#seven years later and it's truer than ever

[theoldlesbianwithcats]

22.02.17 — On lesbian socialisation (by sespursongles)

We all know how female socialisation works, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone discuss the concept of lesbian socialisation, how it affects us, with what consequences — and how it is like female socialisation, squared.

To put it in a nutshell — female socialisation teaches you that you are inherently worth less than men and you must always defer to them and prioritise them and their feelings over yourself and other women. Lesbian socialisation teaches you that you are inherently worth less than male-attracted women and you must always defer to them and prioritise them and their feelings over yourself and other lesbians.

Lesbians are of course affected by both, although being gay can help us fight some aspects of female socialisation—e.g., the need to prioritise men or win male approval. Not that it doesn't affect us at all, but the message that “you are worth less than men” does impact you differently when men are worth less than women to you in your love life, and “you must behave in X and Y ways and treat other women like rivals for male interest” sounds like irritating white noise when getting male interest isn't a desired outcome.

On the other hand, we have nothing to help us resist the impact of lesbian socialisation, because we love women. We are fully behind the idea of prioritising women. Add to this a healthy dose of internalised lesbophobia, and we are now fully behind the idea that mlw are worth more than lesbians and we should prioritise these women in particular, always.

Not to mention the factor of our social isolation and quasi-total lack of outside support — how every other group and political faction hates us in a different (but, deep down, the same) way, how desperate we are for allies.

I wrote a post last week about lesbophobia and double standards in the radfem community, and one part of it was directed every bit as much at lesbians than at mlw: “Het/bi women are really seen as inherently more important and worthy of respect than lesbians, aren’t they? Can’t waste your shock and anger on people who hate lesbians because you must save it for when a lesbian calls a manloving woman a manlover.”

I wrote that post because there were lesbians who were much more shocked and outraged at other lesbians for hurting a bi woman’s feelings by calling her a lesbophobe and a “manlover”, than at said bi woman for being a lesbophobe who defended the idea that lesbians can be manlovers. (She was defending a book I mentioned previously, written by a bi woman, in which a lesbian falls in love with a guy.) There were also lesbians who hurried to write posts urging other lesbians to calm down and be nice when we started reacting to the lesbophobia, but felt no need to write posts telling mlw who were being lesbophobic to calm down and be nice. And there were lesbians who felt the need to write posts reassuring “our bi sisters” that we still love them and we know most of them aren’t like that and NotAllBis and wlw solidarity, but didn’t feel the need to respond to this surge of lesbophobia with comforting posts of solidarity to fellow lesbians. That’s what I call lesbian socialisation. Put manloving women first, always. Suck it up, be nice, placate, placate. Can’t risk alienating the very few “allies” we have.

Female socialisation teaches you “it’s in your best immediate interests to care more about men’s feelings than about women’s oppression.” Lesbian socialisation teaches you “it’s in your best immediate interests to care more about manloving women’s feelings than about lesbian oppression.”

And that’s exactly why the queer/bi/trans community has been able to dismantle the lesbian community so easily and walk all over us. Because all lesbians have been taught to never dare prioritise ourselves and our own wants and needs, to always put every other group’s feelings and wishes before ours, especially other women and other marginalised groups who need our help and compassion*. Gay men don’t have this problem and so they still have “exclusionary” spaces. *And these groups know it. They might not know it consciously, but they know it, and they exploit it.

Every time a het radfem reminds a lesbian of how dangerous and painful partnering with men is, every time a bi woman throws those bi suicide and rape statistics at us, every time a “trans lesbian” talks about how much it hurts his feelings to be rejected by mean lesbians who won’t date him, they are counting on lesbian socialisation to kick in, waiting for lesbians to feel terrible and forget about our own best interests and duly start prioritising theirs.

Het radfems do this deliberately, to get us to admit that het privilege isn’t really a thing and, back in the day, to convince lesbians to accept their political lesbianism rubbish (“Why won’t you welcome us in your community as your lesbian sisters? Do you really want us to go back to our hurtful hetero relationships?”). Bi women do this deliberately, to guilt-trip us into “including” them everywhere and shut us up when we talk about their lesbophobia. “Trans lesbians” do this deliberately, to get us to fuck them. (Men don’t have complicated motivations).

They all know the stereotypes (they create them) that are an integral part of lesbian socialisation, teaching us our worthlessness. The mean lesbian, the angry lesbian, the manhating lesbian, the ugly hairy rabid hysterical cruel insensitive heartless biphobic transphobic gatekeeping selfish exclusionary oppressive genital-fetishising lesbian.

Lesbian socialisation is the incredibly useful and necessary extension of female socialisation. It functions to keep the women most detached from patriarchal institutions, the women who least need men, who have the most reasons to rebel, quiet and well-behaved. Growing up as a lesbian, you receive female socialisation, hear that as a woman you are subhuman and born to love men, serve men, worship men, and you feel angry. But you also receive lesbian socialisation, hear that you are not merely subhuman but subwoman, lower than low, if you turn into one of those crazy rabid angry lesbians, and you back down.

And other groups know how to use all these hateful messages and stereotypes against us, either throwing them at us outright, or subtly reminding us of them, then watching us desperately scramble trying to prove that they aren’t true, or at least not true of me. They know.

So, it would be good if lesbians knew, too. Be aware that lesbian socialisation exists, that it affects you, and that other groups use it against you. Notice patterns. Notice in what contexts the calls for “empathy”, “solidarity”, “sisterhood”, politeness and niceness start flowing. Notice in what contexts other groups give you tragic statistics about their own oppression. Notice when you start feeling bad and guilty and ask yourself why. Who are you prioritising? (Usually, yourself and/or your fellow lesbians.) Whose feelings are you ignoring? Who are you concretely hurting? (Usually, no one. Prioritising lesbians does not actively hurt other groups, no matter how badly they want us to believe that—using the aforementioned tragic statistics as well as words like “denying us” to make us feel like our bodies, affection, time, solidarity and emotional labour are as necessary to them as oxygen.)

And remind yourself that it’s okay to prioritise lesbians, and that you do not have to care about people and groups who have shown time and again that they do not care about you. When a group has a long history of disregard or blatant hatred of lesbians and shows zero willingness to change, it’s okay not to care anymore. It’s okay to answer questions like “Do you support X group?” (trans people, radfems, gay men, bi women…) with “No. I support lesbians.”

Because you are not required by law to support groups who do not support you back, let alone groups who are actively promoting an ideology that hurts you and your community. It’s nice to be nice and polite and supportive, but when the niceness and politeness and support always flow in the same direction, at some point, it’s time to stop. Allow yourself to stop. (At the very least, allow other lesbians to stop and don’t lecture them for not being sufficiently nice and polite to the groups that you, personally, still have some faith in. She probably has good reasons for losing her faith in them.)

If you do stop, you’ll probably feel very guilty at first (they’ll make sure you do), but it will get easier. You might even start feeling better about yourself now that you stopped caring about some groups who never cared about you.

And finally, please keep in mind that if you don’t prioritise yourself and other lesbians, no one else will. No other group will care. Not even marginalised groups who share some aspect of their oppression with us. Not het women, not trans people, not gay men, not bi women. No other group will defend us, support us and prioritise our hurt feelings over their oppression — what they constantly demand of us. No matter how nice, accommodating, polite, helpful we are to them. It’s never going to be our turn.

[court-jobi]

For the pick some numbers ask:

19. have you ever been to New York?

25. role model

37. favourite actor/actress

Please and thank you!!

Thanks for playing, @middleearthpixie

19. I have!! and it was the trip of a lifetime that couldn't have come at a more perfect time. Not to launch into a sob story, but just two weeks before this photo was taken, my (then) husband dropped the largest bomb on me that began our split. But oh, what refreshment, reinvention, and straight up adventure was to await me on this work trip just a few days later. New York was everything I expected it to be: larger than life, and yet still so full of regular, everyday joys that I couldn't believe I could do-- BUT IN NEW YORK! I saw a show on Broadway, watched my students sing on Carnegie Hall's center stage, ate the best soup dumplings of my life, and took a boat to THE Lady Liberty at night. It's not movie effects, yall. It's very real. I REALLY MET BALTO!!!

Moral of the story, internet strangers-- Just look at this girl and know when I say: a picture may say a thousand words, but even thousands more that you'll never see are under the surface... and yet they didn't keep her down. You WILL come up from rock bottom. You will not stay there~

ok (sniff whew) moving on

25. you're on the same wavelength as @sotwk!! Answered that one HERE!

37. AHHHHH MAKING ME CHOOSE?? How dare ye as me to confront my heart's constant battle... Oh, wait, I brought this on myself.

Well, I guess I would say... to know me as a person is to know me as a forever lover of Harrison Ford. Any age, any genre, I just love that guy. Deep cut: Six Days, Seven Nights is one of my all time favorite movies!

No truer words spoken: "It's not the years, honey; it's the mileage". Swooning. Swooning I tell you.

[weasleydream]

The girl of the 12, Grimmauld Place

Hey guys! Here is a Fred imagine!

I have to say I’m quite proud of this one, it’s a bit longer than what I’m used to but I really like it. Plus I’ve discovered I’m a sucker for Wolfstar in the role of the protective fathers and it gave me another idea. I don’t know yet if it will be a series or just very long but I can ensure you our dear Sirius and Remus will be there! (and it will be angsty but you don’t need to know it right now)

I guess I can say there’s a light mention of sex but really nothing shocking.

Anyway as usual feel free to give me feedbacks, and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist 

(gif not mine) 

The night was cold for a June night. The skin of my arm was bare but the occasional goosebumps were nothing compared to my tremors of fear. I was holding firmly my wand, in fact, I held it as if my life depended on it. Which was truer than ever. 

A few hours earlier, my life was totally normal. Well, as normal as it could be for the daughter of two members of the American part of the Order of the Phoenix obsessed with revenge. My parents were both locked in an office arranged especially for whatever concerned the former Death Eaters, probably mumbling incoherent things they were the only ones to understand, and I was in my room, staring into emptiness while daydreaming about futile things when everything had begun. I didn’t know when the Death Eaters had intruded our house, nor did I know how they had managed to do it, but I had understood something was wrong the moment my father had screamed. I had quickly grabbed my wand and made my way downstairs, having good sense enough to stay hidden despite my fear. The four men hadn’t had any difficulty to kill both my parents, and I had heard one of them shouting the others to come upstairs find me. My heartbeat had increased at an incredibly speed and I had done the first thing I had thought about: getting out by the window. With a wave of my wand, I had freed the tiny bird my parents kept in a little cage in case of emergency (“It will know where to go if something bad happens.” My father had assured me.) 

And now, I was walking at a constant speed, always glancing above my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t followed and cursing because I was unable to apparate. I had been raised like a soldier, yet my parents had never thought it would be useful for me to be able to apparate. I groaned and turned in another empty street of the neighborhood without history of the suburbs around New-York. The neighbors would gossip for sure. 

A cat ran between my legs and I jumped, ready to cast a spell. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what the bird would do, and I didn’t know what the Death Eaters would do. It was a lot of unknown. Suddenly, I heard a pretty melody. Looking up, I saw the red bird I had freed half an hour earlier. It landed on my shoulder, repeating once more its song, and vanished as quickly as it had came. Roughly three seconds later, I heard a soft pop and Remus Lupin was standing in front of me. 

Remus was the only British I knew. My parents had been close to him and his friends - the Marauders, if I remembered correctly - one of them being my mother’s half brother. It was her favourite tragic story to tell, how her beloved Peter along with James and Lily Potter had been betrayed by this awful Sirius Black. Remus was the only one who had bothered to come in America to see my parents and me, and I had seen him a few times in my life. He had always seemed quite sick and tired, but it was nothing compared to what he looked like tonight. I glanced at the sky - yes, almost the full moon. I knew about Remus’ secret, he had told me about it when I had asked him why he had scars when I was seven. I had never been afraid of him, he was the only one I could consider like a friend. 

“Y/N, what happened?” 

His voice was quiet, and he grabbed my arm. 

“My parents are dead. Death Eaters. How is it possible?” 

Remus groaned. In a few words, he managed to explain me what had happened in England the day before. It looked like the 24th of June would stay in the world’s memory as the day He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. 

A few hours passed - the time for Remus to summon a Portkey and contact Albus Dumbledore with a bird like the tiny red one. I was now in front of the safest place for me, in Remus’ words. 

“Welcome to the Order Headquarters, Y/N.”

The 12, Grimmauld Place was quite a strange house. Its facade was completely run-down and the windows were dirty. I had imagined a lot of things for the Order of the Phoenix, but not this. Remus had told me about the Secret Keeper, that it was protected with strong spells, but after entering, I was pretty sure it was useless. Who would approach these giant cobwebs and this awful portrait screaming whereas I had just hit the umbrella stand? 

I followed Remus in a long corridor and he gently pushed me into a big living-room. Three persons were here, but I only recognized one: Sirius Black. I groaned and narrowed my eyes. My mother had told me a lot about him, how he was the biggest git at school, how is family was the typical pure-blood-and-proud-to-be family, how is own brother had been a Death Eater. I had learnt to hate him just because my parents did. He had massacred Peter and was the very first one to breakout from Azkaban. 

“Y/N, we have a lot to explain you.” murmured Remus. He was looking carefully at me, maybe he feared I would explode or worse - cry in front of them. “But I guess it can wait if you want.”

“No, I want to know everything.” My voice was secure, without an ounce of sadness. It obviously surprised him. “You know I had never been really close to them.” 

Remus nodded.

“In a first time, let me introduce you to Alastor Moody,” a scary man with a magical eye nodded abruptly, “Nymphadora Tonks -”

“Just Tonks.” She had bright pink hair and smiled softly at me.

“And Sirius Black. No, he’s not a murderer.” Remus added quickly. “As I said, we have a lot to explain.” 

Long story short, Peter was the git of the story. He had betrayed James and Lily Potter, condemning them to death, before fleeing. Sirius had tried to kill him, yes, but he had failed, and the coward had faked his own death. He was the one to help He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it was because of him he was back, and probably because of him my parents were dead. Quite ironical, wasn’t it? Then he had processed to explain what had happened during the Triwizard Tournament, and now, Remus had finished his story, and I felt four pairs of eyes on me. 

“That doesn’t explain why they have killed my parents.” I said. 

“I guess they haven’t been as discreet as they thought. Now that You-know-who is back, maybe his followers will feel free to attack everyone who’s against them.” suggested Remus. 

“Anyway, you’re safe here, Y/N.” said Sirius. I nodded and yawned. “Let me show you your room.” 

I followed him without a word. He gestured me to stay silent in the corridor, obviously not wanting to wake the portrait up. We climbed the stairs, ran into an ugly house elf and finally reached a room I could actually sleep in. 

“I guess your parents have only told you what an abominable man I am.” 

I nodded. 

“You know, Y/N, back at Hogwarts, I really liked your parents.” Sirius’ voice was strangely emotional. “I remember when they had announced they would be parents. Yes, I’ve seen you when you were just a baby. In fact, I have seen you regularly during two years, until… Their death.” His eyes darkened. “I won’t tell you I’m sorry, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve never really liked my family, you know. I’m nothing like them. I just wanted you to know it.” 

Sirius turned his heels. I decided I trusted him.

“Sirius?” He turned toward me, clearly surprised. “One day, do you think you and Remus could tell me some stories about your Hogwarts years? It seems pretty fun.”

He smiled, and for a brief moment, I saw a younger man. A man whose life hadn’t been destroyed unfairly. 

Thinking my life in England would be more entertaining than it was in America was undoubtedly a big mistake. Indeed, the next morning, I was eating some eggs when Alastor Moody arrived while muttering. It seemed to be his only way to communicate, and I was almost surprised to hear a true sentence. 

“Look at that.”

He threw a newspaper on the table in front of me. A photography occupied the front page. It showed a girl that looked vaguely like me, but her hair were longer than mine, her face was rounder and her teeth - God, it was horrible. Above the photo, a title in bold caught my eyes: Y/N Y/L/N, a dangerous murderer. Underneath that was written Reward for whoever give us her localisation. It was ridiculous. I quickly scanned the article. Killer. Muggles and children. Psychopath. 

“What the hell is that?”

Remus was behind me, his eyes fixed on the photo. 

“I think it’s the proof we were looking for.” answered Moody. In front of my interrogative look, he added: “We know for sure the Ministry is infiltrated.” 

I had spent my first week here hidden in a room, only joining the others when I was hungry or when someone dragged my downstairs. I was in the same boat as Sirius now, wanted for something I had never done and forced to stay in this horrible house. I was pretty sure I would kill someone if I heard once more the portrait of Sirius’ mother screaming me insults.

I was currently in the same room as Buckbeak, a beautiful hippogriff, when my stomach started to rumble. I decided to sneak into the kitchen, hoping I wouldn’t run into Kreacher, the ugly house elf. I tried my best to be quiet and I was on the verge of entering the kitchen when I heard my name in a conversation. 

“Sirius, have you seen Y/N today?” It was Remus. He had been really worried about me since my arrival, and he didn’t like me being alone all the time. I guessed he didn’t want to force me, maybe he thought I needed time. It wasn’t totally a lie.

“Who is Y/N?” I didn’t know the woman who had spoke. 

“The Y/L/N’s daughter.” answered Sirius. “They are dead.”

The woman gasped. 

“The poor girl! And you let her alone?”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need anyone to worry about me, thanks. I showed myself, passing in front of a plump woman with ginger hair. I ignored everyone, grabbed some sandwiches on the table and left without a word. I thought I could join Buck’s room without seeing anyone, and I groaned loudly when I came face to face with three boys and a girl, all of them having the same ginger hair as the woman in the kitchen. Two of them were twins. 

“Look who’s also in this fantastic house!” It was one of the twins. “Why is a cutie like you here?” 

His face when I forced my way between him and his twin without answering was priceless. I quickly gained Buckbeak’s room and enjoyed the silence. Two hours later, the door opened and Sirius sat next to me. 

“Our guests are quite offended,” he laughed. “Fred wants you to think he’s blubbering right now. If you want my opinion, he wants your attention.”

“How long are they gonna stay?”

“Until September.” 

I groaned, and Sirius chuckled. He patted my shoulder, telling me diner would be ready soon, and left. I sighed, I knew I didn’t have the choice. I left the room and came downstairs. The kitchen was way more animated than usual. The woman I had seen earlier was there, preparing something that smelled really good, along with her children. Sirius was talking with Remus and Mad-Eye Moody while Nymphadora Tonks - who wanted to be called just Tonks - was listening to a man with ginger hair - again? I caught a glimpse of the twins standing in the corner of the kitchen. It looked like they didn’t want anyone to interrupt, so I walked straight toward them. 

“I thought you were crying like a baby because of me.” 

One of the twins smirked. He was slightly smaller than his brother, and I was pretty sure he was Fred. 

“Why, love, were you worried?”

“No, darling, I just wanted to tell you that you look cute when you’re offended.”

He laughed frankly, and a sparkle appeared in his eyes. I had to admit he was quite cute when he laughed too. 

“I’m Fred, and this is George.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Fred and George exchanged a surprised look. 

“Don’t ask: yes, I’m a dangerous murderer and yes, if you bother me, I’ll kill you.”

I turned the heels and sat next to Remus without hearing Fred mumbling “I like her.” 

The next day, the woman with ginger hair, Molly Weasley, came in my room and woke me up. 

“Hello dear, how did you sleep?”

“Well, thank you Mrs Weasley.” She scoffed, not wanting me to call her that. I had understood that quite well after the fiftieth time she had told me so the previous day, but what do you want, old habits die hard. 

“Sirius wanted me to tell you he needs to see you.” 

I nodded in agreement and quickly put on a jumper, it was an unusually cold morning. I followed her downstairs and ran into Fred and George. They were arguing with their father. 

“Why can’t we stay? We’re adults now!” protested George. 

“Because your mother thinks you’re still too young. Don’t argue, George, you neither, Fred, and go to your room!”

They sighed a bit too loud for it to be natural and finally left the living-room where the meeting would take place. Fred winked at me and followed his brother. When I entered the room, I came face to face with a man I had never seen before. He was wearing a black robe and had oily black hair, but what I saw first was his big crooked nose. We looked at each other a few seconds and I looked away only when Sirius coughed. He put an arm around my shoulder and dragged me away, not without glaring at the man. I couldn’t help but notice two things: first, a true hatred had arisen from the man as soon as Sirius had arrived, second, Sirius had stood straighter and lifted his chin. 

“It’s Severus Snape.” he murmured me. “A total creep.” 

“Why aren’t you besties then?” I smirked. 

“I’m afraid my hair will become like his if I stay next to him for too long.” 

I rolled my eyes. However, my smile faded when I saw how worried Remus looked. He was frowning and his grin seemed a bit too forced when he saw me. 

“Y/N, how are you?” His tone was too cheerful. Yep, something was wrong. 

“I could ask you the same question.” I eyed him suspiciously. He promptly looked away. 

I asked Sirius what was happening and he shrugged. Now that I thought about it, Molly had seemed worried too, but she was nowhere to be seen. A regular noise indicated me Mad-Eye was approaching. 

“Y/L/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” I nodded. “Soon we will send you back to America for a mission. You don’t have to know the details for now. I will talk to you about it later.”

Even if a lump was forming in my throat, I nodded once more and hurriedly headed toward the door to leave the living-room. No one followed me; the meeting had probably begun and that meant I wasn’t needed anymore. I was on the verge of running upstairs when I stop dead in my tracks. You’re going crazy my dear Y/N. An ear was floating in the air. I saw it rising, my mouth wide open, when I heard muffled voices from upstairs. Sighing and rolling my eyes - it was another of my bad habits - I dragged myself to my room. I stopped when I heard Fred’s voice. 

“Y/N has the right to stay for the meetings,” he mumbled. “I wonder why she can and not us.”

“Because her parents didn’t forbid her to.” I had never heard this voice. Maybe it was from the twins’ brother. 

“Have you seen them? Her parents?” It was a girl voice, probably their sister. 

“No, you’re right. You know what, maybe we can ask her to tell us what happens in the meetings?”

“Yes, Ron, obviously no one has told her not to tell anything.” It was George. 

“I’m sure we can make her talk.” Fred’s voice was now cheerful. “I’m sure with a little Tickling Charm -”

I decided to open the door. Clearly surprised, the four siblings turned simultaneously their heads toward me. Their mouths were slightly opened, they looked like fishes. Stupid fishes, might I add. 

“It wouldn’t work Fred, I hate tickles.”

“What a shame.” he replied. “Are you here to tell us everything you know?”

“No way.” I saw the boy who had to be Ron frowning. “I’m here to tell you to be more careful when you try to spy on the meetings. I’ve seen the ear.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea!” hissed the girl.

“Don’t worry, I’m the only one.” I add. I winked at Fred, quite happy to see him smile at me, and I left. 

“Wait!” 

I let the door of my room open and sat on my bed, looking curiously at Fred. He passed an hand in his hair, ruffling it a bit, and joined me. 

“You seem upset.” 

It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t deny. Of course I was upset. I didn’t want to go back to America. I hated this country and I hated the memories I had there.

“Why do you think I’m upset?”

“Your eyes seem darker, and your smile isn’t the same either.” 

