06 Tuesday Sep 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
I was surprised, this morning, to see a mountain of pillows go walking past my study door. I ran to the door and peered out after the strange apparition.
It was not, in fact, a walking pillow mountain, but the Eighth Doctor, his arms full of pillows. The pile was higher than his head. “Doctor! What are you doing?” He turned around, losing control of the pillow pile, and stared at me, startled, knee deep in pillows.
03 Wednesday Feb 2016
Posted in Story Dynamics, Tales from Selay'uu, Uncategorized
Every once in a while, I set aside time to just go have lunch with my characters. Sometimes it’s originals, like Gervaise, Alex, and Ben. Sometimes, it’s my fanfiction pals–the Doctor, John Watson, Horatio, Will Treaty. Just sitting down with them every once in a while helps me stay sane and keep up.
Today, which will make Rosalie happy, we were rehearsing a scene from “Attack of the Clones”–the AU version–and we were laughing in between takes, trying to figure out a less ridiculous title for it. Unfortunately, in that scene, Obi-Wan gets force-pushed against a wall, and we kept having to do takes, because Dooku was suspiciously absent and Casceny was doubling for him, in between hiding from the Doctor.
Casceny is a time traveler, but not a Time Lord. A brash, loud, boastful little goose with a heart of gold.
And she was hamming it up.
So here Obi-Wan was, still uncomfortable because of the wirework we were having to do (this AU is taking some severe hashing-out to get it to work, I can tell you now), still in harness in between every take. And after that, we go get lunch. I had cheddar grilled cheese, Obi-Wan (who tends to be um… sort of… adventurous I guess? That’s not the right word for it, but whatever) put swiss and asiago on his. Don’t ask me why. Of course he couldn’t do something normal with his grilled cheese.
He flinched as he sat down, and I (naturally) asked him what was wrong.
“The wires aren’t strung correctly,” Obi-Wan said. “I keep getting slammed into the wall. That’s why I’m flopping down after every take. It’s not poor acting. It’s me getting a little stunned after hitting the wall over and over and getting the breath knocked out of me. Kysherin really has taken a dislike to me these past few months.”
“She needs restraining,” I grumbled into my iced tea. “How does kryptonite sound?” Obi-Wan chuckled.
“Better and better all the time.”
“How do you feel about this AU?” I asked bluntly. With Obi-Wan it was no good beating about the bush. He’d take you at your word and answer you in kind. Obi-Wan looked pensive for a long moment.
“It’s frighteningly in character for me,” he said at last. “In that situation, that is exactly who I’d be and what I’d do. I don’t think I would be broken, mentally–I’d still have my wits if not my memory, but even with no voice to act as conscience, I’d still be horrified at what I’d done. Candidly, I’m a little bit frightened that I can be so naive and think better of people than they deserve and be so blind to evil, so inclined to mercy when I should be on my guard instead. On the other hand, if I was given the choice to change that? Never. I never would.”
“You didn’t like the Rako Hardeen fiasco,” I remarked, guessing at what he was getting at. He normally plays along willingly, no matter how dark the AU, remaining a strong refuge for the rest of us who get tired, irritable, frustrated or ready to throw the entire thing in the trash, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy it. Obi-Wan shook his head.
“I don’t like to play parts,” he said. “I start to lose myself in the role. It’s scary, for lack of a better word–yourself and this other character who is not quite you. Or, in the case of Hardeen–entirely not you, but you’re in his skin and you have to act the way he would.”
“There’s a spectrum,” I remark. “Your character is not entirely consistent even through the length of one story. You’re always learning, changing, evolving, and your traits exist on a spectrum. There’s a wide variety of ways I could write your character and it would still read as you. The tricky part is finding the sweet spot for what I’m trying to do.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Obi-Wan replied. “I guess you could say I don’t like my own spectrum.” His eyes twinkled as he glanced down into his water glass.
“It wreaks havoc, though, with the way I’m having to write this AU. You’re changing constantly and it’s hard to keep that in line when I have to write it in blocs according to function.” Obi-Wan laughed.
“I suppose we’re writing all the parts with Dooku this week, then.”
“Are you ready to move forward with the story?” I asked. Obi-Wan gave me a droll look.
“Force no.”
We both laughed.
30 Monday Nov 2015
It was too early for this.
I took off my glasses and set them on my desk, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The chair in which I should have been sitting, working on my latest novel, lay demolished in a pile of splinters on the floor, and the culprit stood beside me, looking sheepish.
