focused, bridged by some of my favorite punchlines in recent memory (“I was in that county fair/ Like that kid apparently.”) If you’re not scared off by references to esoteric Christianity and MK ULTRA, give Goth Marciano a spin — it’s a fresh take on minimalistic East Coast hip-hop, especially for someone often entrenched in the distorted cloud rap favored by his brethren in the Underground Dust Funk collective. –Jude Noel --- Big Twins - Grimey Life [STREAM] Although Big Twins f.k.a. Twin Gambino has experienced something of a second life thanks to today’s boom-bap revival, one need look no further than the guestlist on this tape to recognize his Infamous Mobb credentials. In addition to features from fellow Infamous rappers Godfather Pt. 3 and Ty Nitty, as well as Mobb affiliate Big Noyd, Grimey Life includes a posthumous appearance by Prodigy, which finds the late icon far from phoning it in, with lines such as “I handle bars like lifers or motocross bikers.” For those keeping track, Havoc also lends a verse (to Knxwledge-produced eulogy “Memories”), and The Alchemist produces the fittingly ghostly “Phantom of the Opera.” In spite of these bigger names and many other features, the project is first and foremost a product of Big Twins whose often imitated but never duplicated voice remains the unmistakable audio definition of grime — inflicted pain inflected. –Samuel Diamond --- Bbymutha - Muthaz Day 3 [STREAM] The cover art of Muthaz Day 3 is a photo of Bbymutha with her two sets of twins all dressed in red robes, surrounded by candles and sitting on what appears to be a pentagram. You’re in her domain now. Welcome to a world full of sinister instrumentals and trap beats that slither underneath the Chattanooga rapper’s spellbinding flow; a world where a single mom with two sets of twins doesn’t have to be bound by the traditional ideas of what a parent should or shouldn’t be; a world where confidence is the lifeblood of all things. On Muthaz Day 3, Bbymutha continues to champion her independence and forge ahead on a path that she’s laying brick by brick, all by herself. –Sam Tornow --- DaBoii - Neva Lookin Back [STREAM] We should be thankful that this was even made into a playlist. For a little over two years, the members of Bay Area juggernaut SOB X RBE have operated as an essentially YouTube-only outfit; while enjoyable, both recent albums (GANGIN and GANGIN II) scan more as fulfillments of label obligations than as faithful documents of the group’s most essential, often online-only work. As obsessives were left to parse the steady stream of loosies from individual members and all possible combinations thereof, there were few safer bets than a DaBoii solo track. DaBoii raps with purist appeal, his style a charismatic but unornamented amalgam of the Bay’s long history of singular rap figures. The videos, courtesy directors Tyler Casey and BGIGGZ, are often as entertaining as the songs themselves; Neva Lookin Back corrals three of DaBoii’s best from the past year (“Ridin’,” “Onna Gang,” and “Sum it Up”) alongside a further nine new tracks, offering an imperfect but better-than-nothing document of DaBoii’s 2018. Still, it’s probably best to rip your own copy of this while you still can. –Corrigan B --- Curren$y, Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist (Fetti?) - Fetti (Roma?) [STREAM] A tangential anecdote that bears repeating: in a recent interview, rapper Milo reminisced about driving around Chicago with rapper Serengeti, listening to Freddie Gibbs and Madlib’s Piñata, which Milo recalled inspired ‘Geti to say, “I don’t know if it gets better than this.” Word. Although pairing with the Mad Liberator might’ve made Gibbs your favorite rappers’ favorite rapper, heads have been waiting for a Gibbs-Curren$y-Alchemist album since the trio first came together on 2011’s “Scottie Pippen.” Thankfully, Fetti does not disappoint nor does it rest on the laurels that the three artists have received independently of each other in the seven years since. Which brings us to another point not yet fully addressed in this tape’s coverage to date: none of the three artists’ names appear on the cover, yet the word “Roma” does, leading one to believe that it might in fact be the title to this, the first release by a rap supergroup named Fetti. Fingers crossed, lighters up. –Samuel Diamond --- Warhol.ss - Chest Pains [STREAM] Has it really been two and a half years since Warhol.ss dropped “Speed Racer?” Although it feels like little time has passed since the Chicago emcee broke into the SoundCloud mainstream, the platform’s predominant ethos has experienced so much change it’s easy to forget the potential that brief track packed. Surfing Brentrambo’s undulant percussion, Warhol.ss stood out with a gruff cadence and unflinching confidence that offset the bubblegum aesthetic that overtook 2016. Despite a handful of collaborations with tastemakers Pi’erre Bourne and Cole Bennett, he’s yet to recreate his initial brilliance — an understandably difficult feat for someone so ahead of their time. On