#❛ the veil between worlds ❜ ▬ ( amaya world. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drravenblackwoods · 5 months

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Thanks to no chat gpt

A terrible wedding to remember.

Ingrid's frustration echoed, "I can't believe Amaya's marrying Prince Magnifico for power and money, not love and friendship."

She clenched her fists, lamenting, "True happiness lies in genuine connections, not in the allure of power and wealth."

Ingrid, her eyes reflecting a mix of disappointment and concern, voiced her apprehension, questioning the foundation of a union built upon ambitions for power and financial gain rather than the profound bonds of love and companionship that she believed should be the cornerstone of any enduring marriage. As the news of Amaya's impending nuptials reverberated through the air, Ingrid found herself grappling with the stark contrast between the idealistic notions of romance she held dear and the pragmatic, calculated motives driving this union into fruition.

In the midst of her concerns, Ingrid grappled with conflicting emotions, acknowledging a twinge of empathy for Amaya's choice while still grappling with the profound belief that love should be the guiding force in any union. She found herself torn between understanding the complexities of Amaya's decisions and yearning for a world where love, untainted by external influences, could triumph over the allure of power and financial gain.

Dear Diary,

The spectacle of their faux marriage unfolds before my eyes, and it fails to engage even a fragment of my being. The ceremonial vows, adorned with opulence, ring hollow in the echoing chambers of my conscience. I find myself an unwilling spectator to a union dictated by ambition rather than the profound resonance of love. The grandeur of the affair only amplifies the dissonance within me, as I witness the pageantry of a connection bereft of genuine emotion. In this elaborate charade, I stand apart, an observer unswayed by the glittering facade, yearning for a world where authenticity, not pretense, governs the affairs of the heart.

Yours sincerely,

Ingrid

Dear Diary,

An unsettling fear gnaws at my heart—the fear of losing him to the enchanting presence of Princess Amaya. The delicate threads that bind us seem vulnerable, overshadowed by the looming specter of their connection. In the quiet corners of my thoughts, I grapple with the uncertainty that her allure might eclipse the bond we once shared. The impending sense of loss casts a shadow, and I find myself navigating the fragile terrain of emotions, hoping against hope that our connection withstands the allure of another.

Fearfully,

Ingrid

Dear Diary,

Observing their interactions, I can't shake the growing suspicion that what they label as love is nothing more than a clandestine affair veiled in the trappings of nobility. The exchanges, once perceived as genuine, now seem tainted with the shadows of ulterior motives. It leaves me pondering the authenticity of their connection, questioning whether the foundation of their union is built on the solid ground of true love or merely a delicate house of cards on the brink of collapse.

With skeptical thoughts,

Ingrid

As I reluctantly close this chapter in the book of my life, the ink on these pages tells a tale of fears and uncertainties. The looming presence of Princess Amaya casts a shadow over the fragile fabric of my connection with him. With a heavy heart, I turn the page, bracing for the twists and turns that lie ahead in this intricate narrative, hoping that the next chapter unfolds with clarity, resilience, or perhaps a glimmer of unexpected hope.

Yours in the ebb of uncertainty,

Ingrid

The vibrant scene unfolded in the Kingdom of Rosas as the sun bathed the landscape in a warm afternoon glow. The church clock, with each resonating chime, signaled the imminent union of Amaya and Prince Magnifico. In the midst of this anticipation, the air buzzed with life—birds soaring joyfully overhead, people engaged in animated chatter, and the lively marketplace offering a colorful spectacle of stalls and activities.

As the kingdom prepared for the grand event, the communal energy was palpable. Stalls adorned with wares stood open, their offerings tempting passersby. Amid the bustling activity, heartfelt goodbyes were exchanged, and the anticipation for the impending wedding hung in the air, creating a tapestry of excitement and expectation throughout the kingdom.

As the clock continued its rhythmic tolling, the sense of unity and celebration enveloped the Kingdom of Rosas. Laughter echoed through the streets as vendors showcased their wares, their vibrant displays drawing curious onlookers. The aroma of delicacies wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of flowers adorning the pathways.

Families, adorned in their finest attire, exchanged stories and well-wishes, creating a mosaic of warmth and camaraderie. The joyous atmosphere extended beyond the marketplace, reaching every corner of the kingdom, as neighbors shared in the collective anticipation of witnessing the union of Princess Amaya and Prince Magnifico.

Against this backdrop of communal joy, the church stood as a beacon of solemnity, its bells weaving a harmonious melody that resonated with the hopes and dreams of the kingdom's inhabitants. The stage was set for a wedding that promised to be both a grand spectacle and a momentous occasion in the annals of Rosas.

In the solemn moments before the ceremony, Prince Magnifico, though harboring discontent, found himself gripped by nervous apprehension. As the weight of his choices bore down on him, he muttered self-reflection, "How could I have been so stupid?" His inner turmoil echoed against the backdrop of the grand occasion, revealing a conflicted soul torn between personal desires and the responsibility he felt toward his kingdom.

In the quiet recesses of his thoughts, Prince Magnifico grappled with a profound internal struggle—a tumultuous battle between the yearnings of his heart and the weight of the crown upon his head. The dichotomy of love and power waged war within him, leaving him torn between the allure of a genuine connection with Ingrid and the pragmatic necessity of a union that promised political strength for his kingdom. As the ceremony loomed, the conflict etched lines of uncertainty across his face, a silent testament to the complexities of a ruler torn between personal desires and the obligations of the throne.

In a fleeting moment of vulnerability, Prince Magnifico entertained the thought that perhaps Ingrid was the one who could truly understand his heart. However, with a resolute shake of his head, he cast aside the sentiment, reminding himself of the perceived duty in marrying Amaya—the union deemed right for the stability and prosperity of the kingdom. The conflict within him persisted, a silent struggle between personal desires and the obligations of rulership.

As the internal conflict raged on, Prince Magnifico grappled with the dichotomy of his emotions. Ingrid's allure lingered in his thoughts, a tantalizing whisper of what could be, but the weight of duty and the expectations placed upon a ruler compelled him to suppress those feelings. With a heavy heart, he steeled himself against the pull of personal desires, choosing the path he deemed right for the kingdom, even as the specter of what might have been lingered in the recesses of his mind. The choice to marry Amaya, a decision made for the realm, became a poignant sacrifice, the echoes of which resonated in the conflicted depths of Prince Magnifico's heart.

In the solitude of his thoughts, Prince Magnifico engaged in a silent conversation with himself about the impending vows with Amaya. He questioned the authenticity of the promises that would soon escape his lips. "Can I truly commit to these vows?" he pondered, torn between the duty to his kingdom and the desire for a genuine connection. The weight of the impending commitment hung heavy on his shoulders, prompting a profound internal dialogue that explored the intricate balance between love, duty, and the sacrifices demanded by the throne.

As Prince Magnifico unfolded the parchment bearing the scripted vows, the words danced before his eyes, a blend of tradition and expectation. The promises spoke of unity, of standing together through trials and triumphs, and of loyalty in the face of adversity. Yet, as he read each line, the ink seemed to blur, the weight of the words intensifying in his conflicted mind. The scripted nature of the vows hinted at a predetermined path, and he couldn't shake the feeling that, despite the eloquence, the essence of genuine, heartfelt commitment was elusive in this union.

As Prince Magnifico continued his internal dialogue, he delved deeper into the vows that awaited him. "These vows," he mused, "are they merely words spoken for the sake of tradition, or can they carry the weight of genuine commitment?" The conflict between his duty to the kingdom and the authenticity of his emotions intensified. A silent struggle unfolded as he questioned whether the grandeur of the ceremony masked the underlying truth—that the union was more about politics than the profound connection symbolized by the vows. In the quiet recesses of his contemplation, the echo of a longing for sincerity persisted, creating a poignant backdrop to the approaching moment of commitment.

As Prince Magnifico took a steadying breath, he responded with a measured assurance, "Yes, I am ready." His words carried a weight that extended beyond the ceremony, reflecting the acknowledgment of the responsibility and expectations placed upon him as a future leader. The door creaked open, unveiling a scene of grandeur as Amaya, radiant in her wedding attire, stood ready to embark on the journey that awaited them. The complex dance of emotions continued, hidden behind the facade of a royal wedding unfolding in the Kingdom of Rosas.

With a nod, Prince Magnifico acknowledged Amaya's words, "I'll meet you at the altar." As the door closed, he found himself alone with his thoughts, a solitary figure in the quiet anticipation before the grand procession. The weight of the impending commitment bore down on him, and he steeled himself for the journey down the aisle, where vows would be exchanged and destinies intertwined in the grandeur of the royal ceremony.

As Prince Magnifico stood in the solemn quietude, a mixture of emotions swirled within him. The grandeur of the impending ceremony beckoned him forward, urging him to set aside personal reservations for the sake of the kingdom. With a deep breath, he stepped into the aisle, guided by the echoes of the church bells and the rhythmic cadence of his own heartbeat.

The journey down the aisle felt like a procession through the chapters of his life, each step a deliberate move toward a destiny dictated by duty rather than desire. The eyes of the kingdom fixated on him, and as he approached the altar, the grand tapestry of his future unfurled before him, interwoven with the delicate threads of commitment, sacrifice, and the weighty mantle of royalty.