“Eight,” I groaned, “is such destruction even possible?” The Doctor (one of a few incarnations who’d invited themselves in and occasionally popped in, necessitating that we number them and breaking the first law of time–fortunately with impunity, unless the effects on me prove detrimental to the universe at large,) scuffed his shoes along the floor, looking like a guilty child.
“Theoretically…” he began. I held up a hand.
“Don’t say it.” I sighed. It has only been two weeks, and already this incarnation of the Doctor had managed to break a picture frame, the ugly vase which no one knew where it came from and which was rumored to be cursed (curses are no match for a ditzy Time Lord), a watering can, the horrific statue that has been traumatizing the children ever since Bruck Chun painted that terrible clown face on it, and the fireplace that had once belonged to Madame du Pompadour, which should not have been in my mind palace but for some reason it was, and the resident Time Lords had not had a chance to explain why before one of them broke it.
To be fair about that last one, he had actually fallen into the fireplace, and there was a fire lit. I nearly had a heart attack.
And to be fair to him, I think he’s not really neglectful or careless, more he simply forgets that human things are not made to the standard the ones he tried to smash as a child were.
Just then, Bruck Chun came rushing in in a fury. “All right, own up. Who did it? Who broke my statue?” he demanded angrily, giving us both the Sith eyes. I would kick him out of the mind palace, except I can’t. He’s a recurring villain for one of my latest Star Wars stories.
Slowly, the Doctor raised his hand. “That would be me.” Bruck eyed him coldly.
“And who are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the Doctor.” Bruck shook his head.
“Can’t be. That’s the spiky-haired skinny guy.” I facepalmed. The Doctor grinned widely.
“That’s me in my personal future,” he explained cheerfully. Bruck just looked annoyed.
“Well, you broke the statue,” he growled and swung at the Doctor. It has been a long time since I’d seen someone so humiliated in under thirty seconds, and it ended with the Doctor, using that literally inhuman strength deliberately for once, hurling Bruck bodily out the door.
As we headed outside to play in the newly-fallen snow, he leaned over conspiratorially, “Do you think it’ll stick?” I shook my head.
“He’s an idiot.” The Doctor grinned mischievously.
“Might have to up my game. Next time he’ll expect the Force-opaque effect.” We shared a private giggle and spent the next hour throwing snowballs at each other and sledding down the hill on the backs of our coats.
10 Saturday Oct 2015
Tags
bbc merlin, doctor who, fun stuff, humor, selay'uu, star wars
Jack Harkness was laughing uproariously as Madame Jocasta peremptorily ejected us from the Archives. Gwaine could barely stand upright, and Gawain stared at the character with whom he only shared a name in horrified disgust. Obi-Wan was trying to shush us all, with limited success, and Siri was determined to make things even more insane. The Doctor went and sulked in a shadowy corner.
“That was one awesome party!” Jack declared. “We should have brought drinks with us, though.” I stared at him, shuddering with horror. Perish the thought.
“Jack, please,” Obi-Wan snapped in frustration. “There are minors present.”
“Well, since we forgot all the majors,” Jack said and collapsed with laughter over his own joke. I slapped him across the back of the head with a convenient book. He overbalanced and fell flat on his nose. I waved the book at him half-heartedly.
“Ha ha!”
“It serves you right for wrecking her office,” Obi-Wan observed, picking up Gervaise, who had somehow gone all loopy on thin air and was talking to people who no one else could see.
“But peppers are good, Natasha,” Gervaise said to no one. Obi-Wan hoisted him up.
“I’m taking him to the infirmary. The rest of you–” he gave us a warning look. “Behave.”
“I hate you all,” the Doctor muttered, looking as if he was about to cry. I ran across and hugged him.
“Don’t give me the puppy eyes, please! You know it leaves me a total wreck,” I whispered. He sighed, making a Herculean effort to regain his self-control.
“Fine.”
“Let’s prank Jack until he’s cross-eyed,” I suggested softly. Merlin winked at me. I could feel the Doctor smiling into my hair.
“Deal.”
The Great Prank War–the Prank War to end all Prank Wars–was on.
