#fellowship twenty

[reverend-meat]

I-

[cellamare]

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[todayontumblr]

Monday, December 18.

Willkommen.

History was made on this day, twenty years ago. The last installment in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Return of the King, was released in cinemas. It grossed over $1.1 billion worldwide, making it the second highest-grossing film of all time. It won all eleven Oscars for which it was nominated, including Best Picture (the first fantasy to do so), at the 76th Academy Awards. The sequel to 2002's The Two Towers, and the completion of the story started by The Fellowship of the Ring, it was a cinematic landmark and a pop culture behemoth. Like its two predecessors, the film was widely acclaimed by critics and loved by audiences across the globe. But they were, all of them, deceived—for another film was made.

In 2004, Dominic Monaghan, the actor alias used by renowned German film critic Hans Jensen, interviewed the trilogy's star, Elijah Wood. In these nine bracing minutes of footage, Mr. Jensen probed his interviewee on the matters of the day: losing time within yourself, kicking balls, dolphins, and the wearing of wigs. It makes for quite remarkable viewing almost two decades later.

[tolkienmatters]

The eldest of these, and Bilbo’s favourite, was young Frodo Baggins. When Bilbo was ninety-nine he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September 22nd. ‘You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,’ said Bilbo one day; ‘and then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.’ At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.

Happy Birthday Frodo & Bilbo Baggins, Fellowship of the Ring, A Long-Expected Party

[prettyboypistol]

Hey, love your work anyway so you know how Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves age much slower? How'd they react to reader going like "dude I'm like twenty"?

How the Fellowship React to a Younger Company Member! || LOTR x M!Reader

context for hcs: You are surrounded by your companions around a nice fire for the night, only for you to mention that today is your birthday! The fellowship ask how old you turn and you proudly say 22.

Frodo

"Oh goodness I've dragged a child into this."

genuinely starts apologizing to you near manically, then shuts himself off.

You go to him and explain that no, you're far from a child in human standards, and that even 16 yo's can be drafted into wars. Frodo is shocked.

It makes him feel a little better, but he starts to try and teach you things subconsciously about herbalism and mushroom picking.

Samwise

"GOOD GODS TWENTY-WHAT?"

has a good nervous laugh about it, mentioning that now Pippin isn't the baby of the fellowship anymore (ref- Pippin is late-20s)

After you explain that humans mature faster, he seemingly calms down, but still jokingly fusses at you

mothers you "jokingly" after that, but seems to be more attached to you in case you get hurt.

Merry

"Ay- ay! Pippin! You're not the youngest anymore!"

Honestly doesn't see it as a big deal, hell, feels more at ease that theres yet another youngin in the fray of adventure that he can mess around with!

Will try to include you in on his and Pippin's shenanigans, and excitedly dragging you along when you agree to some of his insane ideas.

Pippin

"IM NOT THE BABY ANYMORE!!!"

Calls you "youngling" and "little brother" as a joke, takes a liiiiittle too much fun from that for your liking.

Feels a little weird about sharing his pipeweed with you at first, but as soon as you hit that blunt with g r a c e he's laughing along and giving you as much as you want

Likes to hold your hand "as a joke" to guide you through places, he includes you in places that he and Pippin hide in when in danger.

Gimli

Jesus christ this man nearly had a heart attack, not only that, but when the hobbits mentioned how old they were!? He's travelling with CHILDREN. BARELY OLD ENOUGH TO BE IN THE FORGE!

Becomes oddly silent as he mulls over these facts- that he's seen everyone drink before, do drugs, and even make sexual innuendos that he laughed at... eugh. icky feelings. icky all over.

Aragorn pulls him aside and explains that humans and hobbits age uch faster than dwarves, and that he himself in only in his 80's. Gimli feels only slightly better but it takes him a few days to recover from the shock.

Legolas

haha yall are all BABIES

Legolas is aware of humans' quick deterioration, so it doesn't come as a surprise to him. With your smooth skin though, he assumed you were younger? Perhaps about 17-19?

Then again, he is shit at jusging ages, since elves are forever young and pretty.

makes fun of gimli for being to torn up about you being "only 22"

[verecunda]

No, Charles Edwards Isn't Too Old to Play Celebrimbor, Actually: a sourcebook

Apparently this particular wank is going around again, and people are trying to frame it as an issue of fidelity to the source material (again), so I decided to round up some references to the physical appearance of certain Elves in the books.

Before we even begin, I'm going to point out that there are literally no physical descriptions of Celebrimbor in canon. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. So you could cast literally anyone and it wouldn't ~break canon~. But the age of the actor seems to be a big sticking point for some people.

In the main, yes, Tolkien's elves tend to appear youthful beyond their many, many years, but there are some notable examples. One of the most extreme is Gwindor, who spends many years as a thrall in Angband and eventually returns to his own people "now seeming as one of the aged among mortal Men, because of his torments and his labours". Gwindor is an extreme example, though, the result of exceptional trauma. There are more natural examples, though.

The big one is Círdan the Shipwright, memorably described thus: "his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars."

Elrond, meanwhile, at the end of the Third Age appears somewhere in the middle: "The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young." Contrast with Glorfindel, who is considerably older than him - give or take a death/re-embodiment episode - whose face is described as "fair and young" just one paragraph earlier.

Then we have the sons of Elrond, who are probably among the youngest Elves in Middle-earth at the end of the Third Age, but who seem to take after their father, being described as "neither young nor old", but at the same time with "elven-fair" faces.

By any human yardstick, it doesn't seem logical that Glorfindel should appear obviously younger than Elrond or his sons. You could argue that their half-elven nature might admit signs of ageing where other Elves wouldn't, but then we have Arwen, daughter of Elrond. She is well over two thousand years old - though barely a hundred years younger than her brothers - but she appears young. When the twenty-year-old Aragorn first beholds her, we're told, "she had seemed of no greater age than he" - at least until he sees the elven-light in her eyes. (Note that when Frodo first sees Arwen, the book says, "Young she was and yet not so" - though, like many Elves, this seems to have more to do with the wisdom and memory apparent in her demeanour, because we're also told that in terms of physical appearance "The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth".

