#She was sort of an object for the plot to move forward… But the line about ‘sap’ made me instantly adore her!

[i-really-like-phrogs]

While I have many, many gripes about the annoying love triangles and horrid characterization in Beetlejuice goes Hawaiian; One thing I did enjoy was Cactus— a Joshua tree transformed into a beautiful girl by the Juiceman himself. The idea was so fun, and what can I say? I’ve got a special place in my heart for a bubbly lover girl!

I wanted her to be a little younger than what the script implies, (around mid-teen), so I ditched the bikini for a one-peice. It took me SO MANY drafts before I found an outfit I liked, but I’m really happy with how she turned out!

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

Chapter 47

Echoes of Time

The sound of her steps was familiar now — no longer jarring or unwelcome, but expected. Not that Loki waited for them, of course. He simply noted their arrival with... interest. And perhaps a flicker of anticipation he would deny to his dying breath.

He remained seated on the floor this time, legs loosely crossed, back resting against the wall. When she appeared around the corner — arms full again, though more sensibly this time — he didn’t move. He simply watched.

“Round two,” Y/N said, breathless but bright, setting down her stack of books and folders in a more orderly fashion. “Hope you're ready for a history lesson.”

“Another library?” Loki asked, voice dry. “You Midgardians really are fond of burying your tragedies under paper.”

“This time,” she said, sitting across from him and beginning to sort through her materials, “it’s not for you. Well, not just for you. It’s for me, too.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching as she pulled out old photographs, folded newspapers, and grainy reels of film frozen in frames.

“I missed everything,” she said, quieter now. “The war ended, and I never saw peace. The world rebuilt itself. Cultures shifted. Governments fell. Movements rose. Music changed, fashion changed, people changed—and I…” She paused, lifting a photo of a moon landing. “I slept through all of it.”

The silence between them settled deep. Not awkward — simply true. And Loki felt it like a strange weight in his chest. Not pity. Something more ancient. Recognition.

She continued softly, eyes on a faded newspaper. “It’s weird. I feel like a ghost sometimes. Not quite belonging to the world I woke up in. Everyone else has lived whole lives in the years I was gone. I’m still catching up. Still trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be in a world that no longer knows me.”

Loki didn’t speak. He only watched her, absorbing this piece of her story like he had no right to it, and yet… could not look away.

“You adapt,” she said finally, with a half-hearted smile. “Or you fall apart.”

He heard the words beneath her voice. And some days, you do both.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward. “There’s a tradition on Alfheim,” he began, “where they plant their grief. Literally. In the spring, they bury something they’ve carried—a name, an object, even a single memory. When it grows, they believe it returns to them transformed.”

She looked up, momentarily caught off guard by the tenderness of his offering. The idea of grief taking root and growing into something new — it settled in her chest like a breath held too long.

One thought came immediately to the surface.

Bucky.

His name echoed through her like an old song, haunting and familiar. For the first time in a long while — maybe since she joined the Avengers — she thought of the dog tags still hanging from the corner of her bedside lamp. A quiet relic. A weightless thing, yet impossibly heavy.

Her grief wasn’t forgotten. No, she carried it every day, stitched into the lining of her life. But what startled her was how distant it had started to feel — not erased, but dulled, like a scar she no longer winced to touch. The whirlwind of the waking world had swept her forward — new missions, new faces, new battles to survive.

And now, sitting across from the trickster god with his guarded eyes and reluctant honesty, she wondered — had he had something to do with that?

She didn’t say it aloud. But she held his gaze a moment longer than she meant to, the question lingering there like smoke between them.

“I never liked the ceremony,” he added. “Too sentimental. Too soft. But now… I think I understand it more than I did.”

Y/N smiled, warm and quiet, as though she knew how much it cost him to say that.

He found he didn’t mind the cost.

She reached for another folder and opened it between them. “This is everything from the 1960s I’ve missed. Civil rights, Cold War, space race… Want to learn with me?”

He gave a small nod. “Why not? Misery does enjoy company.”

Her smile deepened. “And curiosity loves it.”

They pored over articles, flipping through the decades. At first, Loki listened in silence, occasionally scoffing at the absurdity of Midgardian decisions — the self-destruction, the pettiness, the brilliance tangled with recklessness. But then he began asking questions. Real ones.

Why had they feared change so much? Why had they clung so tightly to power? Why did they make such beautiful things in the midst of ruin?

At one point, she laughed at something — a ridiculous political slogan — and Loki found himself watching the shape of her mouth more than the headline. She didn’t notice, absorbed in her words, tracing the timeline of her lost years with gentle fingers.

And he… he felt at peace. Not the false stillness of isolation. True peace. Like he wasn’t performing or deflecting. Just being.

She turned back to a photo of a protest, voice dipping into reverence as she spoke about bravery, about loss, about standing for something when the world tells you to stay silent.

And Loki, in some trance of listening — of feeling too much and too deeply — heard the words slip from his mouth without thinking, without walls, without armor:

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t even known the question was there until it was out in the open, trembling in the air like a held breath.

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes locked with his — wide, startled, something flickering just beneath the surface.

“I…” she began, faltered, then said softly, “Because I know what it’s like.”

He said nothing, too afraid to move.

“I know what it’s like to be feared,” she said, her voice calm but sure. “To be misunderstood. To carry more guilt than you know what to do with. And to wake up one day and realize the loneliness hasn’t gone away, even when the world moves on.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any prison Loki had ever sat in.

But somehow, it didn’t crush him.

Somehow, it felt like a beginning.

[ask-the-prose]

Hello!

So, I'm writing a literal nightmare for story, I'm still not sure of what will be the exact plot, I'm just vibing and writing it all based off a nightmare I had myself one month ago. In that story, everyone disappears besides the protagonist and her two younger brothers who don't really speak (6 and 2 yo) while she's alone at home with them. I want it to be subtle that it is actually a dream, but not very unexpected, you know? I'm making an open ending too, I'm not so worried because I don't plan of posting/publishing, I'm writing more for myself, but I still felt like asking this to see if I can have any advice, since I'm not very experienced and a teenager. How do I make it sound/look like a nightmare without making it too obvious? Thank you. I hope this makes sense...

Hey there! Thanks for the ask :)

This seems like an interesting concept and like something that can give you all sorts of great practice and a chance to experiment with your style and process. I'll do my best to give you advice you can use, but like you said, this is for you so you're welcome to take or leave anything I say.

I always find that when it comes to making your writing feel some type of way, the devil is in the details. Think back to the nightmare that inspired you. Were there any hints that it was a dream? I'll admit, I lucid dream most of the time, so I know when things are dreams immediately. (Think, oh this zombie is about to bite me, luckily this is a dream and I'm going to fly away. That's my personal dream logic.)

The thing about dreams is that they are a salad of your subconscious thoughts and ideas. Things don't tend to mesh well together, nor is there really a comprehensible plot line, which makes it difficult to turn them into a story. That being said, stories don't have to be true to life. This nightmare story has an open ending right? So perhaps it's a dream, perhaps not. That's for the reader to decide.

But as for your part, you can add details that don't add up. Things moving around on a table, concepts not adding up, all of that goes hand in hand with the horror genre, and are also common aspects of dreams that people don't pick up on until they've woken up. ("Of course that dream wasn't real, it took place in a bedroom I haven't slept in since I was a child!") Dreams are hazy and difficult to logic your way through, but when everything is clear when you wake up, it's obvious right?

It's difficult to recreate this in writing without being confusing to the reader. Objects moving around on tables when a character doesn't notice or make note of the strangeness seems like an error on the author's end. Something common in writing especially in movies and TV shows is to have the character remark that something is unbelievable or strange in order to push the audience to further suspend their disbelief beyond what they already have, to accept events that seem outlandish or beyond expectation. You can use this tool in your writing as well.

Something like this: Protagonist set the glass down upon the table before her youngest brother. With a shriek, he swiped his hand across the table, knocking the plastic bowl to the ground. Protagonist stopped. The bowl was a glass a moment ago, right? Brother shrieked again, this time in bubbling belly laughs that brought a smile to Protagonist's face despite the mess.

Acknowledge the strange, but move on as if the strange was exactly what the reader should have expected. You can use this strategy often to great effect in the horror genre. Think about every slasher movie ever made, they use this tool a lot!

Another method you could use would resemble books or other stories with time skips and flash backs and forwards. These can be utilized in a lot of genres, but you see them a lot also in horror and mystery. Modify it to suit your needs. Something can be framed as a flashback or forward, when textually, it's more like one of those moments people have in the middle of the night where they wake up briefly and return to sleep without recognizing they'd ever been asleep. When I do this, it's usually to gulp down as much water as I can handle without accidentally drowning myself, but ymmv, everyone's different.

[bluedalahorse]

So responding to this feels a little bit like I’m walking into a field of legos. I’m going to respond nonetheless and say that I disagree with this confession. I respect the confessor’s right to feel their feelings and say what they said. At the same time, I’m exercising my own right to respond how I wish, and say what I think.

First, I don’t agree with the way this post implicitly labels the s2 sargust plotline as something we were “warned” for (like Hamlet’s father’s ghost himself told us) that then “wasted time.” (Perhaps OP doesn’t mean that sargust wasted time and only intends to apply it to stedrika, but the fact that the two relationships are compared feels kind of like OP is putting the relationships in the same category and criticizing them the same way.) The sargust plotline exists in both season 1 and season 2, and it is fully woven into the plot and the themes of the story. The groundwork for sargust was laid as early as 1.2, possibly as early as 1.1, depending on how you want to read the camerawork in the party scene. Sargust exists in conversation with Wilmon, it affects Wilmon and Wilmon affects it back. Sargust is crucial to the show’s commentary on classism and the social roles we play. It also includes commentary on justice issues and family traumas and other such Young Royalsy things. It is not the only part of the show that makes these commentaries but it deepens what commentary the show is able to make. It is a wholly intentional part of the show’s narrative and the show is more expertly crafted because of it.

This does not mean people have to like sargust or love it or write fanfiction about it or read fanfiction about it or reblog gifs or whatever else. You do not! You can do fandom the way you want to do fandom! You can fast forward through what you want to and you can ignore the characters you want to. But I feel like I still see rhetoric about how like, sargust was a waste of screentime and Objectively Bad Writing, and that simply isn’t true.

Moving on to stedrika…

So full disclosure, I am not the biggest stedrika shipper on deck. I wasn’t crossing my fingers and hoping they were going to become canon in the lead-up to season 2. I would have preferred Felice discovering she’s gay or bi or ace or some other sort of queer, especially since I wasn’t as satisfied by Felice’s season 2 arc. (There is a part of me that still wants Felice/Rosh with all my heart, but she will just have to indulge herself writing the epilogue chapters in Heart and Homeland.)

And yes, sometimes I worry that a stedrika plotline could take up time in season 3 that could be used for something else, especially when we only have six episodes and a lot to address. That does make me nervous. I get it.

At the same time, I disagree with the idea that a stedrika storyline could inevitably be something that has no relevance to the plot. There are likely ways to do stedrika well that reinforce the show’s themes. Stella is at her most sympathetic when she leans into her feelings and expresses them through art. She’s at her meanest and most vindictive toward others when she’s running away from her authentic self. These are pieces of her characterization that line up with Simon’s arc, with Wille’s, with August’s. Fredrika’s a bit more of a cipher to me and I’m personally a little skeptical of the idea that she’d like Stella back or be able to embrace that about herself in the same way, but she’s still interesting. Her relationship with gender roles is interesting, and the way she’s often framed as a social gatekeeper is interesting. (At times Fredrika feels like the one of the girls who’s the closest to August in terms of social values, only she expresses it with a sweeter feminine exterior because Girls Aren’t Allowed To Be Angry, so she has the potential to be very dangerous.) You can do a lot with both Stella and Fredrika.

Sure, it would be weird if either of them suddenly became main character overnight. (And I know there’s an anon going around fandom insisting that they were on set and that stedrika did become the main characters of s3, or something, which I am reading with every grain of salt I am not eating right now due to health issues.) But you know what? I don’t think they are going to become main characters. I feel like one or both of them could just be used in a smart way, to shed light on Wilhelm’s character arc just like Nils did.

(I could be wrong. But I also don’t think the characters have a lot going for them in terms of service they could provide to the story. Even if they weren’t my preferred option for sapphic representation in this show. And you know what? They are definitely other people’s preferred option. And there are people out there who are going to find immense joy if/when stedrika get together regardless of how that happens, and I probably need to do a better job of creating space for them to feel fannish joy the way I feel a fannish joy about canon pairings like sargust and non canon pairings like rolice. You keep shipping, stedrika stans! I’m waving my sapphic flag for you!)

Speaking of the sapphics… I’m glad we’re getting some kind of wlw representation in Young Royals, as well as extremely well-written female character representation overall. I’m glad that exists alongside the really excellently written mlm representation that is Wilmon.

On a strictly personal level, ever since streaming executives have started more calculatedly marketing to slash fans and presenting us with a curated parade of hot men who are hot in a curated way, I’ve felt less drawn in by mlm representation all by itself. You are welcome to feel differently, and that’s fine. But I really value when a show can include a juggernaut mlm pairing and respectfully written female characters of all sexualities, and I want to celebrate all of those things when I’m fandoming about my show. It’s hard for me to read comments about sargust and stedrika “wasting time,” and not notice a common denominator in that like, both pairings involve female characters exploring what’s expected of girls and women in relationships, especially in regards to class. I know the OP and people like the OP probably don’t intend to come across that way, and maybe don’t mean it in a way where they’re like “eww time spent on girls!” At the same time, in a fandom where masculine beauty and a kind of masculinity is so celebrated… well. I would be lying if I didn’t have to take a step back at times and remind myself to assume positive intent toward female characters and those of us who love female characters. So I’m going to try and circle back around and assume positive intent. I thought I’d share a little bit of my thought process though, in the interest of transparency.

Tl;dr stedrika could turn out to be really interesting and I hope we all come up with ways for them to be interesting in fanworks regardless! Phew, that was a lot to say.

I'm afraid of the Stella-Frederika storyline in s3. They warned us of them in s2 the same way they warned us with Sara and August in s1. I don't want screentime wasted for this when there is already so much to adress and so little time left.

[minthe-lover]

Chapter 212 analysis

So I have... very mixed feelings about this chapter, I'm so happy that we are actually seeing minthe but I don't really like the backstory that much. I'm going to try lighter and them move onto the heavier stuff later. So one thing that really annoyed me is the inconsistent black background, when I started the chapter I liked the black background as a way to show minthe thinking in plant form is different then reality.. but then you get these weird random white spots that the background fades to. That just don't have any reason to be there. That along with how for some reason the flashback with hades has an all white background for no reason?

Like the only reason I can think of is this panel.. but even then you can have the smoke fade to black.

Also like, this chapter really hit me with how much the art has changed for the worse. We get to see Persephone in one of her earliest outfits.

The original art basically draw the coat like fluffy pink clouds around Persephone, and while it doesn't look that super real it look fluffy and comfortable plus it gives a really striking and interesting look to it. The one shown in this chapter looks so flat and boring, yeah it looks fluffy but not as soft and warm as the original one does.

Next is the train station, which just confuses me a bit. I do like the idea that you gotta take a train between realms, but given that is just seems open to anyone I'm confused cause its been told that it's illegal to have "modern" objects in the mortal realm. Really it would take an extra panel or line to explain how this works... I'm just asking for the most basic world building to avoid confusion. Like have her explain how there is no guards, or have the outside look like a classic Greek temple.

Though I have to say the moment with minthe and the human did make me laugh and is a great scene and holy shit I love minthe so much.

Now to talk about the biggest point of the chapter, which is learning about minthes mother. It's a plot point that I've very conflicted on cause on one hand yes abuse is a cycle but also rs is trying to have complex characters but they are so often surrounded by characters that have no complexity to them. Minthe mother is just neglectful.. and that's all there is to here.

Like imagine if rs tried to write Minthes mother similar to how Beatrice is in bojack horseman. Have minthes mother be written to explore how women are often forced into motherhood and thus can not handle the stress of it. Or even write it to be about how women in poverty can struggle to find a support system when they need it.. and thus can't support their children in the way they need.

Though I gotta say, this following the chapter that is supposed to be showing Demeter as a horrible mother really show how great Demeter is. Demeters "abuse" at the worse is trying to protect her child and being worried about her being abused. from the little we see of Minthe's mother her neglect is far worse and I'm really not looking forward to how they may try and compare the two later in the story.

Now the Hades part of her flash back is.... annoys me because it because it seems more like trying to place the blame mainly on Minthe. It's Minthe fault that she didn't want a romantic relationship nor a relationship that continues to marriage. Plus Hades emotionally cheating on Minthe being boiled down to.. basically nothing annoys me.

It worsens as this chapter reiterates how minthe struggle with horrible self doubt and mental illness.. but literally there is never a suggestion that she need therapy or some sort of support... all that is said is that she need to "be better" and stop being friends with thetis. There is very little about her lacking any support system or struggling with poverty... It just fails through in the trying to make Minthe seem like a complex character when all the responses to how she can grow and change are out souly on her and are so simple.

This really suck cause minthe is such an interesting character, she's literally been in the comic since the first episode but I know she gonna get explored alot less then alot of the characters. Persephone vague self doubt about her beauty really lack anything interest but is explored far more then Minthe's self doubt.

Also about Persephone in this chapter... she is just an rude to minthe. Like Minthe is right, what Persephone did was terrible and instead of listening to Minthe and how she's upset she just ignores that and tries to play it off like minthe problems are less important then Persephones problems.

Minthe is rightfully angry, and Persephone after turning her back from a plant basically just telling her to fuck off and leave her alone. It's a shitty thing to do.. and having it be a moment where it's supposed to be Persephone standing up for herself and not just her being rude sucks. Especially after we just had a huge flashback to make us sympathize with minthe more.

Also want to draw attention to this one line.

It's presented like some sort of angry thing without much weight.. but it's completely true. Persephone is the heiress to one of the biggest companies and the daughter of a powerful goddess. She smart, beautiful, and grew up with every single need met. Persephone was completely born into privilege, like she got a payed internship and she wasn't qualified for because of her personal connections.

Whenever character try to point that Persephone privilege it's treated like a huge overreaction and not a big deal.. but it is.

Now I don't mind that child, I think it could be dealt with well and there isn't much to say... tho I will admit I'm a bit worried how it may turn out.

Now my last point is more on the fandom side.. which is something Is that really annoys me. It happens whenever there is more background on Minthe, there is these large groups of fans that go on about how they sympathize with Minthe now.. but the moment she does like the even slightly thing against the main character they immediately change their tone.