19 Saturday Sep 2015
Posted in Tales from Selay'uu, Tales of a Wandering Bard
I was nearly yawning with boredom. Paperwork and school. Drudgery was more like it. I didn’t even have the heart to go out and work on fun things, like the audio drama I had started with a few friends…
“Erin!” the Doctor’s voice cut into my real-life-induced haze. “Erin, Erin, Erin!” He rushed into the study, cravat askew and his next-incarnation-but-two’s glasses perched precariously on his nose. I blinked at him twice, then took off my glasses, wiped them, and blinked at him again.
“Wazzup?” I groaned, closing my eyes against the incipient headache. The Doctor went off into a long, complicated rant that to me sounded like babbling. I just plonked my head right back down on my desk, wondering vaguely if I’d ever get back to my dreams of exciting plot which seemingly featured a new protagonist covertly bringing down a slaving ring and a film noir detective developing a bizarre crush on him, and another incoherent plot which seemed still more fascinating–at least while I was asleep. Ventress and high adventure? Or was it steampunk? I couldn’t remember. It was frustrating, like the time I dreamed the perfect poem only for it to collapse when I woke up and tried to write it down.
Suddenly, the Doctor stopped mid-rant, mid-sentence, mid-word… even mid-syllable. He eyed me with suspicion and mild irritation. “You’re not listening to me.”
“Sure I am,” I yawned.
“No, you aren’t,” he said firmly, then brightened up. “You need a holiday.”
Much as I would love for him to whisk me off in the TARDIS right then and there, I couldn’t. I said as much.
“It’s a time machine, Erin,” he pointed out.
“Summer,” I grumbled. “Just let me get through finals week first.”
“Oh, all right.” He gave me a mischievous grin. “Pinky promise?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Do Time Lords even refer to that finger as a ‘pinky’?” I groused. The Doctor cocked his head to one side.
“Of course they don’t!” he exclaimed.
“Summer,” I promised. “Until then… I just want to sleep and not bother with any more of this nonsense.”
Sorry, again, about the lack of coherent updates. I know it has been a while. I promise I will have PLENTY of material for the blog when I’m done with the semester. Not just short stories, but some comparisons and reviews for other classes as well.
Until then, stay alive, survive the finals, thanks for reading and God Bless!
09 Wednesday Sep 2015
Tags
because i can that's why, cake, doctor who, fun stuff, humor (sort of), minor wars, oops, selay'uu, star wars
I am afraid that these are going up with no chronology in mind.
Oh well.
Well, what’s an Archivist to do? I write all my books out of order, for crying out loud!
“Captain Jack Harkness,” he said as he entered the room, flashing a show-stopping smile at the sole occupant. I mentally facepalmed, wanting to kick myself at the same time. I’d forgotten to warn Obi-Wan.
He rose to the occasion brilliantly. “Nice to meet you,” he said disinterestedly, working away at the frosting he was crafting for the cake that I’d just put in the oven.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”
Obi-Wan held out a chocolate-smeared hand. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi. And the ganache is going to burn.”
Obi-Wan: 1
Jack: 0
Jack wandered into the lunch room, where Obi-Wan was in the middle of Captains Courageous. He was, incidentally, sitting in the chair where Jack preferred to install himself.
“Hey. You doing anything interesting tonight?” Jack asked.
“Sure,” Obi-Wan replied, not looking up. “Avoiding you.” He shifted deliberately in the chair. Jack sighed.
“Can I have my chair back?
Obi-Wan: 2
Jack: 0
“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan explained to a family in a dimension we Selay’uu Mansion inhabitants had just saved. He jumped in before Jack could reply: “And this is Jaqcueline.”
I think I may have unintentionally started a war.
Oh well.
Author’s Note: With apologies to anyone who is actually named Jacqueline. 😛
04 Tuesday Aug 2015
Posted in Tales from Selay'uu, Tales of a Wandering Bard
Tags
arthurian legends, bbc merlin, completely random posts, doctor who, doomyness, humor, long rants, long rants that do not technically belong to me, marvel, randomness, selay'uu, steven moffat, the avengers, the Thing, thor
“Try the… thing!”
“I have tried it, Master Doctor!”
“Then try the other thing! I don’t know how it works! Just… poke it, I guess.”
“Why do you not use the mallet you do when your ship slips off course?”
“Why don’t you?”
“I fear I might accidentally demolish it if I did.”
“…touche.”