So it's clear we have a lot of variation between Elves' relative ages and the "age" of their appearance. I've seen some attempts to pass off the negativity over Charles Edwards' casting to concerns over sexist double-standards: why is a 50-something actor playing Celebrimbor when Galadriel, who is canonically older, is played by an actress in her thirties? But frankly, I'm calling bullshit on that one, because when the Fellowship meet Galadriel and Celeborn (again, this is at the end of the Third Age), the book tells us: "no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes." This is despite these two being among the oldest Elves still living in Middle-earth. So if Galadriel can appear more youthful than, say, Elrond and his sons, why could she not potentially appear more youthful that Celebrimbor (of whom, again, we have no physical description)? If there is a double-standard in evidence, I'm afraid it's one that must be traced back to Tolkien himself.

Frankly, I think it's fairly obvious that a lot of the wank about Charles Edwards' Celebrimbor stems from people being unable or unwilling to separate fanon from canon. It's not exactly a secret that in the main, fandom tends to portray Celebrimbor as hunky and youthful, and I've seen plenty of mean-spirited posts opining that he's too unattractive to play the character (which on the "fucking the old man" website is hilarious). But like, beauty is subjective.

And even within the books, there are variations in beauty and body types. Remember Nerdanel, a master artisan despite being "not among the fairest of her people"? (Even if you don't personally find the actor attractive, why couldn't Celebrimbor take after his grandmother in this respect?) The Fall of Gondolin also, memorably, gives us the "heavy and squat" Salgant. There are rare exceptions, true, but it's quite apparent that canonically, Elves don't conform to any one standard of beauty or body type.

As for complaints about him being too light-haired to play a grandson of Fëanor? Look, I tend to imagine Celebrimbor as black-haired when I'm reading the books, but the fact is, canon is utterly silent on the subject. For all we know, his mother could be light-haired and he could take after her. Or - idk - he uses the same Laurelin Sheen hair-dye as Uncle Celegorm. (Because somehow fandom seems to have no problem with him being portrayed as Extremely! Blond! despite having even less excuse. As a side note, I'm sure Elven genetics don't work quite the same way as human ones - like, I feel an attempt to draw up an Elven Punnett square would probably result in madness. But whatever.)

In conclusion, then: Tolkien's Elves clearly display variations in their appearance of ageing, which have nothing to do with their actual age. Canon gives us exactly no descriptions of Celebrimbor's physical appearance, therefore the casting of Charles Edwards can't be regarded as in any way uncanonical. Attempts to dress up complaints about his age and looks as anything more worthy are blatantly disingenuous, when they're not being downright immature and mean-spirited.

Personally, I think Edwards is a fine actor, and while he doesn't fit my own image of the character, he does fit lots of the personality beats I associate with him, which can be gleaned from canon, and which frankly matter much more to me. I'm very much looking forward to seeing his performance in series two. Thank you for coming to my rant talk.

[hughes86-43]

giving jack a massage to help him feel better after a rough game- no smut :) <3

thank you for the request!! hope you love it!! :)

Massage | J. Hughes

warnings - none! maybe a bit cheesy, but just sweet fluff! there could be grammar mistakes!

You were watching the devils game from your apartment today as you had various homework for your master’s degree due and had to work late today, so you couldn’t make it to the game to watch your boyfriend in person. However, you got all cozy on your couch watching the game with your dinner, blankets and your laptop.

The devils were struggling today and then ended up losing 6-2 at the end of the game. During the game, your boyfriend Jack had gotten hit multiple times against the glass, and not to mention, the amount of times he had fallen over his own feet. You knew that he would be sore for the next day.

Right after the game, you had received a text from Jack.

jack 🫶🏼: be home shortly love

You replied back for him to be safe and you’ll be waiting on him. So with that, you got back into working on your homework on your laptop.

About an hour later, you hear the front door unlock. Looking up, you see Jack walk through the door carrying his various bags and then locking the door back behind him. He drops his stuff off on the bench in the walkway. Looking up, he sees you waiting on the couch.

Smiling he says, “Hi, love”.

Making his way towards you, you pat the seat on the couch next to you. “I’m sorry about the loss, babe.” He sits next to you, you pull him into a hug, then he winces. Instantly you pull back, giving him a concerned look.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, I just got hit a few times and fell a few times,” he says grabbing your legs and putting them on his lap.

“I saw that, some of them looked like they hurt. Do you want me to give you a massage? It might help a bit, plus it would take some of the tension away from you and help you relax,” you say with a looking into his eyes.

“I’d love that, but I want to shower real quick, so you can give me one after, if that’s okay.”

Nodding your head, you say, “That’s fine, baby, I just want you to feel better. Now go shower and I’ll join you in the bedroom. I’m just going to tidy up real quick.” He gives you a kiss before heading to the bathroom to shower.

Twenty minutes later, you tidied up the living room and made your way into the bathroom to do your nightly routine and changed into some pajamas. While Jack finished his shower and changed into sweatpants and joined you on the bed.

“Lay on your stomach, love,” you say. Jack moves to where he is laying on his stomach. You move beside him on the bed on your knees. You start with his shoulders, rubbing and kneading circles into them.

“That feels great, I can already tell how much this is helping already,” Jack says with a sigh.

“I’m glad. Where else are you hurting at?” You say, as you want to get as much tension and pain out of him as you can.

“My lower back is hurting a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, I just want to make you feel better. I would do this all night, but my arms would probably fall off,” You say with laugh.

Moving to his lower back, you begin kneading away. “How was your day today? I feel bad because we’re so focused on me, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask you baby,” Jack says while still laying face down, fully content with the massage. He loves the way that each caressing touch that you do is filled with so much love and care for him.