As Prince Magnifico walked the aisle, a somber realization weighed heavily on him—his parents, absent since their untimely passing, wouldn't witness this pivotal moment in his life. The ache of their absence tugged at his heart, and the joy of the ceremony was shadowed by a bittersweet acknowledgment of their unfulfilled presence. Despite the grandeur surrounding him, the emptiness of their absence lingered, a silent tribute to the enduring impact they had on his journey to the altar.

On the contrasting end of the spectrum, Amaya's aisle was adorned with the presence of her parents and the camaraderie of bridesmaids. The air around her was filled with the warmth of familial love and the shared excitement of close friends. As she made her way down the aisle, the joyous atmosphere embraced her, creating a stark juxtaposition to the more solitary journey Prince Magnifico undertook.

Amidst the laughter and whispered well-wishes, Amaya's steps echoed a celebration of unity and connection, a stark contrast to the muted emotions that swirled in Prince Magnifico's heart as he advanced toward a destiny shaped by duty rather than familial presence.

As Amaya glided down the aisle, the love and support enveloping her felt like a vibrant tapestry woven by family and friends. Her parents beamed with pride, and the bridesmaids, like guardians of joy, shared in the excitement of the moment. The air was alive with whispers of anticipation and congratulations, creating an atmosphere of shared happiness.

At the altar, Amaya and Prince Magnifico's gazes met, and in that fleeting connection, the stark contrast of their respective journeys became palpable. Amaya, surrounded by the embrace of loved ones, and Prince Magnifico, standing alone with the weight of royal responsibilities, embarked on a union that would navigate the delicate balance between personal aspirations and the demands of the kingdom. The stage was set for a ceremony where emotions intertwined in a complex dance, echoing the intricate interplay of love, duty, and the grandeur of the Kingdom of Rosas.

The ceremonial atmosphere resonated with the harmonious melodies of the choir, but beneath the surface, the silent dialogue between Amaya and Prince Magnifico spoke volumes. As they stood side by side, their union symbolized not only the joining of two individuals but also the merging of divergent paths—one adorned with familial warmth, the other marked by solitary responsibility.

As the vows unfolded, the words echoed through the sacred space, binding their destinies in a covenant witnessed by the kingdom. The cheers and applause from well-wishers were met with a fleeting glance between Amaya and Prince Magnifico, a shared acknowledgment of the intricate tapestry they were weaving together.

In a moment of desperate courage, I, Ingrid, seized the opportunity to halt the impending union. Just before the fateful "I do's" hung in the air, I raised my voice, the echoes of my objection piercing through the ceremonious silence. Eyes turned towards me, and in that charged moment, I laid bare the truth that had been hidden beneath the glittering facade—the truth that this union was not born out of love but rather woven from the threads of ambition and deceit. The air grew tense as my objection lingered, an unexpected twist in the unfolding narrative of this tumultuous chapter.

As the weight of my impending confession settled upon me, nervous anticipation gripped my every fiber. The magnitude of those three simple words, "I love him," echoed in my mind, causing my heart to flutter with a mixture of fear and longing. In the charged silence just before the ceremony, I grappled with the vulnerability of laying bare my feelings, uncertain of how they would be received in the midst of this tangled affair.

Amidst the charged atmosphere, Princess Amaya's scoff cut through the air, a dismissive response to my heartfelt objection. Unfazed, she turned to her husband, uttering the decisive "I do" with an air of nonchalance. Prince Magnifico, seemingly torn between conflicting emotions, followed suit. The weight of their commitment hung in the air, and in that moment, the realization that my attempt to halt the union had fallen on deaf ears settled upon me, leaving a bitter taste of defeat.

Amaya, adorned in her resplendent wedding dress, stood poised behind the door, the anticipation evident in her voice as she called out, "Honey, are you ready?" The echo of affection in her words mingled with the unspoken tension that lingered in the air, creating a moment -pregnant with the expectations of both a bride and a kingdom awaiting the union of Princess Amaya and Prince Magnifico.

Amid the jubilant cheers and celebrations, Amaya's words carried a subtle undertone of caution as she turned to Ingrid. "Maybe next time, Ingrid, try not to ruin my wedding," she remarked, a delicate reminder that amidst the joyous union, lingering tensions and unspoken conflicts still persisted. The weight of those words hung in the air, foreshadowing the complexities that would continue to shape the dynamics within the Kingdom of Rosas. Ingrid ran off towards her home crying on how could this day get any worse she thought.

At lest she is impregnable. The rumors are true.

In this grand theater of love and duty, the union of Princess Amaya and Prince Magnifico unfurled, leaving the Kingdom of Rosas to witness the unfolding chapters of their intertwined fate.

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doubleattitude · 3 years

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JUMP Dance Convention, Phoenix, AZ: RESULTS

High Scores by Age:

JUMPstart Solo

1st: Tatum Self-’Somewhere Over The Rainbow’

2nd: Harper Schwalb-’You Are So Beautiful’

3rd: Lucia Piedrahita-’Fields of Gold’

4th: Navy Forrest-’Charge It Please’

5th: Mikayla Isler-’Baby I’m A Star’

6th: Kaylee Jones-’My New Philosphy’

7th: Charlotte Rathjen-’Do You Want To Build A Snowman’

7th: Soleil Lynch-’Titanium’

8th: Aliya Yen-’Loyal, Brave & True’

9th: Shale Herrera-’Wonderful World’

10th: Jewel Moody-’Be So Blind’

Mini Solo

1st: Kiera Sun-’The Full Circle’

2nd: Fiona Sartain-’The Way You Move’

2nd: Alexis Alvarez-’Wide Eyes’

3rd: Ellary-Day Szyndlar-’Snow’

4th: Keelyn Jones-’Slowly Fading’

5th: Shayne Knapp-’Blackbird’

6th: Elsie Sandall-’Almost Gone’

6th: Peyton Szuberla-’Glacier’

7th: Esme Chou-’Particle’

8th: Naiya Abalos-’Forces’

8th: Madison Machado-’Hallelujah’

8th: Aliyah Middleton-’Legs’

8th: Scarlet Bunker-’Pretty Women’

9th: Sierra Wells-’Turn to Stone’

10th: Claire Gestring-’On The Mast of Faith’

Junior Solo

1st: Laci Stoico-’Mibiso’

2nd: Taylor Morrison-’That Walk’

2nd: Kylie Kaminsky-’The Offering’

3rd: Colby Rich-’I Lie’

4th: Amaya Weeks-’Illusions’

4th: Alyssa Park-’Switch’

4th: Kortlynn Rosenbaugh-’Unearthed’

4th: Ellie Smith-’Waking Dream’

5th: Campbell Castner-’Fallen’

5th: Ellie Duffin-’Gentle Savior’

6th: Brooke Toro-’Clear Your Mind’

6th: Makaia Roux-’Everything I Wanted’

6th: Abbi Francis-’Feel It Still’

6th: Julia Chavez-’Going Under’

7th: Emmy Claire Kaiden-’Eyesore’

8th: Chloe Tyler-’Material Girl’

9th: Charlotte Webster-’The Light’

10th: Lauren Perng-’Among The Waves’

10th: Tatum Kahler-’Dreams’

10th: Chloe Bailey-’Last Man Standing’

10th: Avery Lee-’New York, New York’

10th: Milan Padula-’Stand By Me’

10th: Abby Honstad-’Veiled’

Teen Solo

1st: Emma Donnelly-’What Would I Be Without You’

2nd: Emma Hellenkamp-’Blackbird’

3rd: Courtney Chiu-’Fever’

3rd: Isaiah Villegas-’Notorious’

4th: Alexis Adair-’A.M’

4th: Brightyn Rines-’End of Love’

5th: Avery Hall-’Lie To My Heart’

6th: Erin Park-’Respire’

6th: Hailey Myers-’Standing Still’

7th: Mia Larkin-’My Blood’

7th: Alexa Lopez-’Piel’

8th: Kayla Harrison-’Crumbling’

8th: Krysten Ham-’Forgiven’

8th: Caroline Skrable-’Pick Up The Phone’

9th: Addison Leitch-’Heart On The Table’

10th: Summer O’Haver-’Black Coffee’

Senior Solo

1st: Alex Shulman-’In System’

2nd: Ella Horan-’Profundo’

2nd: Jade Bucci-’Sacrifice’

3rd: Avery Gay-’Haxun’

4th: Rylee Kiel-’All That Way’

5th: Kailyn Yi-’I Never Left’

6th: Ashley Spiller-’Disconnect’

7th: Julia Christensen-’Calling’

7th: Imani Frazier-’Deepest Thoughts’

7th: Aimee Paredas-’Do You Love Me’

7th: Kennedy Barry-’The Distance Between’

7th: Jenn Gamma-’Unconscious Mind’

8th: Ally Couch-’Let’s Stay Together’

9th: Dawson Walker-’Ramblin’ Man’

10th: Lilly Lorber-’Evening Song’

10th: Leigha Agins-’Prerogative’

10th: Abbey Zirkle-’Sispirium’

JUMPstart Duo/Trio

1st: Danceplex-’Stand By Me’

2nd: Summer’s DanceWorks-’The Queens’

Mini Duo/Trio

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Rise Up’

2nd: Danceology-’Cars That Go Boom’

3rd: Danceology-’Do Somethin’

Junior Duo/Trio

1st: Danceology-’Chelloopa’

2nd: L.A Dance Arizona-’Just Got Paid’

3rd: Bricks Studio-’90′s Mix’

Teen Duo/Trio

1st: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’The Trial’

