#Emotional edging should be a fandom term

[littleraeofsunshineda]

Cullrian fic: Make Me to Rest in the Warmest Places

Newly completed, my first finished fic on AO3!

Explicit; 116,984 words; 10 chapters.

Summary

Cullen is struggling with his latest attempt at lyrium withdrawal in a castle full of mages.

Lonely and bored, Dorian is burying his misery under wine and ill-advised encounters.

They become mildly obsessed with one another. The rest of the companions aren't certain if this will end with personal growth, or a whole bunch of hurt.

[sortarapunzel]

clawing at the walls every time i come across a new sansûkh song. this time maybe by half alive

[sleepingdeath-light]

home again ; yandere!wally darling

requested by ; anonymous (09/05/23)

word count ; 2031

content ; platonic yanderes, memory loss (the puppets all had their memories forcibly wiped), references to child/teen reader, obsessive protectiveness, author’s first time writing something platonic so… yeah

note ; i haven’t written anything like this before (sfw yandere stuff) so apologies if it seems a tad off. similarly i’m still adjusting to writing wally’s character in terms of dialogue and such, so that may also seem a smidge ooc.

fandom ; welcome home

pairing ; platonic wally darling x gender neutral!reader

read also on ; ao3

It was a beautifully melancholy evening: the stars and moon were obscured with thick, grey clouds that loomed overhead like ragged old curtains; the air was thick with dust and pollen that clung to your skin and clothes like a man hanging onto the edge of a steep cliff, digging their claws in and holding on with all the relentless might you’d come to hate; your room was only dimly illuminated by the pale blue light emanating from your monitor, the low hum of the vents the only sound to compliment the clicking of keys and the tapping of the mouse. Quiet, drab and dull; how very typical of spring.

But at the very least it gave you all the excuse you needed to sit behind a screen and doomscroll. Tired eyes skimming over articles and activists decrying the latest tragedy, thousands of crabs in the metaphorical bucket of social media all fighting for the attention of bystanders — only taking pause when you came across something all too familiar, yet at the same time entirely new.

‘Does anyone else remember Welcome Home? It was pretty popular when it aired back in the 70s and my friends and I are trying to create a complete archive for it’ — the caption read. Below it was a highlighted link and a picture that had been burned into your brain since childhood: bright swatches of paint adorning every surface, all seeing eyes as big as can be, and in front of it, that permanent smile carved into yellow felt. Wally Darling and Home, you remembered them both clearly enough — clearer than you’d have liked, even.

It had been decades since you’d actively thought back on Welcome Home, on your brief stint in stardom, and frankly you’d have rather it’d been kept that way. You still held a bit of a grudge over getting axed: ‘too mature’, yeah right! Every kid loves astrology and nobody is too old to talk about their feelings… you were only 14 for crying out loud! Too mature, your ass.

But perhaps, you reasoned, it wouldn’t be too bad to take a quick trip down memory lane. Sure you’d loved the show when it aired, but you stopped watching after your section was cut, so maybe it would be cool to see what changed in the interim — and, either way, your experiences would probably be helpful to the archivists. So no harm, no foul.

————

The site was easy enough to navigate but man you didn’t expect to get so emotional when you went looking through the recovered art. They looked exactly the same as you remembered, all of them — which is kind of silly to think about since puppets and tv show characters in general tend not to change since, well, they were meant to stay consistent. Frank was always going to look terribly stern, and Julie was always going to come onto scene with a new fabulous hairdo, and Eddie was always going to trip over his own feet on his rounds, and Wally was always going to open and close each episode with a nod to the audience. These things were staples of the characters and the show’s structure so of course they’d be the same.

But, still, you somehow felt like they should have changed in your absence. A small part of your mind, an irrational part surely, crying out that they were alive and that living things were made to change — which was silly. And, frankly, a little embarrassing that you’d even had that thought at all.

So you pushed that idea to the very back of your mind where it belonged and continued to scroll through the various pages of the website. Art from official books (you were sure you even owned the ‘ask Wally’ type book and that it was still at your parents’ place), merchandise like pop up figures (the sort that were found only in cereal boxes and magazines), promotional posters and even one piece from your short tenure on the show. You remembered posing for that photograph, being told to smile and to wrap your arms around Eddie and Wally — but for some reason you couldn’t quite recall what their puppeteers were called.

Or if they even had any puppeteers in the first place.

No. That can’t be right. They were puppets, characters, they had to have someone controlling and voicing them — but none of the promotional art nor your memories supported that basic truth. It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense. This was why you’d tried to forget that show so desperately after you left. It messed with your head far too much to be worth the effort so why bother burning out over questions that could be explained by a faulty memory.

A memory that could, in picture perfect detail, recall the route from Howdy’s store to Home as clear as crystal — as if it were your own route to-and-from primary school. A memory that could replay patchy conversations between Wally and Julie, bittersweet bickering over hairspray and hairpins that you could only recall in pieces, but that still rang clearly as if you were thinking of childhood friends. A memory that was imprinted with the feeling of warm felt embraces and puffs of warm air from stencil cut mouths that would have been impossible if they weren’t alive. Moving eyes, small bodies, freely walking, freely talking — alive and well and clear as day in your mind as normally as recalling your parents arguing over a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the mornings of each shoot.

The distinctly strong smell of the synthetic hairspray Wally used that would hang around him and mixed with the scent of oil paint like a cologne — that burned your nose if you hung around too close to him in the early morning. The sheer joy of Howdy picking you up and tossing you in the air as a congratulations for your first scene done well — caterpillar fuzz that stuck to your clothes for days, as strong as velcro. The way you and Julie squealed when Barnaby shook back and forth and sent droplets of muddy water raining down on you and on her freshly done up hair — and the joke that followed her exasperated tirade as you, through giggles, explained frustration to the audience through a camera they seemed to not be able to see.

Memories that kept unearthing themselves the deeper you went into the site, eventually culminating with you tearing up at the sight of old friends you’d been forced to leave behind. Silly, perhaps, but you recall telling the audience that it was healthy to cry and to let it all go — so at least your teenage self would be proud of your emotional vulnerability.

After a good hour of this, and more than in need of a break, you finally clicked on the attached message board and typed up a simple few sentences. A greeting and a farewell all in one before you closed down your computer and went to bed.

‘I used to have a segment on Welcome Home when I was a kid. I was meant to do astrology and emotions, before I got cut for being too old lol. This brought back so many memories. Thank you, all.’

————

Wally hadn’t meant to linger — really, he hadn’t — but there had been something oddly familiar about his latest visitor that he couldn’t quite place. Even from behind the screen he was trapped within, even as he watched their message load in, he could tell that they were different. It was their eyes, those tearful knowing eyes — he was sure he’d seen them before in that somewhere different, somewhere brighter, that came before the end he and his neighbours were trapped in.

When he saw their eyes he saw himself, a twisted altered reflection of himself that was filled to bursting with the warmth and awareness that he was created to hold within himself. A child’s eyes in the form of someone who he didn’t know yet he knew he must have once. A lingering, niggling feeling in the back of his skull, like fingertips brushing and scratching and digging into his fabric brain — rearranging and scouring and destroying and reaching for something that he couldn’t quite find.

He winced and squinted and stared through the screen to no avail, tilting his head and watching them as they flicked from screen to screen to screen desperate for a sign that he could use to place this familiar stranger. Unable to do so until finally — finally — their note came through and he was able to read the short greeting they’d left behind.

Then, and only then, did those forbidden memories come flooding back. A formidable tidal wave, a whirling rapid, of bright lights and experiences and conversations that had been torn from him and shredded in the writer’s room of their long gone creators.

He knew you, he’d always known you; the child too old for their youth that visited their neighbourhood in the beginning. Who always wore a beaming smile and treated them all with a grace beyond their years, spreading kindness and joy to his friends and to the audience only the two of you knew about. Who was far taller than his measly 12 apples of verticality but who never made him feel small. Who spoke eagerly of the constellations and painted the most wonderful pictures of stars and moons and planets far beyond their reach that he did his best to capture in his paintings. Who was only 14 but felt more like an adult than he did sometimes — he, who was crafted and sewn without a childhood — but who wasn’t above play and foley.

The child who was the absolute most; his favourite transient neighbour. All of their’s, actually.

How could he possibly have forgotten you?