“It was good, I just had to work late at the firm to get some paperwork done since I left early the other day with that headache. I finished mostly all of my homework for my classes, and I filled out some information for my fellowship for my degree,” You say still massaging his lower back, while also going back up to his shoulders. “I hate I had to miss the game, since I haven’t been to one in over a week with being busy.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’m just glad you still watch them at home. I know you’re busy, and I’m still just as proud of you and how you deal with it all and deal with me and my pain,” Jack says as he turns around and goes back to laying on his back but against the pillows now. He pulls you to sit on his lap, straddling him.

You put your hands on his chest, looking into his eyes, you say, “Of course, we’re a team, I’ll be happy to take your pain away any time, any day. I hope my massage helped, although I wouldn’t call myself a masseuse at all,” You laugh.

Jack smiles at you, “You did good, baby. Now let’s go to bed, I’m tired.” You give him a kiss and lay you forehead on his, savoring the moment. Then you hop off his lap and lay on your side of the bed snuggling under the covers.

Jack pulls you into his side, “I love you, goodnight love.”

Laying your hand on his chest, you say, “Goodnight baby, I love you.”

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, car accident, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Two weeks out from the end of your fellowship should have felt better. Fifteen years of work and you were so close to the finish line that you could taste it. You’d worked your ass off, topped your classes over and over, sacrificing every bit of your social life, sleep, and general welfare to guarantee that you’d have your choice of job once you came out the other end, and you had. That was at least until three months ago when everything came crashing down. A misunderstanding, a miscalculation, something that felt so far beyond your control and the past fifteen years had been swept out from under your feet. Now you refreshed your email in desperation instead of excitement. You were sitting on a dragon’s hoard of student loans and not a single job offer. The downside of being at one of the top fellowship programs in the country was ironically the same as the upside, they were extremely well-connected. As a result, you were basically blacklisted by every potential employer.

Anyone else would question how you did it, getting out of bed like nothing was wrong and going to your fellowship with a professional smile plastered on your face as if everything was right with the world and you’d be on your way to the first day of your dream job in just two short weeks. It turns out that delusion is highly motivating. You’d refresh your email every morning as if an offer was going to suddenly appear, then go about your day as if maybe this evening something would show. At least that’s how most days went. Today everything that could have gone wrong, had. Your alarm hadn’t gone off because your phone was dead, your charging cord seemingly having given up its last breath sometime over the last twenty-four hours. Then the hot water had been out, for the third time this month, so you were shivering like a drowned sewer rat as you hauled yourself into your car, running too late to make your tea.

Even the Anaheim sun couldn’t seem to warm you as you pulled onto the highway toward Los Angeles. Not even five minutes later a piercing chime sounded through the vehicle and your dismayed gaze fell on your gas light, shining bright since last night, when you had been far too exhausted to brave a seedy gas station in the dark, relegating it as a “tomorrow problem.” Tomorrow was here and you swore defeatedly as you made your way to the next exit, issuing irritated commands at your phone to find the nearest gas station. You swore your whole attention was on the road as you did your best to follow the monotone directions from your speakers as you pulled into the gas station when the motorcycle flashed across your field of vision, fast but not fast enough. You screamed as your brain caught up to the sight in front of you. You don’t remember putting the car into park in the middle of the entry to the gas station and vaulting out of the vehicle, burying your panic as you go into doctor mode, rushing to the aid of the driver sitting up on the asphalt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir are you alright? I’m a doctor.” You sputtered as he turned to look at you, a rueful smile on his face.

“Oh, no worries, Doc, I’m all good.” He scratched the back of his neck as he looked over to his motorcycle which lay abandoned a few feet away. “I need to remember I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Sir I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that I check to see if you have a concussion.” You glanced around, searching for something. “Especially since you weren’t wearing a helmet.” You couldn’t help the annoyed purse of your lips. He chuckled, nodding as you squat down next to him, fiddling with your phone to turn on the flashlight.

“So, you’re a doctor, huh kid? What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sports medicine, and I mean yes I’m a doctor, I’ve graduated from medical school, but I’m still finishing up my fellowship so I’m not employed as one yet per se.” You sat back on your heels, satisfied that he really was alright. His eyes brightened at your words.

“Sports medicine? What sport are you working with?”

“I’ve worked with a bunch of different ones through my fellowship but my dream job is hockey.” If you ever got a job that was.

His face split into a huge grin. “You don’t say? When do you finish your fellowship?”

“Two weeks… why?” You suddenly remembered that this man was a total stranger as his questions became more specific. It was at that moment that your brain finally exited doctor mode that you realized that he was in fact not a total stranger, not really and you recognized exactly who was sitting on the concrete not even five feet from you. “Oh my fucking god, you’re Pete Mitchell.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush before you could stop them. He barked out a laugh as he extended a dusty hand to you.

“The one and only.” You stared at his hand like you were wondering if it was safe to touch, which is ridiculous. You worked with star athletes for a living and you’ve never gotten star-struck. But that was within the four walls of your job, where you were completely and totally in doctor mode, not squatting in the driveway of a gas station. You shook your head, unsure of how long you’d left him hanging before taking his outstretched hand and shaking it, introducing yourself. “It feels ridiculous to ask, but are you an Anaheim fan?” He asked, flashing his signature grin. You flush, embarrassed.

“They’re my second favorite but my dad’s a ride-or-die.” Pete laughed at your brutal honesty. “But, I mean, everyone who’s everyone knows you.” You sputtered. “You have one of the longest records in the NHL. 26 years is a long time, and with three cups on top of that? You’re practically hockey royalty.” He smiled, seemingly amused with your floundering.

He stood then, helping you up with him. “Could I get your information?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m so sorry about your bike, is it good to drive?” You gave the abandoned motorcycle a worried look. “I’m sure my insurance can cover whatever repairs you need.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He shook his head gently, laying a fatherly hand on your arm. “I actually wanted to offer you a job. Well, an interview, I’m not actually authorized to offer you a job, not my department.”