It was scary, how well he could understand me. It was the very first time someone saw through my armor, and I wasn’t sure how I had to react. 

“You can trust me.” Fred added softly. 

“They want me to go back to America for a mission but…”

“You don’t want to, right?”

I nodded. Fred slowly put an arm around my shoulder and, seeing I didn’t push him away, he pulled me against him. I enjoyed this embrace and after a few moments, I put my arms around him. None of us talked or moved, we were just melting in this hug. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He murmured in my ear. I sighed sadly. 

“I don’t have the choice.”

“Or you murder everyone.” His tone was playful and when I raised an eyebrow at him, he pretended to be deadly serious. “No one could force to go anywhere.”

“That means I would have to murder you too, right?” 

“You wouldn’t do that.” He seemed pretty confident. 

“And why?”

“I bet you’re a little angel behind this facade of sarcasm.”

After this day, I grew closer to the Weasley siblings, but I had something way more special with Fred. He just seemed to know me perfectly even though we knew each other for barely two weeks. Molly was lovely with me, but I wasn’t sure it was because of my friendship with her children. She acted like a mother to me, and I had to admit it was new for me. My own mother had never been particularly tender or loving with me, neither had been my father. Our interaction consisted in homeschooling and training with plenty of spells, along with the history of the Order and of course, the life of Peter Pettigrew. That was it. I had never really left the house I had grown in, and the only person other than my parents I knew back there was Remus. 

That’s why having a family as loud and joyous as the Weasley family was strange, but I couldn’t say it displeased me. The only thing bothering me in this new life was the Weasley siblings’ obsession with what happened during the meetings. I hadn’t had news about my mission yet, but I had to stay to describe the surroundings of my house and how was the American part of the Order. 

However, I never assisted to the meetings until their ends, and when I had to leave the living-room, I usually joined Fred, George, Ginny and Ron in the twins’ room. Today was no exception: Molly had hurriedly gestured me toward the door - she didn’t like at all my implication in the meetings - and I quickly climbed the stairs. When I opened the door, I immediately felt Fred’s look on me. 

“It was an important meeting today, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, it was, and no, you won’t know anything.” 

He sighed and I mimicked him. He was cute and kind, and very funny, but he was also irritating as fuck when he wanted to. 

“Why won’t you say anything?” It was George. “We need to know.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I replied. “And your mother would kill me if I even told you on which chair Moody sits.” 

“We don’t care about Mum!” Ginny lost her temper. “This is too important, we need to know everything Y/N! Why can’t you understand this?”

“Why can’t you understand Molly wants to protect you?” I felt my blood boiling in my veins, not a good sign. “She loves you. You can’t blame her for loving you, you don’t have the right!” I had screamed the last words and the four ginger heads in front of me stared at me in shock. I didn’t know why, but I felt like the next article about me in the Daily Prophet would be perfectly justified. “Why do you want so badly to know?” My voice was quieter. “These people I see during the meetings, each member of the Order, everyone is threatened. You know what happened to my parents, right?” Their guilty looks gave me my answer. “As soon as the war will start, we will be on the front line, maybe all of us will die. Why would you want to be a part of this? Trust me, you should run away, not rush into the battle. At least I would know you’re normal.” 

A silence followed my last words, and I caught myself hoping they were convinced. Note to self: never think Fred can be serious if the situation isn’t immediately life-threatening. 

“We’re quite proud to say we’re not normal.” He had a big grin. 

“Idiot.” I muttered. 

He stood up and walked toward me. I knew I was supposed to be angry at him, but when he opened his arms in front of me, I couldn’t help but throw my arms around his neck. It felt too good to be here, it felt right. 

“I promise we won’t bother you with that anymore.” His voice was muffled by my hair. I heard the floorboards creaking and the door softly closing. We were alone. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” I nodded. “Were you close to your parents?” 

“I think you know the answer.” 

He sighed, and I reluctantly looked him in the eyes. I didn’t want to see the pity I always saw in Remus’ eyes, or in Molly’s. To my surprise, it wasn’t the case. Fred had the same look in his eyes as Sirius, which I saw like a  it’s-sad-to-know-you-weren’t-close-to-them-but-I-swear-I-won’t-bother-you-to-death-with-that-and-I’ll-try-to-make-you-forget-that look. 

Our faces were only inches apart, and not really knowing why I did that, I grabbed his face and kissed him. His lips were softer than I had imagined. My hands slowly made their way to his neck and to his hair. Our lips were moving in sync and muffled groans escaped our mouths. I felt my heartbeat increasing and way too soon, I ran out of breath. We reluctantly broke the kiss, keeping our foreheads pressed against each other, and I couldn’t help but smile brightly. 

“You’re a good kisser, Fred.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Y/N.”

I was quite happy Sirius hadn’t the same way to make me forget, it would have been awkward.

I was really comfortable with the new kind of relationship I had with Fred, but I didn’t know how to tell Remus. The guy had always acted like a father to me, even back in America where he would bring me chocolate each time he visited us. And I had a feeling he wouldn’t be overjoyed by what I had to tell him. Fred understood perfectly my state of mind, obviously not really wanting everyone to know either. We had never spoken a word about it, yet we had both kind of agreed we would hide our relationship, for a little while anyway. That resulted in us sneaking into every room of the house and snogging as long as we could, until one of us was needed and our name echoed in the corridors. 

George had been the first one to become suspicious, and he figured it out approximately two hours after our first kiss. From this point - and after a pretty convincing threat from Fred and I - he had promised not to tell everyone and to help us keeping the secret. He usually lied well and was able to cover us long enough for us to appear reasonably presentable. Unfortunately, swollen lips were difficult to hide. I guess that’s why Ginny soon understood what was happening, and Ron couldn’t stay oblivious when his sister was constantly joking about a certain leech unable to let me alone. Molly had become quite suspicious too, but the incredible thing was that Remus hadn’t any clue of what was happening. Sirius had begun teasing me the day the Weasleys had arrived, it had never really changed.

Fred and I both wanted to keep this a secret, but that didn’t prevent us from touching each other. We were always sitting next to each other during the diner, and when we couldn’t hold hands, we just made our knees or our elbows enter in contact. Fred winked at me approximately a dozen of times per day, and each second we could spend alone was used very wisely. However, a sort of tension was building itself between us. It wasn’t the bad kind of tension, it was the intimate kind. When we were alone and kissing, our hands moved more and more, and our bodies were closer and closer. I discovered a new kind of need, the one that was felt deep inside me, I needed to feel him closer to me. And I could tell that Fred was thinking exactly the same. 

I was sitting in front of my opened window. The fresh air of the night was slightly caressing my face as I was thinking about Fred. Again. God, what had he done to me? I was unable to get him out of my head. I groaned and sat on the floor, the back resting against the wall. I was simply unable to sleep, and unfortunately, the sparkle in Fred’s eyes and his soft hair weren’t the only thing preventing me from sleeping. Mad-Eye had told me, a few hours ago, that I would soon receive the details about my mission in America. I wouldn’t admit it, never - I had a reputation of murderer to preserve, after all - but I was terrified. I wanted nothing more than forget about this part of my life. It wasn’t perfect right now either, I was locked up all day in this house, but I had parental figures that loved me - Remus, Molly and even Sirius, I had friends and I had a wonderful boyfriend. It was closer to perfection that it had never been. 

I knew I wouldn’t sleep, and I decided to be a bit selfish. Fred and I almost hadn’t seen each other this day and I missed him. I got out of my room, tiptoeing to avoid this creepy house elf and I made my way to the twins’ room. They weren’t sleeping, I could hear their muffled voices. I slowly opened the door and, after the second of shock, they both smiled at me and Fred extended an arm. I sat on his lap, snuggling up with him and vaguely listening to them. 

Eventually, George yawned and announced us he would go to sleep. 

“Don’t do anything nasty while I’m here.” He winked. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find another room for tonight.” Answered Fred. 

I smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him out. We barely heard George’s comment (“Try not to wake everyone up!”) and I was going to join my room when Fred stopped me. 

“No, love, follow me.”

We climbed the stairs and I noticed he had two pillows and blankets under his arm. We choose one of the room of the top floor and sneaked in. With a wave of his wand, Fred lighted a fire in the chimney and he put the blankets on the floor, one laid out and the others stashed next to the first one, in front of the now burning fire. Then he turned toward me and put his hands around my waist. He slowly leaned in and kissed me. 

“Are you sure you want to do it?” His voice was a whisper.

I nodded, I didn’t want anything more than to feel him against me in the most intimate way possible. We shared another kiss, and another, and we slowly undressed each other. We laid on the blanket without breaking the kiss, both naked and discovering our bodies in a new way. This night was full of love and full of trust, Fred and I weren’t just two young adults hiding and snogging, we were now two lovers. 

My head was resting against his torso, and his heartbeat slowly becoming normal again was the sweetest melody to me. We were still naked and laying on the blanket, Fred’s head resting on the pillows. His arms were around me and I was literally laying on him. A comfortable silence took place, only disturbed by the crackling sounds of the fire. A shiver ran down my spine. Fred grabbed a blanket and covered me. 

“Better?” he whispered. 

“Perfect.” 

He chuckled, and the vibration in his chest seemed to echo in mine.

“Fred, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, love.”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

Without seeing him, I could tell he was raising an eyebrow and a smirk was on his lips. 

“I will try, but I can’t promise.”

I sighed, knowing my question would seem quite strange, but I was imagining a perfect life and I needed him to help me.

“What is it like to go to school?” 

Much to my surprise, Fred didn’t laugh. He didn’t let out a sarcastic or incredulous comment, he just tightened his grip on me and kissed my hair. 

“You’ve never been to school?”

I shook my head. He sighed sadly, probably imagining a little girl locked up in a cold house, her parents only teaching her the strict necessary, an unhappy girl only dreaming to have friends and be normal. He wasn’t really wrong. 

“Whatever we say, going to school is incredible,” he started. “especially if you go to Hogwarts. That’s where I go. You live with your friends, you can do everything with them. Eating your breakfast, playing Quidditch, sneaking into the kitchen for the parties -”

“Is it even allowed?” I laughed. 

“Well, you’re missing the point.” He chuckled. “And as cliche as it sounds, it’s the most magical way to learn. Sometimes, you miss your house and your parents, along with your siblings if they aren’t with you, but your friends in there, they are your second family. You would do anything for them, and they would do anything for you, even going to detention. And even detentions are fun if you’re with the good persons. And you can explore each corner of the school and live wonderful adventures.”

Fred stopped, obviously feeling my tears on his bare skin. He murmures apologies and stroke my hair.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have -”

“No Fred, thank you. Now I can imagine my perfect life.” I murmured. 

“Am I a part of it?”

“Of course you are.”

And I fell asleep. 

The castle towers were illuminated by the sunset. The sky had taken a bright red tone, and a sweet breeze ruffled our hair. Fred was in front of me, running slow enough for me to follow and holding my hand. We were in a park, surrounded by huge trees. The air was fresher here, and the grass underneath my bare feet was soft. Some birds were still up there and singing for us. It was truly perfect. 

Suddenly Fred stopped and turned toward me. His eyes were shining, he had this sparkle that showed every time he was happy. 

“Ready for our adventure, my love?”

I opened my mouth, eager to tell him I would follow him everywhere, but it wasn’t clearly not my voice that echoed in the peaceful atmosphere of the forest. 

“What the -”

A sudden airstream made me shiver and I snuggled closer to Fred. I didn’t want to open my eyes, my dream was too beautiful. Maybe if I could go back to sleep right now -

“Good job, Mum. You might want to close the door now, no?”

I heard the door closing and I sighed in contentment. I felt myself falling asleep again when two loud sounds made me jump. The door had been slammed open and a loud gasp echoed in the room. Instinctively, I tried to get up but Fred pulled me against him.

“Don’t think you want to get up right now.” he murmured with his husky voice in my ear. 

I turned my head, ready to scold whoever had disturbed my peaceful dream when I saw him. Remus was on the threshold, his face as white as the hairs of Kreacher’s ears. I was sure mine was dark red by now, and I caught George’s look behind him, silently telling he was sorry. Finally, this little bastard pulled Remus backwards and closed the door, not without dodging the pillow I had thrown him for daring wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I’m going to die…” I murmured. 

“So am I.” answered Fred. “At least we’ll be together.”

“What a consolation.” I muttered. 

“Oi! You didn’t think that a few hours earlier.” He winked at me and grabbed my arse. 

“Not now, love, I promise in ten minutes you’ll wish you’re facing a banshee and not an angry Remus.”

Once dressed - and Fred’s giggle gone after he had seen the hickeys I had in the neck - we finally got downstairs. We entered the living-room, not really knowing what was going to follow. I wanted to tell Fred to let go of my hand, but it felt too right. I didn’t say anything. 

Remus was pacing in the room, groaning at Sirius who was laughing. They were alone in there. When he heard us, Remus looked up and Fred shifted next to me. 

“Where’s your courage, my dear Fred?” I whispered. 

“Shut up.”

I wanted to chuckle but in front of an angry werewolf it wasn’t a good idea. 

“Y/N, in the kitchen, please.”

I bolted, surprised by his tone. It wasn’t sweet but it wasn’t harsh either. I barely heard Fred groaning (“Courage my ass.”) before running face to face with Molly. She was probably as red as me, and I remembered George’s voice a bit earlier. 

“I’m sorry Mrs -”

“Molly, dear. You don’t have nothing to be sorry about.” 

She smiled and I let out a sigh of relief, one I didn’t even know I was holding. However, my smile turned into a grimace when I heard a scream in the living-room. Molly and I immediately ran behind the door and listened closely.

“I’m sorry, Professor… Mister… err…”

I chuckled, mentally promising myself I would tease Fred as soon as I could. Molly rolled her eyes. 

“She’s fragile right now!” I snorted. “She doesn’t know how to feel and you just take advantage of her situation!”

I furiously shook my head to reassure Molly, whose eyes were wide open. I was ready to barge in and calm Remus’ ass down when Fred spoke up.

“I didn’t take advantage of her Remus! She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions whether you like it or not!”

“Maybe she wanted it but how can I know you -”

“Because fell for her! I love her!” 

Fred’s voice was clear as crystal, and so was the love in it. I gasped, and realized I was feeling exactly the same. I loved him. I loved Fred Weasley. This time, I barged in the living-room, yes, but I ran toward Fred and kissed him. He gladly melted into the kiss, pulling me harder against him. We quickly interrupt, not wanting to shock poor Remus more than he already was.

“I love her, Remus, and I know what she went through. I would never, never, to that to her, I swear to you and everyone here.”

Fred’s voice was sweeter now that he didn’t feel threatened anymore. His arm was around my waist and he didn’t loosen his grip when Remus sent him a harsh look. 

“I think the boy is sincere,” softly said Sirius. “Maybe you don’t have to murder him right now.”

Remus groaned, looked at me and left in the kitchen. Catching the message, I pecked Fred’s lips - doing it in front of everyone was so strange - and I followed Remus. 

“How long has it been?” 

“Three weeks.” 

“And when did you… you know… for the first time?”

“Yesterday.”

My voice was quiet. Among everyone who was in this house, Remus was the only one I couldn’t bear to disappoint. He was like my father since I was seven, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to protect me. God, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. What if I saw anger, and disappointment? A shaky sigh escaped my lips. 

“Hey, Y/N, look at me.”

He lifted my chin and I saw a small smile on his lips. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, I am the one owing you apologies. It’s just that… You know, I know you since you’re a baby, and I saw you growing up into a beautiful woman, and when you send this bird to me, I swore I would protect you. And I will protect you, from everything you need to be protected from, even if it’s a boy.”

“You don’t have to protect me from Fred, Remus…”

“I know that. But I hope he’s scared enough to know what will happen if he hurts you.”

“I bet his pants will remember for him.” I chuckled. 

And Remus did something he had never done before, something no one had never done before: he hugged me, and I felt the love of a father enveloping me like a protective cocoon. I even felt a tear rolling down my cheek. 

Later this day, I learnt that Mad-Eye was on his way to the 12, Grimmauld Place when Molly had been looking for me. Not finding me in my room, she had wanted to ask Fred if he had seen me, only to find out he was missing too. She had understood that we were together, and George, who had been roughly woken up by his mother, had panicked and had been unable to say anything. 

Mad-Eye wanted to explain me my mission, which happened to be less difficult than I thought: I had to go back to my former house, find an highly important file and come back. Fred had refused to let me go alone and, an hour later, we had taken a Portkey. Finding the file hadn’t lasted more than half an hour during which Fred had never let go of my hand, and we came back with the same Portkey after I had cast a spell for it to bring us back to London. 

Fred leaving for Hogwarts had kind of broken my heart, I wasn’t ready to spend moths without him, but he had promised me to send me a letter each day. He kept his promise, and while reading it, I had the impression I was with him. 

I was still locked up in this awful house, but I was with Remus and Sirius. And I loved Fred, and he loved me, and I had friends. 

My life was closer to perfection than it had never been.

[johannstutt413]

TOURNAMENT ARC 2: PHANTOM VS PROJEKT RED

“Alright, let’s see...Looks like we’ve got a fight tomorrow, Jessie!” The Doctor unfurled a piece of paper from the machine. “First round for Specialists, it looks like; Phantom vs Red. It’s been awhile since Phantom stopped by the office, hasn’t it?”

“...Phantom?” The Feline shrugged; she’d seen records of that Operator before, but never actually encountered them herself.

He sighed. “Right, stealth specialist with mnemonic Arts. Regardless, it’ll be interesting to see what happens, especially since Red- actually, I haven’t seen her recently either. She hasn’t been on a mission, has she?”

“I don’t think so?” Jessica flipped open a tab and scrolled through some of her notes. “No, but she has been on leave for awhile.”

“Really? What kind of leave was it, again? I think you approved that one.”

At that exact moment, Projekt Red walked into the office with a baby in her arms. “Maternity leave.” [not exactly the same universe but hush it’s fine]

“Awww!” The two immediately approached. “What’s their name?”

“Scarlet SilverAsh. I don’t think I can be in the tournament for a while, Doctor; we haven’t moved her to formula yet.” Scarlet fussed a little, which the Lupo solved by licking her forehead.

The Doctor nodded. “That’s alright, Red; I think I know the person to take your spot. Let us know when you’re ready to fight and we’ll put you in the rotation.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be watching today’s match from home. You can both come over, if you want; Encio’s making burgers.” She watched both of them blink several times. “What?” 

“He can cook?” Jessica asked.

She nodded. “There’s nothing he can’t do. I need to feed her soon. Let us know if you want to come over.”

“Will do!” Once she’d left, the Feline smiled to herself. “I’m looking forward to that someday.”

“Having a kid with me?”

Jessie set her head on his shoulder. “Yeah...We should call Waai Fu now, before too much press goes out.”

“Good plan.”

TOURNAMENT ARC 2: PHANTOM VS PROJEKT RED WAAI FU

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Operators, Staff, and Esteemed Guests! Welcome one and all to the Top Operator Tourney!!! *crowd cheers*

“Thanks, Hung! Hiiiii everyone! It’s your lovable idol and Penguin Logistics delivery girl Sora here, filling in for Click on account of some rather inflammatory commentary she gave during the last one. Joining me in the booth, filling in for FEater after she punched the person who told them that, is Croissant!”

“That’s right, Sora, and I ain’t goin’ any’re! Now earlya Baws ‘nounced we had a lil’ bituva skejul shift, but looks like we still ‘ave a real good’un on our ‘ands. On the north side, wi’ 14 years of fightin’ ‘sperience, she’s student by day and brawla’ by nite, WAAAAAAAI FUUUUUUUU!” *cheers* “Ye, dat’s wut I wanna hear! Annnnd on the south side- hey, where’d they go?” *confused crowd noises* “Uh...Now I ain’t gonna lie, I never did meet dis Phantom guy? We sure he works ‘ere?”

“I mean, Medical had enough data to evaluate with, so I guess he does? Aaaanyway, looking at the numbers, it looks like Waai Fu has more combat experience and raw strength, but Phantom’s faster and trickier to deal with, so hopefully he shows up long enough for us to watch him work!”

“Ye, let’s ‘ope so! Baws itn’t at the podium today, but Amiya’s down there doin’ the hands, so let’s ‘ear it! 3! 2! 1! LET’S RUUUUUUUUUUUMBLLLLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!”

--------

Down on the ground, as the commentators blathered away, psyching the crowd up, Phantom watched his target from the shadows, blades ready but simply observing. His opponent, an orange Feline he’d never seen before, likewise watched, patient. This wasn’t his usual style...but if it was a show they wanted, then he’d give them a show.

“So you are my opponent.” He took a step forward. “Shall we dance our dance for the masses?”

“The Phantom, in the flesh...I expected to face you later in the bracket, but this works, too.”

His eyes narrowed. “You recognize me?”

“I’ve spent my life clearing the street of scum like you, who skulk in the shadows and take others’ lives for your sick games.” She took a defensive stance. “Your ring of thieves deserved its fate-”

“Do not speak ill of the dead, lest you join them sooner than you expect.” A step backward, and he’d vanished.

Two Phantoms emerged from her shadow, blades drawn to strike as they flanked her, only to find she was ready for both attacks; Waai Fu evaded their swords as knocked both Phantom and his mirror image to the ground. “Repent while you still have time.”

And then everything was a blur.

-------

“It’s like it started out of nowhere! They stared each other down forever, and then BAM! Also, why are there two of him?!”

“I ‘unno, darlin’, but I ‘ope Junior ain’t watch’n this! They’re go’n at it ‘arder ‘n an’thin rite now! I can’t even count ‘ow many blows they’re tradin’, but not a single drop of blood on the ground yet!”

“You can tell Waai Fu’s struggling, though - two on one isn’t a fair fight for anyone, but she’s holding her ground someh- OH, what?!”

“Oh! Oh! That’s the Seven-Styles Kick!! ‘Oly shit, I ain’t ever seen it in person bef’r, but damn that was some’n! And one of ‘em’s gone now!”

“Things have slowed down, and she is absolutely whaling into him! Punch, punch, kick, kick; he’s doing his best to evade them, but I don’t think he can keep up like this for long! Especially since he can’t- never mind, he managed to slash her once, at least, but that just left him open for a solid haymaker! He’s not getting back u/p! 1! 2!! 3!!! SHE’S DONE IT!!!”

“Wowza...Not as bloody as last ‘un, ey darlin’?”

“Waai Fu’s getting medical attention, as is Phantom from the looks...Hey, wait a minute, honey, did you see that?”

“See what?”

--------

Aak was there at Waai Fu’s side, local anesthetic applied and staple gun going to work. “A bit of medi-gel will get this patched up in no time...Hey, who was that guy, anyway? Never seen him around before.”

“The Phantom Behind the Curtain, Treasurer of the Night. He was the leading man for a theatre troupe known for less-than-savory wetwork who traveled the world as a closely-knit ring of assassins, although many didn’t realize their actual business until the day it collapsed.” The Feline sighed. “That one killed a crowded theatre with his voice alone. He didn’t want me dead, not enough to speak to me with his true voice.”

“Truer words, vigilante, have yet to be spoken” a spectral figure whispered in her ear, disappearing before she could identify them.

The other Feline next to her cocked her head. “See something? Mighta gotten some hallucinogens in the anesthetic again.”