There is so many people saying that now they sympathize with minthe.. but where was that sympathy when she was struggling with poverty.. or mental illness.. or literally any other problem. What's with this fandom and thinking mother being bad is the worst thing possible??

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x09 Review

Spring Break was a bit of an odd ep but helped move some key plots forward. Let’s dig in!

Well people can no longer claim that Portwell is one sided. We finally got Gina’s pov and she starts off the ep uncertain whether the shift in their relationship means that EJ likes her but by the end of the ep she seems sure of herself and that EJ likes her back. I liked that she didn’t try to pretend that nothing had changed or that she hadn’t noticed potential signs that EJ might like her; it always sucks when tv characters act like idiots. 

Perhaps the most important reveal of this ep was that Gina has a much older estranged brother who left her and her mom many years ago. That certainly makes her backstory more tragic and is definite set up for her brother to eventually return.

The writers continue to give Portwell great tropes, capping this ep off with an airport rom-com trope that also calls back to EJ getting Gina the place ticket so she could come back in S1. Not only did Gina keep EJ’s Duke sweatshirt but she altered it to fit her better which is both sweet and bold in the assumption that it was hers to keep. Gina got her sign when not only did EJ show up to drive Gina home and take her luggage but he brought her the granola bar that she had wanted but forgot to pack. I wonder if her posting on her story that she was ubering home after her flight was cancelled was intended to see if EJ would show up since the camera focused on her posting it. Also sweet that she’s taken to calling EJ, ‘ Eej’. 

EJ’s opening was good, shows a lot of his character growth from the selfish guy he was in S1 and how he’s learned to value other people which of course leads into his feelings for Gina. We got another great use of the camera as character tonight when Gina was laughing after her facetime call with EJ until she realized that the camera was on her. 

Jack was a lot of fun. Though he didn’t really change Gina’s mind over anything like the ep description said he would.  Seemed like Gina was largely over Ricky and wondering about EJ at the beginning and the end solidified her feelings for EJ but Jack didn’t really play a role in that, it’s not like he encouraged Gina to reach out to EJ or anything. There’s a vague sense in which Jack being nomadic linked him to Ricky’s unreliability in Gina’s eyes with her craving stability but that’s a stretch. Jack mentioned that the second most dangerous part of a plane ride is when the plane takes off, a hint to the blossoming Portwell relationship where in order to take off one or both of them has to risk a confession even though they could be turned down.

This ep might seem a bit weird in hindsight. The zoom parts probably won’t age well and five years from now people might be wondering why they had Gina hang out with a manic pixie dream boy of sorts for an ep.

The path is clear for canon Portwell in the finale with EJ being Gina’s second chance at romance and her first kiss since they clearly telegraphed it out of nowhere. I’ve been impressed with the great work the writers have been doing since 2x05 to build up Portwell as a ship but also work on Gina and EJ as individual characters; they’ve been the highlight of the season so far. 

There was discourse this past week over how well or poorly Portwell has been set up. Objectively very few ships on this show get much in the way of set up or consistent writing. Redlyn and Kowie had barely any set up before getting together. Seblos had none (though in fairness that was due to Disney restrictions) and Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen didn’t have much set up either. Rini did get lots of development in S1 but that’s because they had already dated and were the main ship of the show. The show’s not really about slow burns, if Jenzzara canons in the finale they’ll count and if Rina ever got together they’d also count but neither of those ships have gotten consistent development with Mazzara not being in several eps and Gina and Ricky not even interacting for the past 3 eps. 

Is Portwell a slowburn? In a sense since they did feature quite a bit in each other’s S1 plot lines and even had a fake dating plot but it is true that they were platonic and not that close in S1 so it’s a wash. There was clear set up for romantic Portwell in 1x10 with team wonderstudies and Gina staring at EJ (which interestingly enough looked more like set up for Gina to pine over EJ). I think the main problem is that even though we saw Gina and EJ hanging out in the background we didn’t get any scenes of substance between them until 2x05. It was a mistake and there should have been some scene, like EJ and Gina commiserating in 2x03 over being single on Valentine’s Day or something like that. Hell there was even that still from 2x01 of EJ and Gina looking at each other at the piano while they were in the frame between Ricky and Nini singing and having a moment  which would have been good foreshadowing but that shot wasn’t in the ep.

Whether Tim just really wanted Portwell to be a surprise in 2x05 as a mid-season twist to throw the audience off of what looked like a Rini/Rina triangle or he was unsure as to whether he wanted to go with Portwell or if he just planned it out poorly we may never know. Regardless they’ve had great writing for 4 eps in a row now which puts them slightly ahead of the 3 eps in a row of development Rina got in S1. I’m sure if someone added up their screen time they’d find that Portwell has more screen time this season than Kowie and more screen time than Redlyn or Seblos  got in S1. 

Caswell cousins was fun and Ashlyn did in fact paint EJ’s nails. 

Set up for Seblos drama next week, it’s refreshing to see Seb being jealous over Carlos flirting with other boys that’s definitely not something you see on Disney shows.

Ricky got some healing done with his mom. Enough to cover their issues? No but this is probably the best this show is capable of. There was a brief mention of therapy sandwiched between other options which sounds more like checking off a box then setting up Ricky actually going to therapy. I noticed Lynne was smiling at odd times like when she told Ricky she knew about his breakup with Nini; whether that was poor directing or acting I don’t know. Who knows if we’ll see Lynne again. As an aside still so wild that Tim named Lynne who’s been a kinda shitty mom after his own mom who he seems to be fairly close with.

Really liked You ain’t seen nothin as a song but not a fan of the Tiktok style vid. I’ll level with you wildcats, I’m too old to really get Tiktok, it just seems like a crappy version of Vine to me. Let you go was good, seemed better fitted for Joshua Bassett’s voice than some of his previous songs. A big sign that they’re not circling back to Rini for a long time for sure. Though on that note we got a bit of a hint that Ricky was Nini’s muse which may one day come back as a way to help bring them back together. 

Looking Ahead:

If there’s only 3 weeks left till the Menkies, with only 2 weeks left for rehearsal due to spring break, it’s hard to see East High winning unless North High is disqualified or has to withdraw. 

Lily is in a promo photo so she’s likely the unexpected facetime Ricky gets which is what I had theorized. Also makes it much more likely that she’s the party crasher Ricky re-evaluates in the finale though what Tim actually wants to do with those two I do not know.

There’s little point in bringing back the Valentine’s chocolate since there’s no real stakes. Rini are already broken up, Gina hasn’t spoken to Ricky since 2x06, and it’s not like Nini and Gina were ever close so even if they stopped talking to each other it wouldn’t really affect the show in any way. 

Seems pretty likely that Second Chances refers to Gina realizing that her first try with Ricky failed but her second chance with EJ won’t and that leads to her sharing her truth and cue the Portwell confession and kiss, perhaps with an assist on EJ’s end from Mazzara. We’ve gone well past the point where Portwell can be brushed off as just a plot device to help Rina but Tim is playing with fire by getting the audience so on board with Portwell if he’s once again going to have EJ lose a girl he likes to Ricky in S3.

Gina certainly needs to talk with Ricky and I do think that happens in ep 11 or 12 and leaves them on better terms. As I mentioned last week, if Tim was smart he’d slam the door on Rina if he’s going with canon Portwell or vice versa. If he wants Rina to be a slow burn he’s really botched the writing this season, it’s been too one sided and too angsty to sustain any kind of momentum or audience interest. They haven’t even interacted for 3 eps now and not only has it not affected the show but it’s inarguably made Gina’s story line much better.  Again I don’t think he’s smart enough to not try and do Portwell and then later Rina but he’s accidentally set up the Rina story line to quite easily slam the door permanently on them by having their conversation be closure for Gina who’s moved on and an apology from Ricky who never liked her back as much as Gina liked him.

Not looking forward to seeing Nini basically live out Olivia Rodrigo’s life in future seasons

Curious to see Carlos’ apology song to Seb. Ricky helping him with it is a great way to help start redeeming Ricky’s character in the audiences eye’s. According to Matt there is a bit of a Ricky/EJ rivalry this season and if it’s really happening the sleepover would be a good place to do it though I hope it’s not about Gina. 

Until next week wildcats.

[flowerzchild]

ACOTAR 5 and Its Overarching Plot

Disclaimer!!

This post is my opinion regarding the next book's overarching plot. If you are not an Elriel shipper then I suggest you not read it. I don't want to cause any drama than necessary.

“Even though each one of this book is a standalone that features like it’s own couple there is that overaching thing..an overarching plot that now starting to build” (SARAH ACOSF TOUR INTERVIEW)

It is safe to say that the continuation of the spin-off will be like Nessian’s book: having a dual POV between a couple with an overarching plot that will connect each book. Thus, the book will be either Elriel, Gwynriel, or Elucien that will get their happy ending in the end.

One thing that I notice about how Sarah used her characters is that it is always the female that has the most impact and moves the plot forward.

You don’t see Cassian retrieving the dread troves which proven to be impactful for the entire plotline of ACOSF or Rhysand summoning the book of breathing in ACOMAF now do you?

Sarah tends to write a female character as the lead with a male supporting character. The only instance of her using a male character as kind of the main character is in the Tower of Dawn, which of course it is can be skipped over since it is not very impactful for the next installment.

What is the overarching plot then? The overarching plot is the main conflict of the series, which like Sarah has said, is starting to build in ACOSF.

Who seems to be the biggest threat for our characters in this spin-off of ACOTAR? Koschei. Koschei’s defeat is the resolution of the entire series. All our favorite characters have to deal with Koschei in the last book.

Like Nesta, our next female lead must have a direct or indirect canon (not merely a theory anymore at this point) connection with Koschei. As of now, the dread troves are our character’s relation to Koschei. Here’s a quote that suggests our main character relations to Koschei via the dread troves:

“But Amren answered. “No one really knows the full scope of the Trove’s powers. Beyond freeing him from his lake, Koschei may very well know something about the Trove that we don’t—some greater power that manifests when all three are united.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 20)

Koschei wanted to collect the troves to free him from his lake so it is our main character’s mission to stop him, find the missing fourth trove before he got it, and figure out the full scope of the Troves’ powers.

Also, here are quotes from the book, that suggest the conflicts that will be covered in the next books and none of them is an Illyrian conflict since our characters are in a bit of a tight time to deal with Koschei:

“...Yes, they’d have to figure out what to do with the entire Dread Trove now that they possessed all three objects. How Nesta had summoned it despite the spells Hellion had placed on the other two.. He’d think of that another day. Along with the fact that she’d stopped Time with the Harp. And that she seemed to have some sort of connection—or understanding—with the Mother. The Mother.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 78)

“...”Later,” she promised. “We’ll deal with all that later.” Including the remaining queens, Koschei, and a still-looming war.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 78)

Similar to Nesta, our next female lead character has to have a villain to win over as a subplot from the conflict with Koschei (I'm saying this through the pattern that Sarah has set with Nesta and Bryallin). As I’ve said, Koschei’s defeat is going to be told in the final book.

Now, when I read ACOSF, I was confused as to why Sarah made Beron seeking an alliance in Bryallin. Bryallin was in the continent, surely if Beron wanted a more useful ally he should’ve looked inside Prythian itself. It is canon that he seek Bryallin’s alliance because he had the same ambition as her. Alas, Beron is set to be a villain for our main character to trump over.

“But no one had been able to decide which was the biggest threat for them: Briallyn and Koschei, or Beron’s wilingness to ally with them. While the Night Court has been trying to make the peace permanent, the bastard had been doing his best to start another war.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 8)

Now, with Bryallin’s dead, do you think Beron going to stay quiet? Sarah made Beron seeking an alliance with Bryallin to make him a villain. And just like Bryallin he needs to be dealt with so that the entire conflict of the ACOTAR world is resolved so that our characters got their happily ever after.

Unlike the remaining queen conflicts, Beron's conflict is the only one that is mentioned and foreshadowed enough (per-Blood Duel plotline and the constant Eris’ appearance). And unlike Illyrian’s conflict, Beron's conflict is an actual part of the overarching plot. Bryallin made an alliance with Koschei, thus indirectly introduced Beron to Koschei too. Also, here’s a canon line from the book:

“My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him too.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 79)

Here’s a series of question that I am delivering to you,

Which one of the female character that is also made by the Cauldron and therefore has a connection with the troves thus indirectly Koschei?

Which one of the characters that can locate the fourth trove Nesta couldn’t find as well as having knowledge of Koschei’s box?

Which one of the couple’s storyline that will trigger Beron’s conflict into resolution?

Elain needs to be the next book's main character to bring the conflict to almost its peak (seeing the pattern of the original series with ACOMAF brings the conflict to a higher level).

Elriel will be together to trigger and resolve Beron before the conflict moves to Koschei.

Elain will not be the last book main character because they need to uncover the importance of the troves to Koschei and find the missing trove since Nesta cannot find it.

Elain will not be the last book main character because it will make more sense for Vassa to be the one who ends Koschei as she was cursed by him.

[beinmybonnet]

29th June 1613 - London, England

   “Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

                                                         *

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

                                                                                                                                                                    *

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.  

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

                                                                                                                      *

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist  she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.” 

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs.  “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

 held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

 part one of this series can be found here

[burningthemidnightcityoil]

AVATARS OF THE LASTING ASPECTS

Let’s talk about Players and Aspects.

There are Two to Three Avatars of an Aspect, and then the Aspect itself. The two are the Player, and whatever Familiar / Sidekick / Fence / Companion they may have.

The Aspect itself is The Thing and the Whole of the Thing. For example-- you can picture Time without a Player. Its the measurement of events as they proceed; but its also the Begining and the End, the Pace-- Its Art is Music and its Artifact is Clockwork.

Think of all Aspects as like that.

The Avatar of the Aspect, or the Player, is capable of both introducing and controlling how the Aspect will function. If the player chooses bad choices, the Aspect will turn to those bad choices. The Aspect as the Thing and the Whole of the Thing is a neutral force of nature, only following its function, and its Avatar can dictate how that function is carried out. The Avatar and Aspect, however, are separate in this-- the aspect can still carry out its function without an avatar, just look at the Troll-Godless Earth.

The Player’s Class often tells you how the Player will dish out their Aspect.

So.

Why is this important?

Consider what we see in Homestuck.

In the Troll Sessions, the Aspects are balanced. There is an avatar for each aspect, and they carry out as players can and will and won’t to do.

But its the Human sessions where all this gets interesting.

Because the Human sessions aren’t balanced. They don’t have an avatar for each Aspect, and worse still, you can see that a powerful entity-avatar has corrupted the human sessions and one troll session (LE)-- The humans sessions is where it becomes blatant how the Aspects function without someone to direct or with someone with malicious intent.

Let’s start with Beta Session.

Here, we are introduced to Avatars of Breath, Light, Space and Time. Spacetime, its a given we need, because for anything to happen you need Space to fill and Time to pace.

But Light and Breath?

Breath is motion, progression, plot. Everything about the Beta Session is fast moving and constant action, and in fact, is too fast. Everything has to be done quickly, established quicker, and it jumps around.

This is a session without any sort of grounding-- There are no Real Aspects to tie everything down, so everything is all over the place.

Light is Relevance, Meaning and Symbols; Eyes and Color, Consciousness (lights on and everybody is home). There is next to nothing dark about what we’re seeing-- intention is often made plainly clear, most of the characters are in their right minds, and the Beta Session is chocked full of Symbols and Meaning and the promise that things will be made Clear if we can only Look.

But the problem here-- is that its too much all at once. Like above, there are no Real Aspects to ground the Ideals we have. We are given all this information, but have no fucking idea how to process it or where to put it, or what’s relevant to what.

Without Avatars of the Real Aspects (Void, Doom, Blood, Rage, Heart), there is no SENSE. And the Guardians that are there, are just that-- Guardians. They hold an Aspect, but don’t do much with it.

The Aspects that are the Thing and the Whole of the Thing are there, but they merely Are, and do not bend to or over the whims of anyone.

--- Until the Trolls come in, do things start making Sense.

Let’s talk the Alpha Session.

So we have Avatars of Life, Void, Hope, and Heart.

Life is Health, Experience, the Breaking of Impossibility and Normalcy. The Players are Alive, and surprisingly Well, in spite of their awful circumstances. Roxy and Dirk should’ve Died (Dirk fell in the middle of the Ocean as a Baby, how did he survive? Roxy fell in the midst of Carapacians, how was she not Eaten?). And yet, they’re just ordinary teenagers.

But now, the Avatars are forced to live through horrible circumstances. There is no Time or Space-- No way to move forward, and no Space to grow. Just Surviving through all Impossibility-- And its fucking awful.

Hope is Coherence, Belief, Fantasy and Divinity. The fact that the players are experiencing something wholly fantastical-- a literal Alien Empress has come to take over Earth, there are Alien Monsters outside of Jake’s door, their best friends are 500 years into the Future or are in another universe entirely, Apocraplyse and Metaphysical-- That’s a helluva a thing to have.

But now all they have is Hope. Hope that there’s gonna be something better. Hope that something is gonna come down-- and ye gods, that’s awful. They’re living 2020 without it ever being 2020.

And their hope player is a self-serving jackass.

Heart is the Inner Self and Character, the Ego and Persona, the Facet and Aesthetic, Love and Soul and Self. Each character is appropriately theme’d-- Jane is the Heiress to a Cooking Empire and literally acts like the Betty Crocker character we see on the logo (not the Batter Witch). Roxy is a Scientist, and has a Science Lab, and she loves cats and wizards. Jake is a movie enthusiast with a love of adventure, and literally has a Tomb Raider Island just outside his door. And Dirk is surrounded by Robots and Brobots, and quite literal (and distorted) reflections of himself.

And did we mention the Romance Problems.

So many Romance Problems.

Heart here is one of our First Real Aspects. And lot of Dirk’s stress comes from being one of the only Real Aspect Avatars, and trying to temper nearly everyone. Remember that music can be played to the beat of one’s heart-- Heart here is trying to play Time, and uh-- well--

I mean, you tried but...

Void is Irrelevance, the meaningless Physical, the Dark and the Deep, the Incomprehensible. The world is real damn it, and suddenly it doesn’t matter as much anymore. The Session is Void, void of life, void of hope, void of heart, until something comes along and fixes it.

One of the Real Aspects, and it more or less just sits there like a Generic Object. Literally only Roxy is thrilled about this session and for good reason-- she’s the only one in her element. Void fills in what Space doesn’t-- and it doesn’t do that good of a job because NOTHING IS HERE.

... So how many of you called Act 6 meaningless? How many of you had quit ship come Act 6? Feel bored or disappointed? Void did its job, didn’t it.