“I mean I did hit you with my car, WAIT WHAT?” The full effect of his words hit you like a truck. He laughed again.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I can take care of the damages,” giving you his best I’m a multimillionaire retired athlete look. “And as for the job? I’m serious. You’re clearly responsible, professional, good in a crisis, and the team I’m working with is looking for a physician. Unless of course you’re already committed to another job?”

“No! Uh, no, no I’m not.” Shame crept up your neck. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Mitchell.” You stammered as you fumbled for your wallet and produced a business card that you offered to him, doing your best to hold back the tears of gratefulness threatening to fill your eyes.

“It’s not a problem at all, Doc. I’ll be in touch, and please, call me Mav.” He handed you a piece of paper in return and you stared down to see his signature scrawled across it with a brief note Congratulations on such a talented daughter. - Pete “Maverick” Mitchell “Tell your dad I said hi.” He said with a wink before turning away from you to his motorcycle. You stood there, frozen in shock as he got the bike upright and drove away with a wave. The moment he was out of view, the tears escaped your eyes. You’d been desperate for someone to take a chance on you, but never in your wildest dreams would you have expected that person would be Pete fucking Mitchell.

[teddy06writes]

X Reader Fic Masterlist

~~

Dead Poet Society:

General/Unit:

Charlie Daltons Annuel Dead Poets Holiday Party: Halloween Edition Diner Days Everything Falls Apart Study Session Repercussions Dating the Dead Poets HCs

Neil Perry:

Music of the Night Why'd I Guess the Ending? Anywhere... Just Not Home Happiness Here For You A Quiet Moment Everyone But You

Todd Anderson:

Favorite Poet Surprise Cuddle Sessions Friday Night Fun, Monday Meetings

Steven Meeks: Of Little Love Poems, Secret Admirers and Anonymous Notes

Charlie Dalton:

Friends to Lovers Hcs

Gerard Pitts: None yet

Richard Cameron: None yet

Knox Overstreet: None Yet

~~~

The Outsiders:

General/Unit:

Being the Fourth Curtis Brother HCs Thanksgiving Special '24

Dallas Winston:

Never Fall In Love Again No Matter What Ghost Stories Late Nights By The Fire Oh How The Turn Tables People Watching Whumptober '24 Day Twenty

Sodapop Curtis:

Golden Too Old? Yeah Right! Meltdown Soda x theaterkid!reader

Two Bit Mathews:

I'll Try Too Old? Yeah Right! Spooky-est Place On Earth

Darry Curtis:

Pumpkin Spice Everything Hot Tea Heals The Soul Morning Routines Whumptober '24 Day Two Whumptober '24 Day Twenty Three

Johnny Cade:

Protective Cool, Calm, and Collected-- Until He Smiles

Steve Randle:

1955 Chevy Delray

Polyam Jally:

Take Me Back to the Night We Met

Polyam Dallypop:

I Told You It Was A Dumbass Plan

~~~

Top Gun: Maverick:

General/Unit:None Yet

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

Whumptober '24 Day Nine

Jake 'Hangman' Sersin: None Yet

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:None Yet

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace: None Yet

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

Whumptober '24 Day One Thanksgiving Special '24

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia: None Yet

Ruben 'Payback' Fitch: None Yet

Polyam Hangster: None Yet

Polyam Bobnix: None yet

~~~

The Bear:

Carmen Berzatto: None yet

Sydney Adamu: None Yet

Richie Jerimovich: None yet

Marcus: None Yet

~~~

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby:

Can't Sleep? Whumptober '24 Day Five Get Some Rest

Arthur Shelby: None yet

John Shelby:

Whumptober '24 Day Seven

Lizzie Stark/Shebly: None yet

Alfie Solomons:

Interrupted Date Nights Lost Words Win Win Much Ado About Nothing Whumptober '24 Day Six Whumptober '24 Day Ten Whumptober '24 Day Eighteen Whumptober '24 Day Twenty Two Tired... "You know I have no problem with either." New Year, Same Us

Michael Gray: None Yet

Luca Changretta: None Yet

~~~

Star Wars:

Cassian Andor:

Stubborn

Jyn Erso: None Yet

Polyam CassianxJyn: None yet

Bhodi Rook: None Yet

Din Djarin: None Yet

Han Solo: None Yet

~~~

Lord Of The Rings/The Hobbit:

The Fellowship: None Yet

The Company: None Yet

Aragorn:

Whumptober '24 Day Fifteen

Boromir:

Whumptober '24 Day Eleven

Legolas: None Yet

Gimli: None Yet

Frodo Baggins: None Yet

Samwise Gamgee:

Harmony

Pippin Took:None Yet:

Merry Brandybuck:None Yet

Faramir: None Yet

Eomer: None yet

Eowyn: None Yet

Bilbo Baggins: None yet

Thorin Oakenshield:None yet

Kili:

Whumptober '24 Day Seventeen

Fili:

Whumptober '24 Day Four

Bofur: None yet

Bard Bowman: None yet

~~~

The Umbrella Academy:

General/Unit:

Whumptober '24 Day Sixteen

Number Five Hargreeves: None yet

Klaus Hargreeves: None Yet

Diego Hargreeves:

Whumptober '24 Day Three Whumptober '24 Day Nineteen

Allison Hargreeves: None Yet

Luther Hargreeves: None Yet

Viktor Hargreeves: None Yet

Lila Pitts: None Yet

~~~

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes: None yet

Sam Wilson: None yet

Natasha Romanoff: None yet

Loki: None Yet

Druig: None Yet

Makari: None yet

Sersi: None yet

Eddie Brock/Venom:

Quiet Days

~~~

Criminal Minds:

General/Unit:

Thanksgiving Special '24

Spencer Reid: None Yet

Aaron Hotchner:

Whumptober '24 Day Eight Whumptober '24 Day Twenty One

Derek Morgan: None Yet

Emily Prentiss: None Yet

~~~

Wicked (2024):

Elphaba Thropp: None Yet

Galinda Uppland: None Yet

Fiyero TIgelaar:

Long Day Take Care of Yourself

Polyam (Any combo of the three): None Yet

More potentially to be added...