2nd: Danceology-’Busy Signal’

3rd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Pulse’

Senior Duo/Trio

1st: Royal Dance Works-’Evol’

2nd: Elite Dance and Performing Arts Center-’Come Home’

3rd: Safford Dance Academy-’Say Something’

JUMPstart Group

1st: Club Dance Studio-’The Rose’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Cookin’ With Grease’

3rd: Danceplex-’Little Wonders’

Mini Group

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Songbird’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Conga’

3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Love Shack’

Junior Group

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Dawn’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Let My Touch’

3rd: WESTIDE Dance Project-’Santa Fe’

Teen Group

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Creator’

2nd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Aurora’

2nd: The Platform Dance-’Fade’

3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Silence’

Senior Group

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Bamboo Banga’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Paquita’

3rd: Royal Dance Works-’Uncertainty’

JUMPstart Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Baby Mine’

2nd: The Platform Dance-’Get Up’

3rd: The Platform Dance-’Somewhere Out There’

Mini Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Chapstick’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Dreamin’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Clap Snap’

Junior Line

1st: Danceology-’Just Got Paid’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’RSVP’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Skin’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Bassline’

Teen Line

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Be Italian’

1st: Royal Dance Works-’Eye On Hand’

1st: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Illusion’

2nd: Danceology-’My Hands Are Always Cold’

2nd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Strings’

3rd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Obsidian’

Senior Line

1st: Danceology-’It’s Weezy’

2nd: Royal Dance Works-’Exhale’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Impossible’

JUMPstart Extended Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Bathing Beauties’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Copa Cabana’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Jailhouse Rock’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Hollaback Girl’

Mini Extended Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Drum Step’

2nd: The Platform Dance-’Smash Bros’

3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Courage’

Junior Extended Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’A La Cardi’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Din Da Da’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Physical’

Teen Extended Line

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Who Da Baby’

2nd: Danceology-’Not Today Satan’

3rd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’One More Cup of Coffee’

Senior Extended Line

1st: Danceology-’Above Below’

2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Yo’

3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Come Together’

3rd: Danceology-’Night Thirst’

3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Slave For You’

Junior Production

1st: Danceology-’Blind Faith’

2nd: Danceology-’Rich Girl’

3rd: Danceology-’Level Up’

Teen Production

1st: The Platform Dance-’B’

2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Swing Kids’

3rd: Royal Dance Works-’Baby’

Senior Production

1st: The Platform Dance-’Wash Us’

2nd: The Platform Dance-’Joyner’

High Scores by Performance Division:

JUMPstart Jazz

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Copa Cabana’ 1st: Dance Connection 2-’Jailhouse Rock’ 2nd: Danceplex-’Let’s Hear It For The Boy’ 3rd: Spisak Dance Academy-’Remember Me’

JUMPstart Hip-Hop

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Hollaback Girl’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’Get Up’

JUMPstart Tap

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Mr. Lee’ 2nd: Spisak Dance Academy-’Choo Choo Cha Boogie’

JUMPstart Contemporary

Club Dance Studio-’Baby Mine’

JUMPstart Lyrical

1st: Club Dance Studio-’The Rose’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Fly’ 3rd: Danceplex-’Little Wonders’

JUMPstart Musical Theatre

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Bathing Beauties’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Cookin’ With Grease’

JUMPstart Ballroom

Club Dance Studio-’Barbie Girl’

Mini Jazz

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Chapstick’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Love Shack’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Hangin’ Around’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Peek A Boo’

Mini Ballet

1st: Danceology-’Scarf Dance’ 2nd: Danceology-’Polonaise’

Mini Hip-Hop

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Drum Step’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’Smash Bros’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Main Event’

Mini Tap

1st: Danceology-’Luck Be A Lady’ 2nd: Spisak Dance Academy-’Sea Cruise’ 3rd: Studio 49-’Splish Splash’

Mini Contemporary

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Dreamin’ 2nd: Danceology-’Time Passing’ 3rd: Danceology-’Saved From The Depths’

Mini Lyrical

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Songbird’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Courage’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Wind Beneath My Wings’

Mini Musical Theatre

1st: Danceology-’Mary Poppins’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Sisters’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’I Can Cook’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Don’t Tell Mama’

Mini Ballroom

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Conga’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Clap Snap’ 3rd: Danceology-’Favorite Things’

Mini Acro

Spisak Dance Academy-’Hot Hot Hot’

Junior Jazz

1st: Danceology-’Rich Girl’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Physical’ 3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Bassline’

Junior Ballet

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Swan Lake’ 2nd: Danceology-’Paquita’ 3rd: Danceology-’Passarinjo’

Junior Hip-Hop

1st: Club Dance Studio-’A La Cardi’ 2nd: Danceology-’Level Up’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Kingdom Valley High’

Junior Tap

1st: Danceology-’Just Got Paid’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Perm’ 3rd: Spisak Dance Academy-’Trip A Little Light Fantastic’

Junior Contemporary

1st: Danceology-’Blind Faith’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Dawn’ 3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Let My Touch’

Junior Lyrical

1st: The Platform Dance-’Wild Hearts’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Light In The Hallway’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Stairway’

Junior Musical Theatre

1st: Dance Connection 2-’All Shook Up’ 2nd: Danceology-’Black Friday Fiasco’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Take Off With Us’

Junior Ballroom

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Din Da Da’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’RSVP’

Junior Specialty

1st: The Platform Dance-’Adirim’ 2nd: Danceology-’Backbone’ 2nd: Dance Conection 2-’Femme de Paris’ 3rd: Royal Dance Works-’Wherever You Are’

Teen Jazz

1st: Royal Dance Works-’Makeba’ 2nd: Royal Dance Works-’Dance Monkey’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Wavy’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Fastah’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Do You Love Me’

Teen Ballet

Spisak Dance Academy-’Claire de Lune’

Teen Hip-Hop

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Who Da Baby’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’Eat’ 3rd: Royal Dance Works-’Baby’

Teen Tap

1st: Studio 49-’Shout’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’Colors Dripping Off’ 3rd: Conservatory of Dance-’Dr. Jazz’

Teen Contemporary

1st: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’One More Cup of Coffee’ 2nd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Illusion’ 3rd: Danceology-’My Hands Are Always Cold’ 3rd: WESTSIDE Dance Project-’Strings’

Teen Lyrical

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Silence’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Letting Go’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Confession’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Wicked Games’

Teen Musical Theatre

1st: Danceology-’Not Today Satan’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’I Gotcha’ 3rd: Spisak Dance Academy-’That Man’

Teen Ballroom

1st: Dance Connection 2-’Be Italian’ 2nd: Dance Connection 2-’Swing Kids’ 3rd: Club Dance Studio-’Pump’

Teen Specialty

1st: The Platform Dance-’B’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Creator’ 3rd: Royal Dance Works-’Eye On Hand’

Senior Jazz

1st: Danceology-’Night Thirst’ 1st: Dance Connection 2-’Come Together’ 2nd: Club Dance Studio-’Impossible’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Destinations’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’My Lovin’

Senior Ballet

Club Dance Studio-’Paquita’

Senior Hip-Hop

1st: Danceology-’It’s Weezy’ 1st: Club Dance Studio-’Yo’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’1 Dance’ 3rd: The Platform Dance-’Girl Gang’

Senior Contemporary

1st: Club Dance Studio-’Bamboo Banga’ 1st: Danceology-’Above Below’ 1st: The Platform Dance-’Wash Us’ 2nd: Royal Dance Works-’Exhale’ 3rd: Dance Connection 2-’Quiet Please’

Senior Lyrical

Club Dance Studio-’Vision of Love’

Senior Specialty

1st: The Platform Dance-’Ego Death’ 2nd: The Platform Dance-’Drip’

Senior Ballroom

Club Dance Studio-’Slave For You’

Best of JUMP:

JUMPstart

The Platform Dance-’Get Up’

Spisak Dance Academy-’Choo Choo Cha Boogie’

Danceplex-’Little Wonders’

Dance Connection 2-’Jailhouse Rock’

Club Dance Studio-’The Rose’

Mini

Danceology-’Mary Poppins’

The Platform Dance-’Smash Bros’

Club Dance Studio-’Drum Step’

Dance Connection 2-’Courage’

Junior

Club Dance Studio-’A La Cardi’

The Platform Dance-’Kingdom Valley High’

WESTIDE Dance Project-’Santa Fe’

Dance Connection 2-’Dawn’

Danceology-’Blind Faith’

Teen

Royal Dance Works-’Eye On Hand’

The Platform Dance-’B’

Danceology-’Not Today Satan’

WESTSIDE Dance Project-’One More Cup of Coffee’

Dance Connection 2-’Be Italian’

Danceplex-’Darling’

Club Dance Studio-’Who Da Baby’

Senior

The Platform Dance-’Wash Us’

Danceology-’Above Below’

Club Dance Studio-’Bamboo Banga’

Dance Connection 2-’Come Together’

Royal Dance Works-’Exhale’

Best In Studio:

Conservatory of Dance-’Supercut’

Danceology-’Not Today Satan’

The Platform Dance-’B’

WESTSIDE Dance Project-’One More Cup of Coffee’

Royal Dance Works-’Eye On Hand’

Club Dance Studio-’Who Da Baby’

Dance Studio C-’Power of Love’

Danceplex-’If I Say’

L.A Dance Arizona-’Remember The Day’

Dance Connection 2-’Be Italian’

Spisak Dance Academy-’That Man’

#jump #2021 #phoenix #arizona

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borisbubbles · 5 years

Text

Eurivision: 40 - 36

40. Maja Keuc - “No one” Slovenia 2011

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Psychedelic, secretly evil masterpieces <3

“No one” is often overlooked in many rankings, by people with utterly vanilla tastes, and while vanilla is an excellent flavour, sometimes vanilla needs to bloom into something better with more flavour and texture. ENTER, this sneakily fierce song, featuring Bettan’s hip-waving choreo <3

"No one” slowly but gradually lulls you into its dark, alluring storyline, tricking you into believing this is a break-up song in which the woman is crying over the loss of the relationship, ONLY PLOT TWIST the girl is a textbook psychopath and this message of empowerment is actually one of psychotic obsession and petty revenge. Is this Gone Girl?