So.

What about the Aspects that Aren’t here?

Easy, the Trolls fill in what Classes and Aspects are missing. Kanaya brings in Sylph, Karkat Blood, Gamzee Rage and Bard, Sollux Mage and Doom, Terezi Mind, and Vriska brings in Thief (Though it can be argued that Jack Noir originally brought in Thief and Rage).

As  an Avatar of Rage, Gamzee is mean to bring Contrivance, Madness and Passion, the Self Evident Truth. The Problem here, is that he only brings in Madness. Take the Juju Episode. He isn’t the Avatar of Rage itself, he’s the Avatar of the Lord of Time’s Rage-- He comes in to do the work of LE, not the work of the real Rage Aspect.

A real avatar of Rage would’ve shown our Alpha Players that they can change the system to favor them-- because this is bullshit.

As Avatar of Mind, Terezi brings in the Outer Self, the Choice, Cause and Effect, Superego and Karma. The Multiverse at your disposal. When she is down because of Gamzee, suddenly you lost all your Choices and there is no Karma (Pre-retcon Meteor).

Mind is also Memory and the Saved Game. If it wasn’t for Terezi, John would not have been able to go back and fix things. For a Narrative, Saved Games aren’t particularly Clean-- But SBURB is also a Game and a Story. We’ve seen what happens when the Player dies and lives are lost-- but imagine if you can just go back to a Saved Game and redo an action without having died in the first place.

That’s Mind.

As Avatar of Blood, Karkat provides not Character-- but You. Your Place, Yourself, Your Choice. Blood is the most Grounded and the Most Real of the Aspects. Everything might be Fake, but You, the Reader, are here and making it real. Blood falls under being Self-Driven, Promises and Friendship, Collective and Shared. Only as strong as your greatest weakness.

When he is down, you’ve lost Everything. When the Avatar of Blood flees, all those bonds and promises go out the window (Murderstuck). When he dies, there is nobody left but despair (Bad End).

As Avatar of Doom, Sollux provides Destruction, The Limit and the Crossed Line, Inevitability and the Impossible-- Death at the End. No matter how bad that seems, Doom isn’t a Bad Aspect. Its the Cleaner. Something has gone wrong, and there’s no way to fix it, you can take solace in the fact that it’ll be over soon. Doom is a very sorrowful aspect, with a thankless but needed job.

He tends to avoid the Human’s (and yet looks up human culture) cos he’s not that interested (Doom avoids the Players). When he’s defeated by the Avatar of Hope, Murderstuck seemingly has no End (and yet, he isn’t dead, just changed). When he leaves to go hang out with Friends once the Humans arrive, Doom has left them (Their journey is guaranteed to succeed).

Sollux has a frightful job, being an Avatar of Doom.

And what of the Muse and the Lord.

Muses are Inspirational. You have something that inspires you to create. Calliope is that inspiration. The Avatar of Space inspires its creation.

And the Lord? Well, he’s the Creator and the Director of the Piece. The Avatar of Time ensures Creation.

Worse though, is when Caliborn proves to be a malicious creator and director, and he literally takes Avatars as his own.

Gamzee, an Avatar of Rage, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Rage. His Madness. Spread either via Murderous Intent or Juju.

Equius, an Avatar of Void, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Void. His Physical Reality.

Dirk, an Avatar of Heart, fights so hard not to be Caliborn’s Heart. And plenty of Dirk’s other selves Fail this Fight. Bro is merely a distilled version, and that’s horrible enough. Hal fails outright, and his nature tends toward maliciousness toward all other players.

And Homestuck. The Alpha Timeline? -- Its Caliborn’s Time.

And you Will Follow it. You have no other Choice.

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia Reviewcaps: The Dinner/Battle of the Bands “It’s You”

Hello all you happy people! And i’m almost to the finish line.  6 months (subtracting the ones where there were no new episodes) worth of weekly coverage and with next week i’ll have completed my second full season of reivews of a show as they came out, and my first full season of amphibia. If you’d like to see season 1 it’s up high on my stretch goals at 45 with reviews of Disney movies based on shows (The Proud Family, Recess and Kim Possible), Gravity Falls and more along the way if your curious. Check it out HERE. I’m also doing exclusive reviews eveyr month now with the coasional one thrown in randomly so check that out. New period starts in a week so please join before then.

So naturally with the big finale and all the tensions in amphibia close to reaching a boil next week, this week’s a bit more low key. Still not unimportant, with some massively good character work and in fact The Dinner is easily one of my faviorites of the season, but still nothing to move the plot too far forward. Just some nice character stuff to help inch us towards the climax next week. The calm before my heart is stillbeatingly ripped out of my chest. Which I will grant the show, having my heart ripped out Mola Ram style by some combination of Brenda Song and Keith David is how I wanted to go, i’m just not ready yet. So while I steel myself for the utter heartbreak of next week, I have my throughts on this weeks episodes under the cut!

The Dinner: 

I did tip my hand a bit by saying this was one of my faviorties of the season.. and I stand by that. This one was excellent. It was rife with tension while still somehow being a fun breather episode before hell arrives. 

As the title suggest the Plantars are having Grime and Sasha over for a fancy dinner, followed by games and such. Only Annearcy are happy about this though, Marcy still not getting quite how bad Sasha has gotten during her stay here and Anne hoping she has changed.  The Plantars, Sprig in paticular, still resent them for the whole toad tower fiasco, which is fair. You don’t forget someone trying to murder you over night, let alone your whole town. Hop Pop is using Frobo as the Grill by the way which is just visually fucktacular I gotta admit. He does get some more use these episodes, being used as a Grill here and as the fog machine and Polly’ sminon next episode. Good work boy. That’s my robot frog soldier builder whatever you are. 

Sasha and Grime are likewise not enthused. Sasha isn’t because her friends expect her to “Ugh” change and grow and stuff and isn’t happy about it and is confident she can return to rulling over them once her plan is done. Dude.. that’s not how a healthy throuple works. Or a healthy anything. Grime is more worried about her blowing it with her anger and control issues, but feels. this is VITAL to convincing the plantars to trust them long enough for their plan to go off. He even demands she remove her sword and all her knives... and she has a lot of them. Evne in her boot “How do you even walk?” Good question grime. 

My answer?

So what follows is about 8 minutes of the most hilariously awkward dinner since that time Micheal Scott decided to have a dinner party even though his relationship was horribly crumbling, as everyone but Anne and Marcy shoves their foot in their mouth at some point or makes some sort of screw up. Oh and Polly I guess she’s more content to just watch the show. Seriously i’m not usually a fan of cringe comedy.. but the series makes it work here as our heroes attempt to interact with thier old eneimeis and vice versa. 

For starters we have our guests arrvial, where Grime and Sasha both look objectively terrifying before things cool down. Then we have dinner itself where both Hop Pop and Grime prove to be the racist kind of grandpa as Grime asks what frogs they subjigated to get these turnips and Hop Pop makes an awkward lightbulb joke about Toads that Grime finds hilarious but everyone else was rightfully afraid would get the old man gutted by the other more violent old man. I imagine this happened a lot on the Lost Light once Megatron took over co captiancy. You just don’t fight a guy for a good hundered years without being nervous he’s going to blast you to fucking pieces. 

Sprig dosen’t help before all this by taking a seat next to anne and marcy specifically to piss her off, and out of all of them is the most openly hostile to her. Given Anne’s his best friend and Sasha did a LOT of emotional damage to her.. yeah fair enough. 

Things only esclate when it comes to frog pictionary. Suprisingly Hop Pop gets Grime’s Drawins and Sasha gets his, with both her and sprig trading escalating barbs and her barely containing her rage when Anne calls her on it since unlike her, Sprig has a reason to still be upset with her. This reaches a breaking point when Sasha attempts things, trying to desperatly win her friends back with the old times now they have their ownt imes apart.. only for Sprig to accidnetlay mock Sasha’s near sucicide,s aying she “slipped”.. granted I do think he geninely just can’t forgive her.. but it’s very clear she did not.. she let herself go to save them, and he’s just as in denial about it as Sasha and just as much a dick about it. 

Sasha flips out at him, and gets penalized for talking which only pisses her off MORE and understandably so. Anne leaps to the plantar’s defense but honestly.. both sides are understandabliy angry here. The Plantars are right to still not trust her after everything especially since she hasn’t outright apologized to them and her and Grime’s general response to the incident is “One Time!”... which works for say, taking the last slice of pizza without asking or slamming their face in a car door, but not so much “Trying to murder all of you for personal and stupid reasons.”. But at the same time Sprig DID cross the line really bad when she saved his fucking life. It dosen’t automaitcally erase the bad things she did but it dosen’t give him lisence to mock her. WHile I get he’s 10 and dosen’t get it was part suicide, he still is blantaly ignoring her trying to do something selfless because he can’t admit there’s any good in Sasha. Sasha is not a GREAT person.. but there IS good in her. She just has to WANT to seek that out instead of her inherent seflishness and need for control and Anne and Marcy are absolutely right for trying to help her instead of just slamming the door in her face. 

But soon eveyroen gets distracted by the cake which floods the room with molten lava. Hop Pop assumes it was some sort of trick.. but hilariously turns out no, Grime really was trying to be nice. That’s just how this works and it’s delcious once it hardens.. assuming you survivie the hornets, with fighting them being the best part of it. And yes hornets shoot out of the cake. Are you suprised at this point? They also paralize grime leaving our heroes without the one person among them who knows what their doing. 

SO our heroines are forced to fight some hornets, with Sasha trying to take lead.. only for Anne to do so and succeed at it, figuring out that while weapons can’t pierce them their own stingers might and having Marcy use her crossbow to launch the stinger in grime at them, and then has Sasha distract the rest to take them out. 

So our heroines reconcile with Sasha admitting she might not want to change and Anne admitting that’s okay.. she just has to accept things have changed with THEM and that her friends HAVE. And genuinely or not Sasha agrees to that, while Grime is bummed he missed the party and the lava hardens into chocolate, with eveyrone enjoying some cake and dead insects. As you do

Final Thoughts on The Dinner: As I said, this is one of the best episodes of the season> The tension is paltable, and it dosen’t fully resolve it, rightly as we still have one final season to go for that. More than that.. it’s hilarious. All the jokes land, and there were far too many to get into here. 

Battle of the Bands:

Now this is a classic breather episode, our last chance to rest and get all slice of lifey before things go up in flames next week. 

With the town all nervous because of Sasha and Grime’s presence, Mayor Toadstool decides to spin the wheel of fun to decide on an activity. I can’t remember if this is a new thing or not but I loves it. It lands on Battle of the Bands so the girls decide to get their old band Sasha and the Sharks back together. As for the rest of the cast, Hop Pop and Sprig join a Jug band and Grime has his own musical domination to plot out, so that just leaves us with the thropule, Poly and Frobo for an episode. 

The group have fun... until Anne unveils her heartfelt song based on her time here. Well okay only Sasha isn’t having fun and quickly tries to take over, as you’d expect and Anne pushes back as you’d expect. Sasha takes her ball and goes home as.. you get it by now> The plot here is not very complex or unique.

But as with all the Sasha episodes this season including the last one, we get a deeper sense of her character. Here she outright admits she dosen’t know what to do when she’s not in control. She needs to be in charge of the situation. It also explains why unlike Marcy and Anne she didn’t change for the better: Her need for control shuts out any possiblity of self reflection and thus self improvment. Self Improvment, and I know this from experince, requires you to admit your flaws and face them. It’s something I can admit to struggling with as I fall back into old patterns often. Admitting flaws would be admitting a loss of Control and Sasha.. can’t. She honestly can’t. 

Of all people i’ts TOADIE who convinces her sometimes i’ts better to let someone else take the lead and that it’s better to support the ones you love than subjugate them. Granted Toadie himself is too far in the opposite direction, but he makes a valid point.. something I never thought i’d say. Sometimes you just have to let someone do what they want.. and watching her two girlfriends perform up on stage.

I also will say I love a good talent show, battle of the bands what have you episode. One of my faviorite movies, True Stories, climaxes in one. 

And yes that was John Goodman and yes he does indeed sing...

Seriously watch this movie. It’s fucking amazing. And yes that was the Talking Heads David Byrne, he wrote this movie and there’s two talking heads songs in it. Watch it. 

Point is we get a great one, paticuarlly chuck. 

He grows SINGIN tulips just a fun one.. but i’ts that finale with the girls that really makes it with Sasha realizing that them being HAPPY is better than her being in control..and they didn’t grow PAST HER or leave her behind just because they grew.. they simply should be free to be themselves. And that maybe trying to conquer a country just to do that ain’t right. IT’s really sweet

So she runs in to do the guitar solo, and its aweosme and they only don’t win because it turns out Grime is fucking MAJESTIC on a harp. But Sasha finally grows a bit admitting that having fun is what mattered... 

And it’s abotu to burst as Mayor Toadstool, in a show of how far he’s come, points out Anne is leaving soon and Anne gives a heartfelt goodbye to everyone.. that said.... someone clearly has other plans.. and for once i’ts NOT Sasha. 

There’s nothing but foreshadowing in that face. That’s a face that says “Uh.. about that”. And again SASHA is showing emotinal vunerablity and hapiness.. but it’s Marcy, whose pretty open emotiionally whose visably worried and clearly knows Andrias has other plans.. other plans he talked her into. Gratned he probably didn’t tell her said plans involve The Watcher with a Thousand Eyes, but she still KNOWS she’s plottingthings.. and know’s she’s about to betray the people closest to her. 

Before we move on though those outfits ar esharp. Just damn. Especially Sasha’s punk look. The songs this episode are also both excellent and I had no idea Brenda Song and Anna Akana could sking like that. God damn. 

So with Anne leaving for home she gets one last group photo. It’s majestic and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This one is pretty good. Not a lot to talk about outside of Sasha but a really fun episode that both moves her foward and moves us toward the finale. ANd it’s nice to see the three just happy together... before the hell that’s about to arrive. 

Next Week: War Were Declared, our heroes prepare to fight bravely against the hoard of toads... and both Sasha and Marcy come to the crossroads of destiny Tommorow ON This Blog:

So it’s up to Jean Grey and Emma Frost to go in and sort it out.. and then fight off the full might of an alien empire. No pressure. 

Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure

[wistfulcynic]

The Eternal and Unseen (2 of 3)

(there is additional chapter art from the amazing @carpedzem​ further down, I just wanted to use this one again because I love it so ❤️❤️❤️❤️)

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns​

a/n: This chapter fought me every step of the way, and it’s a beast at nearly 9k. Settle in, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. All manner of love and adulation to @thisonesatellite​ for being the rock she is, and to @ohmightydevviepuu​ and @katie-dub​ for their brilliance and encouragement. And @spartanguard​ and @optomisticgirl​ for the prompts that this monster of a fic now barely resembles, but hey what can you do? 

Finally, please everyone flail like mad at @carpedzem​ and her perfect eye for detail and characterisation in the art for this chapter: 

(WHAT’S IN THE BEAKER, YOU ASK? LET’S FIND OUT)

AO3 | Tumblr part one 

-

CHAPTER TWO: 

The sunlight shone through the window and right on his face, bright and warm, though not enough of either to wake him up. It was Harriet who managed to rouse him, finally, after several minutes spent stroking his forehead with her fronds and patting his cheek with her leaf. When this produced no effect aside from some incoherent muttering and limp attempts to push her leaf away, the plant rustled with a botanical sigh and gave him a sharp smack upside the head. With her thorns out. 

“Ow!” cried Killian, jerking into abrupt and painful consciousness. “What the bloody hell—Harriet! Lass, I thought we were friends.” 

Harriet smacked him again. 

“Oi, seriously! What—” He broke off as Harriet unfolded her larger leaves from where they had been wrapped around him, cradling his body protectively, and Killian realised he was lying sprawled on the floor of Emma’s dorm room and that his head ached like a son of a bitch. 

“What happened?” he groaned. Harriet’s leaf brushed his face again and then caressed the back of his head and Killian followed its path tentatively with his fingers. They encountered a tender, painful lump at the base of his skull and a nasty gash in his scalp, coated in a springy, jelly-like substance that he recognised by its texture and aroma as Harriet’s sap. 

“Harriet... did you heal me?” he asked her. She inclined her leaf in a gracious nod, and Killian felt a lump rise in his throat that could almost rival the one on his head. “Thank you, lass,” he said, stroking the edge of her frond with his fingertip as Emma had taught him. “I’m very grateful. But why did you need to? What happened here?” 

Harriet tapped him on his temple, gently but with a clear rebuke. “Aye, I’m trying to remember,” he replied wryly. “But cut a man a bit of slack, would you, when he’s been thoroughly coshed and spent the night on a cold stone floor.” 

Harriet shrugged and Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes, willing his brain to kick into some kind of gear. “I remember going to the pub last night with Emma,” he said slowly. “We had a few drinks and we wanted food, but the pub kitchen had closed so we came back here... we were going to order pizza but then there was a knock on the door... I went to answer it, and she joked that maybe the pizza place had read our minds… I turned to look at her as I opened the door, and then… then… oh, bloody hell.” 

His eyes had been scanning the room as he spoke, taking in the upended chair and the books fallen from their shelves, the overturned plant pots and shattered glass vials. But this chaos, though alarming, was not what caught his attention. 

Beside the door, half-buried beneath spilled soil and shards of glass, lay an object. A small, purple object, roughly round and attached to a long and slender strip of leather. An object that Killian had last seen glowing faintly against Emma’s pale skin as he’d trailed kisses down her belly. 

With a choking cry he scrambled on his hands and knees across the room and picked it up. The power within it hummed through him, and agonising terror sank its claws deep into his chest. 

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he whispered. 

~

David was lingering over his coffee with a gentle smile on his face, listening to the bright sound of Snow and Ruby’s voices as they chatted over breakfast. Snow’s voice in particular with its sweet tones soothed him as much as it did her birds. If he could start every day like this, David thought, watching as the bird on her shoulder hopped down her arm to peck at the pile of seeds she’d left next to her plate—with good coffee and Snow’s voice and the occasional trill of birdsong... well, he wouldn’t hate it.  

That thought had barely even crept into his mind when the door to the dining hall burst open and Killian appeared, one hand pressed against his head and the other clenched in a tight fist. He took two steps forward then stumbled, groaning, swaying precariously on feet that seemed reluctant to hold him up. Coffee sloshed over David’s hand as he moved to stand but Ruby and Graham were far quicker, darting forward with inhuman speed and managing, barely, to catch Killian before he collapsed to the floor. 

“What happened to you?” cried Ruby, as she and Graham took Killian by the arms and helped him into a chair. 