[as-warm-as-choco]

boromir didnt stop wielding his sword to protect merry and pippin when an arrow pierced HIS HEART (in the movies). BOROMIR DIDNT STOP PROTECTING THE HOBBITS TILL HIS FINAL BREATH and it took MANY ARROWS to stop him from doing so. Boromir was asking for FORGIVANCE by Aragorn with his final breath for trying to take the ring from Frodo.... more than twenty orc corpses laying around Him. He kept saying he FAILEDDD T_T 

The final scene of the Fellowship may stray from the book but GAWD oh god omfg whyyyyyyyyy do i FEEL things whyyyy do i expect a MIRACLE every. fuckin. timeeeee >_<<<<<< 

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 2

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall takes Y/N for a drive and they open up about their sobriety experiences.

Tags : mentions of substance abuse

The drive wasn’t very long but it was kind of silent. You did not really know what to say, so you kept to yourself, as Marshall was driving. After a short while, you arrived to some sort of observatory, from where you could see the whole city of Detroit. The view was breathtaking. It was starting to get dark so you could see the lights from the building.

- Woah, you said as you got out of the car.

- Nice, huh ? Marshall asked.

- Definitely better than my room, you admitted.

- It’s one of my favourite places in the city, he explained. When I started recovery, I thought I was going crazy, staying in my house. So I started coming here everyday. Sometimes for twenty minutes. Sometimes for hours. But at least it got me up from the couch and out of the house.

- The city looks great from here, you said. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.

- It’s not highly touristic, Marshall explained. Not many people know about it. That’s what is so great.

- I have to admit I haven’t explored much of Detroit yet, you said.

- For how long have you been here ? He asked.

- About four years now. I came to get my Master’s degree, as an exchange student at University of Michigan. And then I got a PhD fellowship so I took the opportunity to stay. Plus, I got together with Simon around the same time so it kind of felt like it was meant to be.

- Simon’s your boyfriend ?

- Ex, you quickly corrected. We split up. Actually, he left when I was in the hospital. Hence the living situation with Jamal and Talia, who were kind enough to take me in.

- I see, Marshall said. So he left you because of the OD ?

- Kind of.

Without really thinking about it, you proceeded to tell him about the breakup. Something about Marshall made it easy to talk. He was easy-going and made you feel safe, as if you had known him forever and could share everything with him.

- I really thought we were endgame, you said. We were talking about getting married eventually. And having kids, too…

You stopped talking as you felt a knot forming in your stomach. Simply mentioning your plans of having kids with Simon brought back the memories of the miscarriage. That very event had been the beginning of the end for the two of you. Even though Simon had been saddened by the miscarriage, it hadn’t affected him much. You were the one who gad to deal with the days of bleeding, cramping and crying. You had become attached to this baby and had troubles coming to terms with the loss of this pregnancy. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine.

- We’ll try again, he had said. It happens. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know ?

Even though you knew he was right, you were hurt. It wasn’t about trying again. It was about processing your loss and grieving. It felt as if Simon had moved on as soon as you’d been told there was no heartbeat anymore. As time went on, you felt unable to talk about your grief, your pain and the trauma. So you started using more and more pills.

- YN ? You heard Marshall’s voice pulling you back to reality.

- Sorry, you said apologising profusely. I got in my head.

- It’s ok. Breakups are hard to talk about, he said. You’re really strong, you know ? With everything you’re going through right now.

- I kind of brought it on myself, you said sheepishly. If I hadn’t been using, I wouldn’t be going through this breakup right now.

- You never know what could have been. You just need to focus on getting better right now.

- Any wisdom to share ? You asked with genuine interest.

In fifteen years of sobriety, you assumed he had gained some wisdom you could use.

- Don’t be afraid to talk. Like, ever. In fact, I think that staying silent and alone with your thoughts makes you insanely more vulnerable and at risk for a relapse. Also, there are thousands of things I could tell you right now, but the only thing that matters is that, as lonely as you may feel, there are many, many people going through the same thing. You are not alone. Your road to recovery doesn’t have to be a lonely one.

He smiled and got closer to you as he spoke. He gently put a hand on your shoulder.

- You may lose people in the process but that doesn’t mean you can’t be surrounded by love and support, he finally said.

You felt a little lump in your throat and, for a second, you thought you’d cry.

- How did you get over the disappointment you caused people ? You asked, looking into his piercing blue eyes.

- By making amends and, mostly, creating new memories with them. The hardest thing for me was letting my family down, especially my children. I missed Christmas with them when I OD’d. I’ll never have that time back. But I make a point of sharing meaningful moments with them now. More than ever before, he said.

- Do they resent you ? You shyly asked.

- I’m pretty sure they did. My daughter is the one who found me unconscious, two hours away from dying. I guess the kids did suffer from my absence. They needed me as a parent, not as a burden. But I’m better now, I’m present and I’m here for them. That’s what matters. It’s in the past, now. What matters the most to me is that they know I love them.

You watched Marshall’s eyes as he gazed upon the horizon. Obviously, talking about his kids struck a chord.

- You seem like a great dad, you said. Your kids are lucky to have you.

- I try to be. To be fair, they’re the ones who are great. I owe them everything.

- Tell me about them, you asked.

The way Marshall spoke of his daughters sparked your interest. The sparkle in his eyes when he mentioned them warmed your heart and you could only hope that, one day, you would be so lucky to have kids you could love as much. Obviously, he loved talking about his daughters and bragging about them. You couldn’t help but think it must be a bit odd for them to have Eminem as a dad, growing up.

You chuckled at the thought of your own Dad, who was so different than Marshall, even though they were about the same age.