That’s in a nutshell, why “No one” is such a fantastic entry. It gradually, slowly unfolds like a paper fortune teller, except every flap contains a message of unfiltered, devious, psychotic energy. 😍 It’s so unabashedly dark and I cannot wait for ~Amaya~ to epically return to ESC (within the next three years) and give Slovenia their first top 10 since Nuša Derenda.

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39. Elina Nechayeva “La forza” Estonia 2018

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[2018 Review here]

Elina is so beautiful.

Wow. I mean, WHAT IS LA FORZA though if not a magnificent wonderland of stunning visual effect. It’s the best example of Estonia’s technological prowess at Eurovision. I mean, look at these projections. They are breath-taking, in the literal sense of the word:

Naturally, I must address that “La Forza” has received the criticism of “ugh, it’s boring”. However most of those people like Tamtaratam, so their opinions can be safely discarded into the rubbish bin. 🤭 I personally think “La forza” is a perfect execution of opera, providing captivating vocals and a sincerely stunning act. Opera is supposed to be a mind-blowing spectacle and “La forza” is exactly that.

However, it might actually be... a bit too perfect for my tastes. Its greatest strengths also made “La forza” a bit aloof and distant, and while this is far from a dealbreaker, it does prevent me from ranking it further.

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38. Loreen - “Euphoria” Sweden 2012

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[this entry was inspired by a popular youtube cooking channel]

Yes, this is not a ranking with Loreen as their #1. This could have been a ranking with Loreen as their #1 if she had gone to Eurovision with either of her other two melfest entries, but look at the flag and look at Sweden’s general taste in melfest winner:

It’s even a wonder a selection which produced THOSE winners also produced "Euphoria” to begin with.

Anyway, now that we’re on to the subject of Sweden, it appears that over the years, the general of opinion of Sweden has dropped. This is because out of all the countries participating in Eurovision, Sweden is by far the most smug.

Which is why the first step in covering the song that is generally considered their best entry, is to humble Sweden:

Hey Sweden, See this country? It’s called Switzerland. Switzerland once won the Eurovision Song Contest with Céline Dion. Céline Dion is one of the best selling artists in the world. She made double the sales ABBA made and has non-stop performed, while ABBA broke up less than 10 years after they won. You’re not better at iconic winners than Switzerland, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It’s called Moldova. It is the poorest country in the Euroverse and has amazing staging everbody talks about. Nobody ever talks about your staging because it just conveniently pretty people in various degrees of treadmill. You don’t stage better than Moldova, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It is called Malta. Malta have sent a woman to Eurovision for five years straight. They are one of the most unapologetically pro-female countries in the world. Even all of their JESC entries except for two have been women. Meanwhile you aren’t sending women and you know why? Because melfest is a rigged and fangirl pandering sausagefest. You’re worse at inclusion than Malta, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It’s called Ukraine. Ukraine have reached the grand final every year they’ve participated. Have you got a better track record? No, because you cannot guarantee qualification without properly without eating crusty professional jury ass first. You’re not better at reaching a Eurovision Grand Final than Ukraine, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It’s called Portugal. Portugal are the one of the few countries to have never sent songs with English as the primary language to Eurovision. They have proudly stuck with their native language even though it sounds like drunk Spanish. You know why you aren’t signing in your native language, Sweden? because you have no guts and let’s face it, no glory, that’s fucking why. Also your language sounds like Norwegian with a mouthfull of surströmming. You’re not better at native languages than Portugal, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It’s called Luxembourg. Luxembourg is a microstate that everyone wants to see back in the contest. Does anyone get excited when you return to the contest? No because they know you’ll get an underserved top five hand-fed to you, no matter what generic gobshite you’re sending. You’re worse at generating buzz than Luxembourg, Sweden. Remember that.

See this country? It’s called Norway. Norway’s last three entries have scored more televote points than yours have. You know why? Because their entries speak to people and are entertainment. Your entries only speak to people with boring taste and no friends (Denmark). Which is why you will never find or be repped by a KEiiNO. You’re not better at fun than Norway, Sweden, remember that.

See this country? it’s called Ireland. They.... okay, they aren’t better than you. I’ll be honest, Ireland is just a worthless, flavourless slice of slock in Eurovision. They’re flavourless, bland, completely without taste or texture. They’re the iceberg lettuce of this world. It’s a shock they won so many times, but I guess that’s anglophone privilege for you. Still, they have won Eurovision 7 times. Have you won Eurovision seven times, Sweden? Nuh uh, not that, peace! Remember that ;)

Now that Sweden has been properly humbled, it is time move on to the Loreen write up:

“Euphoria” is an everlasting piece of art and everyone who thinks otherwise needs a therapist.

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37. Bojana Stamenov - “Beauty never lies” Serbia 2015

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FINALLY I CAN SAY, THIS SONG IS FANTASTIC AND IT’S... fucking more than “okay”. Bojana is a FORCE OF NATURE.

It is therefore UTTERLY baffling to me that so many jurors ranked this song LAST??? Like,

a of all, look at how the crowd POPS at the key change, that’s as much an objective parametre of quality if ever there was.

B of all, I legit do not understand watching 2015 (a rather mediocre year of Eurovision) and thinking that Serbia is the worst, over, say... Bogus?? Because Bojana is a Goddess while Boggie is boring cunt and Goddesses > Boring cunts.

The jural dislike is even more baffling considering that “Beauty never lies” is a touching and deep exploration of overcoming self-loathing, I rant about meaningitis a lot, but one of the BEST ideas Serbia had was to revamp “Ceo svet je moi” into a body-positivity anthem because that theme + Bojana is a match made in Euroheaven. “Beauty never lies” starts off captivating, a gripping narrative about self-loathing with hints of avant garde artistry. It also has some of the best lyrics found in any Eurovision song. “Finally I can say-” is forever, but “beneath this veil of skin my heart’s entangled in, beauty’s embodied” is pure poetry. Excellent, just excellent.

and then, after a full minute of build-up and completely without warning "Beauty never lies” transforms into... a SHAMELESS CAMPY SCHLAGER MASTERPIECE 😍

This has to be one of the best key changes in Eurovision, right? As “Beauty never lies” starts off sentimental and contemplentative, it suddenly blossoms into an unapolegetic bop that completely DIS-MAN-TLES body-shaming in one fell swoop. Songs like these make me feel ALIVE and proud of being Eurovision fanboy. Thank you for your wise lesson Bojana, you stunner you. Signed with sincerity, BorisBubbles.

This will come as no surprise but she was also the highest Serbian entry on this list, which means it’s also recap time:

Statistics never lie, Serbia was pretty good in this decade. I rarely care for their entries with the intensity that I did for Bojana, but they are also consistently inoffensive. It it what you can expect for a small country bursting with musical talent (and Zheljko Joksimovic).

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36. Giorgos Alkaios & Friends - “OPA!” Greece 2010

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OPA!

I cannot let anyone with that haircut reach my top 35 in good conscience ,but jesus what a FIRECRACKER! I think the general apathy towards 2010 comes from the general lack of ENERGETIC bangers, but between “OPA!” (caps and exclamation point are mandatory) and “Allez Ola Olé”, I don’t think anyone can complain. This song is an EXPLOSION.

Much like how “Dancing in the rain” was a showcase of Spain’s greatest talent, so is “OPA!” an excellent calling card for Greece’s Eurovision prowess: they excel at drunken party anthems. “OPA!” is a bangin’ bacchanal, punctuating every sentence with kickass virile energy, examples of which include ejaculating drums:

Electro-Fiddle solo’s <3

and hammy nokia noises <3 (attempted pandering to the hosts and getting the country wrong <3333333)

This song and “Alcohol is free” were the final times where Greece excelled at high voltage fun (there’s also “Rise up” I guess but lol @ that). GET IT TOGETHER GREECE, but I guess I’ll elaborate further once it’s Koza Mostra’s turn to be judged, juried and executed.

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#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Maja Keuc #No One #Slovenia #Elina Nechayeva #La Forza #Sweden #Loreen #Euphoria #Serbia #Estonia #Bojana Stamenov #Beauty never lies #Giorgos Alkaios #Giorgos Alkaois' friends #OPA

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eirianerisdar · 5 years

Note

If you are still taking interlude suggestions: Amaya's POV of when gren was struck by lightning.

Waiting in the Quiet, Part 7

Chapter 7: Interlude - Amaya, Winter’s Turn

General Summary: Gren and Amaya, from their first meeting onwards. Follows canon as closely as possible, but as the first six chapters were written before S2 I’ve moved up Sarai’s death by a couple of years. Otherwise, mostly canon-compliant. Clean, eventually-mutual-pining, slow-burn gremaya.