You with your broad toothy grins, and your warm eyes that shone brighter than the stars you loved, and your arms that were big enough to carry even more apples than he could have ever dreamed of. You, who he promised to protect and keep away from the horrors of the world, theirs and your own. You, who never turned down a favour or plea from his neighbours.

You. Just you.

Wonderful, lovable, unforgettable you. His child of flesh, not felt, but he loved you all the same.

And he didn’t get to see you grow up, because his creators deemed you unbefitting of their world and cut you from their memories as ruthlessly as they’d cut your segments from their show. Welcome Home didn’t feel very much like a home after that — even if they didn’t quite recall what was missing.

Wally didn’t even want to think about all of the horrors and harms you’d faced throughout the years you’d been apart — he could see the wear hanging heavily in the downwards quirk of your lips and the dampened glint in your eye. He knew he’d sooner kill someone than let them hurt you, he’d threatened it plenty alongside Howdy and Eddie and Frank — they all loved you as dearly as him, once.

But in his current predicament he couldn’t do much to protect you. Couldn’t coddle you, couldn’t warm you, couldn’t sooth you with those sweets you used to love (if you even loved them anymore, it had clearly been quite some time), couldn’t do anything to help. He couldn’t even communicate with you, to apologise, to tell you he still loved you and that you were still welcome in their neighbourhood.

So he did the only thing he could; he drew you a picture. A silly little simplistic drawing, scratchy and crude, depicting a strong memory he had of you. The two of you, hand in hand, with your arms overflowing with apples you’d managed to steal from Howdy (oh how he missed such trivial things) — he hoped you remembered these moments as fondly as he did. Then, to the illustration, he attached a small message, a plea just for you, before settling back down behind the screen and hoping — praying — that you’d come back.

‘I’m sorry for forgetting you, friend, please come home’

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Por mi amore?* - For my love?

*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

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[rada-76]

Supplement one to Part 1. About "rings" and "a spring in a box"

This post is in Russian/Этот пост есть ��а русском, здесь.

Preface "Marvelous!" | Part 1

There's a lot more great stuff sewn into the scene where Aziraphale drops the items in the magic shop!

"Hats" 

When Aziraphale enters the shop, he politely removes his hat, but similar hats are hung behind him in the shot because it's a prominent detail of his trip to Edinburgh. 

"The Angel in the Bentley and the Four Rings"

In that Part 1 I convinced you: the authors know how to make perfect parallels. But what is more important, these parallels also coincide in terms of emotions.

Look, both in the scene of things falling and in the trip to Edinburgh, Aziraphale feels stupid and awkward deep down, and we sympathize with him, but also regret that he disappointed us so much. 

But when playing with the four rings, Aziraphale looks at Crowley with adoration, as if hinting at their conversation about Bentley Yellowness. By the way, these rings are gold. How beautiful! The angel is in a very good mood in both scenes.

"The Demon-Snake and the Curtain" 

Now this is an absolute gem! A compact example of a perfect parallel! We look at the background around Crowley at the moment when Azi plays with the rings. In the frame next to the demon, we can see a snake statue, which is framed by... A theater curtain! Bentley's number is actually NIATRUC. It's a curtain (a theater curtain), only from right to left. Moreover, the snake in the frame is located between the curtains, but still in the distance, that is, now we have Crowley not inside the Bentley. And what is this glass ball between the snake and the curtain? A coincidence, probably. And then it dawned on me! The ball is placed in front of the curtain so that both the snake and the audience are looking at the curtain as if through it. And the glass ball is a lens that turns objects over, changing top with bottom, and right with left! NIATRUC!

We will see this ball in "Part 2", but as a symbol of the Earth. Things here often carry a double load of meaning. 

The curtain is not black and not yellow, like the Bentley. But it is red, this is Crowley's color in the hint system. And the fringe is gold, like the rings. And the snake statue is red. 

What about emotions? Crowley himself looks pleased in this shot. I do not argue, he grumbled at Azi on the radio, but in general he likes talking to the angel. In the scene of the first season, he also reluctantly blows the stain off his shoulder, and he himself is glad that he was persuaded. 

I also thought that since Crowley calls Aziraphale in the car, they should have added some ringing object here. And there is one! The rings in Azi's hands are ringing! No, think about it, Aziraphale in this allegory hears Crowley's call not just anyhow, but through the Bentley.

"Trick Box with a Spring"

Crowley is very scared of the spring with tinsel that flew out of the box! And Az is scared along with him. And the seller laughs, repeating: "Very funny! You'll die laughing!" 

If you want, think that the spring that jumped out is Gabriel-Jim, whom Crowley was so scared of when he unexpectedly saw him in the bookstore. Or that the spring is a yellow duster. Then the seller acts as the audience of the series, who unanimously think that it was very funny when Crowley was scared of Jim. And for the collection of analogies: the spring and tinsel that flew out of the box up and beyond the edge of the frame were compared in the fandom with Azicrow's joint miracle that went beyond the bookstore. All three versions come down to Gabriel.

Yeah, Gabriel's arrival at the bookstore has put quite a bit of stress on our heroes. So, Gabriel is a symbol of false, vain fear, he's a joke, a dud. Here they hint at it, laugh, they say. And in the season finale, Gabriel's harmlessness was confirmed. So trust the emotions in the clues, they more truthfully communicate the true emotions of the characters and the meanings in symmetrical scenes.

"The bell button and just enough of a bastard"

After the scare, Crowley is shown laughing sincerely and good-naturedly for quite a while. We rarely see him so happy. Is he really that happy for Gabriel and Beelzebub? There are no hints of this couple in the frame. No flies, no yellow feathers. But there is a hint of another scene. 

Now we will talk about the apology dance, forgive me. Many people don’t like it because of the feeling of coercion and because the author reminds us that an angel is not always a sweetheart. But the formula of the apology dance has already come in handy once, as evidence, so don’t you dare brush it off. I can’t stand zombies, but it looks like I’ll have to dig around in the footage with them too. The detective’s work is not always pleasant, but it bears honest fruit. Many clues in the season are irritating, but they are capable of attracting the attention of the viewer-detective.

Before the scare, this trick box is persistently shoved into our eyes, pushed to the foreground. What does the box look like? Yes, it depicted the bookstore at the moment of the miracle. But now it is also a button-bell for visitors to the bookstore, which Crowley pressed in the scene of the apology dance. Just look at how the shots with "The Button and Crowley Before the Dance" and "The Box and the Trick Seller" are arranged: a figure on the left, a button on the right, a diagonal strip of the carpet and a diagonal strip of the counter, a vertical strip of the column and a vertical strip of the golden curtain. I am attaching the picture. 

The bump on top of the box is made in the shape of Aziraphale's pocket watch, and the brown color of the box is Aziraphale's color. These signs also hint to me that the box is connected with an angel who, deep down, is enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. Accept that this bastard made the Serpent dance, because the demon likes the bastardry in the angel.

The way Crowley smiles long and well, and doesn't let go of the box for all this long time, personally clearly tells me that the apology dance stroked not only my kinks and fetishes. If this were not so, the authors, who carefully build every little detail in every frame, would have prompted Crowley to throw the box on the counter after the spring flew out, and as quickly as possible.

But if you don't like my idea, then you can consider that Crowley enjoyed doing their miracle together with Aziraphale. As with Gabriel, the authors here provided us with a range of interpretations. The last frame of the trip, where Bentley turns black again, contains tartan mountains and a snake-shaped monster splashing nearby. That is, the conversation about Bentley's color was not a quarrel, Aziraphale and Crowley finished it, emotionally feeling close to each other.

"Arrogance and ears"

I'll add about the dance, although it's not about tricks. Although, it's hard to say! 

Aziraphale's phrase "I hear" right before the Serpent's dance and the subsequent arrogant "Very well" rhymes in my head with how the angel arrogantly corrected Furfur when he misinterpreted his name while reading the angel reference book. And the reference book contains the absurd phrase "has suspicious ears." Yeah. He hears with them. And the trick on Furfur is nearby. I have other arguments that Aziraphale's ears are important, but for now I'll have to put this pulp aside. The size of posts and your attention (precious for me) is not endless.

***

About the trick seller's table at the moment when everything was falling and ringing. There, next to the snake statuette hugging the bell with its tail, are two goblin figures. And in Edinburgh, next to the angel ringing the Snake, are two goblin figures. (There is a false movie blooper connected with these goblin figures, I will describe it in the post about the cups. There is also a brilliant parallel in emotions there.)