- What is so funny ? He asked with a smile. Sorry, I’m such a geek when I talk about my kids.

- No, it’s not that ! You reassured him. I was thinking of my father. I think you’re about his age but somehow you’re… cooler, I guess ?

- You’re only saying that because I’m not your father, Marshall assured you.

- Pretty sure not, you insisted.

After all, you highly doubted that Marshall’s daughters would trade their rapper father for yours. Maybe it was a matter of culture, but Marshall was warmer, more emotionally available.

- Are you close to your parents ?Marshall asked. They must be proud of you, getting your PhD and stuff.

- My mom died when I was two so I don’t have a lot of memories of her. I was raised by my father and his new wife. We’re not really close but I guess you could say they’re kind of proud, you explained.

- Do they know about your OD ?

- No, you admitted shyly. I couldn’t disappoint them like that. How would you react if the same thing happened to one of your girls ?

- I don’t think I’d be disappointed, Marshall said after a few seconds of thoughts. I’d be scared, concerned and, frankly, disappointed in myself if they ever felt the need to hide this from me. My job is to be there for them, come what may. If you were my daughter, I would want you to know that.

- Well, my Dad would never forgive me, you said without a thought.

- I think the forgiveness that matters the most is your own, he pointed out.

Marshall’s words meant a lot to you. Talking to him so candidly felt so good.

- What if I can’t forgive myself, Marshall ? You asked with tears welling in your eyes.

- You can. You deserve to, Y/N. Just because you fucked up doesn’t mean it’s over for you. You deserve to have great things coming your way, he replied as he pulled you in for a hug.

- But I’m a failure, you pointed out. I lied to everyone, I screwed everything up with Simon and even Talia doesn’t trust me anymore. I don’t even deserve you being so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me ?! You blurted out.

A smile started to form on Marshall’s lips.

- Because kindness isn’t meant to be deserved anyway, He said. When I got sober, I had amazing people helping me out. I always told myself I’d do the same for anyone else in need, he explained. And you may think you deserve to have everyone hating you, but the truth is, I haven’t heard anything but good things about you from Talia and Jamal. They love you and they think the world of you. That tells me you’re pretty cool.

You let out a laugh and dried your tears.

- Thank you, Marshall. For everything.

- My pleasure, Y/N.

The two of you kept on gazing at the lights of the city for a while, making small talk. At some point, you found yourself shivering. Marshall offered you his jacket but you felt kind of tired and asked if he would mind driving you back instead. On the way home, you stared at him and realised that, even though you’d just met him, you felt insanely comfortable around him. You were thankful for making his acquaintance. Also, you couldn’t help but tell yourself he looked as good as he was kind - which was saying something. He wasn’t really your usual type but you found him quite appealing. And you started blushing as soon as you realised that you were kind of attracted to someone who was old enough to be your father. You shrugged it off and told yourself that it was probably your vulnerability playing you.

When you arrived at Talia and Jamal’s, he stopped the car and stepped out to open your door. He hugged you goodbye and reached for his necklace before handing it to you.

- It helped me through some tough times, I hope it does the same for you, he said before kissing your forehead.

- Won’t you need it though ? You asked.

- I’m good, he simply said. Take care, Y/N.

You smiled and waved goodbye as he got back to the car. You had no idea as to whether you’d see him again or not, but it did not really matter in this moment. You felt as if there was purpose in the moments you just shared. Even if you never crossed path again, you knew you’d forever be thankful for him. You put the necklace around your neck and entered the house with a smile on your face.

- Well, someone looks cheerful, Talia said as you walked through the door.

- Yeah, we had a great talk, you said. He is very nice. Is everyone gone ?

- They went out to dinner, she said. I stayed so that you wouldn’t come home to an empty place.

- You didn’t have to !

- I don’t mind, really. Plus, I think it’s good for Jamal.

- He loves having you around, you pointed out. And everyone seems to like you too !

- They’re super cool, she admitted. But I can do without the boys’ talk, she added with a grin. Plus, now, I have a live-in bestie ! A bestie with a necklace that definitely rings a bell, she pointed out.

As soon as those words left her mouth, you knew you were in for a long series of questions.

[bodhrancomedy]

Y’know something I should do?

So I’ve been losing my hearing since I was five, but I didn’t get to start using subtitles until I was a teenager and didn’t get hearing aids until my twenties despite needing those things when I was six.

I wonder how many jokes I missed in my favourite childhood films. Especially the animated ones where you can’t lipread.

This is inspired by the fact I just saw some subtitled Finding Nemo and never heard that Nemo’s nickname was “Sharkbait”.

[intoxicated-chan]

OMG YAY

i love the first part of angel of small death and the codeine scene i just want to know what happened next when he says he’ll look after them boromir has peak dad energy to me.

BUT ALSO i feel like it would be really cute to see him teach them how to use a sword and defend themselves

ANYWAY TAKE YOUR TIME LOVE YOUR WRITING

𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

Summary ➳ While wandering the castle, you stumble across the brothers practicing.  

(A/n) ➳ I had this sitting in my word docs for so long that I forgot! I am so sorry anon!! But I seriously might make this into a series, but I do want to see your guys request/questions, I love hearing them! I’ve also decided to add Faramir!!!

Word Count ➳ 630 

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, Reader’s age is eight, Reader is referred to as (little one/child), light violence...  

Series’ Masterlist 

Thirteen Years Before LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring – Reader's age is eight, Boromir’s age is twenty-seven, Faramir’s age is twenty-three 

Life within the castle was completely different when you lived on the streets. You were surrounded by luxuries you dreamed of having, a soft bed, warm meals, and clean clothes. Every day was a new lesson in etiquette and behavior, yet the adjustments were challenging.  

You still craved to be out and onto the streets, rushing through the thin alleys, and having your heart pumping while being chased by others or guards. You were out of place. 