“Emma,” Killian gasped. “Emma.”

“She’s not here—” Ruby began, but Killian shook his head. 

“Gone,” he whispered. 

“What?” 

Killian closed his eyes and appeared to marshal his strength, and when he opened them again they were frantic. “Emma’s gone,” he said, in a far stronger voice. “Taken.” 

The room went utterly still and utterly, utterly silent.

That vague sense of unease, of foreboding, that had been simmering in David’s gut for weeks flared now into a full and rolling boil. He set his coffee cup down on the table with a thunk and glared at Killian. “What do you mean she’s been taken?” he demanded. 

“More importantly,” said Snow, her voice barely audible and her eyes wide with fear. “Who took her?”

Killian’s expression darkened and his closed fist clenched tighter. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never saw their face.” 

The eerie silence shattered as everyone began to talk at once. 

“But that’s impossi—” 

“No one could just—” 

“—even with magic!”

“How could someone just take her?” Graham’s voice rose over the din. “How did they get past you?” 

As quickly as they rose up the voices fell silent again, awaiting Killian’s reply. 

Killian’s expression went, impossibly thought David, darker still. “They coshed me,” he snarled. 

“They what?” David demanded.

“Hit me on the head with something hard, a stick or a bat or—hell, it could have been a frying pan, I don’t bloody know.” 

The silence in the room took on a baffled quality as Killian’s glare was met with a wall of blank and uncomprehending stares. 

“And that… worked?” ventured Ruby. 

“Of course it worked!” Killian snapped. “I’m immune to magic, not blunt objects.”

Victor’s face wore an expression that David recognised as one he often had himself, whenever he tried to do math in his head. “But they just—” he gave his hand a vague wave. “Hit you?” 

Killian shot him a mocking look. “Yes, they ‘just hit me,’” he sneered. “It was a more than adequate measure, I assure you.” 

Snow placed a steaming cup of tea in front of him and Killian’s sneer faded to pained gratitude. “Thanks, love,” he murmured, and took a long sip before turning back to Victor. “It’s a human strategy, yes, but you have to admit an elegantly simple one. You lot would have tied yourselves in knots trying to work out a way to defeat me by magic, they just whacked me upside the head. I’d admire it if it weren’t so bloody painful.” 

“Emma gave me a jar of headache powder a while back, let me go get you some,” said Ruby sympathetically and Killian once again nodded his gratitude. 

“Thank you, lass, I’d appreciate it.” 

As Ruby hurried out the door Graham looked at David, his brow furrowed. David was by this point mightily confused and so full of questions they tumbled over each other in his brain. Before he could even begin to sort through them, Graham spoke.

“So whoever took Emma was human,” he mused. David frowned, surprised to hear his friend wasting time with such a remark. Of course they were human. What else would they be?

He fully expected to hear another mocking reply, but Killian simply nodded. “Aye,” he said. “One of them, at least.” 

Graham’s expression sharpened. “There were more than one?” 

“There had to have been.” Killian’s clenched fist trembled as he pressed it against the tabletop, his knuckles stark white. “No single human could have taken Emma, not alone. Not from her own bloody room. There are distinct signs of a struggle—it’s pretty clear both she and the plants fought back.” His mouth pressed into a grim line. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here but it’s big,” he said hoarsely. “And what’s more, Emma knew it was big.” 

“How do you know that?” asked Graham.

“She left this.” 

Killian wrenched his fist open to reveal a stone, a deep purple stone with a shimmering glow that seemed to hover over his palm. It was roughly round, as though carved hastily by hand, with a small hole hewn through it slightly off-centre, threaded with a leather cord. It looked to David’s eyes thoroughly unremarkable aside from that unsettling glow, the sort of pendant you find on a three-for-one sale in a shop that also sells patchouli candles and things woven out of hemp.  

“What is it?” he asked, but his words were drowned out by the collective gasp from the others.

“Is that what I think it is?” Victor’s voice held genuine fear. 

“So Emma has it,” Snow breathed in awe. 

“She did,” Killian replied grimly. “She wore it around her neck. She never took it off, and I mean never, not for anything. Until now.” 

“But what does that mean?” Victor’s whispered question was drowned out by the sound of the door opening. Ruby strode through it, trailed by a rumpled and sleepy August. 

“Hey guys. I woke August up and filled him in,” Ruby said casually, as though August wasn’t the one person in the dorm she actively avoided and never spoke to except in anger. She strolled over to Killian and held out a small paper packet. “Here’s your powde—fuck me sideways.” Her eyes went wide and the packet fell from her nerveless fingers. “Is that—” 

“Aye,” said Killian, “it is.” He picked up the packet and tore it open, tipped the contents onto his tongue and chased it with a swallow of tea. 

It’s what, damn it? David’s brain screamed, but his mouth refused to form the words. 

“So Emma has it,” August echoed Snow’s words but in a very different tone of voice, his expression now sharp and alert. “I should have guessed. Sky tribe, of fucking course.” 

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Ruby snapped, rounding on August with her teeth bared. 

“Ruby, now is not the time,” said Snow sharply, as Graham leapt to his feet and took Ruby’s arm. 

“It’s not the time,” Killian agreed. He stood as well and fixed them all with a steady gaze. The haze of pain had cleared from his eyes, David noted, and he seemed much steadier on his feet.

“You all know what this is,” he said, holding up the purple stone. “You know its significance and the vital importance of keeping it safe. And yet Emma, the woman tasked by her birthright with its protection, deliberately left it behind.” He paused to let his words sink in. Even David could feel the solemn weight of them settling into his bones. “She would not do such a thing,” Killian continued, “unless she thought that leaving it behind was safer than risking it falling into the hands of whoever took her. She would not do such a thing unless she trusted us to keep it safe. She did it because she knew it was the one thing guaranteed to make us understand that the danger she’s in is serious.” 

The air in the room felt heavy as lead, holding them still and silent within the moment. It pressed on David’s shoulders on his chest, holding him frozen until after an interminable moment Snow spoke. “So… what are we going to do?”

A smile spread across Killian’s face, a sharp and dangerous one. His eyebrow quirked. “We’re going to rescue her, of course.”

“Oh, well,” mocked Victor, “of course.” 

Killian’s smile faded. “Listen to me, all of you,” he said firmly. “I know that we have our differences and I know how deep they run. But you all understand the enormity of this and how it affects every single one of us. We have have no choice but to act, and act now. Fast and united, before it’s too late.”  

He scanned their faces, making eye contact with each in turn. “Are you with me?” he asked.  

His answer came from the last source any of them expected. “You can,” said August, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that.” Snow, Ruby, and Graham all nodded in agreement then turned expectantly to Victor, who rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“Fine,” he said. “What do you need us to do?”

~

“They’ll take her to the forest,” said Snow.

“Do you think so?” Ruby frowned. “That’s seriously risky.” 

“So is hauling her across the campus,” Graham pointed out. “Even if they managed to restrain her, there’s no way to move a body without looking suspicious.” 

Graham sounded like he was speaking from experience, which was surely impossible—or so David would have said half an hour ago. His definition of ‘impossible’ had shifted pretty dramatically since then and he was no longer certain anything could be ruled out.

“I agree with Snow, they’d go to the forest,” Graham continued. “Remember we’re dealing with at least one human, they might not know what the forest is to Emma.” 

“Hmm, that’s a point,” Ruby agreed. She looked turned to Killian. “Okay, we three will go to the forest and see what we can find there. Can you give us an hour?” 

Killian nodded. “That should be enough. Keep your phones on. And be careful.” 

Ruby’s smile flashed. “Always am.” 

“Killian,” David croaked, finding his voice with effort as he watched Snow follow the Ruby and Graham from the room, bluebirds hovering worriedly around her head. His mind was still churning and he stumbled over his words. “What—what exactly is—what are they—why are you—why are you all talking about humans like you aren’t… one?”

Killian regarded him with a curious blend of exasperation and empathy. “Because we’re not,” he said bluntly. “Well, they’re not.” He waved his hand at Victor and at August, who gave David a small bow. “I am, more or less.” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” David asked faintly. Victor snorted and Killian sighed, running a hand over his face. 

“David, look, mate, we tried our best to ease you into this and let you figure things out on your own,” he said, “but honestly I’ve never seen anyone fail to pick up on hints as comprehensively as you can.” 

“What—” David rubbed his throbbing temples. “What does that mean?” 

Killian turned to Victor. “We’re going to need something to open his mind,” he said. “There must be some magic that’s keeping it closed, I have a hard time believing even he can be this clueless. Have you got some sort of potion or something that might work to soften him up a bit?”

Victor scowled. “I don’t do potions.” 

“What the bloody hell do you always have on those damned burners, then, or are you just making the whole floor smell terrible for your own entertainment?” 

“Those are experiments.”

“And you can’t experiment with potion making?”

“I do sometimes, but Emma’s really the potion expert. If I need one I usually just get it from her.” 

“Well, Emma’s not bloody here, is she?” Killian hissed through gritted teeth. “What have you got?” 

“Um, well, I mean, not much for opening minds,” stuttered Victor, recoiling from Killian’s glare. “Heads I can open. Minds are trickier.” 

“I’ll open your head in a minute—”

“I can do it.” 

Killian and Victor turned in unison to stare at August, who was lounging against the door frame, casual and nonchalant. “Influence him, I mean,” he drawled, in a careless tone that sent a shiver up David’s spine, like tiny spiders dancing down the back of his neck.

“Um,” said Victor, with a frantic glance at Killian.

“Not too much, of course,” continued August, soothingly. “Just crack him open a bit, you know, make him… receptive to your input.” 

Killian looked at David, with a look that sent the spiders scattering all across his skin. “That…that could work, actually.”

“Seriously, Jones?” cried Victor.

“Look, we can only use the resources we’ve got and if you can’t produce a potion we have to come up with something else,” Killian snapped. “Can you produce a potion?” 

“I already said no!” 

“Well then. These are the resources we’ve got.” 

“And just how are you going to give him this ‘input’ once he is ‘made receptive’ to it?” Victor sneered. 

“If I’m right about him I won’t need to,” said Killian. “It’s already there. All I need to do is trigger it.” His expression turned calculating and David's skin-spiders grew claws. 

“Do I get a say in—” he began, but Killian cut him off. 

“No you don’t,” he said shortly. “We haven’t got the time. Victor, do you suppose you might be able to locate a basic solvent, one able to emulsify plant sap and willow powder? Can you do that, at least?” 

Victor nodded. “That I can do.” 

“Do it, then. And August, you make whatever preparations you need. I’m going to go grab some things from Emma’s room, we’ll meet back here in ten.” 

“Killian,” David tried again, “I’m really not comfortable—”

Killian rounded on him with a glare, dark and intent and terrifying. “Emma is in danger,” he said, spitting every syllable. “Serious, life threatening danger. I know you can understand that, David, if you understand nothing else, and I know you can’t ignore it. I know you’ve come to care about her.” 

“Of course I have—” 

“Then help me save her.” Killian’s voice broke. “Please.” 

The look in his eyes—raw vulnerability and soul-deep terror bolstered by a core of iron David would never have dreamed he possessed—struck a chord somewhere deep within him and resonated there. For the first time he felt that he was seeing Killian as he truly was, and there in that brief flash of kinship David understood, as surely as he’d ever understood anything, that Killian loved Emma, that he would do anything for her, and that he was deathly afraid his anything would not be enough. 

“All right,” said David, clasping Killian’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

~

Ten minutes later David was waiting anxiously in the common room with August sitting in the chair across from him, legs crossed, watching him with a cool stare that did nothing to calm the energetic gyrations of the skin-spiders. When the door opened to admit Killian and Victor he leapt to his feet, desperate for any excuse to escape that unwavering gaze.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady and disguise his nerves. “I’m ready for... er, whatever.” 

Killian was carrying another paper packet similar to the one Ruby had given him and a small, grey-green leaf. These he set on a table as Victor produced a beaker half-full of a milky substance. Killian tore open the paper packet and tipped its contents—a few ounces of dusty grey powder—into the beaker. He then took the leaf and squeezed it until it began to express thick, clear sap, then dropped that in as well. The liquid in the beaker began to make a faint popping noise and Killian looked satisfied as he picked it up by its narrow neck and held it up to the light. He swirled the liquid in a deliberate manner, first clockwise then counter, then clockwise again, counting under his breath, until it turned a dark, swirling purple and began to smoke—rather ominously, David thought. 

Killian turned to him with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I hope you mean that whatever,” he said, holding out the beaker. “Because the first thing I’m going to need you to do is drink this.” 

“Er—” said David. 

“Then look deep into August’s eyes.” 

“Um—” 

David jumped as he realised August was now standing directly behind him, grinning widely, the tip of his fang catching a shaft of bright morning sunlight with a distinctly mocking gleam. He ran the tip of his tongue along it as his eyes flashed red and at least three impossible ideas began to coalesce in David’s brain, coming together to form a conclusion that within his new definition of ‘impossible’ was in fact anything but. 

“How—” David cleared his throat, still unable to quite believe he was entertaining any of this. “How are you out in the sunlight?” he asked. “Aren’t you—doesn’t it—burn you?”

Killian and Victor chuckled and August’s grin widened. “That’s a myth, I’m afraid,” he drawled. “Sunlight doesn’t harm us, we’re just not morning people.” 

“It might be best if you operate from the assumption that everything you think you know is wrong,” said Killian. “Start with a clean slate, so to speak.” 

“My mind is a clean slate,” David echoed faintly.

“Exactly.” Killian smirked at him. “So are you ready?” 

David hesitated. “You’re sure this is necessary to help Emma?” 

“It’s the only way.” 

“All right,” David sighed. “Give me the damned potion.” 

~

The purple of the potion rises up, engulfs him, dark as smoke, only the red of August’s eyes as shining beacons to guide him. He follows them through the swirls and eddies of the smoke until abruptly it is gone and he is standing in a forest of tall trees reaching straight up to a cloudless sky. 

He hears a noise behind him and turns to see a woman, beautiful and terrifying, wreathed in smiles and swathed in darkness. As he watches she waves a wand of blackened wood and a substance, viscous and dark as tar, begins to bubble up from the ground and ooze from the trees, to drip from the very air itself. It twines around her in glistening ropes, hissing its displeasure, a slave to her whims, and she throws back her head in peals of triumphant laughter. 

“The Black Fairy,” says Killian’s voice in his ear. David spins around but no one is there, and the dark woman takes no notice of him. “I’m not actually there,” says Killian, an edge of impatience now in his tone. “And neither are you. Remember that. What you’re seeing is long in the past, shadows of your history. You can’t touch or change it. Just watch.”  

As the dark substance swirls about her the woman draws it, slowly, into herself, absorbs it. Her eyes turn black, and her hair and her gown; the colour drains from her skin until she is pale as a moonbeam in the night. Her lips curve into a satisfied smile and David, though he is not within his body, shivers. 

The image fades away, replaced by another. A village in flames, the agonised shrieks of  people—yes, people, David sees and knows them to be humans like himself—as they try in vain to flee. The cackle of the Black Fairy, appearing in their midst. 

“Surrender,” she hisses. “And your lives will be spared.” 

“At what cost?” spits a woman, glaring contempt as her children huddle in her skirts. “Our freedom?” 

“You will give your lives in service to the fae,” says the Black Fairy. “Or you will give them to the flames.” 

“Burn us then,” says the woman, her chin raised in defiance. “For we will never serve you.” 

The scene blurs again and resolves into another forest, lush and green. Tall trees surround a large, flat rock in the shape of a circle, around which many beings are gathered. Some have the appearance of humans, others anything but, and still others combine human-like forms with horns or feathers or fur or leathery skin. Some have wings, others tails, all are angry. And scared. 

“We must act!” cries one, slapping the rock with his tail to punctuate his point. “The humans no longer believe she does not speak for all of us! If we do nothing she will wipe them from existence in our names!”  

“Perhaps we should let her,” retorts another. “These humans breed quickly and their numbers are ever growing. Their settlements already threaten our lands.” 

“Not threaten,” says a third. “We can live peacefully alongside them, as we have done for centuries.” 

“Oh yes indeed, when they were but few.”

“Their numbers are beside the point!”  

“Enough!” shouts the first, banging his tail on the rock again. “The qualities of the humans as a species are not germane. We simply cannot allow her to wipe out an entire race of beings. It is unconscionable and a breach of the ancient covenants!” 

A chorus of agreement rustles through the assembled crowd. The second speaker observes her fellows in silence for a moment, then gives a shrug. “I will stand with you, Elisedd, in accordance with the covenants and for the moral strength of your argument,” she says. “But I wish for my warning to be noted: The human race will be the end of us, if we allow it.” 

“Your objection is so noted, Eigyr,” says Elisedd with a nod. “Now let it hereby be known that we the Fae Council stand in agreement, and shall act with due haste and taking all necessary measures to stop the Black Fairy in her slaughter of the humans...” 

The image blurs again and David finds himself in the midst of a raging battlefield. Human warriors stand shoulder-to-shoulder with fae, against the Black Fairy and the army of demons her dark magic called into being. He feels a hum of energy in the air to his left and turns to see a woman who he thinks at first is Emma—the same golden hair with a life of its own, the same deep green eyes. But this woman’s nose and chin are pointed, as are her ears, and her fingernails when she raises her hand in the air are long and sharp as talons. She holds up her hands to the sky and sings out, a haunting tune and words in the language Emma uses when she sings to her plants. She stands at the centre of a circle of her kind, blonde and green eyed, pale-skinned and sharp-featured, themselves encircled by the battling warriors. They chant a rhythmic beat as she sings, and though the Black Fairy is far away David can see her face clearly as alarm flares in her eyes, as slowly the thick, black substance begins to ooze from her, hissing as it goes, swirling and twisting into a single thick and oily strand. 

“No,” she whispers, then her voice rises to a shriek.“No, it can’t be! It’s impossible! Nooooooo!” 

She clutches frantically at the magic but it slips from her grasp and when she gropes at her belt for her wand she finds it gone.

“I don’t imagine you’ll have much further use for this, milady,” says a voice, and both David and the Black Fairy turn to see a human warrior with bright blue eyes brandishing the wand in a mocking salute. 

“Insolent cur!” she snarls, and the human laughs. 

“Would you believe that’s not even the worst thing I’ve been called?” he asks, and darts away into the heaving battlefield. 

The Black Fairy lets out a scream of rage, turning back to look up at the sky and the coiling rope of magic as it sails over the heads of the warriors and towards the circle where Emma’s ancestor stands, calling it to her with her song. It heeds her call with typical ill humour, hovering malevolently and obediently above the circle as the fae woman holds up a small, purple stone. 