This Chapter: As requested, Winter’s Turn, when Gren was struck by lightning. Mirrors the latter part of Chapter 4 of Waiting in the Quiet.

Read from Chapter 1

Chapter index

>When Thunder fell, he shook the earth; a mountain of fallen white-blue, pierced through the heart with a spear of violet flame.

But Amaya only saw Thunder’s last roar, as she had felt it in her breastbone where her ears did not hear – a lightning-lance of Thunder’s own that crashed down amongst the edge of the forces of Katolis.

Then down came the King of Dragons, in the blood and dust.

Amaya stood still.

She was sure–

She was sure, for a moment, that there among the soldiers where Thunder’s last bolt of lightning fell, there had been the flash of strawberry hair.

It was impossible. She had ordered Gren to remain in the Fortress.

And yet–

She ran. Circled the fallen dragon’s massive bulk to where a few crumpled figures lay, burnt beyond all recognition. And there, among the stench of smoke, ginger hair and the deep blue of a half-cape–

–and Amaya slid to her knees in the churned mud by Gren’s side, the icy air of Winter’s Turn somehow burning colder in her suddenly frozen lungs.

No.

She had ordered him not to come.

Her commander lay half on his side in the bloodstained grime of the battlefield. Smoke curled lazily from a charred rent in his armour that ran from right shoulder to left boot, exposing the teal under-armour shirt beneath. Gren’s face was calm and still; long-lashed eyes closed, humour-edged mouth shut, as though he were asleep.

Amaya blinked, hand jarring halfway to Gren’s uninjured shoulder.

He wasn’t breathing.

He wasn’t–

Amaya tore off her gloves and slid ice-fed fingers under Gren’s collar. The skin there was still warm and hauntingly familiar to the touch; where her cheek would press whenever they hugged each other, as only the best and closest friends could.

But she felt no pulse.

She was moving before the horror could register.

She tore through Gren’s smoking armour like parchment. No mere leather and metal could stand under her will, General of the Standing Battalion and sentinel of the Breach; she who was Katolis’s last guard before the might of Xadia.

She had looked death in the eyes too many times to count. Death would not be victorious against her.

The material of Gren’s shirt was horribly thin under her fingers as Amaya pressed the heel of one hand into his sternum and laced her other hand above; she leaned forward, her greaves grinding into congealing blood and mud, and forced her whole weight onto Gren’s chest through her locked shoulders and elbows.

The give of a rib under her fingers nearly brought her to tears there and then, but she had no time to think of what abuse she was doing to her faithful commander’s chest; the rhythm of the compressions took over in a maddening mantra of please-please-please–

Thirty compressions in, Amaya’s sweat-slick fingers went to Gren’s rapidly-cooling face and pinched his nose shut; her lips locked around his slack mouth and forced air from her own lungs into his, once, twice, looked for his falling chest then back to compressions, then nose, lips, air, hands, nose, lips, air, hands–

She became his heart and his breath.

Again, and again, until she tore off her own stifling mail and pressed on with the high collar of her under-armour shirt sticking to her neck.

The sky of Winter’s Turn burned bright and merciless above; the ground bled fire and volcanic gases below. And under Amaya’s fingers, her Gren – her most trusted commander, her closest friend – was slipping away.

Thunder had taken her sister from her – and now in his last act of bitter terror he had taken Gren, who knew her best in the world: her confidant and her voice.

She could not bear it.

Amaya’s stomach roiled with exhaustion as she gasped in a last breath that sliced fire across her lungs and pushed all her hope between Gren’s lips, holding his nose and tilting his chin with hands that trembled in their bracers.

Her back burned as she pulled back – her face no more than a hand-span from his features, searching for anything, anything at all. Her hands had slid away from his nose and chin, ready to resume driving blood around Gren’s body – but they stilled now, one in his fiery hair and the other drawing a thumb-tip across his freckled cheekbone.

The breath slid out between Amaya’s lips like a storm gale; gusts that shook her frame in the cold air of midwinter.

Gren was still.

The first of Amaya’s tears hit the edge of his right eye, rolled off his eyelashes and trailed down his temple as though the tear were his own.

Amaya closed her eyes against the pain that tore at her throat, and leant closer to press gentle lips to Gren’s forehead.

A goodbye.

And there, where her fingertips brushed the angle of Gren’s jaw – a swell and decline under his skin, like the rise and fall of a storm surge. An exhale of air that was not her own against her tear-stained cheek; it ruffled her longer fringe at her chin, brushed it across her left cheekbone like a caress.

Amaya blinked away the moisture obscuring her vision, and stared.

The pulse under her fingers grew stronger, and steadier, and as she turned disbelieving eyes down to Gren’s chest, the wrinkles on his shirt that her hands had formed now shifted as his chest rose and fell.

As it did again. And again.

Amaya’s breaths turned to quickening hitches that drew fresh tears from the corners of her eyes: tears of unexpected relief. She spared a glance upwards. The battlefield around them was yet without much movement; the bulk of Thunder separated them from much of the vanguard of Katolis.

And below her hands, colour was returning to Gren’s cheeks, like a warm sunrise behind the stars of his freckles.

Amaya’s shoulders shook as she sat back to scrub at her face, her free hand fastening around Gren’s wrist and the pulse-point there like a lifeline. Her sister’s hand had been cold on the bier when Amaya took it, she remembered. Gren’s wrist grew warmer moment by moment under her bare fingers, as did his cheek, smooth under the callouses of her sword-hand.

Amaya focused on the steady back and forth of her thumb over Gren’s cheekbone, and used that to center her breathing.

Then there, above her fingers – movement behind Gren’s eyelids.

Amaya snatched her hand back from his cheek.

A sliver of blue appeared between long lashes, and then just as suddenly Gren squeezed his eyes shut against the light and hissed in pain.

Amaya reached out again even before she registered what she was doing, and brushed away the stray tear that had slipped out of Gren’s eyelids; he stilled at her touch, and blinked his eyes properly open, slowly.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. General and commander, friend and interpreter, and… what more?

Then Gren’s bruised lips opened to draw in a deeper breath, and Amaya saw the moment his injuries made themselves known to him.

She let go of him as he twisted under her touch. “You weren’t breathing,” she said, fingers flickering between each sign with far more calm than what she was currently feeling. “I couldn’t find a pulse.”

Gren stared up at her blankly, then down to his still-smoking armour by his feet where Amaya had flung it earlier – and finally, across and behind her to the mountainous body of the king of dragons.

Looking at him like this – her Gren, loyal to a fault and still trying to make sense of everything despite the pain he must be in – Amaya felt his absence at her fingertips like her lungs craved air.

She needed to reassure herself that this was real.

Gren’s breath hitched as she leant over him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in his scent even as she felt him automatically raise an arm to wrap around her shoulders. What remained of her tears began to soak into the collar of his shirt, but Amaya could not bring herself to care.

She knew the moment he understood the severity of what had transpired, because he wrestled to sit up and was suddenly embracing her in return with as much desperation as hers. The shape of his eyes and nose, so familiar to her, buried itself in her hair as his arms bled warmth into her aching back.

Gren’s pulse beat strong and steady at her temple, and his breath ruffled her hair. Where her nose pressed into his shoulder, she could smell the lingering smoke of lightning and Thunder’s breath – but there also was her commander’ scent: ink, parchment, and the faint sweetness of the strawberries he so loved to filch from the fortress kitchens. This, more than the feel of his arms wound as tightly around her as hers were around him, reassured Amaya that he was alive. Battered, bruised, but alive.

She had wrested him from the edge of the abyss with naught but her hands and her breath and her will.

Mere months ago when he had declared that he was moving out of the rooms beside hers in the fortress keep she had thought nothing of the added distance; for the sake of propriety, he had all but said, and smiled one of his peculiar smiles when she had hugged him and said that she didn’t care but he should do so if it made him happy.

It was one of those smiles that seemed to hold a veiled sort of pain – pain that presented itself when she laughed with him, or laid her head on his shoulder when they stargazed, or smiled at him after a good day’s work was done.

Amaya still did not understand the meaning behind that smile – it grieved her at times to think that her dearest friend was in pain.

But she knew now that to lose Gren would be her utter ending.

Gren’s breath trembled against her temple, and Amaya felt him speak three distinct syllables through the vibrations in his chest; but she could not lip-read them, not with her face pressed against his shoulder like this.

She pushed herself back with an effort and looked up at him with the question in her gaze.

What she saw in his eyes took her breath away.

Gratitude. Loyalty. Sorrow, for causing her sorrow. And…something else. Something she could not identify.

“I thank you,” he said, with his mouth, shapes familiar to her.

Still in a half-embrace as they were, Amaya felt the sounds she could not hear tremble in his side; the second syllable felt different to her touch as it did before. Had Gren truly said thank?

But the raw emotion in Gren’s gaze only reminded Amaya of her own desperate fear – so foreign compared with the calm confidence she usually led her troops with – and she pulled him back into their embrace. He folded her back into the circle of his hold, his usual restraint gone.

The air of Winter’s Turn was cold.

But this was…warm.

Amaya’s eyes closed, and her world narrowed to the feel of Gren’s heartbeat, his breath in her hair, and their arms, clasped so tightly around each other that she must surely be hurting him.

She let go of her remaining thoughts and was just…was. There. With Gren.