“No, it’s...nothing.” She shook her head. “It’ll pass, whatever it was.”

“You’d best win the tournament now, child...For your father’s sake.” From the other ear this time, as if standing in Aak’s place.

On the ground, as Warfarin ensured Gaspard began his recovery, a black cat stepped out of the shadows and, once the Sarkaz was done with the greater part of patching him up, sat on his chest, gently pawing at his face. A slight smile came to his face as he and his Christine were taken to Medical for full evaluation; he might have been defeated in this battle, but the war for himself was far from lost.

[kjack89]

When All This is Over

For @adorablecrab, my very belated fill from the @bishopmyrielfundraiser. Sorry it’s taken me so long!!

The request was for Modern AU, getting together fluff, and, well, I’ve done my best :)

E/R, Modern AU. COVID-19 stay at home order related because I am nothing if not the most predictable of trash.

“Alright everyone,” Enjolras said, raising his voice to be heard over the din that signified the natural end of a Les Amis meeting, even if it sounded more than a little different through the speakers of his computer via Zoom than in the backroom of the Musain. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve all got our assignments, and I’ll be in touch with any follow-ups as needed.”

“Enj,” Courfeyrac said, resting his chin on his hand, “you do realize that since we all talk and text, like, multiple times a day, and we’re now on week, what, 8 of social isolation, you probably don’t need to worry about doing ‘follow-ups’, right?”

Enjolras ignored him. “We’ll meet back here on Saturday. Combeferre will send the link again—”

“Because I’m the only one with a licensed Zoom account,” Combeferre grumbled. “One of the only fringe perks of doing a postdoc.”

“And believe me,” Grantaire interjected with a smirk, “we all appreciate your sacrifice for the Cause.”

“As opposed to everything you’ve contributed,” Combeferre shot back. “Which, let me check my notes here, but, uh, what exactly have you contributed recently?”

Grantaire’s smirk didn’t slip as he raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. “Morale,” he said simply.

Bossuet tried to cover his laugh with a fake cough that turned into a real cough, Joly pounding on his back worriedly, and Enjolras sighed. “On that note,” he said, loud enough to be heard over Bossuet’s coughing, “I will talk to you all later.”

He waited for everyone to hop off so he could end the meeting, but to his surprise, as the rest of the squares on his screen disappeared, one remained, even if it was without its former occupant. Grantaire’s video feed remained on his computer, and Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire?” he called, feeling foolish when Grantaire didn’t answer. “Are you still there? Did you need something?”

There was no answer and Enjolras sighed, his cursor lingering over the ‘End Meeting For All’ button. But something, likely against his better judgment, stopped him.

It was probably the same thing that had stopped him from kicking Grantaire out after the man had first wandered into a Les Amis meeting all those years ago, the one decision of his that Combeferre had ever openly questioned. But there was just something about Grantaire, something that infuriated and inspired Enjolras in somewhat equal measures. 

The fury part had happened a lot less recently, but Enjolras suspected that was a temporary side effect of not being in the same room with each other, and was likely to be as temporary as this stay at home order they were all under.

Shaking his head, Enjolras turned back to the work that he needed to do, leaving the Zoom call on in the background. About fifteen minutes later, Grantaire wandered back into frame, holding a full bottle of beer. “Oh, there you are,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire did an almost comical doubletake, his beer bubbling over the lip of the bottle.

“Jesus Christ,” Grantaire huffed as he quickly sipped at the foam to stop it from overflowing. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Enjolras told him.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Funny, you sure don’t sound it,” he said, sitting back down in front of his laptop. “Besides, isn’t the meeting over? Or have I been held after class so you can scold me?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Believe me, if I thought scolding you would do any good, I’d’ve tried it long ago.” Grantaire grinned and Enjolras allowed himself a small smile as well. “And yes, the meeting is over, but you were still in the call.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly, “but you’re the host. You could’ve just ended it for everyone, myself included.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to just disappear on you.”

Grantaire blinked. “You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “Shut up,” he said, but without much heat.

The video of Grantaire suddenly tilted, as if he had picked up his laptop, and a moment later, he came back into view, reclining on his couch, his computer resting on his stomach. “So what are you up to?” he asked, taking a sip of beer.

“Trying to figure out what protesting looks like in the age of social distancing,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “Our die-in at the state capitol was incredibly successful, but—”

“But laying out body bags doesn’t exactly have the same media impact as real humans lying there?” Grantaire supplied wryly. “Yeah, but what else can you do?”

Enjolras shrugged, glancing down at his notes. “I was thinking of trying to put together some kind of virtual rally, but even that’s not going to have the same impact.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said bracingly, and Enjolras raised an eye at him.

“You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, and Grantaire laughed.

“Shut up,” he said. “Tell anyone I said it, and I’ll deny it.”

Enjolras grinned. “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” He hesitated. “So I’ll assume since you’re still on this call that you don’t have any better plans for this evening?”

Grantaire sighed. “I’m afraid that even my usually full social calendar has been negatively impacted by COVID-19,” he said with a dramatic sigh, clearly doing his best Courfeyrac impression, and Enjolras snorted. “But I can go if you need to get work done.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice having someone online with me,” he admitted. “Almost reminds me of all those nights at the Musain, y’know?”

“When you were working late and I was too drunk to stumble home?” Grantaire supplied.

“Well, something like that, anyway.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, something wistful creeping into his expression. Then, abruptly, he shook his head. “Never though I’d see the day where I missed that,” he said ruefully.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “I know what you mean.”

Grantaire sighed, his head tipping back to rest against the arm of his couch. “I just want things to go back to normal,” he said, his voice muffled from being further away from his computer’s microphone.

Enjolras made a face. “Do you even know what that means?” he asked, the sharpness in his voice making it teeter on the edge of a demand.

Grantaire sat upright again and rolled his eyes. “Yes, because I’ve clearly thought through every single socio-economic implication of stating my wish for ‘normalcy’,” he sniped. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy, I want my particular, individual life circumstances to return to how they were before.”

“It’s not about making me happy,” Enjolras pointed out. “It’s about making yourself happy. Or do you really want to go back to working two minimum wage jobs just to scrape by in between selling your paintings?”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “It wasn’t so bad,” he hedged, and when Enjolras just gave him a look, he laughed and shook his head. “Ok, so the work was shit but the hours were manageable and besides, that way I got to spend my free time doing what I wanted. And besides, it’s a helluva lot better than being unemployed.”

Enjolras winced. “Fair point.”

Grantaire took another swig of beer. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you eager for your individual life circumstances to go back to normal?”

“Not sure anyone would call anything in my life normal,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire choked on his sip of beer.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he managed after spluttering for a long moment. “But you know what I mean.”

Enjolras shrugged. “There are things I miss,” he said.

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

“And if you keep badgering me instead of letting me work, there’ll definitely be one less thing.”

Grantaire chuckled. “You win,” he said. “I’ll go back to muttering to myself while you ignore me, how about that?”

“Just like old times,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire laughed.

“Exactly.”

He did just that, breaking out his tablet to assumedly work on some art, muttering occassionally to himself, and Enjolras was surprised to find that the familiar background murmuring was strangely soothing, enough for him to settle into his own work.

It wasn’t until very late that Enjolras finally had to call it a night, and Grantaire stretched, looking over at the clock. “Jesus, when did it get to be 1 in the morning?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Right around the time I realized I’m supposed to be getting up at seven tomorrow,” Enjolras said through a yawn. “Or, well, later today, I guess.”

“Seven in the morning?” Grantaire repeated, horrified. “Why in the world do you have to be up at the asscrack of dawn? Don’t you realize we’re in the middle of a pandemic and time is meaningless?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Seven is hardly the asscrack of dawn,” he said. “Besides, I’ve got work to do.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No wonder you’re eager to go back to normal, since your life clearly hasn’t changed at all.”

“Goodnight, Grantaire,” Enjolras said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight, you freak. Getting up at seven to do work, I swear to God—”

Enjolras clicked the ‘End Meeting for All’ button, cutting Grantaire off before he could truly launch into a rant, and he hadn’t even closed his computer before his phone buzzed with a text. [From: Grantaire] Rude.

[From: Enjolras] Well, you said you were missing normal, and I figured this was as close as I could get to making Bossuet or Joly drag your drunk ass home.

[From: Grantaire] ...fair.

Enjolras laughed and stood to head to his bedroom, surprised when his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at it. [From: Grantaire] Want to have another little bit of post-meeting normalcy on Saturday?

Despite himself, Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the thought. [From: Enjolras] Sounds like a plan.

----------

Sure enough, they spent Saturday night (and well into Sunday morning) the same way, both of them keeping each other company while working on their various projects. And after that, it became routine. Every Les Amis meeting was followed by Grantaire staying on the line to hang out, almost always drinking, only occassionally actually working.

As much as Enjolras hated to admit it, it felt...nice. Like Grantaire had said, a little bit of normalcy, despite everything. In fact, it was one of the few things keeping Enjolras sane as the stay at home order extended another month, dashing his plans for a return to the advocacy work he had so meticulously planned.

Nice was probably too mild a word for the quiet comfort that Enjolras found with Grantaire. He enjoyed having someone to talk to again, someone to bounce ideas off of, just like they had so many nights at the Musain. 

But it was more than just comfort. Enjolras found himself actively looking forward to their time together, and while he’d never pretend to know what Grantaire was thinking, he got the feeling that Grantaire looked forward to it as well. 

It helped that, without the urgency of everything else normally going on, they were able to actually talk, and not just about Enjolras’s latest idea. As much as they had been friends for years, too often their conversations were layered by Grantaire’s cynicism and sarcasm, and Enjolras was glad to really get to see beyond it.

“Where’s the first place you’ll go when this is over?” Grantaire asked one evening, lying on his couch, this time on his stomach, his computer balanced on what Enjolras could only assume was the arm of the couch, given the angle.

“Hmm,” Enjolras said, considering the question before barking a laugh. “You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I always do,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “And that’s never stopped you before, so spill.”

Enjolras laughed again. “Alright, the first place I’ll probably go is City Hall. I’ve got a bone to pick with the permits office.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “God, you’re such a nerd,” he marvelled. “It’s truly incredible.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras said, laughing. “Where are you gonna go?”

“A bar,” Grantaire said promptly, “to get drunk with people instead of by myself.”

Enjolras made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. “Nope, try again.”

“Excuse me?” Grantaire said, amused. “Are you trying to tell me that my answer was wrong?”

“No, just insincere,” Enjolras told him. “I know you’ve thought about it, or you wouldn’t have brought it up. So c’mon, where you really want to go?”

Grantaire’s smile softened, just slightly. “Honestly? I want to go to the zoo.” Enjolras blinked and Grantaire shrugged. “Don’t ask me why, since it’s not like I went all that frequently before, and it’s probably because of all the stupid videos they’ve been posting online during all of this, but. Yeah. I want to go to the zoo.” He gave Enjolras a withering look. “And now is not the time to launch into your tirade against keeping wild animals at zoos.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Enjolras protested, but he was laughing, and Grantaire glared at him before laughing as well, the conversation turning from there.

If they had nothing else to show for it, Enjolras figured at the very least they’d come out of this whole thing as far better friends than they had started.

And then, finally, finally, there appeared to be good news on the horizon, with contact tracing and a decrease in new cases, and much of the Les Amis meeting that night was spent on the governor’s press conference, and her announcement that the state would move towards reopening in the next few weeks.

“You must be thrilled,” Grantaire said when everyone else had logged off.

“Of course I am,” Enjolras said, ebullient. “Aren’t you? You’re the one who’s wanted things to get back to normal.”

Grantaire made a face. “Yeah, but what does normal even mean anymore?” he mused. “Most folks will still be working from home, and even though we’ll be able to do some smaller protests and such, it’ll still be awhile before we can do any big rallies.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but is now really the time to bring it up?” he asked.

Grantaire forced a smile. “Of course, sorry,” he said. “We should celebrate! Wish I’d gotten a bottle of champagne with my last instacart order—”

“You’re using instacart?” Enjolras practically yelped. “After everything we’ve talked about with their exploitative business model?”

Grantaire’s smile widened into something more genuine, and infinitely more smug. “It’s called a joke, Enjolras. Glad to see your sense of humor is returning to normal as well.”

Enjolras made a face before hesitating. “I guess that probably means the end of these late night meetings as well,” he said, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“What?” he said blankly. “Why?”

Enjolras blinked. “Well, I assume you’ll be going back to work, as will most of our comrades, so we won’t be able to have as frequent meetings, and besides, your social calendar will probably fill up again.”

He said it jokingly, but Grantaire didn’t smile. “My social calendar never stopped me from hanging out at the Musain before.”

“No, I know,” Enjolras started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“If you don’t want me to bother you, just say the word and I’m gone.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What are you—” he started before cutting himself off. “That’s not what I meant,” he said instead, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt.

Juding by the look on Grantaire’s face, he hadn’t succeeded. “No, I know exactly what you mean,” Grantaire said, taking a larger than normal swig from his bottle of beer. “Once this Stay at Home Order is lifted, everything will go back to how it was.”

“Grantaire—”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire said, forcing a smile that didn’t even remotely meet his eyes. “After all, I’m the one who wanted things to go back to normal, remember?”

“That’s not—” Enjolras started, but Grantaire again cut him off.

“Goodnight, Enjolras.”

He left the Zoom call, and Enjolras stared at his laptop, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

And far more importantly, how he was going to fix it.

----------

Enjolras knocked on Grantaire’s apartment door, breathing in the fresh air for what felt like the first time in longer than he cared to admit.

Even though he had left his apartment during lockdown, it didn’t feel quite the same as it did now, and he smiled slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at the other people milling around in Grantaire’s apartment complex, all of them looking as happy as he was to be outside.

The door opened and Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire, who was staring at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Hi,” Enjolras said, wincing when he realized how stupid that sounded. 

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire asked, still staring at him.

Enjolras hesitated. “I don’t want things to return to normal,” he blurted, everything he had carefully prepared going out the window, and Grantaire’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear, but what—”

“I don’t just mean, like, socioeconomically or anything,” Enjolras hurried to add. “I mean, um, between you and me. I don’t want that to go back to normal.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Then what do you want?”

There were a thousand things that Enjolras had prepped for that exact moment, but he didn’t bother with any of them. Instead, he told Grantaire simply, “This,” before leaning in and kissing him.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, eyes wide. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry, affirmative consent, I should—”

Grantaire cut him off by kissing him, something heated and desperate in the press of his lips against Enjolras’s, as if he was afraid they’d lose the moment.

Enjolras wished he had never done or said anything that would make Grantaire feel that way.

When they broke apart this time, Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, almost nervously. “So, uh...dare I ask what this is about?”

“I like you,” Enjolras said, feeling his face flush as he said it. “And apparently, it took me a global pandemic to realize it.”

“Technically, you don’t have to say global and pandemic,” Grantaire said. “It’s implied.”

Enjolras sighed. “Grantaire—”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Grantaire said with a laugh, and Enjolras shook his head before reaching out and drawing Grantaire close, resting his chin on top of Grantaire’s head as he held him.

“I missed you,” Grantaire whispered, so quietly that Enjolras almost didn’t hear him.

“I know,” Enjolras said, kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “And I’m sorry that I was an idiot, and didn’t figure things out earlier.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of,” he said, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s, “did you come to this realization on your own?”

The corners of Enjolras’s mouth twitched. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

Enjolras snorted and shook his head. “Fine, I had some help. And some sense knocked into me.” He made a face. “Apparently every single one of our friends figured it out before I did.”

“Color me shocked,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras ignored that, instead taking a deep breath so that he could say what he actually came to say. “Grantaire,” he said carefully, “one of the few bright parts of this fucking pandemic was spending time online with you. And I’d really like to continue spending time with you. And, well, I’m sorry that I didn’t figure that out until it was almost too late.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Grantaire said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Better late than never.”

Enjolras laughed, but the sound was mostly lost against Grantaire’s lips as they kissed again, slower this time, Grantaire’s hand resting lightly against Enjolras’s cheek, the other gripping the front of Enjolras’s shirt as if he could somehow pull him closer.

Then, abruptly, he pulled away. “Hang on a second, I thought the first place you were going to go after this ended was City Hall.”

“What can I say, I lied,” Enjolras murmured, ducking his head to kiss Grantaire again, but this time, Grantaire didn’t let him.

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

Enjolras hesitated. “Well, no,” he admitted. “City Hall opened at 8 and I figured you wouldn’t be awake yet, so I went there first and then came here.”

Grantaire laughed loudly. “God, Enj,” he said, pulling Enjolras close and wrapping his arms around him again. “I’d say never change, but clearly we’ve proven that even a pandemic couldn’t change you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire considered it for only a moment before kissing him again. 

“Ok, fine, maybe it changed you just the right amount.”

“So I’ll take it you don’t want things to go back to normal?” Enjolras asked teasingly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fuck normal,” he said decisively, and Enjolras grinned.

“Technically, that’s what I’ve been saying all along,” he pointed out, and Grantaire cut him off by kissing him once more.

“Shut up,” Grantaire advised, and Enjolras grinned.

After all, who needed normal when they finally had each other?

[blankdblank]

Which King Pt 2

Pt 1 - @sdavid09​ here is prompt 52 of 52 on your challenge :D

Got a pt 3 nearly done too, so plz guys let me know what you think kind of leaning for a slow building thing with Glorfindel later on in the series growing from a pen pal type relationship maybe :D

…

The room was perfectly lovely and closed off compared to how open most of the Kingdom seemed. It wasn’t without reason to come back early, it was bedtime back in Mordor and through the gardens faint echoes of the voice of the savior Colonel wafted on the breeze turning the heads of those still lingering awake among their fellow Lords. Memories of those carrier trips to safety came back to those who had heard the moonlit song through the war in hushed Vanyar most could not understand. A tale of foreboding trusting a dark haired stranger swearing to steal you away from a stale life. An odd tale for a lullaby but through the phone call the fussy boys dozed off and gently you wished the nannies good night thanking them again for caring for your heirs while you were away. While your pair of guards bunked down in their room having switched on a series of patrolling lizard alarms to allow you all to rest you changed from your gown to a simple pair of flannels and a sweater to curl up in the irritatingly silk coated bed hoping to try and sleep.

.

A knock on your door however was answered by your guards and in the window frame after a try to read a bit you were spotted sleeping with book in hand covering your foot, head resting forward on the leg propped up on the frame by the trio of Elleths come to deliver the private breakfasts for guests. No doubt an awkward position they wondered how you had gotten into and remained so all or most of the night. A cleared throat from one of your guards had your book snapping shut and your leg siding off the frame to settle on the ground in a seamless blink awake to appear like you weren’t just sleeping in the window. “Breakfast My Queen.” The Black Speech of Mordor once thought to send chills through the bones of any free Elf now seemed somehow harmless whilst spoken so casually between this odd group of guests.

With a nod you stood and reached up to brush your hair that was pooling forward to your face only to shake your foot and mumble, “Foot’s asleep...” Lowly one of your guards chuckled in your three awkward steps before the feeling come back and you returned to your smooth steps nodding your head to the Elleths bowing their heads to you.

...

Clad in a yellow and black accented dress with alternating schemes on the paneled skirt matching your topaz and onyx crown resting on your braided back hair you exited your room ready for the early morning of mingling activities.

Timidly around you the Lords and Ladies kept to their own paths in the strolling gardens. And when you had stopped to admire a portrait of the start of the war against your father when the forces had tried to face him at the Black Gates and been cast back with heavy losses a Lady from Lothlorien bit the bullet and came up beside you. You seemed to be genuine enough and far from proud of his actions so to help her own people take the step of trying to befriend yours she eyed the painting, mainly Mt Doom and asked, “What is it like, living so near to Mt Doom?”

Flashing her an easy grin you turned replying as a group of Lords and Ladies near to you including Elrond, Celebrian, Celeborn and Glorfindel with Oropher and his son Thranduil behind them. “It does make for amusing times,” the smirks on your guards had a few brows ticking up, “For instance when I took over and made the public order to have the eye banners swapped for new ones with Pears on them the earth began to tremor. One of our head bakers joked it was my father thrashing around in his tomb at the assumption I would order up a pear topper for his watch tower as well.”

Thranduil asked at the snickering of your guards, “Was he punished?”

“Hmm? No.” You giggled out, “We all had a good laugh about it. I find you have to have a good sense of humor to live in the path of an active volcano.”

Celebrian, “Your people were so displeased with Annatar’s rule?”

“My people were starving when I met my father. I knew him personally just a month, though I do have to admit when he bought me a mithril harp that just erased all the aimless bloodshed and years of neglect and torment serving in his forces.” At the sheer sarcastic snap of your grin at the end of your statement Glorfindel led the Lords in chuckles that they tried to muffle with throats clearing as the Ladies failed to keep from smiling in holding back theirs.

Glorfindel, “You play the harp?”

“I know one song, it has four chords in it, though with spare finger flourishes no one is the wiser.” Making him chuckle again along with the Ladies who have slaved for centuries to perfect their own musical talents. “I am more apt to violin, and if you are not a critic or halfway hazy from shell shock I am not half bad on the flute. Alas the perils of a soldier’s life, our musical talents suffer so with constant warfare.”

Elrond chuckled out, “With peace now you might find time to perfect your craft.”

“There is an advisor at home wishing I would, Yes. Apparently I am far too sarcastic to be Queen. I told him I was too sarcastic to be a Colonel too that’s part of why my men welcomed my promotion so quickly, to escape my pitiful tries for humor.” Making more chuckle as you asked, “I hear you’re prized for your horses, Lord Elrond?” His brow inched up and you said, “That’s about as casually as I can work that into a conversation,” making the group grin again.

“Of the Elven lands, yes. Do you not have horses?”

“Seven of my Lords have stallions, the rest prefer rhinos or Mumakil. It is hard to find tolerant Easterling breeders, we keep getting half starved horses.”

Celebrian asked, “You do not ride then?”

“Well I rode a pony once on Lothlorien when I was a child,” that had Celeborn’s brow inching up, “Lady Nimloth’s mare bore him. Beautiful sandy pony, we were passing through to Lindon. Stopped to visit a cousin. I was too scared of the stairs so Lady Nimloth watched me.”

Celebrian, “While you are here feel free to use any of our horses free for guests.”

“Well, that is a kind offer though I doubt I would do much past unnerve the horse and get us both terribly lost.”

Glorfindel smirked stating, “I did not take you for the skittish type.”

“No one ever does. My Sergeant at Arms still enjoys hiding in curtains to terrify me.”

Thranduil smirked, “What is so terrifying about curtains?”

Smirking at him you said, “Clearly your training camp wasn’t near a kangaroo reserve. More than a half of my cabinet is skittish around those creatures for how they tormented us. Finally get to rest and they would not have any of it.”

Celeborn, “Ah, we had snapping turtles. My brothers and I used to click spoons at one another when we were younger.”

You looked at Glorfindel who said, “My camp was lovely, save for an obnoxious peacock. Screamed nonstop.”

“Lucky,” You said shaking your head and joining the group in their milling at Oropher’s gesturing hand.