The darkness shrieks as it is pulled into the stone, writhing and twisting in concert with the impotent howls of the Black Fairy, but Emma’s ancestor neither flinches nor wavers. She pulls in every particle of the darkness and when the last traces have been absorbed she waves her hand over the stone with a few final, whispered words and then collapses, stumbling forward into the arms of her kin. 

“It is done,” she breathes. “It is done.” 

The scene fades once more and when it resolves David is back at the circular stone in the forest, this time surrounded by humans and fae alike. 

“Then we have an accord,” says the human man who captured the Black Fairy’s wand, placing his prize upon the circle. 

“Yes,” replies Elisedd. “The human race agrees to relinquish all claim to magic. The fae peoples agree to keep the Black Fairy’s darkness bound for eternity, held in the tywyll stone and guarded by the Awyr people. Fae magic and cures shall remain available to any humans who seek them and no human shall encroach on lands the fae hold sacred. We are in agreement on these points?” 

The human nods. “We are.” 

“Then let it be done.” 

“Not yet, Elisedd, if you please,” says a third voice. “There is one more thing.” 

These words are spoken by another blond and green-eyed fae, this one male. “My people, the llwyth awyr, agree to guard the tywyll stone” he says, “but this task is a heavy burden upon us. My wi—” his voice breaks as pain flashes across his delicate features. “My wife, Arianrhod, chosen by the moon herself to lead our people, has given her life to contain the darkness,” he continues gruffly. “And now my daughter Morcanta must carry the weight both of her legacy and the stone. Though we accept to bear these burdens gladly, we respectfully request not to bear them alone. We would ask that a human representative agree to take up at least a part of the weight alongside us, for the sake of our people and of the covenants, and for the sake of all our descendants.” 

“That seems fair,” says Elisedd. “Cynbel oCymric? What say ye?”

The human man nods. “We agree,” he says. “A similar thought had occurred to us as well. But humans are far more vulnerable to magic than the fae, and so in shouldering this burden we will require some protection.” 

“Nynniaw? Is this condition acceptable to the Awyr people?” 

Emma’s ancestor nods. “We can place a shielding spell upon you,” he replies. “One that shall fuse with your blood and pass on to your descendants, removing your susceptibility to any magic. And in order that the location of the tywyll stone not be made too plain to see, we propose that such shielded human guardians should be paired with each fae tribe, to further protect the stone and ensure the covenants are kept.” 

The crowd hums with murmurs of agreement. “These are fair terms,” says Cynbel, “which we gladly accept.”

Smoke swirls up again and David is yanked from the vision. He gasped and stumbled and nearly fell, reaching out blindly for something to hold on to. 

“Steady on, there, mate,” said Killian, catching him by his arm, but David’s head throbbed and the room begin to spin around him, and the sound of Killian’s voice grew fainter as his eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled into unconsciousness. 

~

When he opened his eyes again the first sight to meet them was Killian, dressed as usual in his black leather jacket and black t-shirt bearing the faded image of a skull, belting a long sword around his waist.

“That’s—” David gasped, blinking hard and giving his head a firm shake. The images from his vision were still swirling in his mind, and though he did feel he now had a firmer understanding of just what, precisely, the fuck, some things he suspected would still require some getting used to. “That’s a sword,” he sputtered.  

“Naturally,” said Killian, pulling the blade from its scabbard with a flourish and examining its edge. “You didn’t think I’d be going in armed with nothing but my good looks?” 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Speaking of which, you’ll be needing one too. Belle!” 

The air next to him shimmered and Belle resolved into it, a large, leather-bound book in her hand and a bright smile on her face. “Hey, David,” she said. “Killian tells me you’ve been having a bit of an adventure.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” 

“Oh I’d love to go back and see the ancient times,” said Belle dreamily. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have a sip of that potion?”

“I’m pretty sure it only works on the living, love,” said Killian, and David barely resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead. She haunts the library. Duh. 

“Typical,” pouted Belle. “I haven’t had any fun in nearly five hundred years. But I have” —she held out the book, open to a brightly illustrated page— “acquired some serious research skills in that time, and I’m pretty sure I’ve found it.” 

Killian peered at the book. “Where the devil is that supposed to be?” 

“It’s one of the old classroom towers. When I was alive we used to learn magical defence there.” 

“Well that would at least make some sense. Victor, mate, do you suppose you might rustle up something capable of dissolving a mystical lock or two? I mean, I know it’s a potion and all, but this one does seem to be rather more in your wheelhouse.” 

Victor ignored the sarcasm. “On it,” he said.

Killian turned back to David. “Ready then, mate?” 

“I—” David wished mightily that he could say yes, of course he was. “I genuinely have no idea.” 

Killian laughed. “That seems reasonable, given what you’ve just been through.” 

“It might help if I actually knew what we were doing now.” 

“Oh that’s quite simple.” Killian gave him a wide grin and the worst wink David had ever seen. “We’re going to fetch your sword.” 

~

Emma regained consciousness then promptly wished she hadn’t, as nausea roiled in her stomach and some unseen force attempted to drive an ice pick through her skull.

Instinctively, she knew not to move or groan or do anything that might alert her abductors that she was no longer unconscious. Anyone powerful enough to incapacitate her in this way was an enemy to be reckoned with, and despite feeling like how she’d always heard hangovers described Emma was determined to find out who the hell these people were and what they thought they were going to do with her.

She could feel the forest around her, the soft, peaty ground beneath her cheek and the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the power of her connection to the land and all the things that grew from it. She sank her fingers deep into the dirt and prepared.

“Mother, we don’t even know what we’re looking for!” a voice exclaimed, with a note of petulance and an underlying quaver of fear that caught Emma’s attention.

“We’ll find it,” replied a second voice, flat and coldly confident.

“How?” pressed the first one. “How will we find something we have only the vaguest ideas about?”

“She’ll tell us what we need to know.”

“Mother, you don’t understand! We only managed to capture her because we took her by surprise! We have no means of getting her to talk, and her Guardian—”

“I took care of him.”

“You hit him on the head, he’ll survive,” the first voice retorted. “If you had actually read the tribal histories you’d know that it takes more than a big stick to eliminate a fae Guardian!”

“She’s right, Mother,” said a third voice, dry and wicked. “You should have killed him.”

“Perhaps,” drawled the second, “but there wasn’t time. If he is as and what you say he is, Regina, he’ll come for her. And we will be ready for him.”

“Ready for...” The first voice, Regina, trailed off in exasperation. “How will we be ready? In case you forgot, we don’t even know what we’re looking for!”

Emma knew, though. She knew exactly what the histories of the fae tribes hinted at, just enough hints to catch the attention of the clever and the ambitious, not nearly enough to give them what they would need to know. These three were hardly the first to come in search of it and they would not be the last. She’d recognised them last night for what they were and though she doubted they would actually recognise the thing they sought, Emma hadn’t hesitated for a moment to leave the tywyll stone behind, trusting that Killian would find it and understand the message that she sent by leaving it in his care. 

He would be on his way now, she knew that too. Her Guardian would die to protect her as he was duty bound by the covenants and his heritage to do, but even beyond that Emma knew that Killian Jones would never not fight for her. 

She cracked her eyelid open just far enough that she could see the women attached to the voices. Only the three, she was relieved to note, and apparently without backup. Two younger and one older, a mother and her daughters, the mother with a haughty expression and brown hair beginning to show streaks of grey. Her daughters did not much resemble each other; one had a tawny complexion and dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, while the other’s hair was red and wildly curling around her pale, sharp face. Half-sisters, at a guess, thought Emma, and unless she was gravely mistaken both half-fae. A human woman with two half-fae daughters whose fathers were of different tribes. That was very interesting.

Also interesting were the piles of scrolls she could see poking out of an old trunk behind them, scrolls she recognised as library copies of the more well-known tribal histories. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, she’d once read, and it appeared these women had a very little knowledge indeed. And were all the more dangerous for it.

She closed her eyes again then pretended to wake, letting out a long groan as she sank her fingers further still into the soft soil and felt the forest stir around her.

“Ah,” said the mother. “She’s awake.”

“Where—where am I?” groaned Emma. “What happened?”

“What happened is that you are now our prisoner princess,” cooed the mother’s voice, and despite herself Emma felt icy fear twist around her heart. “And you are going to tell us where the Black Fairy’s magic is kept.”

“I—” Emma groaned, cracking open her eyes again to see all three women watching her expectantly. Regina’s expression was apprehensive, her red-haired sister’s triumphant. And their mother… her face wore an expression of naked greed that made Emma’s skin crawl. This human woman had no magic but her daughters did, and she, oh, she wanted what they had.

“I—” she said again, and the women leaned forward, their attention so captivated by Emma that they failed to notice the tree branches bending and closing in around them, or the grey-green roots of the forest plants breaking through the ground, rising up and curling around their trunk full of scrolls and crumbling the fragile parchment into dust.

“I don’t think I will,” said Emma.

~

The old classroom towers, David had been firmly informed by the assistant director of the university’s Office of Residency Affairs, were closed. Had been closed, she told him, for some centuries now, at least since the Hall had been renamed. Andersen students were to attend their classes in the academic buildings and that was all there was to it. David had shrugged and agreed and signed the form she gave him, not entirely clear on what made her so extraordinarily adamant on the point. 

Now, as he trailed up a spiral staircase made of stone, with dips worn into the centre of each step by the feet of many generations of students long past, he thought he might have some inkling as to why. This place was dangerous, and not just because the steps were worn. There were whispers in its very walls, centuries of magic infused into each minute mote of dust, and that dust and those walls and every other thing in and around them was not best pleased by the appearance of interlopers. 

Despite this he pressed on, for Emma and because he doubted that Killian, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword and his jaw set, would allow anything to deter him from his goal. Victor followed at Killian’s heels, carrying another steaming beaker, with August behind David bringing up the rear and Belle, glowing with an otherworldly light, serving as their beacon through the shifting shadows. 

Around and around they climbed, through the darkness and the whispers until David’s head was spinning and he’d lost all sense of time, then quite suddenly a door appeared in front of them. Belle pushed it open and led the way into the room beyond, and David followed eagerly, glad to be out of that interminable stairwell. 

The room was large and circular, quite as you would expect a tower room to be. It had four tall and pointed windows with four columns spaced evenly between them. There were no desks, but smallish wooden tables arranged in a circle and one larger one in front of the largest window, upon a raised dais. 

Killian began to move around the room in what David could only describe as a prowl, muttering to himself as he went. He appeared to be measuring the size of the stones in the floor, the distance from window to window, and the position of the stairs they had just ascended. 

“If this is what I think it is,” he said to Belle, “it’ll be aligned to the eastern point.” 

Belle nodded. “That seems likely. But how will we know where to look? None of us has the right kind of magic to detect it.” 

“That might not be entirely true.” Killian looked at David and Belle followed his gaze. 

David had to suppress a flinch. What now?  

“How are you holding up, mate?” Killian asked kindly. 

“Fine,” replied David. “So far, at least.” 

Killian grinned. “I’m glad you’re catching on.”   

David sighed. “So what do I have to do?”

“Just be yourself.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?

“Close your eyes,” Killian instructed, “and tell me what you feel.”

David let his eyes fall shut, shivering as the spiders tangoed across the nape of his neck. “Like something’s watching me,” he said frankly. 

“Like it’s calling to you?” Killian’s voice was sharp. 

The whispers in the walls grew louder. “Yeah,” said David. “I can hear... something.”  

“Can you tell where it’s coming from?” 

“From all around.” 

“Are you sure? Concentrate.” 

David focused on the loudest whispers. “From… below us? Somehow?” 

“Good.” Killian sounded satisfied. “Can you follow it?” 

David frowned, concentrating hard. He felt an odd tug just behind his bellybutton, urging him to move, which he did, opening his eyes to see that he was being led towards the largest window and the raised table. He followed the pull until it stopped, abruptly, replaced by an overwhelming urge to go down. “There,” he said, pointing at the large, square stone beneath his feet. “It’s coming from there.” 

Everyone gathered around, peering at the stone he indicated. 

“Victor,” said Killian. “Do your thing.” 

David stepped back to make way as Victor took his steaming beaker and dripped its contents carefully onto the mortar that held the stone in place. Nothing happened, to David’s eyes, but the others waited tensely and with bated breath until all the mortar was covered. When the last drop dripped from the beaker a faint click sounded in the air and they all exhaled.

Killian unsheathed his sword and placed the tip just in the centre of the stone. Closing his eyes, he murmured a few words David couldn’t quite make out, then gave the sword a sharp 90-degree twist. The stone made a groaning noise and shifted, shimmered, then faded away to reveal a set of steep stone stairs leading downwards to—

“Where do they go?” David demanded. 

Killian caught his eye. “Below,” he replied. 

~

The stairs were pitch black and endless. David kept his eyes trained as best he could on Belle, but even her glow began to fade the deeper they descended into… wherever this was. He wished he knew where they were going, if only so that this strange and powerful pull he felt would have some destination, some explanation of just what the hell it was.

After a small eternity the stairs ended, so abruptly that Killian stumbled, and David had to grab at the wall to avoid crashing into him. “Ugh,” Killian groaned, leaning his own hand against the wall to get his balance and bearings. “I guess this is it.” 

As he spoke a faint glow appeared, a small flicker in a vague distance, and with his jaw set grimly Killian began to walk towards it, the others on his heels. The glow grew stronger the closer they came, and then with a flare as bright as daylight it encompassed them. They blinked for a moment and when their eyes adjusted they found themselves in what was by all appearances a forest clearing. A very familiar forest clearing, David realised, with tall trees that reached up to the sky and a large, round stone at its centre. 

Belle gasped. “Is this…”

“Aye,” said Killian. “The chamber of the Fae Council. If the sword is anywhere, it’s here.” He turned to David. “Mate?”

David nodded. He had no idea how he knew what to do, only that he did. The knowledge came from somewhere deep within him, the same place as the images he’d seen after drinking the purple potion. He knew that if he laid his hand on the stone just so, if he then pressed against it gently, that the shielding spell would fall away and his sword would appear. He knew this, and yet he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. 

The sword was breathtaking. Longer than he would have imagined and viciously sharp, with an ornate hilt and symbols carved into the blade… symbols his brain wanted to understand, insisted that it should understand, but which hovered stubbornly just beyond his comprehension. 

“Take it,” said Killian, nodding at the sword. “It’s yours.” 

How is it mine, David wanted to ask. How is this, any of this, even possible? 

The moment his fingers gripped its hilt, the symbols on the sword began to glow, as though molten metal were flowing through them. As David lifted it from the table he felt a weight around his waist, and looked down to see a sword belt much like Killian’s appear around his hips. 

He turned to meet Killian’s eyes. “How?” he whispered. “I know we don’t have time for explanations, but please, just tell me—how?”

“You’re a Guardian,” said Killian, with a small smile. “Like me.”

~

The trip back from the council chamber to the classroom tower and then out of the Hall and into the forest felt as though it took no time at all. Or more likely, David thought, he was just too preoccupied to take notice of it passing.

Killian’s words kept echoing in his ears. You’re a Guardian.

David had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t deny how deeply he knew that it was true.

They entered the forest just as Snow, Graham, and Ruby were leaving it, looking shaken and anxious.

“What did you find?” Killian asked them.

“There are very clear tracks,” Snow replied. “Clumsy ones. Whoever took Emma doesn’t know this forest at all. They must just have chosen it thinking it would make a good hideout.”

"We followed them as far as we could, but there was no sign of them ending," Graham added.

"All right,” said Killian, removing the purple amulet from his pocket and holding it up. “Lead the way.”

David wasn't sure whether he was addressing Snow or the amulet, or possibly both, but it didn’t seem to matter as they pressed deeper and deeper into the forest, further than he had ever dared venture before. With each step Killian’s face grew more grim. He gripped the amulet tightly by its leather strap as it began to glow and hum, an endless, atonal hum. It hung from Killian’s hand at a sharp and unnatural angle, seeming to pull him along behind it as they grew closer to wherever Emma was.

Snow shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Where did they take her?” she whispered. “How did they even get so deep into the forest?”

“I don’t know,” said Killian. “Everyone, stay on your toes.”

Without warning the ground beneath their feet began to rumble and shift, the thick, damp soil cracking open as the roots beneath it moved, slithering like snakes beneath the surface and heading in the very direction they themselves were following.

“Emma,” muttered Killian, as he broke into a run. “Bloody hell, woman!”

The others ran after him, leaping over the roots and the shifting soil with a nimble speed that David was hopeless to match. He tripped and stumbled and barely managed to keep his feet under him until Graham and Ruby appeared at his sides, each catching one of his arms and propping him between them as they ran.

The forest before them was a blur of movement, twisting roots and waving branches, magic spitting and hissing through the air, and David was just about to cry out in protest—there was no way they could enter that melee and come out alive—when a figure emerged from the chaos, golden hair whipped to a frenzy by the wind and red cloak swirling around her.

Killian raced to her and caught her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground and burying his face in her hair. “Bloody hell, Swan,” he whispered. Emma clung to him, her fists tight in the back of his jacket, as the rest of the group gathered around them.

Killian set Emma on her feet and loosened his hold on her, stepping back just enough to give her a glare that even David could see held no heat. “What the devil do you think you’re doing, love?” he grumbled. “Depriving me of a dashing rescue.”

“I told you,” retorted Emma. “The only one who saves me is me.” She smiled softly and caressed his face, fingertips brushing his cheekbone. “But I’m glad you came, Killian.”

“I’ll always come for you, darling,” he said with a smirk. “In all senses of the word.”

She snorted and gave the back of his head a feeble smack, but didn’t protest when his arms tightened around her again and his hand tangled in her hair.  

“Well this is adorable,” said Victor. “If a bit sickening. But would you mind telling us just what exactly you've been up to here?”

The movement in the forest had ceased the moment Emma and Killian embraced but the space behind them was still in chaos, with unearthed roots and tree branches bent at unnatural angles, forming a very effective-looking cage.

“I’ve bound them,” said Emma. “In magic it will take them some time to break.”

“They?” demanded Killian.

“Yeah, three of them. A human woman and her half-fae daughters. I can’t keep them trapped forever but we should have enough time to figure out what to do with them.”

“You can’t just kill them?” asked August.

“No!” said Emma and Killian in unison, as Graham punched August’s shoulder.

“Hey, just putting it on the table,” August protested.

“We’re not going to kill them,” said Emma firmly. “There’s something about them... something that I can't quite put my finger on, but honestly it troubles me. I need to know more before we decide how to act. Let’s get back to the dorm.”

“The dorm?” asked David. Emma turned to him and her eyes lit with amusement.