I opened the door to my room, only to find that it led not into the hallway, but into somewhere else. The Doctor was running circles around an object that could only be described as a Thing, while Thor was gingerly prodding it. It was shaking dramatically from side to side, glinting like a disco ball and buzzing ineffectually, like an annoyed insect.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. Thor looked up apologetically, while the Doctor opened his mouth irately and went off into a long rant or complaint (it didn’t sound much like an explanation) about rogue Time Lords, King Arthur’s second-best hat, a green-eyed basilisk, a carrot and a pigeon.*
“If you can’t get it to work,” I said practically, “and you don’t know what it is or what it does, why not just destroy it?”
On second thought, maybe not so practical–but I had had work (not the fun kind, the kind that brings in money and is miserable) and was in a vicious mood.
The Doctor opened his mouth and shut it again. “That just might work,” he said dubiously.
I looked around. “Also, why is my bedroom in the TARDIS?”
“I think the TARDIS likes you,” said Thor, bringing Mjolnir down on the Thing with a resounding clang. The Doctor muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “traitor”.
It also sounded like the TARDIS was laughing in the background.
We never did find out what the Thing was for.
It was probably a dummy and did not do anything. It is also likely that the Thing was constructed by the Master (who we put in a looney bin) as a chew toy. Or a cuddle beastie.
Who knows?
(It was a very confusing day.)
*Please don’t ask me to tell you how those particular objects are related. One: I am not Steven Moffat. Two: I doubt even Steven Moffat can understand the Doctor when he starts babbling like that. Three: I also doubt that even Steven Moffat can explain the “three things and a lizard” comment, so you should definitely NOT ask me.
Author’s Note: Who wants Thor to be a companion on Doctor Who? *raises hand* (Weeeell, any of the Avengers, really. Except maybe Tony, because he’d try to take the TARDIS apart, and that would make the Doctor really mad. Maybe. I don’t actually know.)
01 Wednesday Jul 2015
Tags
avengers, because food, brian jacques, c.s. forester, cressida cowell, doctor who, enthusiasm, fireflies, fireworks, food, horatio hornblower, how to train your dragon, humor, i have been neglecting my fandoms, independence day, j.r.r. tolkien, john flanagan, marvel, novels, ranger's apprentice, redwall, selay'uu, shame on me, shoes, star wars, taysee is the goddess of mischief and loki is jealous, the lord of the rings, writing, YEAH!
The Selay’uu Mansion has never seen such a hubbub since its founding. Not even at Christmas were things this mad (well, especially given that, on Christmas, the Doctor was probably off saving the world again; Obi-Wan was trying to arrange the New Year’s Ball on Coruscant–I swear that someone in the Senate must hate him, since it’s not protocol for a Jedi to be named Master of Ceremonies–when he wasn’t trying to restore order to the Jedi Order; Will, Gilan and Halt were celebrating in Araluen with Pauline, Alyss, and the now-royal family {Duncan, Evanlyn, and Horace}; Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship were celebrating at Sam and Rosie’s; and just about everyone else went home to celebrate with their families. I actually invited Horatio home to celebrate with us and pretended he was my date when going to some college-sponsored thing. It was all good fun.)
And the reason?
Not one, but two, of our friends’ birthdays were coming up, on the Fourth of July. Of course, one of those birthdays is pretty obvious (Steve Rogers’), but the other might surprise you.
Horatio Hornblower was born on the exact same day the Declaration of Independence was signed.
Ever since Alex, Siri, Rose and I had come to that conclusion, we had concluded there was only one thing to do–naturally, to hold a combined double birthday party and Independence Day celebration!
Of course, Gandalf was in charge of most of the fireworks, but other than that, it was up to us. Siri attacked the kitchen with gusto, explaining American staples such as potato salad to Rose with grave attention. Alex showed her artistic side with her inventively gorgeous decorations.
But now–this morning–the morning of the Fourth of July–we were into the last-minute crunch zone, and we still weren’t ready.
I was in charge of the cakes and had a corner of the kitchen to myself. Chocolate ganache was cooling on the stove, as was a coconut and pecan concoction in another pan. When in doubt, go with German chocolate and strawberry shortcake. The shortcake and strawberry sauce were already hiding in the refrigerator, Bucky was making short work of the whipped cream (with nothing other than his metal arm), and Obi-Wan, who we had taken into confidence, was outside working at the grill with Connor and Nat, who was trying to teach Connor the finer points of lighting a grill with no fluid.