Fading back from the center of the conversation you caught more than a few sideways glances from the group around you with a few taking the task to aid in a more seamless flow into the conversation again while you seemingly waited for their verbal jump ropes to grant you an opening to hop in. Clearly still the odd man out but growing a bit more casual from your oddly awkward social skills contrasting their images of your having been at home with your fellow soldiers stating just how long you must have spent with them to have been so casual and at home with being yourself. The true self they had caught glimmers of randomly with smiles and giggles placed between sly jokes or comments luring the group out of the expected stoic facade nobles normally kept that from affair to strangers you held flawlessly.

The arrival of the young Princes however had the few other children in these lands with them requesting for some of the guests to join in on their sculpting lesson while your group parted. Flashing the boy’s a grin in their curious near pouting glance your way you said, “Just let me change first and I’ll join you.” Brightening their smiles as they darted off to ready their art room for another table and stool to theirs.

Your leaving the mingling nobles wasn’t far from unexpected, the sight of you minutes later in an old flannel and jeans tucked into tall boots with crown still in place however had a few Ladies nearly falling over in leaning to keep sight of you as a pair of little girls led you by the hands to their art room. Word surely spread and with an apron on over his dress robes Celeborn eventually came to join you. Finding you on an adorably short stool with legs crossed between your stool and work table as you focused on shaping your blob of clay into something closer to the giant pig plushie one of the children had brought to be your model.

Each of the Lords smirking seeing the clay handprints on your forearms exposed by your rolled up sleeves from helping the children with small tips in breaks on your own pig. The next in which Elladan paused and left a streak of clay on your cheek trying to brush your hair out of your face he had been staring at instead was when Glorfindel came to join in on the spectating. The wide smile and giggles from you had his heart skipping and body locked in place until Ellohrir left a handprint on his robe tugging him over to his own station for help on the ears. Still a clay coated mess the adults had halfway expected to see you rushing off to bathe only to leap right into their invitation to make paper boats they guided you in a race through the gardens to the looking stream best for their races.

Fully at home and careless beyond aiding the children in having a fun time the rumors seemed to be growing truer by the moment with hardly a second thought how this fabled un-killable Warrior would mingle among them and their children. The sight was almost enough to have the Lords stating your stay could be extended until your caught moments of pause where you spoke of and thought of your brothers back home that you were missing terribly.

Group dinners you had scrubbed up and changed into another of your yellow gowns for only to catch glimpses of the few groups dancing in the distance while you were seated near your mother’s relatives holding you from the more festive side of the evening. A sight not missed by your company from earlier feeling that their earlier planned seating had been a mistake as a few of them might oblige you with a dance if you wished to allow them a glimpse of another side of your skills and flare as Queen.

.

Woken from the floor after having fallen out of it the night before in a painful stretching mishap you flashed a sleepy grin to the same Elleths from the day prior on popping up out of nowhere almost. A note along with the meal had you smirking curiously at Lord Glorfindel’s offer for a post breakfast ride requesting you wear something comfortable for a leisurely ride through some of their best trails. Jeans and a long sleeved shirt were pulled on with your boots and answering he knock at your door you found the Lord dressed in what must have passed for his casual, dark grey and green traveling robes with the green shirt reaching his knees covering the top of his grey pants. “Are you ready to ride?”

“Why do you make it sound like we will be racing?” He only smirked at you and stepped back showing you the stables where you were shown the ins and outs of first dressing the horses, yours being a creamy tan with white mane adoring your generous pets while his proud darker brown dappled horse stood ready for some serious riding.

Easy paths through a tour of the inner riding trail split out to some of their open plains where you caught sight of other groups riding to and fro where his horse picked up speed and you giggled through yours following suit to give him a good race. The spreading smile across your face only spread the one across the face of the chuckling Lord unable to do anything but that at your giddy giggles and taunts while your horse was clearly faster. Lasting until a distant horn sounded signaling the time to return for lunch allowing the steeds a calmer trot back to their resting that had you both parting and you eventually pulled off to play with the children again.

Two full days you enjoyed the company of your new friends you wished to one day invite to your kingdom for some real relaxing. And you found yourself post dinner where once again you were thwarted from dancing with anyone but the twin Princes who you crouched so they could spin you spreading the smiles of those looking on across from their curious father. A bow of your head and warning was given of your early departure to miss a rough patch of weather barring your way home again. And regrettably he kept tabs on your readying and path your car took to the waiting jet that was soon past their borders leaving him to break the news to his friends and those who had inquired on your absence.

 *

‘I await standing at your shoulder once more in battle.’

The message sat as if burned into the center of the War Room table the Queen now stood in alone. At the shift of the air inside the Palace the young Princes seemed on edge of tears while with eyes closed she remained in thought while the Generals readied their forces. Morgoth was the one to end the marriage between her parents. Somehow able to break through the so called unflinching adoration he held for former Queen Morko in gaining more power for himself. The war the young Queen had all but been ended and while she had called for ceasefire Morgoth did not, no doubt word had not crossed their lands just yet that she had cut your efforts to fuel that Valar’s love of bloodshed. Somehow they had caught wind that the allies were not on full guard and now were open for attack.

Straightening up a deep breath filled her lungs and the servants having caught on that something was coming with possibly everything she had gained to be risked from it. Removing her hands from the table came in sliding her fingers across the chilled stone and a step back to turn on the ball of her foot strolling to the door growing more rigid in reaching it with a glint in her eyes seen from every General hinting at war. Tenderly the boys were cuddled and left with kisses on their foreheads after the bedtime story that she had read to them. And then she sealed their room entrusting the heirs to the care of the nannies with a General readying to be left in charge for her absence.

A year had passed, yet she could barely believe it. She was so different from the woman she was a year ago, but she did not mourn the loss. Instead, she held her head high with the knowledge of all that she accomplished. Waiting for her a group of soldiers stepped around the chair she lowered to sit on where they divided up her snowy curls to wrap in the same fireproof red wavy strips to be braided back in its old style. Blinking again at her reflection while they tied off the braid her black contacts and war paint gave sight to her old face she had grown so accustomed. Armor from the stand on the wall once she stripped fit like an old glove and with fingers flexing in the metal scales coating the backs of them to adjust their sitting back to normal she turned to the stand beside that to add the weapons there until it was empty.

All through the Palace the sound of marching boots echoed across silent rooms with hearts clenched with worry for what was coming for the soldiers thought to not be marching again so soon after the call for peace. No speeches were given and drawing the metal mask from the band on her thigh the former Colonel Pear secured it sealing the metal band with spikes circling her head to hold it in place blended into the soldiers worrying those looking on in the crowds around the gates of the Palace for the safety of their new ruler. The only one who had so selflessly put them and their safety first above all else. It had to be for them, the confirmation rippled through the crowds and cheers and whistles came to wish the soldiers and disguised Queen safe return.

 *

“Someone is doing something very foolish.” The report was just in, clear as the shadows crossing the horizon, Nerifgilem was marching to war. Your forces were drawn in but not told to stand down. Between visits home the soldiers were kept ready, assumed to face the threat of the Elves you had already faced to double cross your truce, not the Dark Elves led by Morgoth out to cross their borders. Readying for war themselves their forces gathered what could be spared and the open stretches of Arnor would be the endless battlefield sure to be bloody for centuries to come if you did not step in. The greatest hoard of allies for those displaced with little resources for fighting off the ground to draw from and the last thing they were expecting was for aid against your father’s greatest former ally assuming you would join them.

Back in the same glove of a suit of impenetrable armor and fireproof hair protection with black contacts and face paint to blend you back into your forces to fight among them. No one imagined you would face these forces yourself, and with this ally turned enemy your men would be needing you now more than ever to take strength from that their forenamed Witch King of Angmar among them. Morgoth himself had foretold that no man could kill you from the first time you faced his forces in your training fast tracking you up the ranks by your strength and prowess known only to Maiar and their kin. It was only fitting you would face him now, he wouldn’t be able to resist getting his hands bloody in this, and that would be where you would expand your territory to his as well crushing his people into obedience if you had to.

.

Greater Greenwood was first to encounter the forces and through the windshield of your Nazgul craft you could see the hopeless flickering expression in the guard’s faces in their hovering crafts when they saw your crafts breaking from above Morgoth’s dark endless cloud. Along their path you had joined them and without a thought they allowed you into their ranks to fit snugly at your usual places not knowing your trap near to snapping.

Down you dove and in a harsh slope your craft turned over to head back and split into twelve pieces sending you through the air widening the eyes of the guards inside the hovering craft. Across the nose of it your boots slid up over the screen that in a crouch your head, using the portal control from your Witch King program allowed your suit and craft to control or pass through other crafts and objects. With a wiggling finger wave you said, “Hey, you might want to shift two clicks to the left.”

Your head pulled out again and crouching above their screen you watched your ship pieces spiraling in a ring vaporizing the nearest fifty ships, the ring that once the craft you were on had eased over with a tilt of its wing downwards was free of the suction zone. A maneuver their other ships followed as well while the actions clicked in their heads seeing more of your ships setting off the same reactions breaking large holes in their ranks. Sprinting down the nose of the craft you leapt for your diving ship that morphed around your body to catch up to the diving trio of ships heading for the ships readying to get aloft.

Down you dove and around their ships yours tangled engaging again sending vaporized debris down on the Elves below relieved at your aid. More and more kingdoms were facing stunning help from Cirith Ungul and Angmar and the lands far North you ruled as well. Boards of formerly dark ships knowing the enemy far greater than any and into the fifty five day battle you led the charge fearless of who was coming, unlike the still stunned new allies of yours.

Painful and bloody you wielded your compact bow firing off charged rounds between slashes with the sword tips and slices of heads being removed by the razor sharp draw string stunning your enemies how you were able to fluidly bring down so many forces larger and visually more armed than you without a flinch or pause between.

Your ship above continued its barrage among the other ships and carriers to get their forces on the ground while as many of your men were on the ground with you and your allies far from distinguishable past style of fighting with pounds of blood caked across all of you. Nearly out of charges you were left to slashing and hacking until your next break when you would be refueled.

Over the kingdoms unprotected save for the Ancalagon the Black systems, armored shields under the image of a giant black dragon comprised of thousands of multiplied carriers apt to defend itself while your forces were otherwise distracted, freed you to not worry about your distant homes and innocents for the time being. Panting raggedly ignoring the painful sting of a surely near to fractured left forearm held together by your armored suit and a pinch in your right thigh surely from some grazed attack you charged on catching sights of Morgoth’s inner circle. Larger than the others in a sea of wargs being dropped into the battlefield from the last of his ships hoping to dismantle the hopes of those on the grounds seeing you were still between refresher ranks to take the front granting others breaks he charged onwards.

Clear through the masses breaking in your smaller frame you stuck out and across his lips a snarl flashed his blood streaked teeth knowing at once who you were. Cries of support came from your men holding their own in their own skirmishes and the allies struggled to hold their own while also watching the young Queen they had only just barely met off to surely face her doom. Half your size a mace was brought down in a swing that somehow you managed to hop over, swinging your bow around it slicing it off at the handle to land feet first hard in his chest firing him back a good ten feet hard into the splitting earth. At once the field all but fell silent save for the yip of the dying warg fatally hit by the cut off mace. Shouldering your bow resting safely across your back plate and bloody mud caked braid you watched his growling rise asking, “No plea to surrender?!”

“You will die in the dirt,” You rasped out against the struggle your lungs were having to fill again in regaining your strength. But it was enough to make him charge again with heavy barbed edge sword drawn from his back.

Frozen in place the Elf Lords watched while your ships above fired on the advancing wargs now landed to keep them at bay. You avoided three slashes only to feel his hand tighten in your braid yanking you back in a try to make you kneel. Painfully arched back down his sword came landing between two folds on the front of the armor, and were you filling said armor to the edges it should have run you through, only with the force of the jab the fold pushed your side over gliding the blade right past your shrunken waist from the nearly two month endeavor. Exhaling in shock from the force of it you saw his smile split releasing you with his sword still lodged supposedly in your torso in your turning collapse to a knee.

Releasing your braid mid cackle he took no notice of your head slumping forward to ease your bow off. In a sharp turn to slice off his leg drawing a pained scream from the collapsing warrior now watching his blade retracting through your back plate as you forced yourself up to your feet to heavily stab his sword between his shoulder blades and neck. Far cleaner a death than many would have granted him his body fell and already you had turned with hands outstretched accepting the full slam of the warg into your chest. Gripping it’s neck with one hand the other brought your bow down in its next step dropping it quicker than it could have hoped and with a sharp jerk of your hand still latched into the fur on its head you threw it aside shouting for your men to rally again. Second step into your charge replying cries came from your men leading the other forces to stagger back to focus on the battle from your assumed fatal blow sure to leave you somewhere in the piles of bodies to come.

Between heavy blows while your men weakened you held firm holding up their hopes as you tossed the wargs with ease once killed to aid other men in facing their foes locking them in place and tearing others from allies weakening faster with armor not as strong against the dark forces.

Shrill and clear the alarm came and with it a drop of more forces from above who landed on top of your battling line from the back ready for their turn to drive the forces back more and down to one knee with your men you slumped panting for air feeling surely cracked ribs from the warg blows. Under the cover of raised armored shields you felt the mechanic lizards dropping down crawling over you while you caught water skins and pouches of lembas to power through. The creatures refueling your charges and supplying spare daggers picked up from the back of the battle lines and swords and bows if needed while smaller ones worked under your armor taking vitals and healing injuries it was able to.

Sore and ragged your head turned to the allies accepting aid from the creatures and gladly sharing the supplies as well catching the still stunned stares of equally bloody and Lords wishing to be able to send you home. Fully able to see the pain and wish to do so in your eyes you hid from you men who all rose as their Queen once again did in the lifting of the shields freeing you back to aid in the lesser skilled men who had gained their expected stretch of bloody and torn earth. Right up to the edges of Orcarni and the southern stretch of Dwarven lands backed by Erebor and Iron Hills the Dwarven forces battered brutally the other end of the dark forces leading to a jumbled final stretch of the battle with the left overs brought down on both sides with nowhere to flee.

Lowly King Baurndur laughed and called out to you crossing the small gap through his best men parting in his approach, “Queen Pear, welcome to Orcarni! A fine skirmish you had left for us! Come, rest and feast in our halls for your return in glorious splendor to your halls!”

Behind you the allied Elf Lords all stole glances to you and one another as all your forces able to filled the carriers to fly ahead to Mordor, back to Angmar, Cirith Ungul and the lands far North while merely fifty of your best remained with you. All of the allies sending as many home in their crafts they could as well with thousands still left on the ground to march with you to the open gates still wondering how you were still alive even with the healing lizards of yours. Few Elven races had been so close to the Dwarves with even those from Greenwood never to have been greeted so fondly as you had just been leading them to wonder how you had managed to gain their favor as well.

Pt 3 on Ao3

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​, @mariannetora​, @shesakillerkween

[drauthor]

Operation: HAUNT

Part 1/?

Marian adjusted the duffel bag strap on her shoulder as she scanned the unfamiliar conference room. The drab beige walls were bare except for the large TV screen on the far north that was attached to a computer set up underneath and slightly to the left of it. The conference table wasn’t the largest she had ever seen - it would comfortably fit ten people, uncomfortably fit upwards of twenty. A quick count totaled sixteen people crammed around the table, talking amongst themselves. A few chairs with ugly polka-dotted upholstery were scattered throughout the room and most of them were claimed as well.

Marian held back her sigh and ducked into the room, aiming for one of the last pairs of open chairs. Once she was there, she dropped her duffle bag on the chair closest to the table and remained standing in front of the remaining chair. She braced her hands on her lower back and arched, sighing in relief when a series of cracks raced up her spine. She let the noise of the room wash over her and just as she was about to sit down, a hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

Every one of her muscles tensed and before she was aware of moving, her hand was locked around the offending wrist. She jerked around and was met with a solid chest clothed in a gray sweatshirt with fancy script declaring “Simmons Family Treasures” on the front.

Marian dropped the wrist like she had been burned and directed a glare upward, at the new arrival’s face. “What the fuck, Titus? You know better than to sneak up on me.”

Bartram Titus, Marian’s friend and co-worker, just smiled. “I apologize for scaring you, but I thought you had heard me approaching. I was not trying to be quiet.”

Marian crossed her arms over her chest and lowered herself into the chair. “You know these training events get loud. I don’t want to accidentally break your wrist one day.”

Bartram transferred Marian’s duffle bag to the floor between the chairs and sat down himself, crossing his ankles. “An unfortunate accident of my own making, if it ever occurs.”

Marian rolled her eyes and shifted until she was slumped in the chair with her legs splayed out. She let her eyes drift across the men and women gathered around, marking the exits - the doorway where she had come in, which was attached to a long corridor with no windows, and a large window on the east side of the room, which looked out over a small courtyard from four stories above - and anyone she didn’t recognize.

“Captain Smith is not here yet. How unusual.”

Marian tipped her head toward Bartram and let out a quiet hum of agreement. “Isn’t it great? I don’t have to look at his stupid fuckin’ face first thing in the morning.”

“His ‘stupid fucking face’, Marian?”

Marian shrugged and let her focus zero in on the door and the area surrounding it. “His face is stupid. I don’t like it.”

“I think the truer statement is that you just do not like him in general.”

Marian didn’t say anything and just smirked. Bartram fell silent as well, bending forward to rifle through the side pocket of Marian’s duffle bag. Marian, from the corner of her eye, watched him pull out the fresh sketch pad she had packed for him. Her smirk gentled into a smile as he began to sketch, his hand moving confidently along the page.

Marian took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing instead on the sounds of the room - the low murmuring of conversation, the scratch of Bartram’s pencil, and the machinery underlying the building that kept it running.

Abruptly, the noise in the room jumped a handful of decibels. Excited “captains!” were shouted and someone let out a loud wolf whistle. Marian scowled and let her eyes flick open. She stared at the ceiling just long enough to roll her eyes and then looked back to the doorway.

The first time Marian Sheldur had laid eyes on Jordan Smith she had come to two conclusions: 1. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on and 2. He was a complete and utter prick.

Three years later and nothing had changed.

He stood a few feet away from the doorway in the room, chatting amiably with the gathered SWAT officers, most of whom were members of his personal squad. His dark hair was styled away from his face, leaving his face unobstructed. Marian absently traced the lines of his face, trailing along his jaw and down his throat. She blinked twice before physically shaking her head, scowling at herself. She dragged her gaze away from his throat and the sight of his stretched out crew cut shirt that revealed warm brown skin just as dark as the rest of him.

Marian pulled her phone out of the pocket of her sweatpants and frowned at the home screen. It was almost seven in the morning and the first meeting of the day was supposed to start in ten minutes. Letting out a short sigh, Marian shoved her phone back into her pocket and looked up in time to see a familiar face walking toward her.

Marian arched an eyebrow at the man but didn’t try and keep the grin from spreading over her face. “Hey, Rev. You and the captain over there are late.”

Roland Allen was better known by his old military designation R3V4N and seemed to prefer it, too. He was a large man and appeared even larger when he stopped in front of Marian’s chair, holding a hand out for her to shake. “Hey, Sheldur. Nice to see you too. My morning has been quite lovely, thanks for ask-”

Marian rolled her eyes and leaned forward to take his hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was getting to that part. Why are the two of you so late? Smith’s normally the first one at these things.”

“Privileged information, I’m afraid.” R3V4N winked as he released her hand. He braced his hands on his hips and grinned down at her. “You seem as excited as ever for training.”

“You know I always am.”

“I could swim in the sarcasm that just dripped off that sentence.”

Marian rolled her eyes and settled back into her chair. “Out of all the SWAT teams in our area, I’m the only one that’s been forced to consistently train with Smith for the past three years. I finally got the administration to let Bartram tag along. He’s been chomping at the bit to get inside of Doc’s head since I mentioned the man.”

R3V4N’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, disappearing into a sea of fiery red, and he immediately looked to Bartram who merely looked up to offer him a smile before going back to his sketching. R3V4N looked back to Marian. “You trust him around Doc?”

Marian’s snort was loud and uncontained. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

R3V4N let out a boisterous laugh and slowly shook his head. “If something explodes, I’ll let the captain know it’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“If Bartram and Doc get along and blow something up, you were the one who got them into the same room so they could interact.”

“And Smith is always looking to blame me for something.”

R3V4N shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It’s not like you're not just as eager to throw him under the bus.”

“I would like to actually throw him under a bus,” Marian muttered under her breath.

Either R3V4N didn’t hear her or elected to ignore the jab. Marian would have bet on the latter if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. “If they make anything explode, I’m blaming Smith and you as I eat popcorn and watch from the sidelines.”

“I refuse to accept blame if it ever happens.”

R3V4N just shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. He took a moment to study Smith before looking back at her. “You should let me take out for lunch later today.”

Marian cocked an eyebrow. “I’m loathe to say no to free food-”

“Then don’t.”

“But I will if Smith is there. Watching us try to kill each other over lunch might be considered entertaining for you and Bartram, but Smith and I would take it too far.”

R3V4N shook his head. “Cap’ has other plans. He’s getting dragged into a meeting with The Admin.” He paused. “I didn’t tell you that.”

Marian schooled her features into neutrality despite the shock of surprise that zipped up her spine. “The Admin?”

“All I can say, unfortunately. Lunch?”

“You don’t wanna eat with your squad?”

“I see them all the time. You, I only get to see twice a year, maybe four if I’m lucky. Honor me with your presence and get lunch with me. I’d like to find out if I need to avoid Bartram and Doc when they’re together.”

Marian slowly started nodding. “Yeah, sure, okay. Lunch it is. You pick the place. I'll do anything except sushi.” Her lips turned down in a frown and she locked eyes with R3V4N. “You have any idea why Smith is meeting with The Admin?”

R3V4N was silent for a long moment. He glanced at a sleek looking watch on his wrist. “Even if I had any idea, I couldn’t tell you. As it is, I have no fucking clue.”

“Well, it’s his problem. I’m perfectly fine with that.”

R3V4N grinned. “I’m sure you are. Your squad is downstairs, right?”

Marian nodded. “I have a couple of sims with them for about an hour after lunch.”

“Good luck. I better find a seat with Cap’ before the big wigs come in and yell at me for still standing up.” R3V4N touched two fingers to his brow and sketched a shallow bow before strolling back over to Smith. Smith glanced up when the other man arrived and offered him a quick smile before his eyes flicked over to Marian. He studied her for a moment and when he made eye contact, Marian crossed her arms over her chest and raised both eyebrows. His nose wrinkled and he looked away.

“And the urge to make him eat his own teeth grows yet again.” Marian clenched her jaw and hunkered down in her chair.

“You’ll be able to ignore it for one week, I’m sure.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Marian could feel Bartram’s attention shift to her. “Are you ever going to tell me why you hate Captain Smith so much?”

Marian ignored her lieutenant and almost felt guilty when she heard the man let out a quiet sigh. He began to carefully pack away his sketchbook and pencils and didn’t push the issue. She was grateful he was willing to move on so quickly. Marian closed her eyes and tipped her head up to the ceiling.

Marian and Jordan Smith had been butting heads for the three years they had known each other. Marian’s oldest daughter was insistent it was because they were too similar and had witnessed the worst of each other when they first met and Marian was sure it was just because Jordan Smith was a complete and utter asshole.