She did not open her eyes. If she had, she might have seen Corvus order a circle of Standing Battalion veterans to form a circle around them to shield them from prying eyes.

But Amaya, General of the Standing Battalion, sister to the Queen of Katolis, sister-in-law to the King, aunt to the princes, simply rested in the fact that her Gren – her Commander Gren was still alive.

To be continued

Next chapter we’ll probably start cracking on with season 2! Thanks for reading and this is cross-posted to FFN as usual. Comments and feedback welcome! For those of you who like Viren and Soren, I’ve written Sins of the Father and His Father’s Back to further explore their father-son relationship or lack thereof. TDP fanfic all around!

My fanfic masterlist

FFN profile and stories

#tdp #the dragon prince #amaya #gren #gremaya #tdp fanfic #commander gren #general amaya #my post #fanfic #replies #anon #waiting in the quiet #tdp gren #tdp amaya

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flowerflamestars · 5 years

Text

Ivy Moon Extras: Samhain

A dead witch brushed Nesta’s cheek at two in the morning. The time had come. She tumbled as quietly as she could from Cassian’s bed, off balance from the difficulty of untangling his embrace. Not fully awake, his brow crinkled as Nesta slid away.

She barely made it to the roof when the ghosts started coming thickly. Unlike the werewolf sleeping two floors bellow, Nesta couldn’t see in the predawn dark. But even stumbling up the stairs, she could see the dead. A cool kiss on both cheeks from her grandmother- the Acheron who’d raised Nesta never visible, never stayed beyond a moment long enough to make sure her granddaughter, the heir to her dark, impossible gift, knew she only ever need call upon her. But it was out in the open air of the wards she’d woven on Cassian’s home, clear starry sky above despite the pulse of the city around them, that a ghost she’d known for nearly as many years stepped out of the nothing. “Reinita,” The long dead werewolf called in greeting, striding foreword to take both Nesta’s hands. Today, tonight, she could. Samhain had come with the pass of the witching hour. For a single day, the veil lifted. Ghosts might become more visible- stronger, visiting their magical descendants. For Nesta, who could hear them every day of her life, this was the time her power swelled to it’s zenith. The in-between, those grey hours, when she could interact with the dead like they still walked the earth. And this year, she recognized Caterina’s hazel eyes. After all, her youngest son’s gaze was the thing Nesta fell asleep to. Beloved, on both faces, in such different ways. She’d never been sure- the time after her own mother’s death a haze until the Hunt found them- but Nesta was very nearly certain that Caterina Aguilar had been watching over her since birth. Involuntarily, Nesta squeezed both hands. “Did you always know?” Cat- she’d always called her Cat, all those years- smiled softly, and shook her head, dark curls swaying around her face. “No.” Nesta couldn’t help but see Az in the smile. Now that she knew them, knew everything, how could she possibly have thought she’d been prepared for this moment? “There was something about you, darling. I thought you might grow up to lead a pack, like I did. The moons mark was on you, and my time as a mother was always cut short.” Nesta saw the hug coming, used it as an excuse to swallow the sudden burn of tears. A mother- not something any of the Acherons had truly possessed in a long, long time. Their mother had moved on. After the demise of their human father she’d simply followed after him- Nesta had no doubt that she’d followed him still into the peace of human death. Not once had she ever answered the summons of her death-blessed daughter. But Cat always had. Estella. Farzaneh, Leila, Amaya, Zaynab, old Emine, laughing Isabella- generations of magic handling women and werewolves that Nesta had never known she owed to Cassian. The dead to whom time didn’t matter, who’d seen her as family, past and future, forevermore and always come to her regardless of Cassian’s presence in her life. Was this the bond wolves always felt? Pack- belonging, familiarity, kinship. A laugh fought it’s way out of Nesta’s tight throat. “And the Spanish lessons?” Cat chuckled in return, stepped back to take in the enchantment of stars overhead. “I’d like to say if was for fun,” She told Nesta, “But my grandmother insisted, actually.” Something bright- excited, wild- was blooming beneath Nesta’s ribs. Steely, determined Estella Aguilar who wanted Nesta married and a pack alpha, no matter the obstacle of her being a witch. The last member of Cassian’s family to hold the gifts he carried. “Soul magic." The full strength of Cat’s grin was all her own, huge and fascinated. “Soul magic,” She agreed easily, before continuing with careful casualness. “Were you ready, when you found him?” A lightening strike. A curse. Infinitely kind eyes. Bare tawny skin under temping moonlight and the best laugh Nesta had ever heard- ready was not the right word. “Were you?” Nesta asked, meeting Cat’s gaze. The sky was just beginning to lighten. Not dawn yet, but the edges of blackness beginning to cede way, even as the stars continued to shine. Power hummed beneath Nesta’s skin- she could feel the spirits of thousands, an uncounted number of sparks, now floating up out of the dark. She kept the dead, and the dead kept her. This was their time. “For Arian?” Cat was laughing again. “Never. After Rhysand was born, after the world kept turning. Well, do you know I fell on top of him the first time we met? Knocked him straight to the cave floor, that poor man. He turned so red I was half convinced his wolf would have a scarlet coat." Not Caterina’s soul-bonded. But Arian Kamran Ahmadi- the werewolf who gave Azriel his night dark eyes and Cassian his booming laugh. Who’d forged the gold chain that hung around Nesta’s neck even now, amber humming softly with still strong protective magic. Love is a choice and a destiny, Gywnn Ap Nudd had taught Nesta. Love is freedom. She thought Cat had chosen well. “Never,” Nesta echoed. Ready wasn’t the point at all. Cassian had fallen into her life- no less dramatically than a choice mistake in rappelling. She might have run if not for the surprise, and Cassian would never have followed. She might have found him ten thousand ways- but what mattered was this: that to be beside him, to know again the shape of his hands and keeness of his mind, was as easy as taking a breath. Absurd, terrifying- Nesta barely knew him and understood him completely. And she loved it. Nesta sighed out a gust of cold October air and let herself smile. “You ready to see him?” For so utterly delicate a woman, the werewolf strength was unmistakable as Cat took her hand once more in answer. She’d been thinking about this since the library. Not just the coming dying season, but the way Nesta herself existed as a physical threshold between the dead and the living. The reveal of a witches touch was true- so long as Cat held her hand, others would see as Nesta did on this in between day. And so the long dead Caterina Aguilar followed her son’s mate down the stairs, and into the world of the living. —- Caterina could feel the others gathering. If she’d looked over her shoulder she’d see them; aunts and cousins, her pack and kin, at Nesta Archeron’s back as they always had been. The weave of the scarf Emine wore over her head twinkling under the kitchen light as she slid forward to weave braids in Nesta’s hair. Great Uncle Sebastiano arriving with click of his unneeded but doubtless immaculate cane. Estella scolding Leila as her hands wandered over bookshelves spilling plants and paperbacks. She couldn’t look. Because there he was: Cassian, her little Leo, strong and grown and happy, sleep rumpled in this kitchen that smelled like home. Cat could scent his emotions gentle on the air- confusion waking to an empty bed, care and concern and need for he must have realized what day this was. Love. Like alchemy in every bit of the air of his home. Her boy was loved. There would be time later- for questions, for stories, to meet each and every member of the family her sons had made. To see her Azriel, Rhysand, whose scent’s painted the air here too with contentment.

But now there was this; tired hazel eyes so much her own brightening as Nesta walked in. Shifting to vivid wolf amber with shock, with joy, as the witch pulled Caterina into the room and Cassian saw his mother for the first time in more than a century. One more wolf arrived. Cat scented him long before he was visible, tracked his steady movement through the growing crowd. Felt the spark in her own heart as he shifted, peace spooling out in waves. Her Arian took her free hand between both of his, gentle as the day they met. “Love,” He murmured, dark eyes wet. “I know,” Cat replied. And she did. It might as well have been her own heart split in two between them. Arian had always wanted to be a father, their time had been so brief. Once, twice, he pressed her hand to lips, Cat’s fingertips brushing the neatly trimmed beard she adored so much. She smelled like a bonfire, but Nesta was pointedly looking away from the exchange. That, they’d fix too. Family was not blood. But now, they moved together to meet again the son she’d had but ten short years with, who Arian had only known in death. Their Cassian, who’d made them proud every day.

@bon-bon-salvatore @strangeenemy @sannelovesreading @maddieimhot @ladyvanserra @rhysand-darling @empress-ofbloodshed @highfaenesta @marianaftm @illyrianinterrasen @tntwme @the-smoldering-illyrian-beauty @jahelyden @sjmasstrash @sunsummoner @rairrai @rhysanoodle @a-trifling-matter @eastside-divebar @skychild29 @happy-smiling-things @missanniewhimsy@abillionlittlepieces @poisonous00 @macomafastraash @vampwitchel @symwinter @acotarfanfic@rapunzel1523 @the-regal-warrior @wolffrising @tswaney17 @they-call-me-cuatro @queenofillea1@neverlandoftimespacefuckery @dayanna-hatter @mastercommandercaptain @vidalinav@mindnumbmikey @wewhohavefailed @city-of-fae @rhysanddarlingfeyre @fucking-winchester-trash@lordof-bloodshed @firemadeofgirl

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leonard-cohen-the-second · 5 years

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Pairing: Avalance, SteelVixen, DarhkAtom, Zarli

Rating: M for Mature (Graphic Depictions of Violence)

Fic Summary: Amaya Jiwe has disappeared from the campus of Starling University. Student life is turned upside down as Sara Lance and her friends set out to uncover the university's many secrets. In a world of vampires, werewolves and mystical creatures, Sara cannot rest until she saves her friend... and figures out the mystery behind the new student: Ava Sharpe.