And there is one statue. True, there is a snake statue on the table, and in Edinburgh there is a statue of Gabriel, but the word "statue" is played with.

Homework for the inquisitive: why is the "three ropes" trick called "The Professor's Nightmare"? I don't know.

Ah, I know! Emotions help. Professor Hoffman praised Aziraphale for his tricks. And Crowley praised Aziraphale for the trick with the caraway seed, and how he praised him! And the trick with three similar ropes refers to Crowley's nightmare from the first season, when our demon mixed up the babies.

I am especially pleased that the inscription that Professor Hoffman made in the book could have been written to the angel by Crowley himself: "To the wonderful student." After all, the angel in the two previous flashbacks (with Job and with the gravediggers) showed himself to be his excellent student!

***

The thing is, "Queen" was playing at Nina's cafe, and there was a board with the inscription "Honolulu Roast". This is a reference to the story of the Queen of Honolulu. (From the post https://www.tumblr.com/indigovigilance/730554435104915456/honolulu-roast) Nefertiti is also a queen. And the words Nefer-ti-ti and Hono-lu-lu are similar. And just a beautiful thing: when Nefertiti is mentioned, I think of Honolulu by the consonance. It was lucky that two queens are connected by such similar words in structure! But is there any meaning in this connection, or just beauty, I'm not sure.

The next part will be here.

All my posts with analyses are here. Author @rada-76 Translator into English @kimberleyjean

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

Nights for the Ask game!! 💕

(I’m still behind on OTRA so don’t want to get spoilers 😭)

I'm doing one night and then another for this ask, and the one night one shot on another ask!!

Favorite Scene: I would say the bit with Liam in the library, where he kisses the top of her head. I have NO idea what chapter that is because I haven't re-read the whole fic in full, but that was the first scene that popped into my head. I also love every scene in the Xaden POV flashback, but especially the Imogen scene because that's precisely how I imagine their pre-apostasy dynamic to be.

Favorite Chapter: The original one shot or the epilogue! I love the dynamic in the original one shot, the confined setting, the lap sitting, all of it!! And in the epilogue, I love the symbolism of them having such a calm moment. Also, ALL of my 14k Xaden POV chapter (I should not have started answering this when AO3 was down, because I have no idea what number that was...8?)

Everything else is going below the cut because I'm yapping!!

Hardest Scene to Write: Mmmm, every scene involving the actual plot? Is that a good answer? Specifically, that first conversation she has with Xaden about Naolin and Brennan and the forcefields. I forced my IRL friend to read it for me because I was SO nervous about the plot making any sense. Also, the scene where Vi reads Brennan's letter, and Xaden helps her through it. I got really hung up on writing that one, because I really wanted the emotional intensity to be there. For some reason, at that point I was really struggling to judge the emotional intensity of my OWN writing, but in everything I've written since that has an intense emotional component (OTRA, looking at you bestie) I've been significantly more confident!

Favorite Character to Write: Nights Xaden my beloved. In terms of comparison to my other fics, I seriously prefer nights Bodhi to OTRA Bodhi.

Favorite Dynamic: Riorgail!! I was constantly on edge about it not being in character for Xaden to be mildly emotionally available, but since decided I don't give a fuck! They were so fun! Especially at the end. Some of the comments I got quoting things Xaden said in those last couple chapters baffled me.

Why I Chose The Title: I can't remember! In terms of nights-verse as the series title, I thought it was a silly in-joke for me, because the whole fic until the very end only takes place at night. This was supposed to limit me and make it shorter so I could get back to writing original stuff/my plane crash AU sooner, but that actually didn't work! Evidently.

A Fun Fact About The Fic: I think this is something most of you partially know, but it was NOT supposed to be a long fic. I wrote the one shot for Alli and Amy's birthday bash, and a lot of people asked for me to continue it. I think they meant like...add a sex scene. But, I started thinking about writing my own long fic, especially because my favorite long fics in the fandom were both on hiatus at that point. Anyway, all that was backstory. The fun fact is that I sort of spontaneously came up with the force fields idea, and then I decided it was bat shit insane and no one would read it, so I told my IRL friend about it, and she encouraged me to write it!

[beatriceeagle]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Characters: Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett, Bren Aldric Ermendrud, Original Male Character(s), Yasha (Critical Role), Essek Thelyss, Astrid Beck

Additional Tags: canon compliant through Mighty Nein Reunited, canon inspired through Echoes of the Solstice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, technically this is kidfic in both senses of the term

Chapter: 12/23

Summary: Six months ago, Beau adopted a teenager who loves the Cobalt Soul, but can't stand her. Ten minutes ago, Caleb accidentally summoned his own teenage self into his living room. So you know, they're both going though some shit.

At least Caleb's got experience befriending novice monks with attitude problems. And Beau's got experience befriending Caleb.

Chapter Summary:

The Nein throw a party.

_____

The Lavish Chateau's ballroom was grand and half-filled with people. Beauregard had sold this event to Bren as a party, a dance party, even, which should have been right up his alley. He had been trained to walk confidently into well-appointed rooms and charm strangers. But in reality, nearly every person here was someone who had been at his excruciatingly awkward introduction that afternoon, and Bren had never in his life felt less charming.

He knew who everyone was now, at least; Yasha had briefed him over lunch, and he'd committed the details to memory, making little annotations in his mind like a mission log. The halfling family, Veth and Yeza and their son Luc, were finishing dinner at one of the tables around the edge of the room, kept company by Caleb. Veth was particularly close to Caleb according to Yasha, but judging by the body language at the table, Yeza and Caleb were not close.

Fjord the muscled half-orc and Jester the pretty tiefling danced in the center of the room, with enormous enthusiasm on Jester's part and stiff skill on Fjord's. They were a couple, and spent most of their time at sea. Jester was the daughter of the famous courtesan Marion Lavorre, who lived at the Lavish Chateau and was chatting with one of the musicians at the far end of the room.

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[sapphire-weapon]

Ada anon, yes, you're making a lot more sense than I am! In full truth, I'm biased and I'm happy to admit that. I've lived through my own horrendous sexist treatment and the OG arc and the way many fans of the ship hype it up just... gets under my skin. It reminds me so much of a forced "romance", the woman not being viewed as her own person, despite teasing so much excitement and a cool story arc. I'll be cringe and admit here that I find her OG portrayal and how she's treated in fandom spaces a bit triggering. It hits too close to home, and I think that for a very long time I just wanted to project onto this character and watch her "break free" from Aeon and go live her life. She always had this hyge story just on the edge of being told. We see her wnormous potential and independence. How crucial she is to the deeper roots of the plot, but it always only came back to Sexy Leon Accessory and little/nothing more. It hurt to see. That's ridiculous, but it's honest, lol.

Maybe it's an ott reaction and I'm open to hearing that, but you do make a much calmer and logical point, lol. Regardless, I'm excited for what both Separate Ways and other potential remakes (cough cough reboots) might do with the storyline. Not just in terms with redoing Ada and retconning Aeon, but Chris, Wesker, Sheva, Claire!! The future will tell.

Honestly, I find that fandom's attitude towards/portrayal of Ada makes the writing decisions around her seem way worse than they actually are. That's not to say that the writing around her isn't still bad -- it's fucking awful -- but fandom cranks it up to eleven.

Fandom treats Aeon like it's the single most important thing in either Ada or Leon's stories, but it's... not, really.

Leon is a complete afterthought for Ada in both Damnation and RE6.

As much as I dog on Damnation, it's by far the title where I enjoy their dynamic the most. Ada is not there for Leon; Ada is there to work, and Leon just happens to also be there. There's no master plan or grand scheme that she's prepared to rope him in to some dumb bullshit like RE4. He's literally just... there. She doesn't need his help when she gets captured, he doesn't need her help when the bullets start flying. They don't need each other. They are both existing independently and happen to run into each other.

That, I think, is what Capcom always wanted their relationship to be, but Damnation is the only title that actually pulls it off.

And RE6, like... tried to do it, too? While attempting to make it more emotional? But it just sort of came off as Leon spiraling off into a total meltdown that damn near culminates with him breaking from reality all together.

Deadass, I half-expected Ada to have a moment in RE6 where she just turned to Leon and went "This is not about you." She didn't, but she should have. RE6 is Leon sticking his ass into Ada's affairs uninvited, and Ada more or less just being like "okay you can help, I guess, but this really isn't any of your fucking business."