It was the afternoon when your wandering brought you to the training grounds. You jumped at the sound of swords clashing and grunts, you peered your head around the corner.  

Boromir and his younger brother, Faramir were sparring with their swords. But you could only focus on their banter and laughter, it was a different sight to whenever their father was around. They were happy and relaxed in his absence.  

You didn’t notice you had been spotted until Faramir called out. “Hello there. Come now, do not be shy.”  

You froze, trying to decide if you should flee or stay. Boromir looked in your direction, his smile widening as he sheathed his sword. “Come closer, child.” He waved you over. “You needn’t hide from us.” 

Though rather hesitant, you stepped forward. “What brings you here, child?” 

“I was... Walking.” You replied, your eyes dropping to the ground. 

Faramir approached you, kneeling to your level. “Have you ever held a sword before?” His hand comes under your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze.  

You shook your head, your head turned to the wall, eyes widened when you eyed the numerous swords hanging. “No, I have not.” You gaped.  

“Today’s a good day to begin.” Boromir handed you a wooden training sword, its edges dull, much safer to handle than a real sword.  

But the sword felt heavy in your hands, but a nod from Boromir gave you encouragement. He began teaching you the basics, his instructions were better than the teachers.  

And he was patient. He understood your shyness when being watched, he knew what it felt like to hold a sword for the first time. Like it was not made for you.  

And with his guidance, you began to learn. It was your footwork that was good, but it seemed that the sword kept slipping out of your hands.  

“Hold it like this.” He adjusted your grip. “Keep your stance firm, do not tremble under my eyes. Stand tall and proud, child.”  

Faramir sat nearby, his sword resting beside him. “You’re doing well.” He commented. “Better footwork than I have.”  

As the training went on, you were getting more confident and comfortable. You picked up on his tips. And Faramir’s occasional comments and laughter added to the lighthearted atmosphere.  

You even managed to catch Boromir off guard with a swift strike from your sword, drawing a laugh from both brothers.  

You continued until the sun began to set, you were getting exhausted. But you needed it after being cooped up in the castle. Boromir caught you when you tried to lunge at him.  

“Easy now.” He chuckled, taking the training sword from you. “I think that is enough.”  

You all sat on the grass together, and you felt a sense of peace. Your exhaustion caught up with you, drifting off to sleep in Boromir’s arms.  

Boromir looked down at your sleeping form, his hand caressing your hair. “They’re a remarkable child.” He uttered. 

“They’ve filled the castle with warmth, and I have never seen you smile so much.” Faramir replied. “They’re lucky to have you.”  

“No.” Boromir corrected softly. “We are lucky to have them.”  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

[theoutcastrogue]

The Bard's Songs

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

More than twenty years ago (well fuck me) I made a mixtape for our d&d campaign. That was when people used to burn audio CDs, and this was mixtape #39 (out of 271). I think I was playing an elf bard at the time.

I'm posting it here for posterity, for nostalgia, and as a snapshot of vanilla d&d lore/mood, as I experienced it back in the day. If it seems frightfully basic and predictable, well it was. Pretty much everything in that list is from Britain or Ireland or somehow evoking them. But hey, I ain't from there. It was exotic for me!

So it's vanilla and predictable, my little escapism soundtrack. And you know what else it is? A damn good compilation if I say so myself. "Fisherman's Blues" is one of best albums of all time, Loreena McKennitt is a genius, the Chieftains are giants, Pavlov's Dog are one of the few dad rock bands whose hits didn't age terribly, and hey, because I just listened to the whole thing again, when Enya stops singing "May it be" and the track continues with the Shire and the Fellowship leitmotifs, I am FULLY crying again, just bawling over here.

So here's to 2024, and the next 20 years of roleplaying, or as long as we got. Happy new year, everyone. Squeeze every drop out of life, and may your aim be true. The bard's songs will remain.

Tomorrow will take us away Far from home No one will ever know our names But the bards' songs will remain

In my thoughts and in my dreams They're always in my mind These songs of hobbits, dwarves and men and elves Come close your eyes You can see them too

The Bard's Songs

The Waterboys - The Stolen Child [poem by W. B. Yeats, recited by Tomás Mac Eoin]

Van Morrison & The Chieftains - My Lagan love [trad. Irish]

Savina Yannatou - A fairy's love song [trad. Scottish, Hebrides]

The Waterboys - Dunford's fancy

The Waterboys - When will we be married? [trad.]

Van Morrison & The Chieftains - Carrickfergus [trad. Irish maybe]

Loreena McKennitt - All Souls Night

Loreena McKennitt - The highwayman [poem by Alfred Noyes]

Fairport Convention - Crazy man Michael

Fairport Convention - She moved through the fair [trad. Irish]

Marianne Faithfull - Scarborough Fair [trad. English]

Donovan - Guinevere (live)

Pavlov's Dog - Valkerie

Pavlov's Dog - Episode

Enya - May it be [LotR: The Fellowship of the Ring]

Blind Guardian - The Bard's song (In the forest)

Loreena McKennitt - The Stolen Child

This Compilation (P) 2003, Store of the Worlds, Inc. | No Rights Reserved

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 1

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

"The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins –

but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness:

one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

Love is more than a candle.

Love can ignite the stars.”

― Matthew Stover

---

She’s lost.

Satine Kryze sits on a wooden bench in a deserted hallway, rolling her eyes. If only they could see me now, she thinks. Satine Kryze, internationally-recognized scholar of genocide, once heir-apparent to the United States Department of State - lost, on her way to find her new office.

It’s not as though Georgetown University’s campus is particularly hard to navigate. But she’d just spent eight hours in back-to-back department meetings for her orientation to her new fellowship position, and she can barely recall what she’d managed to eat for lunch let alone where she’d been several hours before that. And her Metro card - the key to her catching her bus and getting home - happens to be in her office, along with her phone.

She sighs. No matter. By the sound of it, lecture is wrapping up in the room beside her, and she can ask for directions.