Chapter Snippet: Veiled by the dark of the night some days prior, a hulking figure stood over the ravaged remains of what once seemed to be a human figure. The cage of it’s carcass laid bare to what was once the single barrier between the world and the since ceased beating heart as the flesh-ridden spokes stood pried open to the supposed scavenger. However, unlike a scavenger, the being stood sullenly over his kill as his dark form stood stained with the mess of his visceral deed. In his bloodied grasp, a spade-like blade glinted ominously amidst it all, making the horror of the scene all the more apparent.

His tired, grief-stricken gaze looked over the obliterated form as if looking over his work and the absolute of its completion, though his stare seemed to linger as it fell upon the blaring reality of just who his victim was. Piercing fangs sat bared in its mouth, looking as though the creature could jump up at any second to dig into the closest piece of flesh she could get her hands on.

"It was a necessary evil..." A low, gritty voice broke the somber silence. "...No longer belong here; simply trespassers left on the human plane..." He craned his head back to meet the night sky above, letting out a light mist as he released a deep exhale. His jaw hung slightly open, revealing a similar pair of fangs protruding from the sliver of his mouth. "My people, they need to be saved..."

#Avalance #Zarlie #Steelvixen #Darhkatom #Legends of Tomorrow #fanfiction #Tyra writes Avalance #Tyra writes Fanfiction #oh look there's this #HERE YOU GO TO NO ONE WHO ASKED

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rorykillmore · 6 years

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fires off a few ideas bc I love everything you write and am always indecisive so! some best au thing that features, as a requirement, cat grant roasting sasuke. rkorya and arrowverse/legends in some capacity. a lionclan or tigerclan fic that's just like their atmosphere or dynamics as a whole? I just want to think about either of them Existing honestly

surprise this one’s with its original ask because i did the first draft of it... well, first, before i decided to post all these separately. rkorya/legends interaction is something i’ve wanted to write for awhile and there were a couple different approaches i considered, but the idea of a first meeting (disastrous as it might inevitably be) won out. i’m sure one or both of us will get an opportunity to expand on the individual relationships in the future, so...

storm, i always almost find myself at a loss when it comes time to talk about our friendship because... idk we’ve endured a lot together and it’s really important to me. you’re someone i feel i can turn to when shit gets really rough and i have trouble admitting my vulnerabilities and i just wouldn’t be the person i am today, and denny wouldn’t be the site that it is, without you. i know you’ve had to put up with a lot of pain and doubt this past year but i’m so so proud of you for pushing through and being back in school for as long as you have been and. well. hopefully you enjoy this fic bc sara and rkorya’s dynamic is one of the many things we’ve built together that i’m really proud of. merry christmas!!!

“But, guys – we’re skipping right over the best part of a generally sucky situation,” Ray chirps excitedly. “There’s a Star Wars universe. Like – an entire dimension where Star Wars is real.”

It’s just bad luck that it happens the way it does.

Could’ve been a lot worse, Sara reflects later – there could’ve been any number of people on board, Newt, Maive, Gardner, Ratchet. Instead, it’s just her and Rkorya in the midst of a sparring match when the rifts take the entire thing back home.

They both tense at the sensation – Sara has an immediate, sneaking suspicion of what might’ve happened, and she wonders if Rkorya might even be able to sense it. To put both of their doubts to rest, she asks at once, “Gideon?”

Uncharacteristically, there comes a pause before she answers. “Well, Captain Lance. It appears we’re home.”

Home. It hits Sara more strangely than she’s ever imagined, especially with Rkorya standing only meters away. Sara looks over to meet her gaze and finds a mirrored whirlwind of emotion there.

“As always, the rifts have a laughable idea of timing,” Rkorya says finally, tersely.

“Don’t panic,” Sara tells her levelly, although the more likely scenario is Rkorya taking it out on whoever’s unlucky enough to get in their way first (this is her dimension, after all, it’s only a matter of time). “– Technically, this is a good thing. We actually have dimension-jumping technology here.”

Rkorya’s eyes widen just slightly, but before she can respond, there’s a voice from somewhere outside in the bridge.

“Sara?”

Sara’s heart leaps in her chest, and she thinks the sudden surge of disbelief and warmth and familiarity she feels must be what keeps Rkorya from reacting too visibly. Jax. “Looks like my crew’s found us already,” she murmurs a not-entirely-necessary warning.

“I’ll brace myself,” Rkorya responds dryly, still tense (though Sara can’t really blame her, all of this hitting her at once), eyes on the door.

“In the Cargo Bay,” Sara calls, and it’s only another moment before some of them start to file in.

“What happened?” Jax asks as he appears, oblivious to the way Sara stares at him almost disbelievingly. “We thought you left us, for a minute there –”

He cuts off as he sees Rkorya, stunned.

“Who’s this?” Amaya is quicker to demand, coming up behind him with Ray in tow. Sara thinks she ought to be grateful that it’s just the three of them, for the moment, but she’s still sort of reeling from seeing them all again. Has it really been a whole year?

Ray doesn’t manage to be quite so diplomatic, peering around Jax excitedly. “Holy smokes, is that – is that an alien?”

“Greetings,” Rkorya replies dryly, now that she can finally get a word in – though she seems to be leaving the explanation to Sara.

“Slow down, guys,” she cuts in, composing herself. “This is going to take a little bit of explaining.”

“You think?” Jax sounds vaguely amused.

“Sara – she has a lightsaber.” Ray can’t contain himself, and Amaya furrows her brow.

“What’s a lightsaber?”

Sara thinks she might feel a migraine coming on – it’s difficult to grapple some control, when she’s fighting off so many emotions. She thinks Rkorya must feel it, because she’s been uncharacteristically understated in her reaction to all this. “I’m sure Rkorya would be happy to explain that to you,” she tells Amaya, a little wryly.

“The moment I’m allowed enough breathing room to do so,” Rkorya adds.

“Sorry.” Jax nods to her directly, though his gaze keeps flickering over to Sara. “You’re right. But we should probably call the whole team together for this.”

The entire team occupying the same space doesn’t general equate to breathing room, Sara thinks, but she can’t deny that she’s already longing to see them all again. “Right,” she agrees finally. “We’ve got some serious catching up to do.”

“So you were stuck in a different world,” Jax reiterates in disbelief once they’ve all assembled at the bridge. “For a year.”

“And yet, to us – it felt like mere moments!” Stein, unsurprisingly, has been engrossed from the start of their explanation. “Not that time discrepancies would be, theoretically, uncommon between dimensions – especially distant ones. Still… astonishing.”

Sara’s on the edge of a fond smile, in spite of herself, as Rkorya nods to him curtly. “Fortunate for all of us that was the case. I can’t imagine the chaos that would’ve unfolded otherwise.”

“Come on, man, get your priorities straight,” Nate reprimands him, which Sara is pretty sure absolutely no one is convinced by. Sure enough, he turns to Rkorya, eyes shining. “Have you ever met anyone by the name of Indiana Jones?”

“No,” she tells him flatly, briefly glancing at Sara. “Although I’ve already been informed of the fictional… similarities you’re apparently familiar with.”

“Multiple times, actually,” Sara adds. She hates to stamp on their excitement, but she’s also vaguely fearing for their future safety. “Seriously, guys, it’s kind of old by now.”

“Can I just hold it?” Nate eyes Rkorya’s lightsaber, ignoring the veiled warning. “Just once? Can I touch your spiky horn things?”

“Nate,” Sara snaps, annoyed now. He pauses, eyeing her sheepishly – and then falters in earnest when he sees the level, intent way Rkorya is regarding him.

“I might allow it,” she begins, tone deceptively cordial in a way Sara recognizes instantly. “Provided you find the risk agreeable.”

“Risk?”

“You may not get your hand back afterwards.”

Mick, who up until now hasn’t contributed much to the conversation from where he’s leaning up against a wall, grins slightly.

There are situations where Sara would take a threat to one of her crew with some concern, but she registers this as casual Sith banter, by now. Nate obviously doesn’t have that background knowledge – he takes a slight step back, but Sara figures it’s good for him to learn some boundaries from the get-go.

“I think… that brings to light a more objective concern about all of this,” Stein takes the opportunity to intervene.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mick growls. “She’s speaking my language.”

“She is a Sith.” Stein ignores him, appealing to Sara directly. “Correct me if my limited knowledge of the canon is incorrect - or if it doesn’t apply to its real life equivalent - but doesn’t that mean she serves a fascist empire? That she abides by their code?”

Sara feels as much as watches the energy in the room tighten as both Rkorya and Amaya go tense. “What do you mean fascist empire –?” Amaya starts. Even Nate and Ray are starting to look uncomfortable.

“Well, actually the code of the Sith and the ideals of the Empire aren’t – mutually inclusive, necessarily –” Ray begins to ramble, but Rkorya cuts him off heatedly.

“I can speak for myself. Do not presume to know better than someone who’s lived this, no matter how many movies you’ve watched.” She fixes him with a fierce glare for a moment longer, and then turns to address Stein. “And I’ll remind you that I did not come to this dimension of my own accord, let alone to defend my ideals to a stranger.”