Fandom are the ones over here shouting shit like EVERYTHING ADA DOES IS ALWAYS FOR LEON like dude what the fuck

a. how do you not see that that's not a good thing? and

b. that's not even true???

Like, Ada's writing is still bad and garbage and sexist and racist, but fandom just makes it so much fucking worse.

I think that there's room within the canon material to have an honest, nuanced conversation about Ada's other relationships (Wesker and Simmons), but no one ever cares to talk about that, because Aeon fandom poisoned every single piece of discourse about her.

There is a reason why I have been low-key shipping Ada and Wesker for years. But no one wants to have that conversation. Because people look at Ada, and all they see is Leon. 60% of the reason for that is the writing, for sure, but 40% of it is because of the way Aeon fandom has treated the ship and the character for twenty five fucking years.

[toxicshipsincorporated]

oh man, how about 1, 9, and 19 for that ask meme. gimme the salt

Imma do TUA because I think that's my most recent & prominent fandom and that's where we met ahaha.

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

mmm...definitely Dolores/Five. And I'll say this, to each their own. Ship and let ship from the womb to the tomb ya feel? But...I just don't get it as like a ship to be invested in, in terms of it being two characters. At the end of the day, Dolores is just a delusion brought about by immense stress and trauma and so it's always just....Five. You can have him talk to her, have her talk back to him, you could even have him have sex with her but...it will always just be....Five (imo). And that may work for some ppl. I can see it really really working for big Five stans but for me, ships are about dynamics. I've never been all that interested in just one character but rather what happens when you add a+b. So I just don't get that particular ship.

Most disliked character(s)? Why?

I didn't like Lila. But to be fair, I didn't like any character introduced after season 1....or even characters that were intro'd in s1 and continued to s2. And that's because I feel like s2 was an effort in....completely flattening all the characters. All the hard edges and interesting bits (the nasty, dark, and unlikable parts) of characters got shaved away and it was treated like.....development? Nevermind that I think it sucks that for characters to be "good" characters (from a technical standpoint) or to develop they have be....less complicated or less angry, less mean or broken. It's was like a big PR campaign where the writers were like "nvm!!! childhood trauma can't make you into deeply flawed and difficult and broken adult!! it actually just makes you goofy and quirky!! haha, have a fart joke."

And after that rant, gonna bring it back around, Lila was...like emblematic of what the showrunner/writers THOUGHT they should have done for the Hargreeves in s1. She just makes no sense to me as a character. Her actions, her decisions, etc. for me lack any strong grounding in....human emotion. There's no strong motivation that acts as a throughline for her narrative. She is inconsistent. She seems to only act and react as the the narrative needs her to. She is the illusion of depth.

For me, I think the first season was...imperfect but interesting. And the season that stayed true to the emotional core of the original comics. In the comics, the trauma, pain and abuse that characters experienced never made them BETTER, never made them badass or cool or edgy. It made them brittle. It made them mean and bitter and nasty. It kept them from establishing and maintaining strong relationships. It kept them from being able to love people in ways that didn't push that loved one away. BUT!!! Despite all that, despite the Hagreeves' trauma ultimately making them into deeply flawed and at times impossible to like or root for...it treated their story as still worth telling. Yes trauma and pain is ugly. Yes, it is uncomfortable and difficult and it does not feel triumphant or good. BUT IT IS STILL WORTH EXISTING. And I just felt like...that was a narrative that was so so important to me. It isn't just the good survivors, the pretty ones, the nice and sweet ones that deserve to have their story told. Even the people who LOST to their pain deserve their moment in the sun.

But...the showrunners and writers (and much of the viewers it seems) of s2 did not feel the same way. It was....discouraging and Lila...is really emblematic of all that for me.

I also don't care that much for Luther, especially in seasons 2 and on. At least in S1, he...made sense. Did I like his decisions? No but at least I understood him to be someone who was capable of...thought? After s1, I think the writers thought the only way to make him likeable was to make him as dumb as rocks.

What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I guess...the thing I hated most was how mean so many people were. And I won't lie and say I was always an angel, I definitely had my moments (or fifty...) but...I think that was also the environment that was cultivated in the TUA fandom. From the drop, people seemed so intent on harm, anger, and viciousness. And maybe that has to do with how...visceral some parts of the first season was and how a lot of younger people who maybe shouldn't have been watching got into it. There was so much lashing out and attacking, people called each other horrible things, made horrific accusations. And it all came down to (imo) wanting to hurt someone else, wanting to inflict pain on others. For what reason??? I'm sure there are many.

Also ppl were so weird about sex a lot of the times? And kinks and dark fan stuff? Like...the original shit was dark as hell and even tho the show was quite a few shades lighter, the amount of....hypocrisy I saw in that fandom was.....stomach turning.

[kay-elle-cee]

I posted 1,404 times in 2022

That's 1,390 more posts than 2021!

353 posts created (25%)

1,051 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kay-elle-cee

@emeralddoeadeer

@unknowableroom

@periodedits

@vlolets

I tagged 1,191 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#queue gotta step into the daylight - 361 posts

#jily - 203 posts

#kelsey writes - 154 posts

#ask game - 65 posts

#ask me - 59 posts

#emeralddoeadeer - 58 posts

#fic recs - 52 posts

#restless waves rise and fall - 44 posts

#jilytober - 44 posts

#potc - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and like all my friends and my partner don’t have that same history of fandom and it’s so hard to communicate my overzealousness sometimes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Magic Like This || Read on Ao3

“Do you want to go?” He presses. “It’s not that simple.” If only it was. Of course she didn’t want to go. The boy in front of her shrugs. “It sounds simple enough to me: it’s going to be miserable for you. Don’t go.” Lily blinks at him—he speaks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to just live by your own rules, put yourself first. He’s standing there, staring at her as the concept winds its way through her mind. What Lily really wants, if she’s being honest with herself, is to spend the day with James Potter.

My fic for the @jilytoberfest Bittersweet Challenge. Prompt: "Don't Go" but make it fluff.

71 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

#4

restless waves rise and fall || read chapter one on ao3

In efficiency and general seafaring know-how, First Mate Evans makes up for what Captain Potter lacks.

So she has to make up for a lot.

Or: In which James Potter is a gentleman pirate and Lily Evans is his loyal but vastly more competent First Mate.

Written for @thegobletofweasleys​ Jily Week 2022 pirate au prompt. It has since gotten out of hand and is currently shaping up to be 3 parts (you can blame @sunshinemarauder​ for the encouragement).

78 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#3

no, i could never give you peace | Read on Ao3 | Playlist

But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

93 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#2

I got this idea like 5 minutes ago and have been living in Saturday Night's Alright-land for so long, I'm letting myself choose joy.

7th-Year September 1st drabble below the cut.

James hastily waved off his parents with all the sincerity he could muster before he and Sirius started weaving their way through the start-of-term crowd on Platform 9 3/4 for the last time. To Fleamont and Euphemia, this was a momentous turning point, deserving some sort of emotional farewell or well-wishing, but to James it was simply an item on a checklist.

Arrive at platform: Check.

Still, he would've been more sympathetic to his parents' attentions had someone not delayed their arrival by oversleeping.

"Oi, slow down, Prongs. Christ!"

Sirius trailed behind him, navigating the crowds with more care than the other boy, who was charging through the crowd with a fervor that Sirius was all too familiar with by now.

James' eyes flitted rapidly from face to face as he made his way across the platform, searching for those brilliant eyes and the shock of red hair that he hadn't seen in much too long.

This summer had been one for the books, as far as James Potter was concerned, anyway. The freedom of being of-age with none of the responsibilities of school had meant a virtually unlimited choice of ways to entertain themselves this summer. Most evenings saw the soon-to-be 7th year Gryffindors—along with some other classmates—convalescing somewhere or other in Diagon Alley, finding little-known hidden gems of pubs or clubs, cooling themselves off with ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, or just causing general summertime mischief.

It was wonderful to feel so bonded with the others in their house going into their final year, and it had the added bonus of finally sparking that something between he and Lily Evans.

It was nothing serious—not yet. Just little stolen moments throughout the summer: a lingering glance across the table, inconspicuous hand-holding when they found themselves in the back of the group, the occasional goodnight kiss when one of them needed to side-along Apparate the other home. Little stolen moments that had been driving James mad these last few weeks Lily was visiting family and unable to join the end-of-summer hurrahs.