Satine leans against the cool marble behind her and begins to listen to the prof.

She tenses.

She knows that voice.

The last time she’d heard it - in person at least - they’d been hastily pulling off clothes nearly twenty years ago, both eighteen and about to depart for university, loath to let either of their first times be with anyone but each other.

And then he’d disappeared, off to West Point, seemingly to enlist in the war.

“Dr. Kenobi, can I get an extension on the midterm paper?” comes the sound of a young voice as the door to the classroom opens and a throng of students rush to leave. “My grandma passed away this weekend, and I need to attend her funeral.”

Satine hears a sigh. “Mildred,” comes a deep voice. “How many grandmothers do you have? By my count, you’ve lost three this term, and it’s not yet half over.”

Satine snickers, then, remembering herself, she covers her face with her arm as though stifling a cough. The stream of students slows to a trickle, and then an embarrassed Mildred exits the room. Satine stands and takes a deep breath.

Then she steps inside.

The lecture hall slopes downward so that she has the high ground. The lights are still dimmed, PowerPoint presentation still on the screen above the man behind the lectern.

Ben Kenobi looks precisely as she remembers and yet completely different. His auburn hair is neat, tidy, but there are patches of gray near his temples. Satine tenses again as she takes in his beard - now that is new. She’s not sure what to think of it.

Tall still, and lanky - still - but now, the years have filled him out. Ben is muscular and broad in ways completely unfamiliar to her. But the way he moves, every motion smooth, calculated, like a dancer - that’s all she’s ever known.

Ben ejects his thumb drive from the computer, drops it in his bag, and looks up.

Satine meets his eyes.

He can’t hide his surprise.

“Satine?”

She embraces the awkwardness. “Hello there, Ben.”

He hitches his bag further up on his shoulder. “After all these years, you're even more beautiful than ever,” he says, seemingly without thinking if the blush that spreads across his face is any indication.

Satine raises an eyebrow, but she’s amused. “And you’re still a flirt.”

She walks down the aisle to meet him at the lectern, under the dim light. And she takes in all the details she could not from the top of the room: the laugh lines around his eyes - she hopes the wrinkles are due to laughter - and the scent of sandalwood. The latter, at least, hasn’t changed, and the memories activated by the distinct aroma flash in her mind.

The twinkle of his eyes, blessedly, also remains.

“It’s still working for you, apparently,” he retorts.

Satine rolls her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “All those years, and yet…here we are.”

He grins. “Here we are.”

She can’t help the quirk of her lip, even if her stomach flips at the sight of his smile. “It is good to see you again, Ben.”

“Likewise, Madam Secretary,” he teases. “Or has everyone stopped calling you that?”

Satine groans internally at the old nickname. It had started at boarding school and somehow continued throughout university, amplified by her meteoric rise at State after completing her doctorate. Despite the hype, she’d resigned before ever truly becoming qualified for the position.

At her silence, Ben says, “I read your op-ed. In The Washington Post,” he adds, as if feeling the need to clarify - perhaps wondering if she’d written other critically-acclaimed opinion pieces. “It was well-written. Noble.”

“Yet not realistic?” It was the same argument they’d had twenty years ago, the same argument they’d always had.

Ben shrugs. “What I think is hardly the point. You realized the work you were doing didn’t suit the person you’d become. That’s honorable.”

“You disagree with my choice.”

“Would I have made a different choice? Yes,” says Ben, chuckling. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t respect yours. And for the record, I think you’re right - I don’t think there’s a way to work in international relations, particularly at State, without compromising your ethics or morals. But I’d rather the kind of people who are actually concerned about that be the ones who remain in leadership there.”

Satine lets out a huff. “Was that a disguised compliment, Ben Kenobi?”

“There was nothing disguised about it, Satine.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment before he speaks again.

“But you didn’t stop by my lecture for a compliment,” he says. “In fact, judging by how uncomfortable you look, you didn’t plan on stopping by here at all.”

Satine sighs. “I left my phone and Metro card in my office. And I do not remember where my office is.” She narrows her eyes at him before he can speak. “It’s been a long day,” she hisses, and he throws up his hands in mock surrender.

“Did I say anything?” he says.

“You were thinking it. Very loudly.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Look, Ben, I just assumed whichever authority figure was lecturing here would know how to get back to the International Relations wing. Little did I know that no actual authority figure would be lecturing.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “A lethal blow. Well, authority figure or not, I actually know precisely where your office is.” At her questioning glance, he gives her a small smile. “I stopped there earlier today. I knew it was your first day, and it’s not far from my office. I wanted to warn you.”

I wanted to give you a head’s up so that you wouldn’t find out your ex works down the hall from you, potentially in front of all your new coworkers.

The additional explanation goes unsaid, but she hears it anyway, and she is grateful. Then all of his words sink in.

Satine blinks at him. “You kept tabs on when I was starting?”

“You’re joining my department,” he says pointedly.

“You’re in International Relations?”

“The tone in which you delivered that was another lethal blow. Yes, actually, and I was just granted tenure last year.”

She tilts her head, considering. “You weren’t among the faculty I saw when I interviewed.” She would have remembered seeing him.

Ben shifts his weight. “I was on sabbatical last semester. I didn’t spend much time on campus, much to the horror of my postdoc and grad student.”

“Pray, please repeat yourself because I must not have heard that correctly. Ben Kenobi, the man who once swore hither and yon that he would never go into teaching, is now a tenured professor with a postdoc and a doctoral student?”

“Technically, she’s a master’s student.”

Satine bites her lip.

“Probably wise to remain silent,” says Ben, smirking at her, “if you’re counting on me to rescue you. Further verbal abuse and I’ll just get you even more lost.”

He gestures with his hand for her to lead the way out of the lecture hall, and she climbs the steps in front of them, pondering over his words. He’s right, she realizes, but not for the reasons he thinks.

She’s already irrevocably lost - she had been the moment she’d locked eyes with him again.