The first time they had met was… disastrous. Marian hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a time for a week and having to leave her newest foster child - a small boy named Crux who was still with her and she was still in the process of adopting - with her brother had knotted Marian’s nerves so tightly she had shaken through the entire drive to the training building and then through the rest of the week as well.

In hindsight, Marian was surprised she hadn’t punched him sooner.

He had breezed into the room like he owned the place and Marian hadn’t known that, as captain, he practically did. His confidence wasn’t the issue. It was the argument about strategy that had turned her vague frustration into outright rage. Marian couldn’t even remember what the damn argument had been about, all she remembered was hopping the conference table and her fist connecting with his jaw.

The hit he landed on her liver had hurt like a bitch.

It was one of the handfuls of things she reluctantly respected about the man.

They had never managed to make up after that cataclysmic fight. Surprisingly, the incident hadn’t gone on either of their records, and Marian was still forced to work with Smith and his team.

Marian hated to admit it and would only do so under extreme duress, but when she and Smith weren’t fighting and were actually working together, they made a formidable team.

It was truly a shame that Marian would rather have her teeth pulled than work with Smith any more than she absolutely had to.

When Marian heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, she blinked her eyes open and forced herself to sit up straight in her chair. Glancing at the doorway, she saw two men in suits walk into the room and head straight to the TV screen and computer. The room fell silent when they entered. Marian bit back her smile; not a single officer in the room liked the men in business attire that started out leading these meetings.

Marian settled into the chair, keeping her back straight and the rest of her posture relaxed. This first meeting wasn’t scheduled to be longer than half an hour and then they would be beginning the first of the day's simulations. Bartram straightened up beside her and he leaned forward, eager to begin. Marian wished she had even a third of his energy. It would make the day go by faster.

Marian let her eyes flick over to Smith one final time before she turned her attention to the ceiling and let the droll tones of the men in suits wash over her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the long, boring day ahead of her.

[wild3flow3r]

Epilogue

2021

Two years. Two years amounted to numerous missed calls, a handful of visits, three consecutive weeks of not knowing whether the relationship would make it, one pregnancy scare, an engagement (because not even Harry could stick to his own plan), and a reunion of the lifetime.

Mister Cunningham, Lorelai’s boss, decided to expand his business to the United Kingdom at the end of last year and he was looking for a new CFO for that office. Lorelai applied for the position, Brian did not. Brian was so sure that the current CFO would retire, like he’d told her he would after two more years. The CFO didn’t retire, Brian didn’t get a new position, Lorelai did. There were many tears shed by both Lorelai and Harry the night she found out.

Now Lorelai’s stood in her new living room holding a paintbrush. Harry bought them a house just like he said he would. Lorelai’s only condition was that it would need a little work done. She wanted them to do it together and make the house their own. Harry comes up from behind her and wraps his arms around her waist and leans his chin on her shoulder.

“Well, you’re not an artist.”

Lorelai playfully swings a punch backwards to land on his shoulder. “Shut up.”

In theory, Lorelai’s idea was nice, but neither she nor Harry really knew what they were doing. Somehow, Lorelai had messed up painting the wall in front of her, and she doesn’t understand how when she’s only been using one shade of blue.

“We can still make the house our own without actually having to do all the work.”

She knew Harry’s been meaning to bring this up to her for the last few days. He was smart to wait until now, when she was at her wits end. “Alright.” Lorelai finally gives in.

Harry presses kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck. “We’ve also got a wedding to plan.”

“Hmm,” Lorelai murmurs while leaning her head back so that she can stare at Harry. She’s been back home for a month now, and she still can’t believe it. Every morning she wakes up feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, and every night she goes to sleep scared that she’ll wake up in the morning only to find out it was all just a dream. “I’ve got a dress fitting this weekend. The workers are probably going to hate me, I’m bringing everybody.”

“Everybody?” Harry asks with an eyebrow raised and a teasing smile. “I wasn’t invited.”

Lorelai rolls her eyes. “I can’t invite one sister and not the other four. Plus my sister-in-law wants to come along too. And of course my mother, along with your mother and Gem. And I think my three oldest nieces are coming as well. That’s twelve people Harry. You get to go to your suit fitting during your lunch break by yourself.”

Harry shakes his head. “My mum’s asked to come to that as well.”

“And?”

“I told her I’d let her know.”

There were no truer words than time heals all wounds. A year after everything had happened, Harry called his mother. He asked her to attend one of his therapy sessions with him, that way his therapist was able to mediate the chat. They’ve been continuously making amends since. Harry’s said before, he loves his mother, he always will, and he can learn to forgive her for her past mistakes, but that doesn’t mean their relationship will ever go back to the way it once was. Xavier has had less luck with Harry, but Lorelai knew that he wanted to reach out to his uncle before the wedding ceremony.

From upstairs, a small yip is heard before there’s some pounding against the stairs. A four month old tan pitbull barrels his way into the living room and face plants against Lorelai’s leg. She can’t help the laugh as she bends over to pick him up.

“Got scared when no one was there after you woke up from your nap, huh Waffles?” Lorelai cradles the puppy against her chest. He only licks her chin in response.

Lorelai can practically hear Harry roll his eyes, from both the puppy's name and from how she’s babying him. As if Harry didn’t do it all the time when he didn’t think Lorelai was watching him.

“You got daddy wrapped around your little paw too, right? I saw him sneak you some of the bacon off of his plate this morning.”

“Because he wouldn’t stop whining.”

“Because daddy likes to spoil his baby, hmm?” Lorelai coos while scratching Waffles behind one of his ears. “Daddy’s got such a soft spot for you. Maybe even more for you than me.”

“I’m going to bed.”

Harry takes two steps back, and at the movement Waffles practically leaps from Lorelai’s arms to Harry’s. He catches him right before the puppy would have fallen into a can of paint. Harry sets Waffles down carefully and starts to walk away again. Waffles follows right on his heels, even nipping at the ends of Harry’s pants.

“Unbelievable. Both of you will be the death of me.”

Lorelai laughs until Harry exits the room with Waffles hot on his tail, and even more when Waffles barks for Harry to carry him up the stairs and Harry groans (because for some reason going down the stairs was okay, but going up them was a tricky task). Harry tries to act like he only tolerates the dog for Lorelai’s sake, but of all the puppies they looked at together Harry was the one to pick Waffles out. And every day Lorelai could see his act slipping away.

“Lorelai! Come get your son! He’s peeing all over the bath mat!”

Well, most days she can see the act slipping away.

~

2023

Lorelai thought she’d only be able to fall in love with one boy with bright green eyes and soft brown hair, but she was very very wrong. Wyatt Styles would also steal her heart. Born on May twelfth, after seven hours of labor, Lorelai and Harry welcomed a baby boy into their small family. Four months later, they couldn’t be more sleep deprived or happy.

Although Harry hadn’t really wanted to be the one to work on the house, he was keen to set up the nursery and build everything himself for the baby. Lets just say, there were lots of bandaids and even a hospital visit when Harry accidentally hit the hammer against his thumb. And he stood with Lorelai every step of the way through the pregnancy. He went to every appointment, every class, and would get up in the middle of the night to find whatever weird craving she was having.

Watching Harry with Wyatt is Lorelai’s new favorite scene. Some nights she’ll wake up to hear Harry humming quietly through the baby monitor, sometimes even whispering sleepy nonsense to the baby while feeding him a bottle. Some nights when she comes home from work, Harry and Wyatt will be napping on the couch together, drool coming from the both of them.

“What’re you three doing?”

Harry and Lorelai alternated in the mornings on who would be awake with Wyatt. This was Harry’s morning, and Wyatt was being particularly quiet, which was abnormal to say the least. Wyatt seemed to love the sound of his own voice, or more the sound of his cry.

Harry snaps his head up at Lorelai’s voice, his eyes frantic as he waves his hand as if to tell her to be quiet. He’s kneeling in front of the couch, Waffles and Wyatt lying together in front of him. Lorelai rounds the couch to kneel next to him.

“I thought you said Waffles isn’t allowed on any of the furniture?” Harry had come up with that rule when they first got Waffles, and while Lorelai didn’t particularly care where Waffles relaxed, she enforced the rule.

“That was before I found out Waffles was the best nanny in the world. Look!” Harry whispers, exasperated but also excited by his new findings.

And he wasn’t wrong. Waffles laid curled up, and against his stomach sat Wyatt. The dog's head was pressed against the baby's stomach. Wyatt pressed his hands all around the dog's face before he looked up at his parents with wide eyes. Waffles stayed there and took Wyatt’s grabby hands like a champ. And for once, Wyatt wasn’t crying.

“Waffles has secret powers.”

Lorelai stares at Harry, her face giving off an ‘are you serious’ look, but Harry was still too busy looking at Waffles with amazement.

“Or our son loves dogs.”

“I’m going to stick with my theory.”

Then Waffles licked Wyatt’s hand, and a sound that sounded awfully like a laugh, his first laugh, passed his mouth. Both parents' jaws drop, before forming into large smiles.

“Waffles has secret powers,” Lorelai finally agrees.

~

2025

“No, don’t want.” Wyatt shakes his head over and over again. He pulls his hand hard enough that Harry is forced to let go of the toddler's hand, and then he runs out into the hallway. Two seconds later he comes back, but he’s tossed over Jones's shoulder and giggling. A ten year old Rebecca enters the room right after them.

Jones and Rebecca moved to London about a year ago. Jones was offered a new job, and Rebecca enjoyed spending time with Lorelai and helping to watch Wyatt, and now Lauren.

“You don’t want what?” Jones asked as he set Wyatt back down on the ground.

“A sister! Asked for a brother!”

The night before, Lauren Styles was born. Now she’s wrapped up in a blanket, being held by her mother. Harry sits on the hospital bed next to his girls, carefully running his fingertips against her face. Blue eyes blink slowly, before closing completely and drifting off for a nap. Rebecca comes up on the other side of Lorelai.

“Why’s she bald? Wyatt had hair when he was born.”

“Some babies are just born bald,” Lorelai explains. “She’ll grow hair soon enough.”

“What’s her name?”

Lorelai pauses before looking up to Jones who is now holding Wyatt on his hip and is standing behind Rebecca. “Lauren,” Lorelai responds. Jones's eyes snap to hers.

“Like my mother?” Rebecca gasps, leaning over the bed to get a better look at her new cousin.

“Exactly like your mother.”

“Daddy used to call my mom Ren, can I call her that?”

“Of course.”

Lorelai shifts so that Harry can hold Lauren. “Do you want to hold her?” He asks Rebecca, who nods enthusiastically. They move to a chair nearby.

“Mummy,” Wyatt whines and reaches out for her, not liking no longer having all of the attention on him. Lorelai opens her arms and Wyatt presses his head against her neck.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jones mumbles, trying to hold back tears.

Lorelai shakes her head. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Jones leans down and presses a kiss against Lorelai’s cheek. “I love you.”

Lorelai playfully pats his cheek. “Love you too.”

“Daddy! Look! I’m holding the baby! All by myself!” Rebecca shout whispers as to not to disturb Lauren.

Even Wyatt looks over at this. He’d been given the option to hold her, but immediately refused. He’d entered the room earlier this morning demanding to see his brother, and was rudely shocked to find Lauren instead. Then he proceeded to run around the hospital, Harry having to chase him up and down the hall.

Rebecca was in fact holding Lauren herself, but with a pillow on her lap to help support her arms. Harry kneeled in front of them just in case, his smile wide. Wyatt scrambles out of Lorelai’s arms and Jones sets him back on the ground. Everyone knew what he was about to do. He seems to copy everything Rebecca does.

“I wanna do,” Wyatt pouts, pulling at his father’s sleeve.

“You want to hold your sister?”

“Please?” He stands on his tiptoes and spreads his arms out. “All by myself.”

“Daddy will have to help a little bit, alright?”

Wyatt pouts, but still he nods. Harry takes Lauren back from Rebecca, who now goes to sit next to Lorelai, and then he takes a seat on the chair. Wyatt crawls into his lap and sticks his arms out again, and Harry places Lauren down in front of them. Wyatt’s arms wrap around the baby but he still looks unsure about her.

“Next time give me a brother please,” Wyatt mutters.

~

2028

Two kids had been the plan, a boy and a girl just like Harry had said eight years ago. But this year they started it with three kids. Now that it’s three months into the year, Lorelai and Harry feel like they’ve been dragged through the mud, but the smiles and laughter make it completely worth it.

Wyatt’s four now, or if you ask him, four years and seven months. He’s a spitting image of his father, but he takes to his mother’s more kind nature. Lauren, now two, has brown curls that fall down her back, and has taken her mother’s brown eyes. She prefers to be the boss, much like her father. Sarah Styles, aged eight months, was born with blonde hair that still hasn’t darkened, and eyes still the color blue.

“Daddy! Wyatt pinched me!”

“I did not! She’s lying!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Please, can you guys be a little more quiet. Sarah’s down for a nap,” Harry begs his children as soon as he enters the living room. “Now, what’s happened?”

“Wyatt pinched me!” Lauren responds, although she does lower the volume of her voice.

“Daddy, I didn’t I promise. She’s only saying that because I don’t want to let her play with my truck.”

Harry kneels in front of both of them. He looks between the two of them, and he knows who is most likely telling the truth. It wasn’t the first time Lauren lied about being hurt, and if she really was then she would have started crying by now.

“Did he actually pinch you, Lauren?”

Lauren stares at her father, but then looks away on the ground. “He wouldn’t let me play with his truck, daddy. My Barbies wanna go to the beach, and his truck can fit all of them.”

“Lauren, we talked about lying and about respecting your brother’s toys. That’s going to be two minutes on the naughty step.”

“Sarah gets to grab at my toys and she doesn’t have to sit on the step!” Lauren pouts and stomps her foot.

“Sarah’s only a baby. If she’s still doing it when she’s a little older then she’ll get punished as well. Now go on.”

Wyatt goes back to playing with his truck gleefully, and Harry stands out of view of the step counting down the time. With his job, most days he’s allowed to work from home. Typically, he has a nanny help him with the kids while Lorelai is at work, but she was taking her vacation this week. Finally, he gets Lauren to apologize to both him and her brother. Then Sarah starts crying, and Harry’s jogging back upstairs.

“Hello? I’m home!”

“Mummy!” Both Wyatt and Lauren scream. They leave their toys forgotten on the ground and race to go to Lorelai.

Lorelai drops the bags of takeout on the ground and kneels to hug both of the children at once. “Oh my, I missed you guys so much.”

“Don’t go then, mummy! Stay home with us.” Lauren whines while pressing her lips against her mother’s cheek. “Want to have a tea party tomorrow.”

Lorelai smiles sympathetically. “I’m sure daddy can have a tea party with you tomorrow, and you can pick any teapot from my collection alright?”

Lauren nodded reluctantly. When Lorelai stands, Wyatt tugs her hand towards the kitchen. “Mummy look what I made in preschool today. Daddy hung it up on the fridge already!”

Lorelai places the bags on the counter now before being dragged to the fridge. Wyatt drew stick figures of both of his parents, himself, Lauren, a really small one of Sarah, and Waffles, although he was drawn to be as big as Harry.

“Good job baby, that’s so pretty.” Lorelai kisses his nose and Wyatt giggles while playfully swatting her away.

“Mummy, me and daddy went to the park today with Sarah and I went down the big curly slide all by myself.”

Lorelai ruffles her hair. “Oh my, you’re so brave baby.”

Harry enters the room then, holding a wiggling Sarah in his arms, and Waffles following close behind them. Both parents are anxiously waiting for the day their youngest finally learns how to walk, knowing she’ll be getting into everything much like the older two.

“Hey Skipper,” Harry murmurs while he’s pressing a kiss against her lips. Wyatt and Lauren both yell in disgust before trotting back into the living room to their toys.

“How was today?” They both know from experience, single parenting for a day with three kids is one of the hardest things any human can endure.

“Alright. No one had to go to the hospital, so I’ll call that a success.” He hands her Sarah so that he can start unloading the food.

Sarah coos at her mother and reaches to play with the teapot charm around her neck. Lorelai blows a raspberry against her cheek, surrounding the room in giggles.

“Zachary’s going to pick Wyatt up from school tomorrow, and Xavier’s coming by my office tomorrow for Lauren and Sarah, and then both of them will drop the kids off by dinner.” Harry tells her as he starts setting the table.

“Your mum’s going to call me tomorrow about the family vacation she wants to plan this summer.” Lorelai says. She puts Sarah in her high chair and begins separating the food onto plates.

Harry comes from behind her and places both of his hands on her hips. He presses his forehead against her neck. Lorelai reaches back and runs her fingers through his hair. He’s come so far these last years redeveloping his relationships with his mother, Zachary, and Xavier. He’s trusting them to help take care of the kids, is willing to go away for a few weeks for a family vacation, and he can have actual conversations with all three of them, even Zachary.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters.

“For what?” Lorelai hums.

“For everything.”

“Like?”

“For the kids. For marrying me. For loving me back. And…” 

“And?”

“For letting me catch you. I’d be lost if you hadn’t.”

Fin.

[collective-laugh]

Detective AU - Muriel x MC Chapter 4

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Taglist:  @a-zoidberg-aesthetic @lesbiancountess @fartkittyonline @yaysam @y-all-dnt-ve @countgoatman-and-drleechboy @julians-chest-hair @vesuviass @caterpiller-tea @zaemoultrie75901 @saltywerewolfrebel @obsessedwiththearcana @thatsaltyseaman @xburningwitch @i-dont-speak-wolf @missrabbitart @softarcana

This chapter was highly inspired by ‘Private Investigations’ by the Dire Straits. @dr-devorak-will-seeyounow introduced me, and it fit the vibe, and I fell in love! I recommend listening while reading!

Also, please let me know if you would like me to put together some sort of playlist/mood music! I’ve done this before on AO3, and it really seems to help!

Thank you to everyone who has made this series such a success, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have! Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Chapter Four: Private Investigations

“You’re looking more miserable than usual, Muriel.” Ludovico leans against the handrail to the back entrance of the Raven, “Which is a feat, considering you always look miserable.”

Muriel lets the cigarette dangle from his lips, still worried about her, hoping that Julian got her back home safely, that he didn’t try anything…

If he found out he so much as laid a hand on her, he’d fucking kill him.

He didn’t really know why he cared so much, and he knew the doctor well enough to know he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything...sober.

“‘m tired.” Muriel claims, and though it’s a half truth, he wished he wasn’t so transparent, “Don’t worry about it.”

Ludovico smirks at him, tossing his cigarette butt out in the rain, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the little broad you walked in with, huh?”

“No.” He answers a little too quickly, a little too sharply.

He raises his eyebrows, unused to Muriel being anything other than quietly benign, and asks, “Who was she anyway?”

Muriel knew it was none of his business, but he didn’t mind Ludovico, and it didn’t hurt to talk to someone, he guessed. That was always Asra’s advice - “feelings” and “talking” and all that bullshit.

“You wanna, ah,” He waggles his eyebrows, “make whoopee with her?”

Never mind.

Muriel rolls his eyes, smashing his cigarette on the hand rail. Trying to talk to people was shit, and definitely something he didn’t want to make a habit.

“She’s a friend.” He claims, which...isn’t a lie. He’s known her for years now, and knows more about her than he probably ought to, considering just how little they talked. Asra liked to talk about her to no end, sparing no detail about just how much he missed her.

He hopes she’s gotten home safely, that she’s managed to fall asleep so she doesn’t muck up her interview with the Countess later.

The Countess...he could hardly believe that the Countess of Vesuvia herself had resorted to a backwater private detective, no offense to her or Asra. She held no real title outside of being insanely rich and being the former wife of the most prominent crime boss in the city.

Lucio sickened Muriel. The thought of him made him sneer again, and the mere idea that someone could pull the right strings and make the right deals with the right people, and all his problems, all the sick shit he did, could just disappear.

“A friend, huh? Well, the last friend I had like that ended up in my bed, compadre.” Ludovico raises his brow, his sleazy intentions obvious, “You could always give her my number if she doesn’t have someone waitin’ for her at home.”

He was about to say she did, that there was Asra or maybe even Julian waiting for her back at the office, that she wasn’t going to be in that dank little hole all on her own.

Maybe it was selfish. It was definitely selfish to want to be the one waiting for her.

He curses himself, wondering when the hell he started considering her as anything more than an acquaintance he kept at arms’ length. He’s itching for another cigarette, especially as he’s facing the stupid grin on Ludovico’s face. Instead of lighting another, he’s looking at the watch on his wrist. It was a quarter past five, which meant he was free to go.

“Maybe.” He says, trying not to sound so cryptic, but, like Asra said, it was a second nature to him.

He debates stopping back by the office. He’d sent Jules home with her around midnight, and he did want to make sure she was alright. But, something she said to him earlier stuck out like a sore thumb, something about how she could walk herself home.

She was still a grown woman, even if she couldn’t really remember who she was, and he wasn’t certain she’d be all too thrilled about his breathing down her neck.

He does light a cigarette, with Ludovico yelling something crude about her after him, and he shuts his eyes for just a moment, trying to steady himself. It had been a long night, and he was so tired, but he needed to check on her, to make sure she got home alright…

The nagging voice in his head telling him to leave her be wins, despite his instincts screaming at him to do otherwise. He walks the opposite direction, straight back home.

His place is small, modest, and...decidedly not comfortable. The landlord insisted on no pets, but as soon as she saw Muriel, she made an exception, considering she claimed, “ruffians’ll go running soon as they see you, boy!” He couldn’t live anywhere without Inanna, he knows, and was thankful to the lady - Nonna Linka, as she insisted on being called - for letting him stay.

She wasn’t up yet, like anyone with sense, so he’s alone on his trek up the single flight of stairs. He isn’t surprised to find his door unlocked, considering the damn thing had been broken for months now, and all but collapses in bed alongside Inanna.

He dreams of her, of happier times, and wishes things were simpler than he made them out to be.

_

She’s scrambling to get dressed.

It’s embarrassing; the first time in months she’s had a case, and actual, honest to God interview with a client, and she’s running around like a headless chicken trying to gather everything she needed. Asra would have been no better, she knew, waiting until the last minute for everything, but she refuses to think of him now, today, at least until she’s gotten this interview over with.

It was a murder case. Not only a murder case, but a case surrounding the Lucio Morgason. It was more than she ever could have asked for, and she was squandering it because she could quite reach the button on her dress.

Once she’s certain she’s gathered everything - and certain that she’s forgotten at least one thing - she’s out the door, only half remembering to lock it and turn the tacky neon signs off. She only barely catches the train to the Heart District, and knows she must look a mess.

A gorgeous socialite looks at her, all legs and brown hair tied up in some elaborate braid, lips painted a red far too improper for the time of day, and arches a perfectly sculpted brow, as if the very sight of her was amusing.

It was enough to send her blood boiling, and remind her exactly what she was here for.

Nadia’s house - estate, mansion, whatever - is only a seven minute walk and a four minute run from the train station, and she makes it with five minutes to spare before she was considered tardy. It takes two minutes to have her looking presentable again, another three to even reach the door and be led inside by a butler - butler! - one to have her coat taken, and another seven before she even sees Nadia.