“Well, you must have had a rough few hours,” she said, nodding at the sword he held.

David grinned a bit sheepishly. “You could say that.”

“Welcome to the team,” said Emma, smiling warmly. “And yes, back to the dorm. I need my plants, my books, a scrying mirror, and a cup of tea, not necessarily in that order. Let’s go.”

___

[bwprowl]

Me vs. The Mitchells vs. The Machines

The Mitchells vs. The Machines is a really cool movie. Seriously! It’s the Spider-Verse crew continuing to be at the top of their game, doing their damnedest to elevate and evolve 3D film animation in a way apart from the ongoing Disneyfied edge-sanding seen elsewhere. Several sequences, especially the final fight scene at the end, are absolutely jaw-dropping. A lot of the writing of the movie is also genuinely clever, with some cool tricks of weaving in Chekov’s Guns that you don’t even realize WERE Chekov’s Guns until they’re deployed, but then make perfect sense. And I also just have to say there’s something oddly heartening about a movie that does a lot to target Millenials in terms of nostalgia, but not so much via our shows and movies and music the way other project might go about, but specifically by tapping the internet meme culture of the early-00’s that’s so media-unique to that emergent generation. There’s some genuine heart visible in so many of the levels of how this thing was made that I can understand its touting as an instant classic and the waves of praise and popularity that have followed its release.

Unfortunately, I can’t so unilaterally praise this movie, mostly because I can NOT stop thinking about how poorly-implemented and mis-framed its central familial conflict is.

Oh yeah spoilers for this movie I guess

So I’ll need to detour at first and talk about A Goofy Movie, which isn’t much of an issue for me since I fucking love A Goofy Movie. And watching The Mitchells vs. The Machines my initial takeaway was a pleasant observation that someone had basically grafted A Goofy Movie to The World’s End, which could have made for an extremely fun time for me. A Goofy Movie, so it goes, centers on the conflict between a father and child trying to understand each other, spurred on by the father conscripting the child into an impromptu road-trip which the child initially resents but eventually leans into as a vehicle for understanding as the family members open up to each other and end with a greater appreciation for their familial bond as well as healthier, more open lines of communication. There are comical misunderstandings, dramatic misunderstandings, and escalating Wacky Adventures that keep the trip feeling suitably cinematic in scope. And as The Mitchells vs. The Machines continued on, I kept finding myself rounding back to that comparison and asking “Why am I not getting into this as much as I do A Goofy Movie?”

It turns out to be a point of motivation, actually. In A Goofy Movie, Goofy dragooning Max into the cross-country fishing trip is immediately borne out of his (however misinformed) desire to keep his son from going down a wrong, potentially delinquent or criminal path. Goofy has concerns about the lessened connection and communication with Max, sure, but that’s a symptom of his inability to communicate his actual worries about Max’s behavior to him, not the sum total of the problem he feels needs fixing. Goofy is under the impression there are genuine problems Max is going through, and while he’s got the actual particulars wrong, he’s not really that far off, since Max still IS the kind of kid to elaborately hijack a school function or make up extravagant lies to get attention from the girl he likes rather than just talking to her and asking her out like a normal human-dog-person. Goofy’s objective is firmly centered on helping Max for Max’s sake, and he’s only taking up a few weeks out of Max’s summer and causing him to miss a single party in order to do it.

I lay all that out so you can try to understand my headspace coming at critiquing The Mitchells vs. The Machines and negatively viewing its own take on a plot concept I ostensibly love by default. The problem, as said, is one of motivation. In The Mitchells, Rick’s dissatisfaction with his relationship with his daughter Katie is purely that: Dissatisfaction with their relationship. Katie herself is, by all accounts, doing spectacularly. She’s got a healthy relationship with friends and other family members, she’s gotten accepted into a prestigious film school, and her YouTube account seems to pull pretty keen numbers (With all the tech jokes in this movie it’s a wonder there’s never a riff on her shilling NordVPN or Raid Shadow Legends). The conflict between father and daughter is purely a case of them growing apart in her teen years demonstrably because Rick has no understanding of her current passions and makes no effort to do so, which leads to him having consistently questioned and doubted her ability to succeed in her field. The film frames the impromptu road-trip as his attempt to ‘fix’ the issues between them, but the only thing broken by the presentation of the story is Rick’s approach to parenting in the first place. He could easily have made Katie warm to him on the way out by replacing or paying for the laptop he broke and throwing her a subscription to her YouTube channel, but then the movie would be shorter and we wouldn’t be able to pretend the conflict was anything other than his own pursuit of self-centered actualization.

That’s the other issue, of course, the way The Mitchells vs. The Machines consistently rounds back to the point that Katie is somehow shouldering half the responsibility for the father/daughter communication breakdown. But as stated above, it really has hardly anything to do with her. Katie’s succeeding on her own terms, and the only outreach she would theoretically need to do to her dad would be to make HIM feel better, something he could do himself if he’d only actually pay attention to the cool videos she keeps trying to show him and not constantly deciding that HE knows that SHE will fail. It’s a fundamentally one-sided conflict from what we’re shown, and yet the other members of the Mitchell family continuously treat Katie like she needs to accommodate her father’s personal whims and not hurt his feelings despite the fact that he’s the one who went behind her back and canceled her flight, even forcing her to miss her first week of college (!) simply because he felt sorry for himself that they didn’t like the same things anymore. Again, Katie’s doing great, it’s Rick that decides to make his problem the entire family’s problem, and while I’m going to hesitate to refer to this behavior as out-and-out abusive, it is still absurdly selfish and pointedly poor parenting. 

The movie seems to nominally strive for balance in the conflict, not making it entirely Katie’s job to fix her dad’s hurt feelings, and indeed having a whole sequence where he realizes what a Big Jerk he’s been about not trying to understand or support her passions, and resolving to actually Make An Effort moving forward. The problem is that this is still framed as one half of the equation, as Katie supposedly gets to understand where her dad is coming from, which...makes her feel better about all the times he said she would fail and so she should rely on and appreciate him more? And the reason that’s a fundamental issue is annoying, because it means we have to talk about Rick’s Stupid Fucking Cabin.

Look, I hate doing this. I personally try very hard to keep in the mindset that stories are stories and things happen in them because they are stories. I am loathe to attempt picking apart the points of particular plot points, but the problem is that this Stupid Fucking Cabin is positioned as the heart of the humanity of the entire movie, yet it hinges on a sequence of decisions that no actual human being would ever come by. First off, do you have any idea how long it takes to BUILD a home like that, let alone as one guy apparently doing it himself? Rick spent the better part of his twenties building this big Fucking Stupid Cabin to fulfill his lifelong dream of ‘Living in the woods’, only for his wife to get pregnant once it was finished, leading to him just dropping like that? Was there no planning in this family? Was Katie an accident that Rick immediately was this endeared to? I mean, he totally seems like a pro-lifer. But then why do they need to sell the Stupid Fucking Cabin on account of a kid coming along? How were Rick and Linda planning on living out their lives there if not with resources that could support them as well as a kid or two? Rick could have just raised his kids in the woods in his Stupid Fucking Cabin and they would have stood a better chance at turning out like little duplicates of himself and his own interests like he clearly wanted. That’s to say nothing of this sequence of events being framed as a ‘failure’, despite that fact that Rick handily succeeded at what he set out to do, only to turn around and abandon the thing he succeeded at himself on seemingly the same sort of impulsive whim that leads to him dragging his whole family on a road trip because he doesn’t understand YouTube. There are motivating factors to these decisions he made that could inform the whole context of this supposedly tragic backstory, but we aren’t privy to anything resembling them, and the result is a plot point that seemingly only exists to make Katie (and the audience) feel bad for Rick in the third act of the movie.

The real answer is the ultimate assertion of this thing by the finale, that Katie should be ‘grateful’ to Rick for his ‘sacrifice’ of his dream that supposedly allowed her to be in the place she is now. Except Katie had no part in Rick’s bizarre impulsive choice to build a Stupid Fucking Cabin then sell it as soon as a kid popped out so he, I guess, could feel some sense of important familial contribution. That’s to say nothing of the point about parental figures who make grand, sweeping gestures nominally for the good of their kids, but are effectively and emotionally unavailable in the day-to-day engagements of their lives. Because unlike Goofy in A Goofy Movie, Rick isn’t actually doing what he’s doing for Katie’s sake. Her motivation for most of the movie is to move away from home and go to college, a completely normal-ass thing that children do. Any of Rick’s outreach or efforts to ‘fix’ relationships and situations are purely for the sake of his own hurt feelings, and the way Katie’s mother and brother consistently push her into going along with them only highlights the overt way this whole family’s problems are hung up on the insecurities of of this single stubborn jerk. But then, that’s my other major misgiving with The Mitchells vs. The Machines: Its expected exaltation of the default biological family as some hallowed unit for which it is a tragedy to fall into any degree of dysfunction. This is with pointed dismissal towards the idea of Found Family, seen as a distraction, an obstacle to Katie realizing who her TRUE people are, and coming around to a sense of fulfillment because she managed to massage her dad’s ego for long enough that he stopped being totally dismissive of the things that brought her joy. You see, Found Families are fun, but they aren’t REAL or SPECIAL because they already accept and appreciate you for who you are, unlike these people you’re biologically obligated to share living space with for 18+ years whom you have to forge bonds with through varying degrees of communication breakdowns and compromises in self-agency.

With all that in mind, it highlights some of the smaller issues in the movie’s setup as well. This is perhaps petty, but jeez was I annoyed with the film’s framing of The Mitchells as this ~craaaazy~ ~weeeeiiiird~ family which included such outlandish quirks as ‘Dad who doesn’t understand technology’ and ‘Young boy who really likes dinosaurs’. And the wishy-washy tone of the familial conflict is echoed in the ‘The Machines’ part of the plot, which mostly led to me sitting on edge throughout the whole film as I wondered how it was going to come down on the subject of those kids and their darn smartphones. It ultimately doesn’t go full anti-technology, which makes sense given how much of Katie’s character revolves around using the stuff, to say nothing of the predilections of the people who actually, uh, made this movie. But the most it can manage is a halfhearted “Maybe unregulated big tech bad?” which even then is undercut, mostly I assume because of the various big tech companies involved in producing and streaming this thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m overall glad it doesn’t go full "durr hburr technology is bad fire is scary and thomas edison was a witch", but a lack of any insight or ideas on that front means that the familial relationship element is the only conceptual element it really has to stand on, and I just spent over 1800 words breaking down why that fundamentally didn’t work!

It’s an aggravating situation, because lord did I want to love The Mitchells vs. The Machines. It’s gorgeous, it’s got some clever bits in the writing, and it can honestly sling a punchline like nobody’s business, there are some KILLER jokes in there. But it just became impossible all the way through the end for me to engage with the heart of the movie, its central connective conflict, on the terms it wanted me to. Now it’s admittedly possible that, perhaps like Rick Mitchell, that’s my problem. I’ve seen a lot of love for this movie from my peers, and it does make me question my own projections: I don’t want to get TOO personal on main, but I admit that it’s entirely possible that people who’ve enjoyed an actually functional fatherly relationship would better engage with the emotive connections this movie wants you to make. But even with that caveat, I was able to find my own way to resonate with the similar stakes of A Goofy Movie just thanks to the more effective way that one was framed, so if this one couldn’t hook me, maybe it was The Mitchells vs. The Machines’ fault after all.

[lizacstuff]

SCK/Edser ask (33 & 34 spec)

(asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you know what happened with the second set of writers? I know Ayse left on her own accord but why the sudden shift from that second writing team to these new ones? I don't think they even announced that the writers were changing, the fans found out during the credits one day. If that second set of writers was still here, I'd be fully confident that we're going to get a great payoff with Serkan when he remembers but they're not, so my expectations are rock bottom at this point

Such a bummer! No idea what happened to them. I’m wondering if they signed on for a certain number of episodes and when those were done, they moved on? Only being around for 7 or 8 episodes is not a lot though. One wonder if it was them or the production company wasn’t happy with them? Though the episodes were pretty well written so I’d hope the production company didn’t jettison them. Or just a run of the mill scheduling conflict.

In any case I agree, I’d have so much more confidence in their execution of this story if they were still writing. 

With this new team, I honestly thought that episode 32 was decent, but 33 just sort of dashed that away it was so poorly executed. 

Anonymous said: Hi - I always value your thoughts on SCK so thanks for taking the time to reply to asks! :)

Something that’s been plaguing me since the amnesia plot began is that nobody seems to have told Serkan about the BIG DETAIL that his father was responsible for the death of Eda’s parents???! Like surely that would provide some crucial context to Serkan and raise several questions e.g how did I manage to stay in a relationship with this woman, we must have had a strong relationship/overcome huge problems/trusted eachother etc. It just baffles me that everyone seems to have forgotten about what used to be a major plot line. How do you think it could play out if Eda or maybe Aydan revealed that back story to amnesia Serkan?

Thanks, I appreciate the kind words!  Agreed! This is a headscratcher. When he came back I kind of assumed that he knew that part of the history, at least at a superficial level, just because he sat down with Engin and heard the story from his perspective. I can’t imagine Engin would leave that part out, and it’s pretty integral detail in how Eda’s grandmother, and then Eda, ended up with 45% of the company. 

I also would guess that Selin would have told him about it, just because it allows her to paint Eda as potentially someone who was out for revenge from the beginning, someone who targeted him and manipulated him because of it.

So I think he must know, at least something about it about it, what’s frustrating is that it doesn’t seem like something that weighs on him or that he’s curious about. Or perhaps when he first heard about it he compartmentalized it and it didn’t weigh with him because at that time Eda was some evil person out to manipulate him, so he hasn’t paid it much attention, but now that he’s gotten to know her and realizes he has feelings for her, he hasn’t really revisited it? He’s very confused and has a lot going on and he’s thinking about her all the time, while trying not to, so it may have gotten lost in that tug-o-war. 

I do hope it comes up and they have a conversation about it. How has he not already asked her, “If my father was to blame for your parent’s death, why would you want to marry me?” Because regardless whether or not he’s in love with her, this is new information to him.  And he hasn’t dealt with the emotional fallout of finding out his father did that and hid that, and the affect it would have had on Eda.  One would hope that even robot Bolat would feel some compassion toward a woman his father was responsible for orphaning. 

Anonymous said: one of the asks you got about serkan not remembering things via their special "objects" had me thinking about one line he says waaay back during their breakup where he says something along the lines of he "doesn't need things for him to remember her" when he gets rid of her things at his house.. i know the writers aren't writing it with that in mind bc i know even most of the fandom doesn't remember it since it's been so long, but i still think it's quite apt for the situation 🥺

YES! it’s in episode 24, when she is over at his house and she notices that none of the things from their time together are there and she says something like that it’s probably for the best because if they’re here you can’t forget. And that’s when he says:

“In my opinion, things are not needed to remember a person.” 

I agree that it’s quite appropriate for the current situation. It’s not about the things or the objects, it’s about them. 

Anonymous said: i know people feel like we've been going in circles, at to some extent we ARE.. (i mainly think as long as the engagement games keep going it will feel like that) but serkan has made huge progress since he came back in 29.. the serkan in 29 or even 30 would not be reacting like the serkan in 34.. sure he still says things that are frustrating to eda and audience (mainly to rile her up, but also bc he prob doesn't realize it's hurtful) but his progress IS happening even if it doesn't feel like it

Oh, I 100% agree. Serkan has made huge progress, the things he said to Engin this episode would have been unthinkable in any other episode since the amnesia. Serkan going to the flower shop and helping her plant terrariums would also have been unthinkable pre 32. However, I get where the frustration is coming from because he always sort of circles back to a place in his interactions with her where it feels like little to no progress has been made. Though, as I said last week, I do think they show cumulative affect, when they have those big moments where they make progress, he’s further along than he was during the last big moment. But I think him stepping really far back in other interactions is one of the problems of the writing. They need more nuance and they need to let us see more into what’s going on in his brain. 

Anonymous said:  After everything that has happened I cannot see Eda appreciating a kiss from Serkan while he is still engaged to Selin. So maybe her first reaction after the kiss is to ask if he got his memories back and then something about Selin. When it becomes clear that they are still together then I could see her telling him off. Something like “when you’re engaged you aren’t supposed to be kissing other people and if you want to kiss other people then maybe you should not be engaged.” Or even “when we were engaged if I had found out you kissed someone else, it would have killed me” so you need to figure out what you want & stop hurting people. I could care less about Selin being cheated on because she is the worst but Eda deserves way better than that. Plus it would show Serkan that she really is a good person especially since it is very clear how much she dislikes Selin. She gave back the ring after he got engaged to Selin and unlike Selin, is not willing to accept crumbs given to her by anyone let alone Serkan. Maybe that finally results in Serkan dumping Selin by the end of the episode to chase Eda. Probably grasping at straws right now but I so badly want to be positive about this next episode. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Yes, I could see something like this, but right now, if I had to bet money, I’d say that kiss is his fantasy, so we won’t actually be dealing with this issue. 

We shall see!  

Anonymous said: Will episode 34 finally be when Selin leaves? Surely 6 episodes of her is enough? 😭😭😭

It was spoiled for so long that she’d be leaving in 34, but at this point I don’t see how that would fit! She appears to have been at all the location shoots. 

What do we need to do to get rid of her? Some ancient good riddance ceremony? A gofundme? I’m in!!! Whatever it takes at this point I’ll do any ritual that will get rid of her. 

Anonymous said: I think it's interesting that Ayfer actually hasn't been that anti-Serkan since this amnesia storyline started (maybe its b/c she hasn't had too much time to think about it since she was spending all her time on Alex lol), even though it'd kinda be the perfect time to dig into it since Serkan is now treating Eda differently. But now Ayfer is better than Aydan, Miss "I knew your fiance was alive but didn't tell you." I thought what she told Eda before the restaurant was sweet. She gets 1 point.

Agreed, she gets one point. But just one. We’ll have to see how she does going forward. I kind of assume that she saw Eda’s devastation when Serkan was missing and it sort of snapped her out of her selfishness when it came to her not wanting Eda with Serkan. 

[swansstuff]

So uh, I've been thinking about a hypothetical Trucy Wright: Act Attorney and here is the very poorly written outline for it because yeah. No spoilers except the Apollo Trucy thing. Tw death, murder, blood and grieving so yeah.