“Your ideals inherently need defending!” Amaya flares up in Stein’s defense. “Some of us have fought wars to keep people like you our of power! Or ancestors who have been persecuted and killed simply for being who they are!”

Tension bleeds through the whole room now. Stein, Amaya, and Rkorya face off, bristling, while Jax has moved warily to Stein’s other side. Ray and Nate seem to be trying to hold off escalating the situation, glancing nervously at Sara, but even Mick’s fingers are twitching towards his gun. Sara knows he might not have as many moral hangups here as the rest of them, but he’ll protect his teammates on principle, even if he pretends otherwise.

It’s well past time to step in. Sara - partly out of duty and partly out of a chronic disregard for self-preservation - steps between them.

“Everyone cool off.” The brunt of the order is directed towards the crew she actually leads. “We’re not wrecking the Waverider unless you want to sit around and fix it up afterwards.”

“Captain –” Stein begins crossly, but Sara holds up a hand.

“I understand,” she tells him more softly, and she does. For all that Rkorya has become a friend - a close one - Sara has never pretended to agree with what her Empire stands for. And she knows that Stein with all his ties to his Jewish heritage, and Amaya, a veteran of World War II, have more reason to speak out than anyone. She doesn’t want to stifle them, but she also doesn’t want them to misinterpret the situation. “I also spent years training with the League of Assassins.”

“She has a point,” Mick concedes prematurely. “She’s killed a hell of a lot of people.”

Sara shoots him a look, and he shrugs. “Not judging. I have too.”

“That’s not what I was getting at, but thanks.” She rolls her eyes and continues. “I spent years training with the League, and yeah, a lot of what I learned there was less than savory. But I also learned that when the people at the head of an organization are shit, sometimes you have to count on the people underneath them to make a difference. Rkorya’s smart. She’s competent. She cares. She spent her time in that other world making it more organized and more safe for everyone, and she managed to do that without overthrowing democracy as we know it.”

Silence greets her obvious vote of good faith, but her team is at least looking more wary now and less… stunned and mutinous. She continues, “Rkorya’s world needs her. Without her, the Empire’s not going to just disappear – but believe it or not, a lot more lives will be at stake.” Here she finally turns to meet Rkorya’s gaze, and a heartbeat of grim understanding passes between them. Neither of them will ever forget what the viewer showed them on Rime (speaking of, she probably owes Rip a serious talk – but that’s an issue for another time).

At any rate, her intervention seems to be enough to convince Rkorya to lay down her metaphorical arms for the time being. When she steps up to Sara’s side, the aggression has seeped out of her stance, and the chill in the air has lightened.

“I have no desire to threaten you or your world. I merely wish to return to mine” she tells them stiffly. She tilts her head and regards Amaya more carefully. “What you spoke of – persecution, discrimination based on race, or species, or religion – if nothing else we can agree that it is both ineffective and vile. That I will fight against even within the bounds of my own Empire.”

“I’m sure that makes her feel a whole lot better,” Mick quips sarcastically, but Amaya is regarding Rkorya with a kind of somber weightedness now. Finally, she gives a curt nod – and then glances at Stein.

“Well – not all of us may be… happy about it,” he murmurs, half-relenting. “But if the extent of our involvement is returning her to where she belongs –”

“That might be easier said than done.” Jax both looks and sounds awkward about it. “I mean, the tech we need to cross dimensions is in Central City, and we still kinda have our hands full…”

“With what?” Rkorya turns her attention on him, frowning.

Where to even begin, Sara realizes – here she is, reunited not only with her friends (her family) but with the opportunity for revenge that she’s never quite managed to pry herself away from longing. She thinks of Damien Darhk, imagines choking the smirk off his face and the life from his lungs slowly and painfully – and has to clamp down on a fresh surge of rage before it draws attention to her.

“Right. Before I left, we were dealing with… a problem.” She chews the inside of her cheek, remembering the speedster. “Several problems, actually.”

She feels the carefulness with which Rkorya watches her. Maybe she’s remembering the other part of what they saw in the Rime viewer, now. “Then, if your team would allow my assistance… I’d be all too glad to lend it.” She glances over to the rest of them. “It would solve all our problems that much more quickly.”

Sara stays silent, because while she appreciates Rkorya’s loyalty - and while she is the captain - she won’t force her team into an alliance they’re not comfortable with.

“Weeell, I’m all for it,” Ray speaks first, if more slowly than is typical for him. “I mean, let’s face it. With all of time and thus… reality potentially at stake, we could use all the extra firepower we can get.”

“She seems badass.” Nate sounds more comfortable voicing his support in Ray’s wake. “I’m just hoping I come out of this with all my limbs intact.”

Mick grunts noncommittally, only deciding to expound when Sara shoots him a questioning glance. “Whatever. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it. I don’t care who we drag along as long as I get to burn something.”

While not exactly reassuring, it’s about what Sara expected from him. She nods, and turns to the remaining three – whose opinions she’s also the most uncertain of.

Jax, for his part, looks slowly from her to Rkorya, and then back. He’s practically her second in command, and more than that, his voice is one she’s come to depend on for its compassion and objectivity (sometimes she lacks both). “If Sara trusts her,” he says finally, simply. “Then so do I.”

She exhales quietly. She’d forgotten up until this moment, she realizes, how much his opinion means to her.

“Jefferson… makes a valid point,” Stein admits tersely. “That you are willing to vouch for her – I suppose I should have taken that into consideration from the beginning, Captain Lance.”

He frowns at Rkorya directly in the next moment, none the less. “But that does not mean I agree with – with what you serve. Or that I ever will.”

Rkorya inclines her head, eyes narrowed slightly. “Fortunately such matters are irrelevant to a temporary alliance,” she replies, just as terse.

Amaya seems resigned to being outvoted – she doesn’t voice her assent, but she unfolds her arms, frowning. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” she tells Rkorya shortly – and leaving it there, stalks off to some other part of the ship, head held high.

Sara thinks she should make a point of going after her sooner rather than later. Amaya’s still one of their newer members, after all, and the last thing she wants is to make her feel more alienated than she already might. For the moment, though, the team takes that as their cue to disperse and tend to their usual pre-takeoff preparations. She leans back against the console, waiting for them to leave her alone with Rkorya for a moment – so she’s a little surprised when Jax pauses on his way out and pulls her into a careful hug.

She tenses briefly, and then leans into him, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders. “It’s only been like, five minutes for you, nerd.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But for you it’s been a lot longer.”

After a year away, Sara hadn’t realized she needed this. Apparently, though, Jax has.

She finally pulls away, and he lets her, giving Rkorya a short nod before heading off himself. It’s Ray who stops next, grinning lopsidedly at Sara, but she can tell what he’s really there for. It’s an effort not to smirk a little as Rkorya begins to look dubious.

“Listen – I just wanted to say –” Ray fumbles a little, not uncharacteristically. “Well, I know they’re just movies to you, but to me – those stories were what gave me hope, as a kid. Hell, they’re what inspired a lot of my work.”

“Your work?” Rkorya looks him over skeptically.

“He’s our inventor,” Sara informs her, allowing herself a private (and a damn good one).

“I dunno, just… a world where people can cross the stars? With all this incredible technology at their fingertips, where you get to make these… big, defining choices about who and what you want to be…” Ray looks embarrassed for a moment as they watch him ramble on. “What I’m trying to say is, well – it means a lot. Getting to meet you.”

Sara knows Rkorya well enough to read the minute surprise in her expression, even as it flickers and is gone within the next second. “Well, if you have been as inspired as you claim… perhaps I’ll have a look at some of these inventions myself. Should we get the opportunity.”

“Really?” Ray’s whole face lights up. “Because I would love your input on my suit’s weapons systems – oh, and I’ve been tinkering with this… lightsaber-esque design? I say ‘esque’ because I can’t exactly mimic –”

“Ray,” Sara cuts in patiently, and he clears his throat.

“Right. Right! Later.” He actually fingerguns Rkorya as he starts to back away, and she has to repress another sigh. “I will see you both… later.”

The bridge finally empties out, and Sara and Rkorya are left to share a moment of silence alone.

“You certainly didn’t undersell them,” Rkorya finally breaks it, and Sara’s lips twitch.

“They’re… a handful.” She doesn’t even try to hide the statement’s affectionate edge. “And for a team of superheroes, they don’t really tend to warm up to people quickly, so an initial disaster was probably inevitable. But! With that out of the way…”

“We’ll be fast friends, I’m sure,” Rkorya finishes for her dryly, though she also sounds a little amused.

“Mostly, anyway.” There’s no promising that Stein and Amaya will come around, if Sara knows them, but you can’t win every battle. She pauses, bracing herself for more earnest sincerity. “…But, thank you. For saying you’ll help. I promise, we’ll get you home as soon as we can.”

“They’re your people,” Rkorya replies simply, turning to meet her gaze. “That alone is enough to make them worth prioritizing.”

It means more than Sara knows how to say – but the nice thing, at this point, is that she doesn’t really have to say it. If they’d been in Rkorya’s world, with Rkorya’s crew, she likes to think she’d feel the same way.

“Well,” she says finally, bracing herself for a ride (in more ways than one), “Let’s get this show on the road.”

#numinousbones #i was really tempted to try and fit in some arrow cast interactions but it didnt quite work out with the pacing #maybe next time....#feat. ray being a nerd rkorya being next level done and sara and jax being Siblings #also this is probably my longest gift fic because i love throwing people at these assholes

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