They had been writing each other, however, in her absence. She'd written him excitedly about her appointment as Head Girl, which was completely unsurprising to him as there was no better candidate (and he told her so). He had written back, nervously, and relayed how—incredibly—he'd been named Head Boy, only to be unexpectedly showered with congratulations and 'of course, it's unorthodox, but it makes sense'. They'd exchanged letters about the things they'd miss once Hogwarts was over, their lists of must-do's this year to fully glean the most out of their final year. They'd exchanged 'I miss you's and 'I wish you were here's and 'I can't wait to see you's.

Nearing the other side of the crowded platform, his eyes spotted that specific shade of red that had made this summer so superior to the others. His eyes zeroed in on Lily Evans, hair pulled back, Head Girl badge proudly displayed on her robes as she helped direct what he could only guess was a First Year into the train. His feet halted any forward-movement as his breath left his lungs.

'I can't wait to see you. I miss you.'

Locate Lily Evans: Check.

James moved forward with renewed vigor, her eyes finding his as the First Year loaded onto the train. A smile broke out on her face as he drew near, and gods how he wished he was able to get here earlier just so he could take in her expression that much sooner.

"Hey, you," she called lightly as he neared, looking up at him. "Big day for us, eh?"

Now face-to-face with her for the first time in weeks, after thinking only of her for the entirety of the time since she last left his sight, words escape him. Instead, he smiled down at her, at the anticipation in her eyes and felt sure in a way he hadn't felt with her in a long time, and bent down to capture her lips with his own, hand cupping her cheek.

She leaned into his touch instantly, responding to his kiss with an enthusiasm that caused James' pulse to pound in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the platform around them.

Kiss Lily Evans: Check.

James felt Lily's lips pull into another grin, and he took this as his cue to step back, breaking the kiss and grinning down at her, knowing that the excited glint in her eyes matched his own.

"Well, I meant leading the Prefects' meeting, but glad to know where your head's at," she quipped, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

James shrugged, hand flying to his hair with residual nerves. "Sorry, I was just...excited to see you."

Lily stepped forward, reaching up and pulling his hand down from his hair and lacing her fingers in his. Her eyes lingered on the sight of their entwined fingers as a blush painted her cheeks. "I'm excited to see you, too." Her eyes flickered back up to meet his, eyebrow quirking as she tugged him forward towards the train. "Well come on then. We have a meeting to run."

James followed her, gladly, as they loaded onto the train, feeling a little lighter in his step.

Be with Lily Evans: Check.

96 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Playlist

Read on Ao3

97 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[inventors-fair]

Second on the Line: Flavor Callback Runners-Up ~

Our runners-up this week are @casualcranium, @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​, and @nicolbolas96​!

@casualcranium — Life’s Defiant Blooming (Tarmogoyf)

I almost made a really dumb suggestion before I realized that you thought this through significantly more than I did. “Why don’t you just make the Saproling regardless?” I thought, and then it hit me that infinite Saproling blockers probably aren’t what you want in a deck. I think that Saproling/Fungus tribal is really interesting and captures people’s attention for sure. A deck that can use this card would love it. In a fair standard environment, wow, this card would be a phenomenal draft pick. I know that the set symbol isn’t necessarily reflective of your intended environment, but it does indeed feel like a core set card, kinda.

As for the use of the flavor text, calling back to Tarmogoyf and calling back to the way the mechanics play out is really stellar. I just don’t like the name, honestly. Is it something bad? No, it’s just kinda...not snappy enough for me. This is one of those cards where I know I’m just being on the edge here but a more focused name and art direction combo could have significantly enhanced the mechanical strength on display. When I have so many good cards to choose from, heh, it makes it difficult at times to shift things around and really pick out the cream of the cream of the crop, if that makes sense. Still love it, still filing it into the “IF Future Cube.”

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ — Hungry Pitlord (Enigma Drake)

I gotta be honest: I imagined, or can imagine, a whole other art direction for this card. I’m thinking of a demon lounging in a put, wings outstretched in satisfaction, surrounded by wizards throwing food down to it, or prostrating themselves with dishes outstretched to its gluttonous form. I’ve certainly seen that fanfic... Regardless, it’s actually really funny, the notion that there’s this all-powerful demon who can only be appeased via Ye Mystic Easy-Bake Oven. Intentionally funny? I don’t know, but I like it a lot. I would say that the notion would be better suited to streamlined flavor text; the nature of this contest means that the intent matters more and that I still really like the idea.

As such, this is 100% a rare that suggests an environment we’re familiar with, certainly not an uncommon with these stats. ‘Trample’ should be lowercase, and ‘imagination’ instead of ‘imagining.’ Those are nitpicks, though, and the thread remains. I like the mechanics of this card a lot and I’m glad to have you up here.

@nicolbolas96 — Destiny Manipulation (Soul Manipulation)

If I had to critique this card, and I do, because it’s my responsibility, I’d say that it should’ve upped one mana and/or potentially been a rare. Something like Heroic Intervention is good enough as-is, and yeah, this is a different case, but it feels pretty pushed? More pushed than usual. Which is fine! It’s still a really good card and worth adjusting the little pieces. As a limited rare, it would feel like a constructed rare that is a bit of a let-down to open until you realize how crazy good it actually is. Still, something is...different? Three mana seems to be the usual cutoff for that kind of effect.

In terms of the assignment—well, it’s mostly there, perhaps a little too on the nose. What I’m iffy on is the one-to-one name, which I was hoping people would shy away from (given the examples) in order to draw attention to the emotional context of the flavor text. What I really like is how you’re presenting Calix here, not just in terms of his chase, but also, weirdly enough, in his relationship to Bolas. Maybe that wasn’t your intention to draw these characters together, but you’ve done it regardless, and I don’t hate it. Calix as a big bad feels weird considering his utter lack of relevance in the greater Magic fandom (no hate, just sayin’!) but he could still rise from the ashes! He’s stubborn, ruthless, spot-on, vindictive, icy, and somewhat invincible. And you’ve presented that excellently! Bolas liked to play, but Calix is on a mission. So you know what, good on you there for making me see Calix as an actual character. Nay, an actual villain!

I may be busy baking, but commentary’s in the works. Thank you all for your entries regardless! @abelzumi​

[elli-incarnate]

2022 Fanfiction in Review

Stealing the format from @yubsie who apparently stole it from @shenanigans-and-imagines because I've been meaning to do this all day and this seems like a good template

Fics Written This Year

Black Pawn (Dark L/M, during Dark Empire) the one that got me back into fanfic, because I randomly opened a doc I'd started 17y ago and thought to myself, "wow, some of this really kicks ass. flirted with the very edge of obscenity? that line goes so hard. I should maybe finish this" - and then, reader, I did. Dark Empire has been an emotional thorn in my side for two decades, and I'm finally writing it the way I wanted it to go.

Inversion (Dark Luke RotJ AU, with a double Luke and Vader redemption!) the one that started with the thought, "if Luke did fall after Bespin, who would have noticed? Leia, I guess," and kind of spiraled from there. it was really fun; I just took characters' lines from the movies and stuck them into other characters' mouths, and it worked surprisingly well. I wrote this one so fast, but somehow it's the one that really racks up the numbers on AO3. Come for Dark!Luke, stay for the father-son redemption.

A Little Help, Here? (cracky humor with Luke, Han, and ghost!Anakin) the one where I was reading / listening to the Dark Empire audioplay and got so pissed off at how mean OOC Luke was being to Han and decided that clearly that meant I should write a fic where they're actually friends

Mourning (Vader introspection angst bomb) the one I constructed in my head while on a long drive listening to boppy driving music. a really angsty meditation on linguistics and Vader as a bereaved parent. honestly this is one of my favorite things I've ever written; it's gorgeously bleak and I love it

The Skycrawler Chronicles (cat Vader fluffy crack) the one where I randomly wrecked myself by thinking about how Vader never got a chance to feel sunlight for twenty years or even to touch his children, and decided that naturally the only way to fix that was to write an absolutely ridiculous series in which Vader is somehow reincarnated as a cat after Endor, and now he's secretly just Luke's weird angry cat with superpowers.

Black Knight (sequel to Black Pawn, also Dark L/M during Dark Empire) oh hey we're back at Dark Empire. the sequel to the one that started off the list, and a continuation of that attempt to resolve that emotional thorn in my side.