She’s the picture of perfection, and puts that socialite from the train to shame, effortlessly beautiful with her long, black hair, and long, golden dress. She greets her gracefully, as she does all things, and ensures that they’re alone, beginning the interview in Lucio’s private library, sitting across from one another.

“Can you tell me about the last time you saw your husband?” She asks, subtly looking over to the tape recorder to ensure that it was getting all of this. Her hand stood ready, just in case Nadia said anything important, and she settles into detective mode, trying to calm herself.

“I…” Nadia wrings her hands, eyeing the white gloves she set aside moments before, as if she was debating whether or not she really wanted to hold them. “I don’t remember my husband. The accident…” She shrugs, looking everywhere but at the detective, “I didn’t know where else to turn, detective. The law is thankful he’s dead, and his ‘friends’ are starting to call for my removal.”

“Removal?” She asks, “Removal from what?”

“I’ve been acting as an interim...boss, I suppose.” She finally meets her eyes, “You must understand, detective. This city isn’t kind to us.”

Truer words had never been spoken, but she only purses her lips before asking, “Is there anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband? Anyone he had any bad blood with?”

“He was not known for his...subtlety.” Nadia hesitates, as if the gravity of the situation was just catching up to her, “Detective, you must know that I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your services. And that the law is not to know of this.” She says it with such vindication, with such authority, that the detective feels like she has to listen.

“Don’t worry about that.” She replies, thankful her voice didn’t betray her nerves, “This conversation will only ever be heard by you, me, and my associate.”

“Asra?” Nadia inquires, like she was quizzing herself to see if she could remember his name.

The detective nods, but moves on, “Did your husband have any enemies?”

Nadia purses her lips, eyes flicking over to the tape recorder before pulling a small notepad from between the chair and its cushion, sliding it across the table toward Nadia, “I, um...I compiled a short list of people it could possibly be, or people who might have wanted him dead.”

The detective flicks through the pages, though the only writing found inside is on the first and second slips of paper. “Consul Valerius…Vulgora...these are his associates, right?”

Nadia opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and shakes her head, “They are...suspicious at the very least.”

The detective purses her lips.

This was going to be a long interview.

[womenoflibraryhistory]

Margaret “Daisy” Suckley

President Roosevelt himself took this photograph of Daisy Suckley in the White House as she went through various papers, February 10, 1942. (Photo: FDR Presidential Library & Museum)

This post was written by Keith Muchowski, an Instruction/Reference Librarian at New York City College of Technology (CUNY) in Brooklyn, New York. He blogs at thestrawfoot.com.

Margaret Suckley was an archivist at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York from 1941 to 1963. But she was much more than that.

“Daisy” Suckley, as she was known to friends and family, was born in Rhinebeck, New York in 1891 and grew up on Wilderstein, the family estate on the Hudson River not far from the Roosevelts’ own Springwood in Hyde Park. This was a small, rarefied world and in the ensuing decades Daisy saw sixth cousin Franklin’s rise to prominence. She eventually became one of his closest friends and confidants, sharing the good times and the bad with the country’s only four-term president. Ms. Suckley was there for Franklin in the 1920s when he was struck paralyzed from the waist down with polio, knew him during his years in Albany when he was New York governor and he became a national figure, attended the presidential inaugural in 1933 in the depths of the Great Depression, offered a discreet and comforting ear during the dark days of the Second World War when, as commander-in-chief, he made difficult and lonely decisions affecting the lives of millions around the world. Finally, Daisy was one of the inner circle present in Warm Springs, Georgia when the president died in April 1945. Roosevelt was inscrutable to most—some called him The Sphinx—but if anyone outside his immediate family knew him, it was Margaret “Daisy” Suckley.

Ms. Suckley (left) in Roosevelt's private office at the presidential library with actress Evelyn Keyes, and Library Director Fred Shipman. Ms. Keyes is holding the album-version of Ms. Suckley's book The True Story of Fala, October 31, 1946. (Photo: FDR Presidential Library & Museum)

There were perks to being Roosevelt’s close friend. The two enjoyed picnics and country drives. Both loved to dish the gossip about Washington politicos and the Hudson River Valley families they had known for decades. Daisy helped President Roosevelt design his Hyde Park retreat, Top Cottage. She enjoyed the “Children’s Hour” afternoon breaks when Roosevelt would mix cocktails for himself and his friends to unwind. There were getaways at Shangri-La, the rustic presidential retreat in Maryland’s Catoctin Mountains known today as Camp David. She attended services at Hyde Park Church with the First Family, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth when the royals visited in 1939. It was she who gave him Fala, the Scottish Terrier to whom he was so attached after receiving the pooch as a Christmas gift in 1941.

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt stood at a podium on the grounds of his family home in Hyde Park and dedicated the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library on June 30, 1941. He was still in office at the time, having won re-election to an unprecedented third (and eventually fourth) term seven months previously. Roosevelt clearly believed that libraries and archives were themselves exercises in democracy in these years when fascism was spreading around the world. Ever the optimist even as World War Two raged in Europe and the Pacific, Roosevelt declared “It seems to me that the dedication of a library is in itself an act of faith. To bring together the records of the past and to house them in buildings where they will be preserved for the use of men and women in the future, a Nation must believe in three things. It must believe in the past. It must believe in the future. It must, above all, believe in the capacity of its own people so to learn from the past that they can gain in judgment in creating their own future.” Then he quipped to the two thousand gathered about this being their one chance to see the place for free.

Roosevelt had been an unrepentant collector since his earliest boyhood days, with wide-ranging interests especially in naval history, models ships, taxidermy, philately, books on local history, political ephemera, and—probably above all—anything related to the Roosevelt clan itself. His eight-years-and-counting administration had already produced reams of material via the myriad alphabet soup New Deal agencies that had put millions of Americans to work during the Great Depression. It was becoming increasingly obvious in that Summer of 1941 that the United States would likely become entangled in the Second World War; as Roosevelt well understood, that would mean even more documents for the historical record.

Presidential repositories of various incarnations were not entirely new. George Washington had taken his papers with him back to Mount Vernon after his administration for organization. Rutherford B. Hayes, Herbert Hoover, and even Warren G. Harding had versions of them. Nora E. Cordingley (featured in a March 2018 Women of Library History post) was a librarian at Roosevelt House, essentially a de facto presidential library opened in 1923 at Theodore Roosevelt’s birthplace on Manhattan’s East 20th Street whose papers and other materials eventually moved to Harvard University’s Houghton and Widener Libraries. What was new about Franklin Roosevelt’s creation was its codification of what is today’s presidential library system. Roosevelt convened a committee of professional historians for advice and consultation, raised the private funds necessary to build the library and museum, urged Congress to pass the enabling legislation, involved leading archive and library authorities, and ultimately deeded the site to the American people via the National Archives, which itself he had signed into being in 1934.

The academic advisors, archivists, and library professionals at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library were all important, indeed crucial, to the professionalization and growth of both the Roosevelt site and what would become the National Archives and Records Administration’s Office of Presidential Libraries. However, Roosevelt understood in those early that he also needed someone within his museum and library who knew him deeply and understood the nuances of his life and long career. That is why he turned to Ms. Suckley, securing her a position as junior archivist in September 1941 just months after the opening. The library was very much a working place for the president, who kept an office there, where—unbeknownst to museum-goers on the other side of the wall—he might be going through papers with Daisy, entertaining dignitaries while she looked on, or even making decisions of consequence to the war. Ms. Suckley worked conscientiously, even lovingly, in the presidential library, going through boxes of photographs and identifying individuals, providing dates and place names that only she would know, filling in gaps in the historical record, sorting papers, and serving in ways only an intimate could. The work only expanded after President Roosevelt died and associates like Felix Frankfurter and others donated all or some of their own papers. The work also became more institutionalized and codified. Other Roosevelt aides took on increasingly important roles after the president’s death in 1945. More series of papers became available to scholars in the 1950s and 60s as the Roosevelt Era receded from current events into history. Through it all Daisy Suckley continued on for nearly two more decades until her retirement in 1963.

Margaret “Daisy” Suckley lived for twenty-eight more years after her retirement, turning her attention to the preservation of her ancestral home there on the Hudson but never forgetting Franklin. In those later years when reporters, historians, and the just plain curious curious showed up at Wilderstein and inevitably asked if there was any more to tell about her friendship with Franklin Roosevelt she always gave a wry smile and demure “No, of course there isn’t.” After her death at the age of ninety-nine in June 1991 however a trove of letters and diaries was found in an old suitcase hidden under her bed there at Wilderstein. A leading Roosevelt scholar edited and published a significant portion of the journals and correspondence in 1995 to great public interest. While it is still unclear if there was every any romantic involvement between Franklin and Daisy—as some have speculated for decades—the letters do provide a deeper, more nuanced portrayal of their relationship and show just how close the two were. Franklin Delano Roosevelt may have been The Sphinx to many, hiding his feelings behind a veneer of affability and bonhomie. To his old neighbor, distant cousin, discreet friend, loyal aid, and steadfast curator Margaret Suckley, he showed the truer, more vulnerable side of himself.

Ms. Suckley later in life at Wilderstein, 1988. (Photo: FDR Presidential Library & Museum)

Further reading:

Hufbauer, Benjamin. “The Roosevelt Presidential Library: A Shift in Commemoration.” American Studies, vol. 42, no. 3, Fall 2001, pp. 173–193.

Koch, Cynthia M. and Lynn A. Bassanese. “Roosevelt and His Library, Parts 1 & 2.” Prologue: Quarterly of the National Archives and Records Administration, vol. 33, no. 2, Summer 2001, Web.

McCoy, Donald R. "The Beginnings of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library," Prologue: The Journal of the National Archives, vol. 7, no. 3, Fall 1975, pp. 137-150.

Persico, Joseph E. Franklin & Lucy: President Roosevelt, Mrs. Rutherford, and the Other Remarkable Women in His Life. Random House, 2008.

Ward, Geoffrey C. Closest Companion: The Unknown Story of the Intimate Friendship between Franklin Roosevelt and Margaret Suckley. Houghton Mifflin, 1995.

[crazyscotsmanthe1st]

Outlaw King

It was my pleasure recently to watch the new historical epic, Outlaw King. As someone who loves Scottish history, and in particular the story of Robert the Bruce, I was very excited to see it and fervently hoped it would live up to expectations. The trailers hinted as much, with details of the clothing and weapons, snippets of scenes and dialogue all promising that the film would be much truer to history than previous historical epics (one in particular springs to mind).

As a misty-eyed storyteller rather than a strict historian, I've always appreciated that film is an art form, and that history is the inspiration, not the script. But in the case of stories like Robert the Bruce, history presents us with such rich and vivid characters and tales that surely not much embellishment or interpretation is required.

Indeed, I felt the challenge for Outlaw King may be that Robert the Bruce is too massive, too gigantic to fit into one film. Rather than casting about for inspiration, the filmmakers must have been overwhelmed by the depth and breadth of the character and the story. The historical novelist Nigel Tranter deemed it necessary to publish a trilogy. I couldn't help thinking that it may take a trilogy to properly tell the story on film too.

The filmmakers dealt with this by concentrating on just three years: 1304 – 1307. From the fall of Stirling Castle, which marked the final capitulation of the Scots at the end of Wallace’s campaign; to Bruce’s first major victory at the Battle of Loudoun Hill. In doing so, it covers the bleakest and most desperate part of Bruce’s reign. It’s a study of a man who becomes king, only to immediately lose everything and become a fugitive, then to become a guerilla fighter as he rebuilds his strength to the point he’s finally able to face his enemies in a pitched battle.

So there’s no Bannockburn - Bruce’s greatest triumph is not even mentioned. His duel with Sir Henry de Bohun, the Declaration of Arbroath, the launching of a second front in Ireland, the death of Edward II and the final peace treaty which ended the war and confirmed Bruce as king of an independent Scotland – all are left out of the timeframe. There is speculation that this leaves the door open for a sequel – and I do hope so. Bannockburn deserves to be depicted properly in film, and a battle of that scope and importance probably needs about half a film to be portrayed with any justice. So I’m glad it wasn’t squeezed or simplified into just a few minutes tacked on at the end.

Bruce himself is played by Chris Pine of Star Trek fame. As an American playing a Scotsman, there was inevitably much chat about how good his accent would be. For the most part, he pulled it off alright. There was the occasional errant vowel that those of us who speak with Scottish accents will pick up on, but the rest of the world won’t notice. He plays Bruce as strong and authoritative, but with a softer side and compassionate streak. His tenderness towards his daughter and the respect he shows his new wife endear him to the audience. We understand that this is a powerful noble with a claim to the throne, but also someone very human. I think he gets it spot on.

Edward I is played by Stephen Dillane, who most of us know as Stannis Baratheon from Game of Thrones. I’ve always thought that Charles Dance, who plays Tywin Lannister in the same series, would be the perfect actor to play this role – he has Edward’s height (hence the nickname Longshanks), and effortlessly projects an air of sinister authority. But Dillane does a very good job. He gets across the character of an ageing and battle hardened monarch, in a hurry to crush his enemies and tie up loose ends in the time he has left.

I’ll now go into detail about events in the film, and compare them to what really happened in history. So if you haven’t seen the film yet and you don’t know the history - SPOILERS AHEAD.

The film opens with Bruce on his knees, swearing allegiance to Edward and being accepted back into the fold after having rebelled against him. The dialogue gives us an immediate insight into Bruce’s complicated loyalties as Edward mentions that his father had once accompanied him on a crusade to the Holy Land. Bruce’s rivalry with John Comyn and their competing claims to the throne are also mentioned. A lot of information, all of it historically correct, is conveyed in that one scene – and it doesn’t feel rushed or forced.

We are introduced to the future Edward II – not a sniveling weakling as portrayed in that other historical epic, but a bold and impetuous young prince impatient to escape his father’s shadow. His demand to spar with Bruce and the energy with which he swings the sword immediately banish any lingering memory of that other version of the character. This is a dangerous and unpredictable man, and his daft hairdo signals to us that this is someone we’re supposed to hate.

There’s a brief introduction to James Douglas, who appears before the king to ask for his lands and title, which were stripped after his father resisted Edward, to be restored. He is unceremoniously rebuffed and thrown out of the tent. Here is a man with unfinished business.

Then we see War Wolf, the largest trebuchet ever built. As it took shape below the walls of Stirling Castle, the Scottish defenders had tried to surrender. But Edward refused to accept their surrender and told them to stay exactly where they were - he wanted to test War Wolf and see it in action. Again all this historically accurate information is gotten across easily in the dialogue, and gives us an insight into Edward’s sheer ruthlessness.

Having established the background and circumstances in which the story takes place, some time is then spent on Bruce’s arranged marriage to Elizabeth de Burgh. Played by the beautiful and talented Florence Pugh, she is quickly established as a strong and affectionate woman, keen to establish a relationship with Bruce’s daughter Marjorie from his previous marriage (his first wife died in childbirth). Bruce respects Elizabeth’s boundaries and does not attempt to force himself on her on their wedding night. As discussed above, this helps establish him as a caring and honourable character.

Those of us keen to see the historical plot move forward may feel this part of the film drags on a bit, but I understand it’s necessary for the audience to develop empathy with the characters. And given that the family will later be broken up and separated for years, this being a key part of Bruce’s personal trials and agony, it was important to understand these relationships.

William Wallace is mentioned a couple of times, but remains off-screen. An almost spectral figure, defeated but still at large. As John Comyn describes him, “not a man, but an idea”. That is, until his arm and part of his torso is tied to the Mercat Cross in Berwick.

It is the shock of Wallace’s brutal fate that prompts Bruce to break his oath to Edward and begin making plans for a second rebellion. This is where the film starts to take liberties a wee bit. In reality, seven months separated Wallace’s death from Bruce’s coronation. But I understand the film’s need to condense events and move things along.

Bruce meets John Comyn in Dumfries Kirk to try to enlist his support. History does not record exactly what was said in that meeting, so the filmmakers had a blank canvas. Bruce attempts to put the issue of who will wear the crown to one side and simply persuade Comyn to join him in raising an army. But Comyn will not be persuaded, and threatens to report Bruce’s intentions to Edward. This is what prompts Bruce to draw his dagger and stab him.

History records that Bruce then stumbled out of the church and said to one of his followers: “I think I’ve killed Comyn”, and that his follower said “I’ll make sure” and went back to finish him off. This is left out of the film: it is a single killing blow.

Bruce has murdered his rival, a powerful noble with connections throughout Scotland, in a church. In doing so, he has turned half of Scotland against him and ensured excommunication from the Catholic Church – which was a huge deal in the 14th Century. He’s in deep, deep trouble and his only way out is to immediately claim the throne. He has no choice now: it is all or nothing.

As the film faithfully records, he heads straight to Glasgow Cathedral (it’s a joy to see it on screen) to ask for the forgiveness and support of the Scottish bishops. They agree to absolve him of guilt for the murder and to make him king, in return for an oath of loyalty to the Scottish church. All accurate.

The coronation scene is beautifully filmed, and again the dialogue effortlessly explains that the crown jewels and Stone of Destiny have been stolen by Edward, but a simple gold coronet has been fashioned. This is placed on Bruce’s head by a woman, though we are not told who she is. She is in fact the daughter of the Earl of Fife, who traditionally crowned Scottish monarchs.

Elizabeth’s comment “Alas, we are but king and queen of the May” is actually a real quote. She is supposed to have said that.

The surprise night attack at Methven which destroyed most of Bruce’s army, did take place more or less as depicted, though followers of historical films always roll their eyes at the use of fire arrows. They make for a great spectacle on screen, but would have been completely impractical in real life. The battle took place in June, when the nights in Scotland are not particularly dark. The soldiers would have been able to see what they were doing without the use of fire.

Methven was a massive setback for Bruce. Fleeing with the remnants of his army, he sends his wife and daughter, in the care of his brother, to Kildrummy Castle where he hopes they’ll be safe.

But Kildrummy falls to the English. Bruce’s brother is hanged and disembowelled, and his wife and daughter taken into captivity. This is where the film starts to take liberties again. The future Edward II is seen leading the English forces and is the driving force of the action. In reality, I’m not aware of Edward II being anywhere near Kildrummy.

It’s clear that the filmmakers have decided that Edward II is to be the main hate figure for the film. While they’ve kept to historical events for pretty much every other aspect of the story, Edward II is allowed to rampage across the film doing whatever he wants. That just makes me hate him even more: whenever he appears, he’s ruining history.

Bruce’s band of survivors is then attacked by the MacDougalls at Tyndrum, making his plight even more desperate. This is depicted as taking place on the banks of a loch, when in reality it was a hill pass more similar to where we see Bruce’s first encounter with MacDougall.

According to history, one of the MacDougalls got close enough to grab a brooch from Bruce’s tunic. Bruce killed the man, but was forced to leave the brooch in the dead man’s hand. This particular incident is not shown, but Bruce is seen in the thick of the action. Throughout the film, he’s depicted as a warrior who leads his men into battle, and not an armchair general king. This is true to history.

Bruce arrives on Islay, and hears news of what has happened to his family. This is his darkest moment – thousands of his followers have been killed, his family dead or in captivity and his cause looking utterly hopeless. I feel the film could have done more to explore the depth of Bruce’s despair. You never get the feeling he’s on the brink of giving up or in the throes of a black depression. In reality, the man must have been utterly heartbroken and near suicidal.

The encounter with the spider in the cave is not shown, but is referenced: Bruce says at one point that he’ll be like a spider making its web. Although it’s disputed whether the incident with the spider ever took place, it is a powerful storytelling metaphor and surely a gift to filmmakers. I’d have used it – its inclusion would be much more forgivable than any of Edward II’s nonsense.

Bruce returns to the mainland and begins a hit-and-run guerrilla campaign against the occupying forces. Castles are captured by stealth and cunning, then burned to the ground to make them useless to the enemy. This is true to history – Bruce had no time for castles, and preferred to deny their use to the enemy by destroying them, rather than trying to garrison them himself.

James Douglas is given permission to take his own family’s castle with a small band of men. He sneaks into the chapel during a mass, where he promptly starts stabbing people and shouting “Douglas!” at the top of his lungs. Having taken the castle, he invites the local people in to eat the food and carry away anything of value. Then he torches the place. All of this, believe it or not, is historically accurate.

In building up to Loudoun Hill, the filmmakers decided to omit the Battle of Glen Trool. I was a bit disappointed about this – I’d have loved to see it depicted on screen. It’s a fairly simple battle – Bruce lured the English into the glen where they were strung out in a narrow line, while concealing his own forces on the hillside. At his signal, the Scots rolled large boulders down the hill, which smashed into the enemy line and broke their formation. The Scots then charged down the hill themselves to finish the job. Though it was a minor battle, it was Bruce’s first real victory and attracted more men to his cause – as well as the larger English force which he would defeat at Loudoun Hill.

Edward I decides to personally lead his army into Scotland to crush Bruce once and for all. But he collapses en route, and before he dies he orders his son to boil his body and carry his bones into battle with the Scots. Although this actually happened after Loudoun Hill, the details are correct – Edward did give those orders, and his son did choose to ignore them.

The tactics at the Battle of Loudoun Hill are correctly depicted, and would go on be used again at Bannockburn . The digging of ditches to trip the horses of the English cavalry and funnel their attack into a narrow front, and the use of boggy ground to deny them momentum – tactics first tested at Loudoun Hill. In this sense, it is the first of Bruce’s important tactical victories – it teaches him how to defeat a much larger force with heavy cavalry in an open field.

Edward II makes his final, biggest and most ridiculous historically inaccurate appearance here. Charging into the midst of the Scottish army to challenge Bruce to single combat, he eventually collapses exhausted and begins grovelling in the mud. Inexplicably, the Scots simply let him go. If the Scots had a chance to capture the king (or rather, heir to the throne) of England, there’s no way they would have passed that up. Bruce could have had his wife and daughter back in 1307, rather than having to wait another seven years.

This is easily the most ridiculous part of the film, and it’s a tragedy that it happens so near the end because it leaves such a bad impression.

In the final scene, Bruce is seen being reunited with his wife as text explains that she was released in a prisoner exchange. This didn’t happen until after Bannockburn in 1314, so the film has fast forwarded quite a bit – but I suppose it was necessary to provide the audience with a conclusion to their love story.

Positives: the cast gave brilliant performances, particularly Chris Pine, Florence Pugh and Stephen Dillane. Scotland looks utterly gorgeous throughout, and many of the scenes are beautifully filmed. History is, for the most part, respected.

Negatives: I’d have liked to have seen a deeper “despair to determination” arc in Bruce’s character development, perhaps utilising the spider. And Edward II ruins everything.

In conclusion, a story carefully and delicately told. Some liberties are taken, but that's inevitable in film. They say the darkest hour comes before the dawn, and this film captures that moment in Scottish history. Bruce’s darkest hour was also Scotland’s, but ultimately he and his kingdom rose from the ashes and triumphed. It’s a story of survival, hope and victory. And it’s all the more inspiring because it’s true.

It’s a story I’ve known all my life, and always been keen and happy to share with others. Now millions around the world can share it. Flawed and imperfect, it is nevertheless as faithful a retelling as we can hope for in the form of a big-budget movie.

As the years go on, Outlaw King will become a true classic. It deserves to be.