I poured the last of my concoction onto the cake, shouted at Bucky that if he made a mess he’d have to clean it up himself and then make more, and heard a hiss. I whirled around and almost burst into tears as I saw the pudding I had attempted emitting black smoke. It had burned on. Hurriedly, Siri grabbed the pot and rushed it to the sink. “Boiled dry,” she said.
“I guess I’ll just have to do custard, then,” I said in defeat.
The Doctor finally brought Steve back from wherever it was they had gone, and Horatio was back from buying new shoes with Archie (we wear out an awful lot of shoes around here–mostly, I blame the Doctor). Both the Doctor and Archie were in on the surprise, so they delayed the two birthday boys outside until Bucky texted Archie to tell them that we were ready. Then they guided them inside. Bucky bulled into Steve in a tackling hug and Archie put his hand on Horatio’s shoulder as everyone shouted in unison. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
Then it was chaos.
Tony Stark produced a pie tin filled with whipped cream out of nowhere and smashed it into Steve’s face– “a little white to go with your red and blue!” Horatio tried to escape, but Bush caught him–and hugged him. Steve caught Tony around the waist and picked him up, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and then sat him firmly down on the sofa next to a laughing Pepper. Will jumped on Steve from the rafters and gave him a hug. Someone started tickling Taysee, the resident youngling and purveyor of pranks and mischief, and the resulting shrieks of laughter threatened to deafen everyone. Obi-Wan clapped Horatio on the shoulder and then got tackled by Siri.
Dinner was no calmer. I pulled the pot roast out of the oven, and we put together our tremendous buffet. Fortunately, there was more than enough food for everyone. Clint Barton stuffed a whole bread roll in his mouth just to prove a point, to a chorus of “Ewws” from the girly-girls who were mostly marginalized. Calypso got over-excited and did a handstand on the table, nearly falling into the over-sized punch bowl full of lemonade. Sandy demonstrated a complex flip over the table, somehow not destroying anything as she went. Meg had expressed a desire to eat nothing but ice cream for dinner, but we convinced her to at least eat a roll first.
And then it was time for presents. Tony (of course) insisted that they open his presents first, to which everyone responded with an eyeroll and a “Sure, Tony.” But he had gotten them both lovely warm scarves, so we all chorused “Awwww”, deliberately, to embarrass him.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut had given them both incomprehensible drawings. Hiccup had entirely redesigned Steve’s gear harness with a more secure clip for the shield and a loop that would prevent it from shifting around when he did backflips. Will presented Horatio with a new pair of socks and forever debunked the myth that knitting is unmanly. The Doctor, who had recently taken apart Horatio’s watch in an attempt to fix something else, presented him with a new one, fitted with miniaturized navigational equipment, as an apology. Matthias gave Steve an IOU for lessons on how to better use his shield against opponents with bladed weapons. Everyone had come up with useful and fun things to give them. (I had knitted them each a throw, over a long stretch of time and with no little difficulty.)
At the end of the night, there was not much incident with the fireworks, except that there was a Dragon Incident (as always.) This time, though, it was not Merry and Pippin–who behaved themselves and limited themselves to setting off fountains–but the twins.
At last, we all had s’mores, even though it was a second (or even third) dessert for most of us, but who cares? S’mores don’t count, because there are always more of them.
At the end of the night, Horatio had a pocket full of fireflies and Steve had to carry Obi-Wan inside–I guess I’ve been working him too hard lately.
All in all, it was a lovely Fourth of July, and went off with surprisingly little fuss. I suppose that should make me worry about the future, but for now, I think I’ll just enjoy the moment.
20 Wednesday May 2015
Tags
avengers, c.s. forester, captain america: the winter soldier, horatio hornblower, humor, j.r.r. tolkien, john flanagan, lord of the rings, marvel, novels, ranger's apprentice, selay'uu, spider-man
“What the…”
“Seriously, I don’t even know.”
“It wasn’t me.”
The low murmur outside my door was too much for my curiosity. I left my study, to see something I’d never have expected. (Selay’uu has a tendency of showing me the unexpected, but even so…)
Connor, Peter Parker, Winter, Gilan, and Steve were standing in the hallway. Horatio had been thrown over Steve’s shoulder and was apologizing profusely.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was going to… and then… I swear I will never touch a portal again!”
“Especially not when you’re tipsy,” Sam Wilson added, appearing behind everyone covered in mud and walking Bucky, who was wearing a pair of broken sunglasses, toward them.
“How did that happen?” I asked. As one, all the men turned slowly to look at me and answered in a ragged chorus.