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing:

Hey, I write pretty well, when I write. And probably that second one is the key, but - hey, we all do what we can, right? This is my first year back at fanfic after a nearly two-decade break, and I hit the ground running ... only to kinda slow down by the end of the year. I think I can keep this up better if I pace myself better and avoid burnout. But also I honestly just can't really control what my brain hyperfixates on, so it'll probably just continue in fits and starts.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Surprisingly just in terms of content, probably the cat Vader crack. Because wtf, that makes no sense, but hey - it works surprisingly well.

Surprising in terms of personally surprising for me - I'm still writing but haven't started to post yet, "Black King," the third in my Dark Empire but make it better and also L/M series. And ... it's kinda long. And it has a plot. And it has multiple chapters. And, reader, I've never done such a thing in my life. But the story keeps growing, and I want to do it justice.

How you grew as a writer this year:

Hey, I'm writing again for the first time in nearly two decades. I'm engaged in fandom again. I've made so many new friends and rekindled so many old connections. And my heart grew three sizes. I'm just ... generally very happy to be doing this again. I don't know if that's growth necessarily, but - I'm here, and I'm so excited to be here.

What’s coming in 2023:

I'm going to finish and start posting "Black King." It's been so fun to write, Luke is being such an asshole, I love him. This boy got one chance in the Legends canon to be a Big Bad, and he would absolutely lean into it, he's a Skywalker, he does everything at 1000%

I gave myself an existential crisis the other day by realizing I've never personally written any Star Wars fics that would pass the Bechdel test of they were onscreen. My stories tend to be either shippy or The Many Adventures of Sunshine Son and Murder Dad, so it just ... hasn't happened. But it's going to! Next year!

This is really my first year back on fanfic after a nearly two decade break, and looking back on some of the things I wrote as a teen is *cringe.* Why did I fridge so many women? Gah. I'm better than this. Or at least now I am. Character growth: it's not just for characters.

I want to write more female characters with agency generally, but especially improve my characterization for Leia, who ranks high up there in My Favs but I don't feel like I can write her for love or money.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[gentleeclipsey]

Who's your favorite transformer of all time?

Hmmmmm, that's actually a really good question Anon! And I'm not too sure how to answer :'D I'll list off some and see if I can make up my mind! I'll only really talk about TF media I've thoroughly investigated, so I won't have certain continuities listed here because I haven't looked into them enough.

For Bayverse:

I really enjoyed Ironhide! It's rather unfortunate he doesn't get a lot of screen time though, I wish he had more interaction with everyone, then again I wish they all did. He was a very unique character in the fact he was nearly a main bot for the series and his death actually had a bit of an impact on me. It's unfortunate because he gives off the feeling that he lost his family before the war and the Autobots were the only family he had.

Then there's Bumblebee of course, he's a sweet bot for sure and he takes his job seriously! We really see him step up after the timeskip, making sure to take care of what's left of the Autobots, even if they're a group of bumbling idiots who don't listen. Though his character development in the last movie is very disappointing, he speaks with his real voice once then never again after that and at no point is there any real indication Bee was fixed. Still bugs me especially because they killed Ratchet who was actively working on Bee's voice.

And of course, Bayverse Optimus. Ngl, I've had a lot of dreams about him, a very particular one where I remember him humming or singing to me with a very specific image of the edge of a wall and wrought iron fence against a blue sky. In the movies he's a very stoic character with good bits of emotion here and there, such as taking revenge against Sentinel for killing Ironhide and doing his best to protect his own, even if after the timeskip he seemed more like a cash grab but I choose to see the last two as different movies. It was interesting to see his vulnerable moments, and though it was unfortunate that his character stagnated and regressed into this sellable toy, it was nice to see this very unique bot that could stand the test of time and leadership.

For TFA:

Bumblebee again, but for very different reasons. He's very impulsive for sure, and childish, but we get to watch him grow through the series in subtle ways! He has the potential for being a very emotionally complex character, in many more ways than one, and I wish people would use that more when writing him.

I also enjoy Optimus here as we see a very different version of him here than from Bayverse. He has this feeling that he's seething with rage but manages to somewhat keep himself in check. He's young, traumatized, and heartbroken over his past that he doesn't discuss at large with others. He's keeping what little of a family he has safe, and sometimes his judgment and behavior isn't great but that's because he's accompanied by natural flaws we didn't see at large with Bayverse.

From TFA I also enjoy Blitzwing, but this is mainly for Fandom reasons, same as Prowl. I've sorta crafted this vision of these two, about who they are and what they enjoy, thats different than what's seen on screen. I'll maybe go into detail later but for now know I enjoy these two because they have a lot of personal depth that I view in them!

I should add I really like Yoketron as well! But then again this is for personal reasons because I developed a story with @endller about Yoketron and his family! I'm rather fond of him, his mate and his seven sons because the shenanigans we came up with and simply because he feels like he'd make a very loving sire to a large family!

For IDW:

Rodimus is similar to both TFA Bumblebee and TFA Optimus in the sense that he's an inherently flawed and childish character, but that's because he never was given the chance to actually come to terms with his place in the world. He wants to be carefree, it almost seems like he wants freedom, but instead he's doing his best to lead and find importance in the job he's given himself because he cares for what he's doing and wants to be known by others. This hurts more when you realize that by the series end he's trapped in a world where he'll mean nothing and their adventure will only live on in the mind of the crew and to have seen everything go so wrong for everyone by the end makes Rodimus a fundamental piece in this epic adventure.

I really enjoy Megatron from here as well for similar reasons to TFA Optimus. He's a uniquely flawed character that is very different from many Megatrons we've seen before. Most continuities usually don't go into the fact Megatron was a suppressed mech, forced into a cast and role that didn't allow him the freedom of expression. The war started because he wanted to free others from being the slag the higher ups stepped on for pleasure, and it spiraled out of control when he lost his way. He does his best to make up for this and right the wrongs he's caused in the past. When he tells Rodimus he deserved worse its a painful reminder that he won't forgive himself for all he's done and that it's likely he won't be left alive thanks to where they ended up.

I like Tarn from IDW for a very weird reason in that he's an obsessive maniac that was hit with the reality check that his idol is just as flawed as himself. When Megatron defects, Tarn is enraged their leader would just abandon them, but in reality Megatron realized how much of a mess he had made when he lost his way and wanted to atone for what he'd done. Tarn saw Megatron as this flawless being and saw his word as Primus' divine word and worshipped the ground he walked on. It hits Tarn that Megatron is as emotionally complex and flawed as any other bot when he defects and this rips apart everything Tarn believed in. Given his addictive tendencies, it's likely he worshipped Megatron because it was something that made him believe in himself, especially after what had been done to him by the higher casts and what the Decepticons had given him after the Autobots took everything.

I think that's all of them! I hope this made sense! I have plenty of favorites simply for design and small character moments so I chose bots I think I really personally enjoyed for more reasons than one!

[martelldoran]

WHAT'S THE CAUSALITY LOOP THEORY

Why Emma, thank you so much for asking. I’m not going to waste time before jumping into this because this is gonna get long so without further ado...

Steve Rogers’ Ending and How Endgame Doesn’t Support a Causality Loop and other such rambles

Last month, I came across a TikTok that proposed that Steve’s ending made sense because it existed within a causality loop. I would link the TikTok but I didn’t save it at the time and trying to find videos on that app is impossible. You think Tumblr’s search function is bad? 🙄 But I digress. The TL;DR of the video is that due to time travel and Steve choosing to go back in time to be Peggy’s husband, it created a causality loop where he was always meant to be her husband because he went back in time and stayed there. The TikToker supported his argument by using Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (PoA), another film that uses time travel and has a clearly defined example of a causality loop. However, his argument is fundamentally flawed so I’m going to combine my knowledge of my two biggest fandoms to tell you why.

Continued under the cut because I have no chill. Beware, it's long.

To first tell you how Endgame (EG) doesn’t support a causality loop, we must establish how PoA does establish one and does it successfully. The TikToker specifically mentions the scenes that take place at Hagrid’s Hut surrounding Buckbeak the hippogriff’s execution, so we’ll look at those first. What the film does really well is establish early on that there is something weird going on well before anyone actually goes back in time. There are three things that happen in quick succession during this scene which sets up the causality loop we see later in the film. First, a rock flies through the window and breaks a jar. Second, another rock hits Harry in the back of the head. Third, once outside, Hermione hears a branch snap and thinks she sees ‘something’. There are also two additional moments later on in the film once the Harry, Ron, and Hermione have come out of the Shrieking Shack which should also be noted: a wolf howl that distracts Remus Lupin in werewolf form from attacking the group and somebody casting a full-bodied stag patronus at the edge of the lake to save Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.