Trucy's first case is literally her first ever case. This is a flashback case. We follow her as she wakes up, slightly stressed about today, Phoenix gives her cereal and a pep talk and a cryptic message. Trucy asks where Papa is, it is Miles, they are married. Phoenix is cryptic about that too. He stays behind as he "has to buy groceries" so Trucy heads into the office. Apollo greets her, it's clear they know they're siblings, and he hands her a case. Miles is prosecuting. She is fucking terrified. She goes to the crime scene, Gumshoe is the detective and he's educating his teenage sons, constant confusion of who's who, because they are twins and they look very like Gumshoe, it'll be kinda funny. Its a simple investigation. During the investigation, the player can check Trucy's profile and the profile system shows character's middle names now. We get some gems such as Klavier Hyacintha Gavin later on, the reasoning behind this is coz Trucy is nosy. The important one here is Trucy Mia Wright. She says something about how she chose her own middle name when Phoenix adopted her and she chose Mia after learning about her. Yada yada. Trucy wins the case. Edgeworth is very proud, Phoenix is in the gallery and there's a flash of him crying proud tears, Apollo hugs her afterwards, Athena congrats her.

Next case, flash forward three years later, we do not see Phoenix and nobody really mentions him. Thats because he's fucking dead but we don't know that yet. This case is a Fey case, we meet Maya who is married to Franziska and they're technically on honeymoon in Kurain and Pearl becomes the Maya to Trucy's Phoenix. Its another fey murder case. There are a few mentions of Trucy's admiration of Mia, mainly just a mirror of a few lines she's said and a conversation where her and Maya talk about her, Trucy says she would have loved to meet her and Maya explains how her spirit has been dormant for ages now and how she assumes she's moved on.

"If you want I can try and channel-"

"No no no no NO. Its ok!"

This is our first hint that Phoenix is no longer with us, but we don't know until later thats what she means. Sebastian is the prosecutor, the player finds out that Miles is taking a break from prosecuting work, Trucy already knew of course, and Sebastian is dubbed Chief until he comes back, Fran says

"It would've been me were I not on my literal honeymoon right now." We are not told why yet, but it is because of Phoenix. Kay Faraday is the detective, somebody murders someone and frames Maya, no-one is shocked by this. We also get an update on Iris, she's thriving. She wins yada yada.

Next case, a couple of months later, Trucy gets a call from a friend that the player can't identify at first. Its Katrielle Layton. She needs Trucy's legal knowledge because someone is sueing her detective agency because have you seen how they practice. This, of course, turns to murder and we get another surprise when we meet the prosecutor. Who probably has a licence to practise law in England? Simon Blackquill, he is British ok. Yeah, Trucy wins with Kat's help, we meet Ernest and Sherl and Alfendi and Flora if we have time. I miss them. Trucy and Kat have a conversation that cryptically addresses their fathers and their "whereabouts" and living up to their legacy. We see Trucy cry, but only a similar flash to AJ:AA and we do not know why. Yet.

Next case, flashback case. Trucy is the assistant on this case but we still play as her, even in the court sections since Phoenix is prepping her for the bar and getting her to give him the answers. The bar exam is only in three days. Klavier is prosecuting. The case somehow relates to Kristoph and there's the whole mirror dynamic thing of when Phoenix lost his badge. Kristoph is dead by now, but the whole thing is there was a plot inside prison to make Phoenix pay for putting a bunch of them in, Kristoph was the assumed ring leader until he died and the cops now dont know who's running it. Somebody (Godot? That would hurt big time) was their inside man, sent to figure that out, so when whoever it was turned up dead, the whole thing got exposed. We get a bit of a Mia moment in the trial where Trucy tells Phoenix to flip over the receipt (thats evidence for some reason). Phoenix says "I feel like that shouldn't be the second time someone has said that to me". The killer is found, by Phoenix, and put into isolation, as have most of the other participants. We then see Trucy get her badge. They have a conversation and Trucy says Phoenix basically forgot about it for a couple of months. The case closes with a foreboding "and I forgot about it too, until..."

Next case. Phoenix is fucking murdered. Trucy gets a phone call late at night, she hears laboured breathing on the other end and a "don't forget I love you" from Phoenix. Trucy pulls a simba and goes "dad? Dad?!!" And the line goes dead. The player is presented with a choice of who to call. They have two phone calls. Who they choose first makes no difference, but the second time they are forced to choose Ema who will trace Phoenix's phone call. They could call Apollo and he would comfort her, Miles would panic, Maya would say he was just messing around, Athena would sense her distress and say she's coming over etc. You could attempt to call Phoenix back but he would not answer and you would be allowed to call someone else. Ema then traces the phone call and we follow Trucy to the crime scene. We get a truly haunting cutscene where everything kinda goes blurry except Phoenix's face and the blood. Trucy doesn't cry. She stands there in shock. The WAA is there in various states of shock and upset. Return of grieving Apollo I guess. Miles turns up and the look on his face is haunting. Trucy and him make eye contact and they share the thought of something has to be done. And then. "The bar association took me off the case and Papa too, they said we were too close to it. As a result, we never found out who did it... Until now." And we see a determined Trucy face. We jump forward to where we last saw Trucy, she and Pearl are coming back from England and its a bit more cheery. Trucy sends Pearl on a train back to Kurain and heads on home. She enters the house and we see Miles pouring over Phoenix's case. He jumps up and runs towards her.

"Trucy! I think I have a lead, I-"

"Papa, you're tired, go to bed." (Or better dialogue along those lines)

Its clear he's been doing this sort of thing a lot.

"But I do! At least...I think I do..."

He trails off and rests his head in his hands.

"Do I? Or am I just a mess?"

Trucy gives him a sad smile.

"C'mon let's go to bed."

Miles returns the sad smile and fades out like all ace attorney characters do. The player is given the option to look around. There's probably some emotional dialogue and bits that give clues to how she and Miles have been fairing the past 3 years. Answer is, not very well. Examine the pile of papers on the table. Trucy will take a look and then realise her papa may have actually been onto something. Its a diagram of which prisoners knew each other, with an arrow from each leading to a defense attorney we have never met. Trucy is confused, but she calls for Miles anyway. He comes back downstairs and Trucy asks him about this lead he found.

"Well I realised all those prisoners would know this defense attorney (insert name?)"

"Why? And why would they be suspicious?'

"They (pronouns?) Were always the defense attorney who would take on the cases of those Wright had already accused. They gained a reputation of being the doomed defense attorney."

"So... They knew all the prisoners in the plot and they had a grudge against daddy... Papa I think you're onto something!"

And the case continues, since we already know who's been accused, it plays out more like an investigations game, Trucy has to prove it, with Miles' help of course, literally every other character we know and love plays a part in making sure this guy gets a guilty verdict. There is still a courtroom bit and a moment when all is looking dark, Trucy literally has a full on breakdown as the Judge threatens to remove her from the case again. Miles is by her side, they're both technically prosecution here i guess. Miles, however, is too deep in his own mental breakdown to help. Everyone else is in the gallery besides Pearl. Pearl channels Phoenix as a last hope sort of thing. Phoenix comforts her and tells her to keep fighting, he touches her badge and probably says some sort of bullshit about it. The Judge is about to bang the gavel when Trucy and Phoenix object at the same time. Miles looks up and realises whats going on and he objects too, a little later. The battle goes on until it finishes and the other attorney has a breakdown that steals little bits from every other murderer Phoenix has put behind bars.This is the one time seeing the word guilty on your screen feels good. There's a whole heartwarming celebration at the end, Phoenix sticks around for a little bit and everyone gets a bit of closure. Its assumed he's gone since Pearl passes out and Trucy dips out for a sec. She's away from the festivities, staring at the badge in her hand and we see someone coming up behind her. Maya is channelling Phoenix now. He gives Trucy a hug and utters the words "the only time a lawyer can cry is when its all over and, Trucy darling, my light, its over." Echoing both Diego and Mia.

And the screen fades to black with a final hug between father and daughter.

:)

[awyeahitssam]

Ella!EnchantedAU - Stiles has the curse of obedience. 

Scott smiled, taking his hand. 

Stiles pulled him to his feet.

The next three words the floppy-haired boy says make Stiles’ faint smile falter completely.

“Be my friend.”

...

Thing is, Stiles could have chosen to hate Scott McCall. Some days, he very nearly did.

But Stiles was compelled to be Scott’s friend. If they didn’t speak for a few days, Stiles would begin to get painful hand spasms until he at least attempted to contact the other boy. By the third day -- Stiles enjoyed nothing if not knowing the limits of his curse -- Stiles’ body moved automatically, typing out messages or walking to Scott’s house without his consent.

Stiles wasn’t a very kind child, but he never turned his acidic tongue on Scott. 

After all, even to people he liked Stiles was kind of a dick.

But when Scott said ‘let’s be friends,’ it seemed like the curse defined the word by Scott’s idea of ‘friends’ rather than Stiles.

That turned out to be a rather good thing, because Stiles was fiercely loyal and protective. Scott… wasn’t. 

...

“Behave, Stiles,” the Sheriff would snap, and Stiles would.

“Just make dinner tonight, son.”

“Tell me the truth.”

...

Stiles glanced around, trying to come up with something that didn’t have him keeping the oversized manchild afloat for another hour and keep an eye on the Kanima at the same time.  

Whiskey eyes landed on his phone.

Scott.

Derek followed his gaze, scowling harder than ever. “Don’t—“

Stiles dropped him before Derek could finish the order, swimming to the phone.

In the end, Scott was no help.

...

“You’re going to tell me where Derek is.”

Stiles grit his teeth. Like hell.

“Why would I help you?”

Peter stared at him for a long moment, eyes half-lidded. The mad glint has dimmed to something pitless. Hollow. Stiles didn’t trust it. 

“Because I’m ordering you to.”

Stiles feels his heart rate pick up, his breaths quicken, his palms start to sweat. He swallows through a dry mouth. 

Peter knows.

He knows. 

But he hadn’t actually ordered yet. 

As if hearing the thought, Peter goes on. 

“Find Derek for me.” Stiles remains still, staring Peter down, eyes condemning for the first time. There’s a vicious fury rising in his chest, wild and uncontainable. The last time Peter dealt with fire, it hadn’t ended well for him.

“Find Derek Hale as quickly as you possibly can,” the man modified, gazing back at him calmly.

Specificity. Stiles’ worst enemy. He’s good at getting off on technicalities, at disobeying the spirit of an order while still completing it, but even half-mad Peter’s too smart for that. 

Stiles’ body turned on autopilot. He snatched the laptop from Peter’s hands and swiftly logged in. He pulled up the browser with a keyboard shortcut and hacked into the wifi of the building next to them in a few short keystrokes. 

He had the tracking information off Scott’s phone inside two minutes.

Peter looked at him, looked at the results, and smiled.

...

“He’s going to kill me!” She shrieks. “You can’t let him hurt me, Noah, you’ve got to protect me—“

Claudia might be having one of her good days, and then she’ll get a glimpse of her son and have an episode. Stiles notices, of course he does, and tries to stay away. But he loves his mother. He wants to be there whenever he can, whenever she’s lucid. 

She’s the only one that knows about the curse. That knows him completely, and adores him whenever she can still recognize that he isn’t plotting to kill her.

On May 19th, Claudia looks at Stiles with tired eyes and says, “Kill me.”

It all makes a sudden, horrible sort of sense.

Claudia had known, had probably decided long ago, that Stiles would be the one to end her suffering.

Frontotemporal dementia doesn’t kill.

So Stiles does it for the disease. 

...

“Team Free Will,” Dean Winchester says from the laptop speakers. 

Stiles laughs so hard he cries.

...

He asks him. 

It’s something that eats at Stiles, even after the man is dead and buried.

Peter didn’t give Scott a choice, and he could’ve easily taken away Stiles’. Instead, he asked.

And Stiles--well.

Being a werewolf changed you fundamentally. Stiles was willing to bet that even your DNA was altered. 

He counted on it being enough. 

It wasn’t. 

He flashes preternatural blue eyes at himself in the mirror, a snarl curling his lips. 

Hates just that much harder.

...

“Shut up!” Isaac shouted.

Stiles mouth clicks. Isaac looks surprised, but he smells of terror at whatever Stiles’ face is doing. Stiles bares human teeth at him and the boy’s pulse jumps. Isaac sneers, all bravado.

Stiles leaves before he wets himself. 

...

Orders can counteract each other.

Sometimes, when Stiles really don’t want to do something, he’ll manipulate somebody into telling him to do the opposite.

The first time they’re alone, after, Peter looks at Stiles and says, “You don’t have to be friends with Scott McCall.”

A knot in Stiles mind relaxes, and then releases entirely. Stiles thinks of Scott, thinks of him without the shiny order that made him remember the good more than the bad. 

He doesn’t hate Scott, though by now he had more than enough reason to. 

But Stiles finds he doesn’t like him, either.

The black and white naïveté, the self righteousness, the way he ordered everyone around nowadays and Stiles was forced to comply.

Stiles stands abruptly, heart beating too-quick in his chest. 

Stalks forward, staring intently into the preternaturally-blue eyes of Peter Hale. The man looks almost wary until Stiles leans forward, sets a hand on his shoulder, and drags it down the line of his arm.

Scent marking him.

“Thank you,” he acknowledges, and it comes out a pleased rumble, octaves lower than his usual register. 

Peter blinks at him once, then quirks an eyebrow. He smells delighted and a bit astonished.

Stiles grins, eyes glowing. 

“I’m leaving,” he says lightly, half an offer. 

“Am I to presume that’s an invitation?”

Stiles flashes his fangs. “Presume away.”

He turns on his heel.

Peter follows.

...

Stiles’ life has never been simple, and that doesn’t change with Peter as a packmate.

Once, they stop mid-hike and Stiles peers over the cliff. There’s a few minutes of peaceful silence, and Stiles is enjoying the nature in a way he never had before, eyes closed, breeze fluttering through his growing hair.

He smiles. Steps that bit closer to the edge, enjoying the feeling of lightness and freedom. 

Then hears, “Never kill yourself.” 

Stiles feels the order snap into place. It is disproportionately light in comparison to the sensation of his stomach dropping out. 

It’s the first order Peter has given him since that night in the parking garage.

Stiles digs claws into his skin hard enough that he begins bleeding freely, and slowly turns to Peter.

There’s a glimmer of apology in his eyes, but something in his scent betrays him. Maybe he’s genuinely apologetic for betraying Stiles trust, but he doesn’t regret the order.

Stiles snarls. His wolf whimpers and snaps in his mind, wanting to turn tail and bite into Peter’s neck at the same time. Stiles feels his teeth elongate to fangs and pulls his eyes from blue, staring over the cliff once again.

The view doesn’t seem half as beautiful as it had moments ago.

It wasn’t like Stiles wanted to kill himself. If he did, he would have a long time ago. But having that option--

“How dare you,” he whispers to the open air. He’s too furious to look at Peter, too hurt to address him directly or acknowledge that this level of self-righteousness in the air could give Scott a run for his money. 

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” Peter says. 

Truth.

It almost makes it worse. Stiles bares his teeth.

“I decided to trust you,” he says. “And you just spat on it. Pack doesn’t betray pack.”

Peter meets his gaze steadily. He looks wary, but he doesn’t say anything in his defense.

Stiles wants to rage at him, wants to use words to cut into that calm facade until he bleeds. ‘You and your niece are very alike,’ he almost says, but Stiles isn’t that hasty.

Isn’t that cruel, though he wants to be.

“What if hunters capture me? Torture me? What if I go mad from it? I don’t even get the option of biting off my own tongue now, Peter?” 

“I would come for you,” the man says quietly. 

Stiles roars.

Peter’s eyes widen, and he takes a short step back before standing his ground. He smells concerned and surprised, but not apologetic.

“Don’t follow me,” he snaps, shaking with the urge to destroy.

Stiles is a very angry individual.

Having no say will do that to you.

...

“Take it off,” Stiles snarled, pulling Peter’s hair harshly. 

The man met his gaze, blue eyes dazed and dilated. Then, after another long moment of staring, shook his head.

“Can’t lose you,” he rasped from between fangs. “I won’t.”

Stiles’ laugh edged on manic. “You already have, you fool.” 

When Peter woke in Deaton’s shop four days later, Stiles was long gone.

...

There have been moments.

Moments when Stiles was absolutely certain he was about to die.

Like when Jackson sneered, “Kill yourself,” and Stiles’ hands found the closest sharp object and aimed it unerringly at his carotid artery. Like when his dad—

Well. He tries not to think of his dad. 

But somehow this—emotion—is harder to manage. The level of betrayal that can only mean he trusted Peter in the first place. 

Stiles’ world crashed down on a pleasant autumn day during a walk with his packmate. 

And the ruins continue to burn for a while yet.

...

“As you can imagine, I don’t like people taking away my ability to choose,” he says, almost lightly. “When I was nine my mother made me kill her. When I was twelve my dad almost killed me by saying something careless when he was drunk. I was forced to be Scott’s friend for eleven years.”

“None of them set out to hurt me,” Stiles acknowledged. “But they all did. I trusted each one of them, and they came so close to tearing apart the fundamentals of who I am.” 

Stiles’ eyes blazed red when he turned to Peter. 

“You know that kid who never did anything he was told? That’s who I am inside. The only person I should have to answer to is myself, but that was taken away from me a very long time ago.” Stiles sighs warily. He suddenly looks far older than his twenty-two years. “You’re the first person I willingly offered my trust to in years, and you shattered it. And you weren’t sorry, not really, or at least not until later, when you realized what it cost you.” 

Peter swallowed heavily. He smelled tired, and very, very sad. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice little more than a rasp. “I am, Stiles. You can kill yourself. You can do anything you want. I’m sorry.”

Stiles huffed a laugh, not sounding very amused at all, and Peter felt a displacement in the air just as Stiles appeared in front of him, red eyes boring down into his blue.

“You think I would return before breaking the curse?” he said wonderingly. “I trust no one that much, Peter.”

Peter swallowed heavily, awaiting the inevitable blow. He bared his neck, just a bit, even knowing what was coming.

Peter jerked when a cold nose brushed against his neck, rubbing up the line of his carotid. He felt like his heart was in his throat, jumping wildly and very audibly. 

“You…”

“I,” Stiles agreed, more than a touch mockingly. He sighed at whatever look was on Peter’s face at that, and pulled him in closer. “You’re an idiot. I can do whatever I want now, Peter.”

Peter shifted as fingers combed through his hair. Peter made a strange sound, a mix between a purr and an engine revving. “I love you, though.”

Peter stared at him.

“Oh.”

Stiles huffed a laugh, leaning forward to brush their cheeks together. Scenting. 

“And here I thought I was choosing such an intelligent packmate,” he said, more fond than mocking this time. When he pulls back the smile in his voice is gone, his eyes back to their normal honeydew. “Don’t think my loving you will change anything, Peter. Betray me again and I will rip your throat out.” 