[writingismykryptonite]

La Douleur Exquise (Jeonghan   Scenario)

It’s finally done!!! I have to say this is the longest scenario I have ever done but the ending is rushed and I apologise (I really can’t make it any better atm). I’m considering making a part 3 just so a happy ending can be made you know? Tell me what you guys think about this and if you guys would want a part 2.

Enjoy!

Group: Seventeen

Member: Jeonghan (Yoon Jeonghan)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, a lil bit of smut

Warnings: mentions of sex

La douleur exquise:  the heart-wrenching pain that one feels when they love someone they cannot have

Jeonghan was walking to the cafeteria with her again. His arm was slung lazily around Minji’s shoulders and she was snuggled up next to him as if the whole campus needed to know that she snagged the hottest guy in the school. Fyi, everyone knew. You scowled at the couple. It was so like her to do things like that and it was really starting to get on your nerves. The couple stopped to talk to some of their classmates and you took that opportunity to send a message.

 “Are you busy? If not, my dorm at 10 😉”

 Immediately, after you sent it, Jeonghan glanced at his phone and smirked at the message. He turned to where he knew you were sitting and grinned. That grin didn’t last long as Minji dragged him with her to go for lunch.

 The relationship you had with Jeonghan was…complicated to say the least. First and foremost, he was your best friend, one that you had since high school. It had all started when you had gotten a scholarship to study at one of the most prestigious high schools in Seoul which was honestly an honour since your parents weren’t that rich to actually send you there. You had met Jeonghan when you two had become partners for a chemistry lab and had been inseparable since. You were the only person who he trusted to help him with pranks and you never got upset when his jokes got too out of hand. He was also the only person who didn’t belittle you because of the fact that you were on scholarship. The high school was literally overrun with the sons and daughters of rich CEOs, lawyers, doctors and politicians who believed that they were entitled to everything and looked down on anyone who didn’t have as much money or material things as they did.

 It didn’t really help that Jeonghan was one of the most popular chaebol heirs in the school. Girls would faun over him, guys would try to impress him in order to be his friend and often times you were bullied because of your association to the boy. Minji happened to be one of your main tormentors back in high school and you really thought that you would never see her again. What were the odds that she ended up in the same college as you? It seemed that you couldn’t get rid of her. What was even worse was that she was Jeonghan’s fiancé.

 Their parents had arranged the marriage before they were even out of the womb and according to Jeonghan, it was all for the sake of getting on Minji’s parents’ good side as they were high profile lawyers who Jeonghan’s parents could benefit from. From what you knew, Jeonghan wasn’t interested in her at all but Minji was more than willing to use the arranged marriage as an excuse to throw herself all over him and let any female in the vicinity know that Jeonghan was hers. What Minji didn’t know was that she had it all wrong.

Classes took forever to end. You spent most of your classes struggling to concentrate while your body buzzed uncomfortably in excitement. You walked out of your final class at 3 and you knew that you had seven hours to kill. You were totally planning to stay in your dorm and get ready for tonight but as you were thinking of that option, an arm linked with yours. “Tell me (Y/N), what’s going on in that head for you not to hear me calling you for five minutes straight?” the person asked.

 You smiled, “Trust me Ara, you do not want to know”

 The shorter girl next to you pouted and flipped her bubblegum pink hair, “You never tell me anything.”

 Ara was another friend that you had made in your high school. She used to be friends with Minji but after a vicious prank she had pulled on you in your final year, Ara left her to be friends with you. Ara was someone who you trusted as much as you trusted Jeonghan and she gained your trust the hard way. At first, you were cautious to talk to the girl after the prank in fear that she was going to torment you on Minji’s orders but over time, she proved that she was done with Minji. You remember clearly that day when Minji purposefully destroyed an assignment that you were going to hand up later that day and Ara yelled at her and tried to help you rewrite the assignment so that you wouldn’t fail. At that point you knew that Ara would be loyal to you and actually cared about you. “(Y/N)?” Ara whined, “You’re doing it again.”

 You grinned sheepishly, “Sorry, I was just thinking of the day that we became friends.”

 Ara smiled, “I remember that…we’ve been friends ever since that day.”

 I hummed in agreement, “I trust you almost as much as I trust Jeonghan.”

 She beamed, and you instantly felt guilty. How could you say that you trust her when you couldn’t even tell her your secret?

 The sound of moans, gasps and slapping skin rang throughout the tiny dorm room. The room smelled distinctly like sex and desire. Desperate hands clutched sweaty, heated bodies as both persons tried to reach their anticipated highs. The rubber band that was being stretched finally reached its limit and snapped. The orgasms came blissfully and the persons in the bed slumped against each other. Gasps that were once of pleasure were now those of exertion. The person on top rolled over and chuckled, “That was fun.”

 You scoffed, “Really, that’s all you can say?”

 “It’s a lot better than what I’m thinking because all I’m thinking about right now is fucking you again,” the person smirked, pinching your side.

 You rolled your eyes, “Sometimes I wonder why people think you’re an angel Jeonghan, because all I see is the devil’s incarnate.”

 Jeonghan winked at you, “I guess you can say that you’re sleeping with the devil then.”

 You honestly didn’t understand how this arrangement even came to be. All you remember was that you both got drunk at a house party and ended up sleeping together. What you didn’t understand was how this became a common occurrence. Yoon Jeonghan was intoxicating, and you found it hard to resist your best friend. It may not have helped that you liked him as more than friends for almost two years now. You wanted more from the beauty, but you knew that you couldn’t have him. He was Minji’s though not by choice and it broke your heart. You had hoped that maybe his parents may reconsider or even better, Jeonghan told them that he wanted nothing to do with the marriage.

 Jeonghan had stated multiple times that he did not like Minji because of her horrible personality and the way she treated people who were not of the same class as her. You knew that Jeonghan was really only doing it to please his parents who expected the best and only the best from their eldest child. You shoved the boy lightly and got up to stretch your already sore muscles. “Truer words have never been spoken,” you groaned, “Are you hungry?”

 “Yeah and my snack is right in front of me,” he smirked, causing you to shove him again.

 You grabbed your towel and shower caddy before turning to the boy in your bed, “I’m too hungry right now to even go a second round Hannie.”

 He chuckled, “At least you’re considering a second round…I’m hungry too so we can go to the convenience store and get something to eat.”

You smiled, even though Jeonghan was well off, he ate at convenience stores like any other normal college student. That was one of the things you loved about him. He was so normal even though people expected him to be snobbish and uptight. He was always so different compared to everyone in your high school.

                                                   *3 years earlier*

 You breathe a sigh of relief as another school day ended. The term was taking way too long to end, and you were lusting after the thought of summer vacation and the freedom it was associated with. You were also wishing that you would get away from these people that you called your classmates soon. You were getting sick and tired of the abuse and constant bullying that you had to endure every day. It was starting to affect your work and you couldn’t afford to be slacking off especially with your scholarship at stake. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise that your best friend was nudging you. “(Y/N)!” Jeonghan yelled, making you jump.

 “Jesus fucking Christ Hannie, you scared me,” you whined.

 He giggled, “At least now you’re paying attention to me.”

 You rest your elbows on the desk and you rest your chin on your palms. “So, what do you wanna do?”

 He pretended to contemplate, and you stared at the boy in front of you. His long hair was pulled back (with your hair band might I add) and his silver-grey hair shone in the afternoon sun. You understood in those times why girls fawned over him. He looked like such an angel with his delicate features and anyone of those girls would kill to be dating an angel. He was also pretty rich, which seemed to be a prerequisite for many of the girls in the school. You scoffed and directed your attention back to Jeonghan.

 “You’re zoning out again (Y/N),” Jeonghan whined cutely.

 You rolled your eyes and got up from your seat, “Sorry, so what were you saying?”

 Not even a few minutes later, the two of you were sat in a convenience store, shoveling piping hot ramen in your awaiting mouths and complaining about how the ramen burnt your tongues. “Remind me again why you’re eating cheap food when you can afford five star restaurant quality food?” You paused from your eating to look at the boy next to you.

 Jeonghan smirked, “Because you can afford it…I’m joking! Stop giving me death glares. It’s just that I’ve spent 18 years of my life eating food that people save up to eat for a special day and if I’m being honest… it gets boring. At least with convenience store food, I’m eating new things and I don’t feel bad about spending a ton of money for it.”

 You smiled and continued your meal with the sweetest boy you had ever met.

                                                      *Present*

 You and Jeonghan washed the remnants of your activities off before heading towards the campus convenience store. “You know…you really need to tell me the name of the cologne you use,” you sniffed the sleeves of Jeonghan’s hoodie that adorned your arms, “Because you smell really damn good.”

 Jeonghan chuckled, “Nah, I’d rather you continue stealing my hoodies. They look cute on you.”

 You blushed and pushed him lightly. The two of you entered the convenience store and raided the shelves for your favourite foods. That was the joy of having a convenience store on campus…you could get food at 1am.

The next day, you walked to your classes with an added spring in your step. Nights with Jeonghan always made you like that. Spending time with your best friend was rare especially since Minji kept him on a tight leash though you were certain that she was just keeping Jeonghan away from you and not anyone else. Minji was always jealous of the close bond you and Jeonghan had and you guessed it had something to do with the engagement and Minji believing that Jeonghan was hers. You’d heard the horror stories about Minji’s possessiveness but always shrugged it off. A person couldn’t really be that bad right? Right?

 “What’s put you in such a good mood today?” Ara teased, pulling you out of your thoughts.

 Your cheeks warmed up as you blushed and you shook your head, “Nothing, nothing at all.”

 Ara smirked, “It’s a boy isn’t it?”

 You looked down, blushing more and this caused Ara to squeal excitedly. “I’m right aren’t I? Tell me everything. Name, age, looks, personality, what type of toppings he likes on his pizza, everything,” Your friend rambled.

 Giggling, you were about to respond when one of Minji’s friends/ minions approached you two.  “Hey Ara,” The girl, Hyemin greeted.

 “Hi Hyemin…” Ara replied cautiously, looking at you for any answer as to why Hyemin was talking to her.

 Hyemin giggled, “Don’t worry Ara, I just need to tell (Y/N) something.”

 The girl turned to you and immediately, your stomach dropped as her expression changed drastically. “I know what you did last night.”

 “What are you talking about?” You asked nervously.

 Hyemin rolled her eyes and sneered, “You know what I’m talking about. I know about everything, even the fact that you guys have been doing it for months. How do you think Minji is going to feel when she finds out? I won’t hesitate to tell her so keep that in mind.”

 With that, she walked away, leaving you slightly scared and Ara very confused. “What was that about?” Ara demanded.

 You sighed knowing that the truth would have to be revealed eventually, “I may or may not be fucking Jeonghan…”

 Ara stared at you as if you have grown a second head, “What?! You need to explain.”

 You lead Ara to a quiet classroom and explained everything from the beginning. You noticed Ara nodding at certain parts and laughing at others and you were glad that she was listening to your situation. When you were done, Ara bit her lip, “I just have one question to ask…Do you love him?”

 You thought about it, you liked Jeonghan for such a long time and the little things he did made you like him more and more. You didn’t know what you would do without him but still you were scared to admit if you loved him. “I’m not sure…maybe?” you looked down bashfully.

 Ara started pacing frantically, “This is bad (Y/N). You love Jeonghan but if Minji finds out what you guys have been doing, she will murder you.”

You walked to the meeting place that you and Jeonghan had agreed on. You were anxious especially after Ara talked to you. “The rumors that you’ve heard are true,” Ara had explained, “There was this girl who liked Jeonghan and was going to confess to him but Minji and her gang got to her before she could. They beat her up so badly that she had to transfer to another school.”

 “Oh fuck I’m gonna die,” you whimpered.

 “Hey,” Jeonghan touched your shoulder making you jump in surprise, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah…I mean…no I have to talk to you,” You shook your head, “I think we need to end whatever is going on between us and remain friends.”

 Jeonghan sighed, “What caused you to say that?”

 “Hyemin apparently knows and she threatened to tell Minji,” you confessed.

 “I’ll talk to Hyemin then,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

 You stared at the boy in disbelief, “That isn’t the issue here Jeonghan! What we’re doing is wrong because you’re engaged to somebody and I didn’t even oppose to the idea because I love you…but I’m going to get hurt eventually.”

 Jeonghan stood in stunned silence after your confession and you knew you messed up. “Why didn’t you tell me,” Jeonghan whispered.

 “You know why Jeonghan…you’re technically for someone else,” You replied on the verge of tears.

 The boy reached out and embraced you tightly as you began to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan stroked your hair as you cried.

 You cried as your heart broke from the pain of wanting to be with him, but little did you know that his heart was in as much pain as yours.

[teagrl]

So it seems I am on hiatus, while I straighten up things in Stone for the final arc and try to make headway on my next project, which means we’re back to a snippet a week.

Today’s snippet is a continuation of this. 

It’s trippy so it might not make much sense without that. The ideas are some explored in Flying Cage so they might be confusing. 

This is the first scene from the third installment of the  Adyton series, tentatively titled Mnemotherapy. It could most accurately be thought of as the follow up to Washing Blood with Blood. The gist of Washing Blood is Mara driven insane by Jacen giving her a vision of him being Ben as she killed him, and eventually ending up in an astral plane from which Luke has to pull her out.

They’re out of the astral plane, but not in the real world yet. This is mindfuckery pretty much. LotF timeline. Might not make sense without context.

She never thought she’d see this place again and the sheer relief would make her sink into her knees. Someday she’ll stay here forever. This or a place like it.

Even now, there’s little more she’d like to do than stop and lose herself here, but time pressed down, the tick of the chrono echoing through the tack tack of her heels on the pristine floors, the swish of her massive, black trailing skirts. She’d pause and stare at herself out of curiosity. She gathered she was human, female, she supposed she was young too, but wants to see the whole not just pieces.

She reached the landing and wanders down a hall of mirrors, smiling to herself as she keeps dashing forward.

Ask and you shall receive is the way this place works.

The mirrors showed she was beautiful, her hair a bright red gold, flowing loose and halfway down her back, the skin of her shoulders smooth, her torso tapered to a small waist in a fitted bodice before it flared out to those voluminous black skirts. It’s a ballroom dress.

A child’s voice said as if from far away, a princess dress.

She smiled more widely, amused. Except for all that black.

A few more steps and she found a door to the left. Her destination. That was also how it was here, an intuition led more than anything else.

She opened the door to a stormy sea.

Her smile faded as she considered the small boat, a dinghy, tethered to the short dock. No, there was nothing to be feared in this place, but she enjoyed some parts of it more than others.

And even in a place like this there were rules. Guidelines.

She whispered, “I’d like a guide, please.”

It isn’t that she needed one; she belonged here, but when there was something she’d never encountered before she always asked for a guide.

This place always obliged.

(Of course it does. She is this place. This place is hers.)

“The night that Zena smudged her dress and made mischief she was sent to her room without supper.”

She turned around to see a small redheaded boy maybe six or seven. He was dressed in a casual white tunic and leggings, a contrast to the palace and her own ostentatious dress.

He met her eyes and grinned. “Your dress is supposed to be smudged. That’s why it’s all black.”

She smiles back and crouches, reaching forward to cup the child’s cheek.

It wasn’t really a boy, it was an entity, an avatar, like everything here. Because she belonged here, she felt the true form of things, however fragmented they were, regardless the shape they take.

“Is it?” she murmured. “It looks beautiful. Just like you.”

“Well, one has to make allowances. We’re in a palace, after all,” he said. “Who do you want to see? Or would you like me to tell you a story? I know lots.”

She reached to fold her arms around the child.

“What’s that for?” the child’s voice was muffled as she drew him close, but in good humor as he submitted to the embrace.

“Because I missed you, sweetheart.” All too soon she had to let him go. “And I love all your stories, but I think I should speak to the oracle.”

The boy frowned. “The oracle is sad.”

“That’s why you should take me to her. Maybe I can cheer her up.”

“Okay.” The boy stepped forward through the door and to the windy dock. He turned back, eyes sliding down her dress, ruffling in the breeze. He pursed his mouth. “That’s not proper attire.”

“You might be right,” she told him. “What do you suggest?”

“Hmm. There.”

The boy looks much bigger now. Everything does. She looked at herself. Instead of arms she has black furry paws now. She was on all fours.

Ah. She was a whisperkit now.

She followed at the boy’s heels. He jumped into the dinghy and she looked at it for a second, before jumping after him. The boy bent and scratched at the base of her ear, a content purr escaping her. She curled beside the boy on the seat as he rows the boat through the waves.

“And that night outside Zena’s room came a ship that had her name on it.”

She laughed. “To rescue her from being punished for misbehaving?”

“Kind of.” The boy smiled. “After many days, many weeks, and almost a year she ends in the planet full of fierce things.”

“Monsters?”

He shook his head. “No, just fierce things.”

“She comes home,” she offered.

“No,” he chides.“You’re always so impatient.”

She bunted her head against his forearm. “Sorry.”

He smiled and stopped rowing to scratch at the base of her ears. Another purr escaped her. “She was just Zena in her smudged dress, but when she meets up with the fierce things, they roared at her and showed her their fangs and claws.”

“Sounds a lot like monsters,” she opined.

The boy gave a long suffering sigh, but scratched under her chin before grabbing the oars again.

“Did she pull out her lightsaber and challenge them? Have them for dinner with silec sauce?”

He laughed, a buoyant sound. “No! She’s a little girl! She shows her own teeth and nails and roars at them. But that’s enough. They cower, knowing she’s the fiercest of them all, and that’s when they name her the Princess of the Fierce things.”

“I see why this is your favorite.”

The boy’s expression loses its brightness.

“It wasn’t,” he said softly. “It wasn’t my favorite.”

“What happens to the Princess?”

“She goes home after that and her family isn’t angry at her anymore.”

“Of course they wouldn’t be.” She curled tighter against him. “They love her. They must have been very worried not to find her in her room.”

The boy’s eyes were on the waves. “They even brought her favorite dinner and desert up. She was very sorry.”

“Hurts?” she asked gently after a moment.

The boy nodded. “A lot. But we don’t know why. The oracle’s blocked most of it, and she won’t talk. It’s because you’re here that it hurts more,” he said without accusation. “We don’t want you to go away though. You shouldn’t. Ever. We missed you.”

“I’ll talk to the oracle,” she assured him. “We’ll find a way to make it better, even with me here.”

The boy nodded. The boat has stopped at another dock, and the boy reached to pet her again. She pushed lightly into his hand, purring. “We missed you,” the boy repeats softly. “It rained here for a long time. Only you like that.”

She shook her head as she lifted her head to meet his eyes. They aren't blue. “Not that kind of rain.”

The boy stood up and tied the boat to the dock. She jumped up to it, hearing the boy sigh. “The oracle’ll be mad if you’re not back to that silly princess get up.”

In a blink the flowing black skirts were all around her. The dock was longer this time and she walked down it to a beach with cream colored sand. She turned to wave at the boy, but he and the boat were gone. She continued on through the sand.

Even here walking on the sand with heels was annoying so she took them off. After a bit of walking, she started seeing objects on the shore, pieces of machinery, stores, crates, torn servomotors, actuators, batteries, a hyperdrive ring, sensor wires, chunks of durasteel, and other scattered debris.

It looked like a crash.

She started running through the strewn material, instinctively, picking up her skirts. There, by the distance, she could see a human figure sprawled on the sand, and she ran harder weaving through the material that was washing up.

It was her, the oracle, on her side, a thin metal pipe running from her left side to right, blood blackening her blue flightsuit along her middle. The suit was half charred. She lay face down, red hair faded and gnarled, covered with soot like a broken body washing up on shore.

It’d been a long, long time since she’d seen a gruesome scene like this here.

Still unacceptable.

The pipe vanished. The tattered clothes transformed into a new tunic a few shades lighter than the sand, which lifted from her hair, along with the soot, leaving thick red hair streaked with gray. The oracle slowly lifts up on her arms. Her green eyes track up the black skirts...

...which become obsidianbirds taking to the sky, leaving a different form behind them, a truer form, once, but not anymore, here.

(Because he has become this place and this place has become him. It has become everything.)

“I’d made you so pretty,” the oracle whispers, chiding as she sits up.

“I think I’m going to stop wearing black.” He lowered himself down to sit by her, his tunic now the same color as hers. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just too boring.”

She snorted, a smile playing on her lips. “Twenty years later he agrees with me.”

[ariesbled]

CASSIUS FULGORA ( CIS MALE & HE/HIM )? oh, aren’t they the TWENTY-SEVEN year old SHAPESHIFTER who works as a BARTENDER at QUARTER MOON & ( PART-TIME ) PERSONAL TRAINER at PRIMAL FITNESS? word on the streets is that they are DRIVEN & RELIABLE, but they can also be RELENTLESS & ARROGANT. by the way, they look eerily similar to GREY DAMON, don’t they? ( admin karin / 20 / she/fae / aest )

FULL NAME: cassius evander fulgora. ( x. ) AGE: twenty-seven. PRONOUNS / GENDER: he/him / cis male. SPECIES: shapeshifter. HOUSING: rosehill, in an apartment with his girlfriend moon hana. FAMILY: born to claudio and anita fulgora, cassius is their eldest child. however, cassius views his half sister portia’s mother, merce as a mother of his own too. he also has one other sibling born to claudio and anita, five years younger than him.

BACKSTORY

they say that family shapes a person. and in cassius’ case, truer words have never been said. it is impossible to tell his story without telling the story of his family.

it started with a marriage proposal. almost thirty years ago, before his mother anita was pregnant with the boy that would be known to the world as cassius evander fulgora. a business deal had been struck between the fulgoras and the kleins. the eldest fulgora son, claudio was to marry the kleins’ only daughter. but he was in love with another then, a woman named merce. still, a deal was a deal, and claudio fulgora did not turn his back on promises.

and so anita and claudio got married, and a few months later, cassius was born. but it wasn’t until cassius was five, upon returning to fairview after the couple and their child spent a few months in germany, that anita learned claudio had another child. his ex lover came to their home, begging anita and claudio to please not hate her little daughter portia, only a few months older than cassius himself. and anita, despite her disappointment, could not help herself from falling in love with the little girl and feeling a kinship towards this girl’s mother. cassius, however, was a different story. while he was immediately fond of merce, the little girl his father made him call sister earned glares and scowls from him.

claudio and merce were over now. merce got pregnant before claudio married anita, before he fell in love with his wife. but it didn’t change the fact that the lives of these two families would always be intertwined, and in the future, cassius would think of them all as one family.

it was around the same time cassius first met his half-sister that his powers bloomed. something that, as a little boy, he enjoyed showing off to his sister. the only shapeshifters in the family were cassius and his father, and it always made him feel like he was special. it was difficult to control at first, but gradually, over time, his powers became less of a game and something that cassius truly cherished, something that he saw as a part of him rather than an extension of who he was.

at age twelve his father sent him to a boarding school in switzerland. but merce wouldn’t allow portia to get the same education claudio was offering cassius, and in his stubborness, cassius had refused more than a few years at the school, eventually returning to fairview to finish his high school education.

high school was when he met and befriended hana, a striking girl who like him, seemed to know that she was special and above everyone else. it was a gamble, really. they could’ve hated each other or became the best of friends, and somehow, they ended as allies, partners and friends. if there was a person he would call his soulmate, it would be hana.

they remained friends even when cassius left fairview again to go to university further up on the east coast. certainly, there were feelings involved that were a little more than friendship, but neither of them knew how to act on it. when cassius returned to fairview at last, one of the first things he found out that hana was in a relationship with someone else.

but soulmates always came back together. long story short, he and hana found each other again, and in the years to come, they would both become the best versions of each other. cassius, ever the arrogant and stubborn fighter, would eventually find work at the quarter moon ( he says it’s because it has moon in its name, which so happens to be hana’s last name ) where he bartends but more importantly, where he is close to the exclusive fight ring in fairview. it was the perfect mix of elegance and violence alike.

tldr; he has a pretty standard backstory, but it shaped cassius into the person who he is today.