Of these occurrences, the first is arguably the most important because it does the most to establish that there is something going on outside of the Trio’s current understanding of their situation. The film makes a point to frame the jar breaking as Important Information the Audience Must Remember because it shows a visibly confused Hermione reacting to it as she picks up the rock for closer inspection and we the audience are given close up of it in her hand. Not only is it framed front and centre in the shot but the rock itself is very distinctive. It’s almost wholly smooth but for a swirl of fossil, thus marking it as not just any rock but An Important Rock To Be Remembered. This was an intentional choice by director Alfonso Curon because he uses this rock to connect this moment to its mirrored scene later on once Harry and Hermione use the Time Turner.

The audience and the characters find out about the causality loop at the same time. There are clearly stated rules of time travel that say that they aren’t to meddle with time but when Harry and Hermione see that Dumbledore, the Minister for Magic, and the executioner are on their way to Hagrid’s hut they panic because their counterparts aren’t leaving. Then, we see Hermione notice something in the pumpkin patch: a distinctive rock, smooth with a swirl of fossil. Again, we see have a close up shot with the rock centred to show its importance. Stylistically, it’s very similar to the shot we saw earlier in the film which gives the audience an emotional pay off for noticing the connection. When Hermione throws the rock and breaks the jar, it sets the causality loop in motion. The jar was always going to break because they went back in time to throw the rock that breaks it.

And it’s the same with all the other instances. Hermione throws the second rock that hits Harry in the back of the head to alert him to the fact they need to get out of the hut. Hermione snaps the branch and is almost seen by her counterpart in the past. Hermione makes the wolf call to distract Lupin from attacking. Harry, and not his father as he had assumed, casts the patronus to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors. But each of these moments are set up clearly in the ‘first run through’ to set up their payoff when the characters realise, ‘Oh, I did these things. They were always meant to happen.’ From a narrative standpoint, these are planned out moments to clue the audience into the fact that there’s something bigger at play. It keeps them ‘in the loop’ as it were.

This doesn’t happen in EG.

To successfully have set up a causality loop that made sense and had the same kind of set up and pay off as we see in PoA, it would have had to have been established as early as 2014 in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (CA:TWS). This does not happen. One of the main themes of CA:TWS is moving on from the past. Peggy Carter herself even says, “I’ve lived my life, my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Then saying soon after, “Sometimes the best thing we can do is to start over.” Peggy’s character in Captain America: The First Avenger is set up as someone who acts as the backup/back bone of Steve’s own moral compass. When Steve falters at Azzano about what to about the captured 107th, Peggy is there to remind him of what is right. She serves a similar narrative function in CA:TWS. Steve is struggling with life in the present. He’s just seen the helecarriers and argued with Nick Fury about protection vs fear after the botched Lumerian Star mission. Morally, he’s in turmoil and has turned to Peggy for council because he’s trying to find purpose in world where his rigid morality seems to have no place.

From the point of view of creating a causality loop, one would think that this scene in the hospital would be the place where an initial set-up could be made and alert the audience to the long term plan for Steve’s character. Instead, we have Peggy mourning the fact that Steve didn’t get to live his life the way it should have played out, and why would a woman who has supposedly been married to another version of Steve tell him to move on? In addition, when Steve visits the Smithsonian, he watches a video where he sees Peggy talking about how he influenced her life and how during one of his missions, he saved the man that would go on to become her husband. This is the only mention of Peggy’s husband in the entire franchise until Steve reappears as an old man at the end of EG.

Captain America: Civil War (CA:CW) also offers an opportunity to set up the causality loop at Peggy’s funeral but again, this does not happen. The only family we are introduced to is Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grand-niece. When it comes to filmmaking, every choice made is intentional. From the hair and makeup to the clothes, to the music used, everything in a film means something whether it is to further character development, world-building, or the plot. Filmmakers have a limited amount of time to convey a story and anything that doesn’t matter isn’t shown. Therefore, we can conclude from the text of the film that Peggy’s husband doesn’t matter to the narrative. The person in Peggy’s family who matters to the narrative is Sharon Carter which is why she is given prominence during CA:CW’s funeral scene. Had the causality loop been set up here, there would have been a defining moment like in PoA where the audience is clued into the larger story arc. Maybe someone says something, or he meets his older self, but that doesn’t happen. It should also be noted that apart from a small scene in Ant Man, Peggy isn’t mentioned again until EG.

In Endgame itself, the film still fails to set up a causality loop. It could be argued that this is the most important film for the set-up because this is when the audience gets the payoff. The first thing we see after the 5-yer time jump is Steve in a group therapy session for those that survived Thanos’ snap. Survivors share their stories and Steve talks about Peggy, a woman who has been dead in canon for 7-years and who died of old age. It’s incongruous and sticks out because narratively it doesn’t make sense for him to talk about her and not someone he watched disintegrate in front of his eyes. Steve watches his best friend and hundreds of others turn to ash around him and that film ends on his horrified face as he sits by his best friend’s ashes. Narratively, this is the thread that should carry through to EG but instead, he talks about missing his chance with Peggy. However, unlike PoA, there is no indication whether through dialogue or framing that clues the audience into Steve’s eventual ending at the end of the film.

Even when he goes back to the 70s, we see him looking mournfully at Peggy through the blinds in her office and a picture of him, pre-serum, on her desk. Steve and Peggy’s relationship prior to Endgame is supposed to represent the bittersweet loss of the life he could have had had he not sacrificed himself to the cause in CA:TFA. Then, since the audience knows from Steve and Peggy’s conversation in the hospital in CA:TWS that she moved on from Steve to live a happy life, we can assume that this picture is meant as nothing more than a fond memento of someone that meant a lot to her. Once more, there is no indication that Steve is ever meant to be her husband.

It’s impossible to infer a causality loop here in the same way as we saw in PoA. In PoA, there is a payoff for every single unusual or weird moment the story presents the audience before and after the use of time travel but this is something that’s completely absent from Endgame’s narrative. Steve himself doesn’t even vocalise a desire to go back in time at any point in EG nor at any point during the other films he appears in. In fact, when questioned by Tony Stark about the possibility of ‘going home’ in Avengers: Age of Ulton, he says, “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” While it is indicative of his unhappiness in the modern-day, it does indicate a level of acceptance of the fact that this is his life and he has to make his peace with it. He’s taken what Peggy said in CA:TWS on board. He’s starting over and moving on.

With time travel, and Steve choosing to stay in the past came the fan theory that one of the pallbearers carrying Peggy’s casket in CA:CW is Old Man Steve, her husband. When presented with this fan theory, writer Christopher Markus said during an interview with the LA Times at SDCC 2019,

“I would very much like that. There is no set explanation for Cap’s time travel . . .I mean, we’ve had public disagreements with [directors Anthony and Joe Russo] about what it [time travel] necessarily means, but I love the idea of there being two Steve Rogers in the timeline. One who lived a long life with Peggy and is in the background of that funeral scene watching his young self carry his wife’s coffin up. Not just for the time travel mumbo jumbo of it, but for the just weird, personal pain and satisfaction that would be happening between two Steve Rogers there. I kind of love it.” [emphasis mine]

This shows that unlike in PoA there was no intention of creating a causality loop prior to Markus writing EG with his writing partner Stephen McFeely. In fact, it makes clear that the actual rules of time travel were in contention and that even those making the film didn’t have a unified idea of what they wanted to create in the first place. The fact that there is confusion surrounding EG's time travel is due to the fact that the people behind it, didn't seem to know what they were writing or consider the consequences of it.

What all of this shows is that an argument of a PoA style causality loop doesn’t hold water. The film doesn’t support it, nor do any of the previous films, because there aren’t any indicators for the audience to latch onto. There is no moment of the rock breaking the jar, or the patronus chasing away the dementors, no moment where that the audience is told to hold into this information for later because there’s some timey wimey stuff going on. Ultimately, when examined, there is no set-up for a causality loop that supports the theory he was always supposed to go back and be Peggy’s husband, particularly when examined against a film that successfully lays it out from the start.