Peter whines, high and embarrassing. Stiles makes a low, rumbling noise in response and leans in, kissing his forehead lightly. 

“And I’ll rip out the throat of anybody who threatens you, of course.” 

The noise subsides, and Peter sighs, smelling content, confused, aroused. Stiles soaks in the scent without any intention of remedying the confusion for a while yet.

The arousal, however, he can do something about.

[magicofthepen]

Gallifrey Relisten: Spirit

This reaction post is almost 4,000 words long, which, given the episode in question.....is very on brand for me. So here have a whole lot of ramblings, in which I go back and forth between “I love this so much” and “hmm yes I do think Spirit is overhyped by virtue of being The Romana/Leela Episode,” and back and forth between “I will be objective and not get overtly shippy about this” and “I’m definitely getting overtly shippy about this.” 

(Includes discussion of The Apocalypse Element, the rest of Series 2, Intervention Earth and Enemy Lines, also a bit about Time War 3, but only in the last section.) 

Things that are absolutely not overrated and deserve every bit of the hype:

1. The premise

Like, hold on. Hold on. Here we have an entire episode resting on the premise of “Romana wants Leela to stay on Gallifrey so badly that in spite of being y’know, the President of a planet, and specifically a planet currently undergoing major social changes and dealing with evil eldritch beings, the #1 most important thing for her to do with her time is take Leela on a private vacation off world to convince Leela why she should stay on Gallifrey.” (Hint: it’s. it’s for Romana.) 

She also then proceeds to be very bad at using her words when it comes to this premise because Romana is all into grand gesture and very little into actually talking about her feelings. Of course. But in an episode that rests on the idea of Romana as the Rational, Logic-Driven One, and Leela as the Instinctive, Emotion-Driven One, it is very good that the premise of the episode is entirely driven by Romana’s emotions. (Wait. Am I going to talk myself out of the idea that Spirit creates these overly simplistic contrasts between Romana and Leela by arguing that it also muddies them at the same time? .....I still think the “overly simplistic” thing is true to an extent. But stay tuned.)

2. The core emotional story

I’m deeply into Gallifrey for the relationships between the main characters, so Spirit is vastly appealing on that front. 

The central question of Spirit is: can Leela trust Romana? Leela’s been deeply betrayed by her husband, she feels lost and adrift and she’s doubting her own ability to judge people. (“He stood before me as Torvald, and I did not know him. I had thought myself to have a keener eye.” / “But is his the only trust I may have given in error?”) Leela’s doubting her own instincts specifically, which is why it’s so important that this episode has Romana move from being more dismissive of Leela’s instinctive, emotional approach to the world, to understanding where Leela’s coming from and appreciating her instincts and worldview. Leela needs to trust not just Romana, but also herself.

And it is 1. important to explore this! Shoutout to Gallifrey for not brushing aside the emotional repercussions of Andred’s betrayal on Leela’s close relationships in general and her own image of herself! and 2. intersects in super fascinating ways with Romana’s trust issues.

Romana gets a hard time for the “valuable asset” thing, which. Fair. But I think it is important to acknowledge the premise here — the whole vacation, everything Romana is actually doing screams “I care about you very much on a personal level,” and just because she isn’t saying that doesn’t mean she isn’t showing that. Because she has her own baggage when it comes to friendship and trust, and a lot of that does loop back around to “being imprisoned for twenty years and having no one come to save you really messes you up. on so many levels.” 

(Also I have to mention the end of The Apocalypse Element because that last scene with the Doctor and Romana really established how I looked at Romana and her close personal relationships moving forward. Because yeahhhh maybe having the one (1) person who is specifically your Friend (and not your colleague, or advisor, or anything related to The Presidency) go “yeah you can clean up this mess right! cool bye!” after you’ve gone through decades of trauma immediately followed by needing to repel an invasion of your planet....maybe that might make you distrust that anyone in the universe is actually going to care about you as a person anymore, and not see you as The President of Gallifrey first and foremost). 

Bottom line: Romana really, really likes Leela (.....we all can decide in what way....), but also has a whole lot of doubt that other people could care about her as a person, doubt that it’s even worth letting herself be that emotionally vulnerable with someone else, because what if they throw her trust and care back in her face? And so this whole episode, there’s this undercurrent of wanting to trust each other and wanting to care about each other simmering under the surface for the both of them, but they’re both having trouble really seeing and believing what each other is feeling and I love it. I love this kind of interesting, complicated relationship struggle so much, and I love how Spirit has a positive ending, where they both manage to convey to each other in one way or another that they really do want to be around each other. ( “I was so alone in the world of dreams when you left. The wildlands were dark and so quiet. I do not wish to be alone.” / “There will be a place for you with me, for always. Whatever face I wear.” ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh) 

(Sure, the later episodes of the season fuck everything up again, but we are Not Talking about Insurgency/Imperiatrix here.) 

(We are also Not Talking about Intervention Earth/Enemy Lines....okay I’ll talk a little about IE/EL, but only because when relistening to Spirit there’s this sort of elephant in the room with “There will be a place for you with me, for always. Whatever face I wear.” And that elephant is the writers deciding that when Romana regenerated, she would abandon Leela, which...hmmm. To be fair, I have lots of more complex, specific thoughts about what might have happened emotionally and literally in that thankfully jettisoned timeline, but the bottom line is that I was and still am very *side eyes* at that writing choice.) 

3. The chair scene

Oh my god. Oh my god. This scene is actually brilliant and delightful on every relisten, I want it framed please?? 

I think it’s probably iconic because it’s just so happy, and it is so so wonderful to have a moment like that, with the two of them making up a silly story to Hallan about what happened to the window and laughing about it. And it is good! It’s so good! (A side note: Romana in particular in this episode has that “audibly smiling” tone of voice so so much more than usual, in addition to her overall tone having very clearly shifted away from “presidential” for the majority of the episode and y’all.....it’s so excellent to hear, that is such a rare thing.)

Also specifically, it’s the fact that Leela is like ugh this room is too stuffy :( and Romana immediately is like “I must fix this, I need to make her happy” and does something so ridiculous and impulsive just to please Leela.......again, this episode is pulling a Romana Has Too Many Feelings and is acting on her emotional instincts thing......yes. 

“You’re a breath of it yourself in the Capital.” “Oh Romana, nice words will not make me stay.” I’m sorry but Romana’s delivery of this line is so flirtatious? (And Leela going ah no, you can’t flirt your way out of this.) 

Things that are......not good:

1. The science vs. spirituality dichotomy (and how it makes the characters look)

The whole evolution vs. creation discussion thing not only feels too simplistic for the characters, but it also feels like it’s deliberately painting Leela in a negative light? To have Leela specifically going I don’t believe in evolution when the audience is going to disagree with her and bounce off of that....yeah. It also feels like the whole exaggerated ~super in tune with nature, doesn’t know or believe things about science~ thing is leaning into the racist indigenous stereotypes her character is too often linked to.

And on top of that, it doesn’t feel in character? Classic Who episodes don’t stick in my brain that well so my memory isn’t super clear on the details, but Leela was banished from her tribe for questioning their beliefs. Plus she learned that her society’s social divisions were based on misinformation and forgotten history (having more information was important, it changed things for her world). And she was the one who wanted to leave and travel, and also has always showed a lot of interest in learning new things. To have Leela so deeply clinging to the beliefs she learned when she was young, without any of that questioning or the nuance of weaving in new things she’s learned with the old......it feels reductive. (There could be so much more nuance here re: how living so long away from the Sevateem and having to defend her background so much on Gallifrey has affected her relationship with the culture and beliefs she grew up in, but Spirit has none of that.) 

2. The mindswap’s lack of nuance 

There’s a similar issue here with the mindswap, where Leela especially comes off as over-simplified. I don’t know if this was an acting choice or a directing choice, but the over-the-topness of Lalla’s performance during the mindswap really feeds that (the way Romana’s voice sounds so different when she’s “acting like Leela”, while Leela still sounds fundamentally like herself when she’s acting more like Romana — why the difference?). Also, Romana is a lot more helpless and distressed when she has part of Leela in her mind, which again, does not make Leela come off as especially competent (even though she is). There are times when this episode feels like it’s trying harder to put Romana and Leela into these boxes than it is at trying to break down those boxes and yeah, all around I wish there was more nuance.

3. The interrupting of the vacation date, damn it, do you think I care about a “plot”?

Alright, alright this one is not in the same category as the other two. It is absolutely not a valid criticism, it is purely the “I want this audio to cater to me, personally” part of my brain getting disappointed every time I relisten when Wynter crashes the vacation. Specifically, when they’re all alone in the woods together having important personal conversations and Leela’s decided that they’re camping out for the night....maybe I just wanted to hear the overnight camping trip, y’know. Maybe I just wanted them to cuddle beneath the stars. (Also this will come back big time next episode, but I very much back away from horror of Wynter’s mutilation, I am a squeamish person and the Wynter thing is not my favorite plot.) 

Misc liveblogging things: 

“I’m sorry I had to have you dragged here to my quarters. I have requested an audience with you several times on a matter of security but have received no answer.” — It’s unclear exactly how much time has passed between Lies and Spirit, but not too long(?) and Leela’s been trying to track down Andred a lot during this time (which means that once again, Romana’s specifically taking Leela away from looking for Andred....).

Leela scathingly calling Romana “Madam President” oof. (I think this moment may have been what I was thinking of re: Leela only uses Romana’s title when she’s annoyed or angry, will have to note if/when it happens again.) 

“It is your world and not mine. Although I have lived here for many years it has never been my home. And I am unhappy.” I know I’ve said this before, but Leela’s concept of home is very much the people she cares about and hhhhh so many feelings about this throughout the series.

Oof Darkel’s got Romana pegged with the “how far will she go” thing.

Is Narvin......being nice re: Romana having a trying time? Or sarcastic? Or is he just like oh thank god she’s off the planet for a hot sec I can take a breath. 

Brax saying it was him that recommended Romana leave and insisting they don’t talk about it — he’s sooo covering for her, but also I want to know how that convo went....how exactly did Romana explain the “I’m going to take Leela on a private vacation off-world for.....personal reasons.....please cover for me slash be my emergency contact” thing? 

“So I can only conclude from your recent behavior that you’re experiencing a considerable amount of pain.” — I mean, Leela did explicitly say earlier that she was unhappy. Still, it is a really good moment here — Romana saying I see that you’re hurting and I want to help. 

.......and that’s right before “valuable asset” line. You were doing so good, Romana. (She does say friend though! I mean, she says it like it’s an ordeal, but she does immediately course correct to admit that Leela’s her friend.) Also....I’m having some kinda thought here about the “asset” line — how she compliments Leela in terms of her usefulness is icky, but I think Romana often judges her own worth based off of how useful she is to Gallifrey? I think there are several moments throughout the series that point to Romana basing her worth as a person off of her work and how successful she is at protecting her world and making it better, which is just an overall unhealthy mindset to be in (and this says something about the toxicity of Gallifreyan culture possibly but also something about the lingering trauma of Etra Prime and living for decades in a place where her life itself (whether she survived) was directly tied to her usefulness...going to mull this over more, but I think there’s something here). 

Hallan is so awful about Leela, and he goes on for a bit about how he should be watching the president at all times — aka there is definitely resentment within the Chancellery Guard towards Leela for taking the role of bodyguard to the president. And this is mixed in with nasty comments about Andred, former member of the Chancellery Guard, for marrying an alien. 

“A marriage is about maintaining the power of the chapters, strengthening alliances between houses” — it is interesting how more than once in the audios they talk about marriage as primarily a political thing in Time Lord culture (at least among the elite), with love being an exception and something disapproved of. 

The “Leela’s been on Gallifrey for twenty-five years” math......does not work. Between The Invasion of Time and the Gallifrey audios, Romana left Gallifrey, ended up traveling with the Doctor for a while, stayed behind in E-space for a while, returned from E-space to Gallifrey, became President, got captured by the Daleks and held prisoner for twenty years, and according to Square One I believe it’s been “years” since The Apocalypse Element.......and apparently only twenty-five years have passed on Gallifrey? Even if we pretend that no time passed on Gallifrey during Romana’s adventures with the Doctor and in E-space, that timeline is still questionable. Leela has to be on Gallifrey for a lot longer than that. 

“I’ve searched for [my purpose] in many places.” — It’s interesting that Romana lists off the places she’s tried to find purpose, but doesn’t say anything at all about Gallifrey — Leela is the one to say that Romana has found her purpose on Gallifrey, Romana never actually says that. (I have...lot of feelings about Romana’s very complicated relationship to Gallifrey.) 

Romana mentions Pandora predicting that she would rule over Gallifrey, and predicting that Romana would let that happen — Romana is worried about Pandora in particular, and also there’s the implication that she wants Leela to stay to help her hold onto herself and prevent that future. 

Just ahhhh the scene by the fire where Leela decides, after avoiding too much discussion about what she’s feeling, to be emotionally honest: “It frightens me to think that I have spent so much of my life with another in a trust that I believed was true and strong, one that could not sicken, and that I was wrong.”; “You are my friend. I know that, for all we disagree on. And yet, if tomorrow you grew sick, you could throw off your form like an old sheet and be a person I would no longer recognize, not with my eyes nor with my heart.” It’s a good scene!!

The whole “who is the broken man?” mystery is good on first listen I suppose, but I’ve never quite bought that they can’t ID him. Can the Time Lords not do a quick DNA test or something? (To be fair, these are the same people who missed that Andred was impersonating someone else for months, but at least here they actively know that they need to be figuring out who he is.)

The herbal remedy — “The outsiders use it when in pain or distress.” Confirmation that Leela does hang out with the outsiders on Gallifrey. 

“I’ve been inside these things I don’t know how many times and I assure you nothing could go wrong.” Post-Etra Prime Romana trying to get some sleep for once tbh (also okay she does have some healthy coping mechanisms apparently). 

“It speaks to your innermost wishes and wonders and indulges them while you dream” “There is a wild woman inside me” I’m so sorry but did they really not intend to making the sensory tanks and mindswap sound incredibly erotic because

“It is winter here.” *eyebrow waggle*

I do not like hearing stabbing sounds! (Also apparently this season has a thing for Romana kinda sorta killing people with knives.) 

Leela wakes up a bit later than Romana (she stays in the dream space longer), and she says she heard Pandora’s voice — Romana dismisses that, but I do wonder what exactly happened in the dreamspace after Romana woke and what additional things Leela might have heard/seen??

Hallan is so shitty, kick his ass Leela.

I do wonder why the subplot with Melyin and Hallan was included? Was it to introduce Hallan as a character and flesh out the side characters so we know them a bit better when they’re around with the Wynter subplot? (Personally, I don’t enjoy how earlier in the episode they keep cutting away from Romana and Leela’s really important and interesting conversation to those two sides characters, so I’m not sure they needed that storyline?) But there is this sort of interesting moment where Melyin talks about freeing herself from this place where she’s isolated and Leela sympathizes — and yet at the same time is choosing to go back to Gallifrey. There is potentially an interesting parallel here, but I’m not exactly sure what the parallel is supposed to be saying about Leela.

“And what about you? Back to Gallifrey and your husband?” “I am returning to Gallifrey, yes. It is not yet time for me to leave.” Leela expertly dodging mentioning Andred in her response or referring to him as her husband. Actually I kinda want to pay more attention to when she does or doesn’t refer to Andred as her husband. I’m pretty sure she calls him her husband after he dies because that is who she’s grieving, but in this episode she talks about wanting to confront him and hurt him or make peace with him, and in A Blind Eye she was all “my husband is dead” (and I think there are some things in Insurgency about this) —there is a question here about whether or not she still considers herself married to Andred at this point.   

How did the knowledge of events get out on Gallifrey? Brax says if people were watching his movements closely it wouldn’t be hard to put things together — but also he probably knows that Romana needs to return for Gallifrey for events to play out, so it seems quite possible that he essentially leaked the info himself (knowing that the events of Pandora are coming....oof). 

Leela talks about returning to Gallifrey avenge the broken man — in series 2 and 3, she frequently turns to vengeance as something to give her motivation and purpose when she’s unhappy and grieving, but I forgot it came up as early as Spirit ahhh yikes. 

The (shippy) elephant in the room:

(Includes vague mentions of Time War 3.) 

As a final thing, I do want to mention that while this episode has a reputation of being really gay (because yep it so so subtextually gay)....I do always remember that it is only subtext. Specifically in a “isn’t it interesting that other ships between main characters get clearly teased as romantic possibility, but when it’s the core relationship of the show that just so happens to be between two characters played by women, they would never explicitly hint that there might be anything romantic going on there” way. (For a long time, I tried to convince myself this didn’t bother me. It does.) 

Like don’t get me wrong, I adore their friendship and I am very cool with their relationship being entirely platonic in the audios. However, my feelings are also very context-dependent, and the context is an audio drama series in which the only explicitly queer characters are side/minor characters who die horribly (and also only exist in the very recent releases). There are no canon f/f relationships or canonically queer women in the entire series (no, Leela/Veega doesn’t count, they were pretty explicit on that being not canon), in contrast with plenty of canon m/f relationships. This is also why I say that I’d be 100% unbothered if Gallifrey really was equal-opportunity devoid of romance (I really genuinely enjoy the friendship-centric narrative of this series, it’s so good) or even had significant canonically queer side characters, but when there’s such a pointed ignoring of any queer subtext and a general ‘would never ever make any main character canonically queer’ vibe throughout the whole series (I am looking at you Unity) it’s.....hmmm. It just doesn’t feel good, you know? 

To end on a lighter (ish) note, going to talk about shippy things for a sec — so I have many headcanon universes that float around in my brain, but generally speaking when I’m writing Romana/Leela fic or thinking about the possibility of their relationship being romantic at some point, I tend to go for things happening between them later in the audios (ideally post-Enemy Lines), with the early series just being endless unresolved tension. But gosh there is a part of me that’s interested in the disaster universe where they do get romantically involved with each other post-Spirit (because as far as the early series go, it does feel like it has to be post-Spirit, when Leela does make the choice to stay with Romana/for Romana on Gallifrey) because oh god that’s so emotionally messy. (It’s only been six months and change since Leela’s husband first disappeared! We’re only two episodes away from Andred’s death! She’s not in a healthy emotional space to be doing this right now, and neither is Romana, frankly! Especially given what’s going to happen in the next several episodes.....but oof wow there’s certainly a story to explore there). 

This was not a lighter note, I’m so sorry. Anyways, friendly reminder that I’m always down to go on and on about Romana/Leela, I have....so many feelings about them. Also if you’ve actually read through this entire post, wow and thank you??

Previous Episode Reaction: Lies