Chest Pains, we find Warhol.ss exploring the lanes that lead him back to prominence: he’s at his most accessible muttering plosive-tinged one-liners on the Kenny Beats-produced “Bird’s Nest,” but “War Ready” proves to be the tape’s most fascinating venture. Kick drums stumble over bars as Warhol lines the off-kilter rhythm with a nimble collage of triplet flows. It’s difficult to wrap your head around, but it’s hypnotic if you can. This new crop of cuts doesn’t include an obvious hit, but it does appear to be a step toward something greater. Trust the process. –Jude Noel --- Black Josh - Yung Sweg Lawd [STREAM] Is it acute homesickness or latent agoraphobia that causes some people to become physically ill every time they leave their old stomping grounds? Or maybe just plain, ordinary travelers sickness? My brother, who works in an airport, told me that a few months back a flight touched down with every passenger and crew member sick, like vomiting sick… quarantine sick. Yung Sweg Lawd is that sick, bro. It’s dark. Absent a better frame of reference (my fault), it’s Wu-Tang on Tim Westwood in the 90s, blacked out, using the words “dark” and “horrible” as slang praise, having likely just learned it. Pharma-grade smoke clouds billowing like factory stacks, it’s the acid rain; Black Josh a climate-change centaur moving (in) packs. –Samuel Diamond --- The-Dream - Ménage à Trois: Sextape Vol. 1, 2, 3 [STREAM] Weird times that we’re living in when an artist can release a three-volume, 42-song mixtape and it’s not anticipated or received as their magnum opus. In fact, I don’t even think that R&B heavyweight The-Dream announced Ménage à Trois beforehand beyond hinting that he was working on something. Thus Ménage à Trois, thematically billed as a three-part “sex tape,” with album art to match, lands as another long project from another major artist (which is the standard in The Age of Streaming), but it’s one worth sifting through if you like R&B even just a little bit. Singers-turned-rappers and/or rappers-turned-singers are a dime a dozen nowadays (i.e., that Drizzy-/Ty Dolla-esque hybrid style, which, make no mistake, I do enjoy), which is to say: for all the suave-crooning purists like myself, R&B proper has seen better days on the charts. Luckily, The-Dream gives us 2.5 hours of sultry singing (mostly) sans rap harmonies here while still delivering much stylistic variety. Think The Weeknd’s Trilogy except every song is about sex, with a modus operandi that overall seems to be downtempo and lush. Dig through this behemoth until you find something to cuddle up with — there’s bound to be stuff you’ll have on repeat. –Alex Brown --- Boosie Badazz - Boosie Blues Cafe [STREAM] From the Thanksgiving release date (announced two days prior) to its very concept, the actual existence of Boosie Blues Cafe was far from certain until the moment we had it in our hands. Not that expectations were tempered to match, of course. While not “bluesy,” per se, the cathartic baring of the soul has always factored heavily into Boosie’s work; he’s the man with a song for everything, a Baton Rouge legend off his ability to speak directly to the city’s youth. The prospect of him stepping fully into the region’s other musical tradition, then, was immensely appealing, if less out of optimism than sheer curiosity. It works OK — with the exception of absolute slapper “I Know How to Have a Good Time,” most of the tracks are identifiably Boosiean to a fault; Boosie’s got such a long history of rapping this stuff in a compelling way that translating it to a blues idiom can feel a bit rote. A worthwhile experiment, however; Boosie’s passion projects are by default a thousand times more interesting than someone else’s re-hashing of the very crowded Rap Caviar lane. –Corrigan B --- Sir E.U - Merry christmas my nigga! / Thc / To This Day / Cries for help [MCMN · THC · TTD · CFH] Earlier this year, I was talking to an artist who shall remain nameless about the inclusion in this column of a tape by another artist who shall remain nameless. The artist I was kibitzing with took issue with the included work, saying something to the effect of “If you throw enough shit at the wall, eventually some will stick, but that doesn’t mean it’s any good,” which is more than fair. To be honest, my understanding of noise sets and DJing in general isn’t nearly adroit enough to tell if Sir E.U’s massive output over the last two weeks is an example of the aforementioned criticism or of a mix master purposely and methodically laying waste to two-turntable fundamentals. Either way, though, the shit bangs. And the sheer quantity of his year-end sound dump is something to behold. Dig in. –Samuel Diamond http://j.mp/2GM5GfC

[whittneymoody]

Jude jabbering away as he pulls Max to therapy today. • • • #downsyndrome #nothingdownaboutit #ilovehomieswithextrachromies #t21 #joggingforjude #theluckyfew #adoptionrocks #adoptionisbeautiful #downsyndromeadoption #downsyndromeawareness #morealikethandifferent #brothers #twiblings #LIFEisbetterwithyou #shouttheirworth