Right, the more academic (lol) part of this post is done. I just want to address one more TikTok that bothered me because I have opinions and MCU Captain America is my Mastermind specialist subject.

The TL;DR of this one was that Steve’s ending made sense because he got out of the fight and was at peace and that that has been the ultimate goal of his character arc. This person argued that Steve used the Avengers to distract himself from the fact that he’s this man out of time and he can’t find peace without a fight which to some extent, I agree with. I don’t deny that that is a major driving force to his story. We see that in Age of Ultron with his WandaNightmare. I don’t deny that that is key to his character. However, this creator then made a comment at the end of this video to the tune of, ‘bUt BuCkY iS hIs StOrY aRc’ and tried to play it off like this wasn’t true or that people were wrong to think that this is the case.

These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true. They’re intertwined. But you cannot say that Bucky Barnes isn’t at the heart of Steve Rogers’ story. Bucky was the catalyst for every single one of Steve’s movies. He becomes CA because of Bucky. He goes against SHIELD because of Bucky. He defies 107 countries and the Sokovia Accords because of Bucky. You take Bucky out of the equation and what do you have? What happens in those films if you take Bucky Barnes out of the equation? Viewing it objectively, and even without shipper goggles on, you simply cannot sit there and claim that Bucky Barnes isn't a defining component to Steve’s story. Steve Rogers is motivated by Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers is motivated by the depth of their relationship and the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few things connecting his new present to his old life.

You can definitely see the fact that Steve is uncomfortable in the modern world. He doesn’t address any of his trauma but he still attempts to move on. However, if they wanted him getting out of the fight and finding life as a civilian to be the natural end to his story arc then there was a way to do it which didn’t require him going back to Peggy. It would have been a better and more satisfying ending if he’d actively chosen to retire because I often see the argument that him going back to Peggy is him finally allowing him to be selfish after shouldering so much over the past decade or more. If Steve chose to retire and put himself first, then that sends a better message. He’s still getting the chance to ‘be selfish’ but he’s not throwing the life he’s built away. At this point in EG, he’s spent a huge portion of his adult life in the modern-day. This isn’t the future for him anymore, it’s the present and he’s lived a life and made real connections with people. The MCU does a piss poor job of showing the interpersonal relationships between the Avengers but he is at least shown to be friends with Sam, Nat, and Bucky.

But he goes back to a delusion. Or an idea of something that was never his in the first place.

When I see people make these videos and share their opinions, I can see their points but it’s like they’re taking EG on its own when that's impossible. Endgame only ‘works’ if you have the context of 10 years’ worth of films. You have to at least be somewhat familiar with the characters, who they are and what they’ve done up until now to be able to make sense of it.

However, in saying that, they wrote and filmed the movie in a way to make you think you didn’t have to take into account anything you’ve seen in the past ten years. If you only watch Endgame, you only see a grieving man mourning the love he never had. You see a man, regretful that he didn’t get to be with woman he loved. So at the end, of course it would make sense that he goes back to her. But you can only do that if you completely divorce Endgame from its ten-year canon and in a franchise like this where they make a big deal about everything being interconnected, it simply doesn’t work. Steve’s story arc in Endgame is incongruous to the narrative arc we’ve been presented in previous films.

Ultimately, Endgame is a movie you’re supposed to watch once and then not think about again. It’s made for that first viewing when everything is shocking and exciting because if you stop to think about it even a little bit, it falls apart under scrutiny.

Finally, I think that the downfall of a lot of these ‘Steve’s ending makes sense’ posts is that made by people who are most certainly MCU fans but not Steve Rogers fans and it shows.

[cosmicgiddiness]

O'Neill² | Chapters 1 & 2

Art by @altschmerzes

Fandom | Stargate: SG-1

Warnings | Mentions of past child abuse, Waffle Consumption

Rating | K+

Genres | Gen, Family, H/C, Angst, Fluff

Characters | Jack O'Neill, Clone Jack O'Neill, Cassandra Fraiser, Janet Fraiser, SG-1

Chapters | 2/7

Summary: Six months after the events of "Fragile Balance," Jack's clone loses both his memory and his home. The colonel surprises everyone by offering to take him in. Just until they figure things out, of course.

Read on AO3 | Read on FF.net

Excerpt:

From Chapter One:

"News, General?" Daniel queries almost before Hammond is all the way out of his office the next morning.

Hammond's eyes scan the occupants of the table—comprised of SG-1 and honorary member Janet Fraiser—as he takes his seat at the head of the briefing room table. He turns to Janet, studies her for a moment. The unflappable doctor appears to be slightly...flapped. But she meets his eyes gamely and straightens ever so slightly, waiting for his go-ahead. He nods and every eye turns on Janet.

"Well, everything is looking good. He slept all day yesterday, except for about an hour after his initial awakening, and then slept most of the night. He woke again shortly after I came in this morning, and he's been awake ever since. He continues to be lucid, though I suspect he will be experiencing a good bit of nausea and frequent headaches for the next week or two." She pauses, visibly gathers her thoughts, baiting their breaths. "He still doesn't remember anything. He does, however, remember the events of yesterday—the ones he was aware enough to form, anyway." She smiles slightly, meeting their eyes one by one. "This is a very good sign. With all that we've seen, I fully expect him to be able to make and retain both long and short-term memories going forward."

"And his past memories, Doctor?" Hammond queries.

She lets out a soft sigh. "Unfortunately, that I do not know. I suspect we won't know, until and unless something changes. It's a waiting game, sir."

A long beat of silence passes before Dr. Jackson—as is frequently the case—voices the question they've all been thinking.

"So...what now?" His lips are pursed in that way that always reminds him of the face his youngest granddaughter makes when she's feeling precocious. "I mean, what do we tell him? Ordinarily I would be all in favor of the truth, but…"

"But in this case, he's already feeling vulnerable and probably very frightened and the truth is frankly ridiculous and very likely to send him over the edge," Janet finishes. "That's my concern as well."

"I mean, would he even believe us?" Major Carter asks.

"He would not," O'Neill supplies matter-of-factly and all eyes turn on him. He shrugs and returns to whatever doodle is taking place on his legal pad today.

"We have the Stargate just below us," Teal'c interjects, "freely at our disposal. If he requires proof, why should we not simply take him through it?"

"He's just awoken in a military base after a serious trauma—both physical and emotional—and he remembers nothing from before, nothing about where he is, who we are…" Janet's eyes cut to O'Neill's downturned face for the scarcest moment. "He's putting up a brave face—"

"No surprise there," Dr. Jackson mutters under his breath, causing Major Carter to place her hand strategically in front of her mouth.

"—but he's under tremendous stress and too much too soon is almost certainly a bad idea. He's got enough to process without learning there are aliens on our doorstep and he is the accidental creation of one of them."

Teal'c dips his head in understanding, though Hammond can see he feels they are giving O'Neill—both of them—too little credit. "I trust your judgment in such matters, Doctor Fraiser."

"So, we're back to our original question," Hammond redirects. "What happens to him now?"

"I don't think he should stay here, sir," the doctor states firmly. "The minute he's well enough to be out of my infirmary, that's exactly where I want him."

"You wound me, Doc," O'Neill blithes without looking up.

"Believe it or not, sir, in this case it's for his own good rather than to spare my nurses." She smirks slightly. "Your younger self is very polite and cooperative."

Major Carter presses a knuckle to her lip in yet another shoddy attempt to cover a smile and if Hammond didn't know better, he'd think perhaps the colonel's ears just tinged a shade or two pinker than usual.

Fraiser turns back to Hammond. "I just don't think this is a good environment for him right now, General. So much…"

"Concrete," Teal'c offers, efficient to the end.

"Exactly. He needs to be somewhere that feels laid back, something that will grow familiar and comfortable. I realize he's not just any teenager, but I can tell you he has all the hormones of one, and like any teenager—any person, really—he needs a home, sir."

"I agree with you, Doctor. However, Major Walters and her husband were almost uniquely qualified to handle his situation," Hammond says. "I'm not sure how we're going to find someone that's able and willing to take in—"

"He can stay with me, sir."

Five heads swivel to stare at Jack O'Neill.

"Pardon me, Colonel, would you repeat that?" Hammond can't quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"I said," O'Neill sets down his pad and meets Hammond's gaze, ignoring all the others, "he can stay with me." A shrug, slouching further back into the upholstery. "I mean, just until we figure out a good solution."

Hammond finds himself half-wishing he had a pin to drop.