“Nothing…”
I looked them over again. Horatio looked a little green, while Connor seemed somewhat dazed, and had lipstick on both his collar, chin, and in his hair. Gilan looked as if he had gotten into a fight with Shelob and lost–there were spider webs in his hair. But from Peter’s guilty look and shuffling feet, I thought I could tell where the spider webs really came from. Winter was looking as silent, aloof and mysterious as usual, but the effect was somewhat marred by the fact that he was too obviously wearing an outfit that was mostly Bucky’s, with one of Steve’s jackets thrown over it.
“What happened to you?” I blurted out. Sam decisively took control.
“I think we can all agree that we should never speak of this again.”
“All of you lost me partway between the leprechaun that insisted he’d known Steven’s parents… and the dragon.” Horatio mumbled, slipping out of Steve’s grip and crumpling into a boneless heap on the floor.
“What did you do?” I gasped.
“And another thing we can agree on,” Winter continued, “is that if you see the Winter Soldier dressed up in a pink tutu you should run like…”
“Language,” Steve interrupted tiredly.
I never did find out what had happened to them.
08 Friday May 2015
Tags
avengers, bbc merlin, big hero six, coruscantbookshelf, doctor who, generations, horatio hornblower, humor, john flanagan, loyalties, marvel, novels, ranger's apprentice, selay'uu, star wars, summer
It’s pretty normal for people to run, whooping, through the Selay’uu Mansion. However, normally I’m in my room, writing, when it happens. This time, though, I was leading the charge.
I had just finished my spring semester classes, which means I have no classes for a couple of months until my summer ones start. Which means an excess of energy and a lot of excited screaming.
And, unfortunately, an excess of energy leads to foolish decisions, such as the one to challenge Captain America to a ping pong tournament.
That was a humiliating fifteen minutes.
Anyway, once that supremely humiliating so-called “tournament” was over, I calmed down a little–just enough to invite Rosalie over to work on realizing a few plot elements in one story. I’m good with theory, but actually bringing something to paper takes chemistry sometimes, and she’s much better at that than I am. Of course, we had Bruce Banner as well, but we kicked Tony out, because he wasn’t doing anything but make unhelpful comments.
In the middle of what we were working on, we got called out to a crisis. Harry Potter and friends had invaded Percy Jackson’s world without permission, and as a result it was raining golems on Telos. Never a boring day…
And when we got back, it was chaos.
Tony Stark had already built another Iron Man suit, but the programming was malfunctioning and it was flying in circles around Winter, who was threatening to destroy it, as it had “kidnapped” his apprentice, Will was trying to turn the curtain rod into gold and Halt was making unhelpful comments about alchemy (who put them up to that? If anyone has any information, please tell me. Because starting Will on “alchemy” was Not. Funny. It was probably Tony Stark–I have Gilan and Natasha Romanoff investigating, but no positive proof yet.), and Fred from the Big Hero Six had glued poor Peter Parker to the wall with Rosalie’s and my unfinished polymer. We had to invent a new solvent and abandon what we were originally working on and it took us five hours. In the meanwhile, Steve (God bless you, Steve) tackled the malfunctioning Iron Man suit and freed Elian, Will had figured out that alchemy wasn’t real, and Mordred had to turn Morgana into a potato (there is no magic in potatoes, and she was having an Evil Day and freaking everyone out, including Bucky, who broke a window and nearly killed her–the potato spell worked just in time!)
Six hours after that, the kids were in bed (I don’t know how Melilana and Steve managed that, but thank you all), Morgana was back from being a potato, Bucky had calmed down somewhat (thank you, Rosalie!), and the golems on Telos had all been put to sleep (“swefn” is a very powerful spell, but for some reason Winter had to say it, because I was tongue-tied. And he’s the one who doesn’t use magic!)
Fortunately for Horatio, he got back after all the hubbub was over. (I wonder how he’ll react when he finds out that we planned a combined birthday party for him and Steve. Oh well. That’s not for a few months yet.)
So, as I write this, things are somewhat calmer. (Obi-Wan had to avert some crisis on a far world–maybe he went to Gallifrey.) Bucky is falling asleep on my lap and I’m not willing to disturb him, not after Rosalie’s good work in getting him calmed down (I think Sam Wilson went with Obi-Wan.)
It’s certainly time for bed now… how else am I supposed to get up and do it all over again tomorrow morning!?
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