PERSONALITY

there’s no easy way to describe cassius. he’s an arrogant asshole, he’s a person who wants more, who is greedy for power and glory. he’s quick-witted, clever, in the way that he could be a strategist for war. he could be a child of the god of war himself, lord ares. he is driven, passionate and once he has a goal set in mind, he would strive at it until he could grasp it and taste it on his tongue. he is ruled by a strict moral code, although his codes aren’t the ideal or best ones. still, he adheres to his code, knowing full well that he isn’t a good person. on the moral alignment scale, cassius is lawful evil, if you will.

but above all, love drives him. his love for the ones closest to him trumps everything, and despite his greediness and his selfishness, it is all driven by love. he fights, he bleeds for the people that he loves. love makes him selfish because he can’t bear the idea of losing his loved ones, and he would do anything and everything for them.

to sum it up, here is an excerpt from an explanation i had of cassius: “cassius evander fulgora is sensitive but not soft, lawful but not law-abiding, bold and brazen but not brave, and above all, he is a good brother, son, friend, husband and father, but not a good man.”

Does your character have any nicknames? the people closest to cassius are allowed to call him cas. for the most part, only his family does. there’s also evander, his middle name. an old nickname, given by a childhood best friend from the town he came from.

Does your character have any distinguishing features such as tattoos, scars, piercings, etc? curled dragon wings tattooed onto his back, gotten when he was twenty. they’re done in black and white, and take up most of his upper back.

What is your character like in relationships? Are they clingy? Faithful or unfaithful? Do they jump from one relationship to the other? Do they even have an interest in something romantic? cassius has been steadily in a relationship with moon hana for two years now. he doesn’t fall in love easy, but when he does, it’s intense and all consuming. hana is cassius’ world, and he knows that he wants to be hers forever.

What kind of things does your character like? What do they dislike? cassius was born a fighter. if you ask me to define him in one word, it would be that. so it’s no strange thing that he enjoys fighting at the ring down in the quarter moon, but verbal arguments ( so long as they’re not completely pointless ) also give him satisfaction. other things he likes includes but are not limited to: his girlfriend hana, mornings, italian cuisine, the art of war by sun tzu, running/jogging, books ( particularly non fiction ones ), hitting up the gym. one of cassius’ biggest dislikes is smoking and cigarettes, and he does not tolerate with people who smoke near him.

How does your character treat their friends and family? How about strangers? Enemies? the thing about cassius fulgora is that nothing he does is by halves. for him, it’s all or nothing. love, hate — you name it. it’s all the same. he’s intense, passionate and full of fire. when he loves someone, he loves them so fiercely. he is loyal to his family first and foremost ( the list includes friends closest to him and his girlfriend hana ), and he would do anything for them. while he too is loyal to his friends, if they threatened his family, he would drop them in a heartbeat. strangers, he keeps at arm length until they prove themselves. enemies? he would burn the world to burn them. just as he loves, he hates with a passion too.

Where does your character go when they are angry? the ring or the gym sometimes, and other times? home. to hana.

What is your character’s biggest fear? Who have they told this to? Who would they never tell this to? Why? perhaps to some it was a strange fear, but cassius’ biggest fear has always been total blindness. it’s no big secret either, if anyone asks he would tell them about it. but it also isn’t something he advertises, considering that it’s difficult to explain that his fear is stemmed from the fact that that sort of darkness would suffocate him.

Does your character have a secret? If so, what is it? tba, i can’t think of one.

Has your character ever been in love? Have they ever had a broken heart? cassius has had a few crushes here and there, some more intense than others. but the first time his heart felt like it belonged to another was when he fell in love with hana in high school. it was almost too late when he realised it, away from fairview for university and coming back only to see her with another on her arm. it almost broke his heart too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he and hana came back to each other in the end.

Does your character have any flaws? What are they? he likes to act like he’s better than everyone else, but cassius is incredibly flawed. he has a temper, he’s stubborn and he does everything in extremes. too much is what he is. he knows this too, and while he hates how it drives some people away and he fears that it’ll drive his loved ones away one day, he isn’t exactly sure how to stop. he is empty, and the only way he knows to fill himself is to become too much.

What is one strong memory that has stuck with your character from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting? there are probably more than one, but the moment his half sister walked into his home changed cassius’ life. they go a long way, but that day was the day that cassius added two more people into his list of family.

WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS 

enemies. people he hates, and people who probably hate him back. whether it’s petty hateship, or whether they truly are a dangerous person or perhaps someone he’s made fun of in high school. anything goes for this.

frenemies. he probably has a lot of these, especially werewolves who fight in the ring as he does, or wolves who frequent the gym he sometimes works at. while he has a grudging respect for them, they’re werewolves, and he’s a shapeshifter. they’re meant to be at odds despite being two sides of the same coin. 

coworkers. both primal fitness or quarter moon, if your character works there, hit me up.

regular customers. similarly, if your character frequents the gym or the quarter moon, then they would probably be well acquainted with cassius too. a plot i’d also like is someone who has cassius as a personal trainer at the primal fitness.

[gffa]

SO, HEY, YOU WANT A PRIMER FOR WHERE TO START WITH LORD OF THE RINGS/THE HOBBIT/SILMARILLION FIC TO READ? The other night @belldreams asked me if the fic I was currently reading (as I mentioned that I’d been enthralled by it) was accessible to a layperson and, sadly, I don’t think it is.  But then my eyes lit up with an unholy glee because I do know a bunch of fics that are great for a layperson to read! I assume that a person will at least have seen the movies and are thus reasonably aware of how Tolkien’s world is set up, but you don’t have to know the history of the world to start reading these!  This is a list that is aimed at gently easing a person into the wider fandom or just providing a starting place, if that’s what you want! LET’S INTRODUCE YOU TO SOME FUCKIN’ ELVES: ➡ I have a series of posts about The Silmarillion which are told in a Very Broad Strokes kind of way and not always in chronological order (so maybe you should start with the first fic rec instead? idk!) and they’re still in progress, but I had a great time with Let Me Tell You About The Silmarillion:  Part One, part two, part three, part four, part five.  (The rest are written, I just need to post them!)  They’re cute, ridiculous yelling about my Elf Feelings and won’t take a person that long to read.  (And it’s a lot of names to throw at a person, but, hey, you can always come talk to me spoonfeed you another overview, if you like!  ♥) ➡ Or you can listen to the audiobook here!  I warn, even with having the audio on in the background, it’s still a very dry and dense prose.  I love it!  But it’s definitely not going to be for everyone. ➡ But if the whole thing is too much and you just want an overview, I also really liked this series of Lord of the Rings Mythology (part 1, 2) that will take you less than ten minutes to listen to and they set up the basic structure of Powers in this world. ➡ A good quick overview (only 10 minutes of talking) on Feanor and the creation and then theft of the Silmarils.  It’s definitely more on the side of asshole!Feanor, but, well, they’re not wrong!  There’s a whole series of videos to tell about the history of Arda, all of which are generally under 10 minutes each and are good overviews!  Caveat:  Don’t trust the pronunciations here, they’re off sometimes.  But, then, that’s a thing all over--they’re hard! ➡ I also laughed at The Silmarillion in under three minutes, which acknowledges how much it skips/gives only the very broadest of strokes on (so you may be tempted to assume things, but there’s very often deeper reasons) but did indeed get the story in in under three minutes! OH BUT YOU WANT SOME FIC TO READ: The Silmarillion Rewrite by Jenavira - A fic that lovingly “translates” the Silmarillion from the admittedly very dry style Tolkien has and this is a great fic to start with if you want to get an idea of the shape of the Silmarillion.  It’s hilariously funny and does a great job of familiarizing you with the characters!  My only caveat is that you can’t take it as gospel, it’s not the same as reading the book yourself, because some things are open to interpretation--for example, in reading the fic, it sounds like the Dwarves gained sentience on their own, while in the book I think the takeaway is that Iluvatar granted them sentience, as he’s the only one able to give true life in that way.  I say this not to argue, but to remind potential readers that Tolkien fans have been debating this stuff for decades for a reason!  (And also I’m a Thingol stan for life, but I admit not everyone shares that bias with me.  XD) But absolutely read this fic, it’s hilarious and does a stellar job at being just a fun read and getting you to know who the hell Maedhros and Maglor and Finrod and all of those people are, the history of the Great War with Melkor and Sauron, how all of this is important to the history of Middle-Earth and the rest of the world. The Starlit Sky by Makalaure - You probably need a little context for this one, but it’s not hard to pick up!  Basically:  Once upon a time, a brilliant asshole made some shiny rocks that everyone wanted, Fantasy Satan stole them, he and his seven sons swore an Oath to get them back, a lot of really bad shit happened because they were bound to that Oath, and eventually two of the sons attacked the havens of Elrond and his twin brother Elros’ parents place and killed a bunch of them and then wound up with two Elflings on their hands.  There, now you can read the backstory of Elrond and Elros growing up in the care of Maedhros and Maglor and cry about feelings with me.  Because, yeah, by the end of this one I definitely had tears in my eyes for understanding how Elrond could love these Elves, even after all the terrible, terrible things they had done. WHAT ELSE YOU WILL FIND HERE: -  OR INSTEAD EXPAND ON THE CHARACTERS YOU ALREADY KNOW -  OR READ SOME FELLOWSHIP-CENTRIC STUFF, JUST ‘CAUSE THEY’RE GOOD -  NOW THAT YOU’RE MORE FAMILIAR, HERE’S MORE COMPLICATED FIC

OR INSTEAD EXPAND ON THE CHARACTERS YOU ALREADY KNOW: In a Field of Blood and Stone by ScribeofArda - The Battle of the Five Armies, this time told from the point of view of the Elves.  One of my biggest criticisms of the movies (especially The Hobbit movies) is that they did the Elves so wrong and this fic can be read without having ever picked up any of the books, but I think it does a lovely job of showing what the Elves should be like, especially Thranduil.  There’s some great stuff with him and Legolas, as well as Bard and Bilbo have great roles.  Also, it’s just a incredibly engaging fic that adds such rich detail to that battle! Interrupted Journeys by ellisk - This series is legitimately my favorite in the entire fandom because you can read it without knowing anything beyond the movies (though, they’re not really movie!characterization and instead truer to how Elves really are) but you can also pick up so much on Sindarin politics, if you’re familiar with them.  The first time I read this series, I didn’t really know that much about who Thingol was, other than some Sindarin king, but I followed the context of the scenes referencing him just fine.  Later, once I was more familiar with the Silmarillion, I gained a ton of admiration for the thought that went into this fic, the history of the world, why most Silvan Elves loved Thranduil, but some did not and why a Sinda ruling Silvan Elves was still a thing even thousands of years later. But it’s also just an incredible series of stories about worldbuilding for Greenwood the Great, it builds up characters for important relationships with Legolas and Thranduil, ones that I deeply care about, and it has an incredible plot, that spans over a million words and never, ever stops being enthralling.  And yet my favorite moments are probably the quieter ones, the little Elflings getting into trouble in various ways, how their parents talk to them, as Elves do, and the absolutely stellar characterization of Thranduil especially.  My only caveat is to start with Part 3, because that’s when Legolas is born and I think it’s easier to get hooked from there! daw the minstrel’s fic - I love pretty much everything of daw’s, the Legolas’ childhood and stories about growing up in Mirkwood are wonderful.  There’s a fair amount of OCs (whom I have grown to love!) that you can skip over the scenes when they’re not interacting with a canon character (Thranduil or Legolas) if you like, but are ones I’ve found myself rereading several times because they just do so much good at plot and worldbuilding!  They’re all wonderful, but the ones I started with where All Those Who Wander, Good Neighbors, Legolas’s Begetting Day, and Growing Under Shadow.  They’re all set in the same universe at different points in his life and all fantastic! Ich Dien - To Serve the KingdomMissFaust - This was written before the third Hobbit movie came out but I love it and it’s one of those that I think a layperson could read just fine!  It’s been completely Jossed by BOTFA but I think it’s still readable and it does a much more gorgeous job of taking the movie versions (at least in the first two movies) and writing them with more care and staying true to their spirits.  Also, it’s just really cool worldbuilding! OR READ SOME FELLOWSHIP-CENTRIC STUFF, JUST ‘CAUSE THEY’RE GOOD: A Bit of Rope by Aiwendiel - “What if Gandalf had survived at Moria?” is the question this fic poses and it’s not especially a nice answer.  Things do ultimately work out but it kind of leaves you with the impression of the canon version of events, as difficult as they were, were what was necessary for the best outcome.  This one is something of an exhausting read, but in the way it’s meant to be, in how you absolutely feel Frodo’s journey with him.  It’s gorgeously told and I was absolutely engrossed by it and I think it keeps the spirit of the canon incredibly well.  And it’s basically like five novels worth and yet I tore through them at a speed because OMG SO GOOD. The River by Indigo Bunting - Another gorgeous Fellowship-era fic, where Legolas and Sam accidentally get separated from the main group and you think that it’d be such a random pairing and yet it works brilliantly well.  It adds such depth to both characters, it does beautifully at writing both of them and this world they’re in, and just slides right on by as you read it.  It doesn’t sound terribly exciting when I put it that way, but it really is! Far Horizons by Bodkin - While there are other post-canon fics that I love, I think this one has my heart in a way that others don’t, because it’s my favorite one for Thranduil and Legolas in the Fourth Age.  There might be some characters you’re not familiar with (like Elladan and Elrohir) but I don’t think there’s anything you can’t pick up from context.  Basically, Thranduil, Elrond/Celebrian, and Celeborn/Galadriel are all finally in Aman and they want to establish their own realm--this is the story of the difficulties of that.  It’s such a sharp and clever story, there are so many genuinely charming and hilarious moments, there’s a great polish to the way the story is told, and it really builds a community for these Elves in a way that is both pleasing to my id and to my nerdy worldbuilding/character-loving side!  And there’s even plot!  I couldn’t ask for more. NOW THAT YOU’RE MORE FAMILIAR, HERE’S MORE COMPLICATED FIC: And What Happened Afterarrogantemu - As much as I would deeply and truly love to shove this fic at everyone who’s ever flitted by the Tolkien movies at any point, it’s one where you need to know who these people are and their histories before you can read it.  You need to know who Feanor is, you need to know who Celebrimbor is, you need to know who the Valar are, etc.  Once you do, though?  Oh, this is quite possibly the grandest post-canon fic I could have asked for.  It’s everything I never knew I needed--Feanor and Fingolfin’s reunion brought me to tears, Frodo and Celebrimbor’s conversation made me physically ache for how perfect it was--and it’s written in such a gorgeously cathartic, beautiful way.  I felt the lushness of the world in all the little details and conversations written here.  I felt peace at what was put forth here.  I fell in love with Silm fandom all over again because this one sparked such love in me again. Return to Aman by bunn - This is the first fic of the author’s I read and I just sunk right into it and didn’t want to come up for air whenever I could read on it.  It’s the story of Elrond grabbing Maglor before sailing off to Aman at the end of Lord of the Rings and what happens from there.  It’s a gorgeous look at what happens when the main story is done, at Elven politics and characterization, and the Feanorians trying to heal.  It doesn’t negate what Maglor was a part of or what the Oath meant, what others suffered because of his deeds, but also it’s such a kind fic and so it’s incredibly Elven.  I fell in love with this and it breathes such life into all the characters (god, every single scene with Finrod makes me fall in love with him more, how is that possible, how am I not already at maximum Finrod love!? and yet LOVE HIM MORE I DO), it’s so sharp and clever, that I really loved it. Quenta Narquelion by bunn - This is the fic I was reading when bell asked me if it was accessible to a layperson and, for all that it’s a retelling of the events of The Silmarillion, I think it draws on too much context from before they got to Middle-Earth (it starts in the immediate aftermath of Feanor’s death) for that.  But once you know the shape, it’s a gorgeous story for breathing life into the characters and the events that took place--not shying away from the horribleness of what they’re doing, but also showing that they are still Elves, that they’re not just evil, because they weren’t.  There’s such charm and charisma in this writing, there’s such a strong sense of the world and how all the pieces were moving, and how it makes everything so interesting that I love it.  I especially recommend it for the Maedhros & Maglor & Elros & Elrond feelings because BOY DID I HAVE THOSE. Oak and Willow by Potboy - Marnie writes absolutely beautiful fic and this one is no exception!  This is another “gap filler” fic and I think it might not be wholly readable by laypeople just yet, but if you have a vague understanding of the Silmarillion, it’s GORGEOUS.  One of the things about Tolkien’s world is that it’s told from the point of view of the Noldor, so OF COURSE the other Elves all look like jerks.  What this fic does is then tell the story from the Sindar’s point of view and suddenly there’s a whoooole lot more context going on here!  It’s gorgeously done and, oh, if you like Galadriel or want Celeborn to have more depth, to understand why Galadriel loved him in this author’s hands, it’s a brilliant read for that.  Gap-filler or just really great characterization/worldbuilding, this fic covers both. This Taste of Shadow by Mira_Jade - This is a collection of various Tolkien prompts and there are so many incredible gems here.  It spans from the Silmarillion to The Hobbit to The Lord of the Rings, it spans from the Elves to the Men to the Dwarves, they’re all here, at some point.  Sure, primarily it’s about Elves, but the Elves are the ones we know the most about, and I think you need to know The Silmarillion to read this, but once you have the shape of it, this is some fantastic filling-in-the-spaces pieces with a boggling amount of variety of characters!  You can skip around to your faves if you like, if a chapter depends on reading another one first, it’ll tell you, and so pick your beloved character and there’s probably a gorgeous fic in here about them!

[swordsandparasols]

Given all the focus in last weekend’s episodes of Grand Prince on scars and how a woman with scars on her body can’t be a royal wife or concubine, I’m starting to wonder if the show is going to have Hwi and Ja Hyeon separated because he has to return to the palace to help raise and protect the toddler, and their not being able to be together for good until years later when he can leave the no-longer-toddler, since she can’t be his wife unless he renounces his position because of her scars. If they do go that route, I hope Ja Hyeon becomes a famous artist during that time.

 International fandom might not be overly impressed with the show (more on that in a moment) but South Korea certainly is.  It was already Chosun’s highest rated drama ever in its first few weeks, and ratings have only gone up from there, aside from a brief drop around the third week, which is normal for kdramas, before rebounding.  If it gets the usual ratings bump in the last couple of weeks, it might claim the spot for having the highest ratings for a single episode of a sageuk on a cable network from Maids.  (I mean, if it does, it’ll be brief because Mr Sunshine and Asadal are on their ways, but it’ll be pretty noteworthy coming from a much smaller cable network like Chosun, and between Maids and Grand Prince, the writer has probably made hir career writing sageuks pretty stable.)

 I’ve been talking a bit about it with people in the kdramanetwork, and it seems a lot of the international fandom interpretation of it is that it’s ok, but sageuk-lite as compared to the more melodramatic youth fusion romances that have been popular in international fandom in recent years that use history as window dressing.  I’m being literal in that statement, not judging. Moon Lovers chose one of the few periods in Korean history that mostly fit a story already written for Chinese history, Seven Day Queen was essentially a romance novel with historical serial numbers added to it, Hwarang was a setting that let them make everything be about a fluffy collection of pretty boys with a side of angst. Etc.  (I’m not sure what The King in Love was outside of a mess due to the obsessive devotion to keeping the love triangle ambiguous above and beyond all else.) There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of that, but those shows-arguably the most popular sageuks in international fandom in recent years-are a far, far cry from the sageuks that became popular both domestically and internationally.  Mixed into that time period we had the more traditional and history oriented sageuks like Flower in Prison, Rebel, and, of course, Six Flying Dragons, which had decent ratings and were well received critically both domestically and internationally, but made less of a splash internationally than the previous group. Even Six Flying Dragons, with its near universal acclaim, had a smaller but very dedicated international fandom. Somewhere in between there was Saimdang, Ruler, and My Sassy Girl,  (I cannot comment on Moonlight Drawn By Clouds because the trailer was…something else, and not in a way that was good for me, and nothing I heard about it made me reconsider.) which had mixed reactions both internationally and domestically, but fared better than the first group in ratings.  (Ruler actually had the highest ratings for a sageuk last year, but I don’t think it was actually considered popular, due to so many people on Naver saying they only watched to see the lead actors get a happy ending?  I quit paying attention to what people said about it when I quit watching it, but I remember seeing comments to that effect at the time.)  There were a couple other sageuks somewhere in there that don’t seem to have made any lasting impact or splash at the time, at least internationally, but I don’t remember what they were. I think Jackpot was one. (A well made and acted drama that somewhat managed to be very forgettable, based on the few episodes I saw.)

 To get back to my original point about Grand Prince (one day I will start one of these posts before bedtime and ramble less),I don’t think it’s something that should be called sageuk-lite. Like Ruler and My Sassy Girl, it’s in a fictional AU of Joseon that can easily be seen as influenced by historical figures, but the similarities don’t really go past that point.  This evening (now technically yesterday) I started watching Chuno with @decaffeinatedhedonist (the first time for her, a rewatch for me) and it reinforced what I’ve thought about Grand Prince since it was only a few episodes in, which is that, despite some surface similarities, it is very much not wanting to be associated with the recent youth fusion romance sageuks (Given that that bubble had its swan song during the Moon/Moon period and entries since then have mostly been the dying gasps of this round of the subgenre, you can’t really blame it.) and is instead pretty aggressively a callback to roughly the 2009-2011 period of fusion sageuks, which could be considered something of a golden age for fusion sageuks.  It’s scaled down-largely because the writer is less interested in politics than in the smaller details of family and homelife and characterization.  It’s essentially a family drama in which people are arguing over the fate of a country, as opposed to which chaebol heir will take over the company.  (This is also why it almost has to be about characters based on historical figures, as you couldn’t tell the story with that approach with the actual King Sejo and Prince Anpyeong.)  It decided what it wanted to be and it very much succeeds at what it wants too be, that we might expect more in the realm of politics or for things to operate on a grander scale is more about viewer assumptions than a problem or weakness in the show, which has consistently been exactly hat it sells itself as.  So while I do think it could possibly be called sageuk-lite in comparison to the shows it emulates (such as Princess Man and Chuno, for the most obvious plot reasons)-I don’t think it is, but I can see the argument-I don’t think it can be called sageuk-lite as compared to the more recent shows I see it being compared to, as it’s much truer to the original spirit of fusion sageuks than those shows are.

I hope all that made sense and didn’t veer off in too many directions.