#there was the moment in episode eight for Callum that was really good

[baked-hylian]

why does each new season give me interesting crumbs in between annoying writing choices?

I finally watched the new season of tdp (didn't even know it was out) and I gotta say whatever writers left should come back please

episode one was extremely stale, maybe it's largely because I don't like how they've been writing Rayla and Callum's relationship, but it felt so forced and unnecessary of an episode all to force a "I trust her unconditionally" type of plot that doesn't even work with the information she's been hiding from Callum. Like why even hide what happened to her parents and Runaan? By now everyone is mostly aware of why the Moonshadow elves put the hit on Harrow, Rayla has been forgiven for her part in it. What purpose did that serve to the narrative other than to force the unconditional trust point that episode. A point that could have been done using the pirate town and her potentially having an arrest warrant from there, causing friction between the humans that still don't trust elves and Callum who doesn't ask her about the warrant, merely trusts that there is a good reason for it. I did really like Domina Profundis' design from the episode and I am still salty about the crap with the elf and human camp from the previous season and had to be reminded of it when Karim appeared.

episode two was better because of Claudia and Terry. Terry is great for her, love him for that, but I do dislike how much he shifts the tone during Claudia's scene considering she seems to be either being set up to stay a permanent enemy or perhaps episode nine will be her rock bottom before taking a different path. Also love all the shit going on in Viren's mind palace, poor guy needs a break.

episode three was interesting. I like the slow set up with Karim working towards taking back the kingdom via his first follower. I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amaya but it's Amaya and really hard not to like her. it does seem like tone is a difficult thing for the series to balance, and even by episode three it felt like whiplash at times between implied horrible thing and poop jokes.

episode four was probably the best of the first half of the season. It was so obvious that the book drop was going to be used as a makeshift fortress to keep out the corrupted banthers. However the episode just got laughable when the library became overrun with them. Would have been nice and cool of them to turn it into more of a zombie movie-esque situation and have corrupted elves and other animals appear, maybe even a dragon. also a little confused on how fast the corruption is supposed to work but hey, for plot reasons we need Zubeia to not become completely infected instantly, instead draw it out for several days/episodes for drama (same as the drama of whether or not Amaya and Corvus lived)

episode five was extremely predictable. Of course the first old elf ocean mage that the group meets is the one they need. We can't make this journey too complicated and heaven forbid that we take a moment to do anything, but maybe I'm still salty from the previous episode cause it seemed pretty far fetched that Zubeia couldn't just annihilate the corrupted banthers with ease and instead had to abandon Amaya and Corvus, because.... Amaya yelled for the first time on screen? BUT it did introduce my new favourite bad bitch Kim'dael, a bloodmoon shadow elf with some very interesting lore that I would have loved to see hinted at more when we were first visiting their forest.

episode six by far was one of my favourites introducing Captain Finnegrin but alas, all good things must come to an end because by episode eight he's dealt with like he was a stereotypical bully in a high school movie instead of a fearsome pirate captain.

episode seven was most interesting at two points. Janai being kidnapped by Kim'dael and the reveal of Finnegrin's ship being a giant hermit crab with a ship built around it. That was pretty sick, along with Callum literally stealing the wind from Finnegrin's ship prior to the crab reveal.

episode eight gets disappointing though with the way everything wrapped up with Finnegrin. I think I was hoping too much for that little thread of Finnegrin wanting to kill the ocean arch dragon due to wanting revenge for his first crab ship being killed by her. Really interesting, especially when he finally got the info he wanted from Callum about dark magic strong enough to kill an arch dragon. I thought it'd be really cool to see him return again, maybe even united with other antagonists at some point. BUT nope. Instead Soren uses the power of being a chill dude to convince Elmer he deserves to be treated better, and it worked somehow. Idk you'd figure a man who has been pirating over 40+ would maybe have had one or two actually loyal crew and not a bunch of essentially slaves. Seriously those kids would have been so fucked if Finnegrin had had some truly loyal men.

and lastly episode nine. Just poor Claudia, she really deserves the support she gets from Terry. Girl just wants to keep her family together. Was NOT expecting her to get her leg cut off in the confrontation, hopefully that sticks and she does some funky dark magic prosthetic for it. However the episode has left me wondering if they'll actually straight up kill Viran and use that to drive Claudia completely to the dark side, blaming Katolis and elves and dragons alike for getting in the way of her protecting her family, or will Viren live and try to walk Claudia back from the darkness? As it stands, I can totally see Aaravos forcing the dark magic spell to make Viren's resurrection permanent, but I do wonder if that was the only reason he created their freaky moth son or if there is more to that still.

#First couple of episodes I kept asking myself if I was gonna drop it #as the previous season and the sunfire elf camp actually pissed me off so much as it just was so stupid #but I made it through #because almost all the adult characters have at least one interesting thing going on still #but the kids (sans Claudia) are just getting a little boring #there was the moment in episode eight for Callum that was really good #with him breaking and giving Finnegrin the spell recipe #but I'm sorry Ezran is just boring #Rayla isn't horrible but certain scenarios with her just feel like a first draft #the whole thing with naming the baitlings was kinda meh (mainly cause I think all the names suck) #Soren wasn't too bad this season but it feels like he's hit a wall in his character arc with nowhere to go until he's reunited with his fam #I'm mildly salty about what age dragons finally start talking and why only select ones seem capable #(perhaps it's mentioned in a previous season and I forgot) #anyways I'll probably keep up with the series until the end #providing s6 doesn't dip even lower in writing for me

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

A Special Day - a TMA fic

It's the big day. Jon and Martin will join to create one family, to become Blackwood-Sims for the rest of their lives, however that looks.

But this world is a mess, and Jon's red-string conspiracy board doesn't come close to solving it. Also, Jonah Magnus has the worst timing no matter what world he's in.

Part of the Magnus Monsterverse.

AO3

------

I drove my uni roommates absolutely mad with my notes. Post-It notes, half-used notebooks, scraps of paper torn from things. Sometimes I wrote on old receipts, or on the backs of syllabi, or (one memorable day) on the A4 sheet with a professor’s name, which had been taped to her door. I had nothing else to write on! It wasn’t as though she’d miss it, anyway.

My coworkers at the Magnus Institute had no idea how good they had it, really.

At any rate, it wasn’t really shocking that no one could understand my filing system. The confusion on Martin’s face as he witnessed my newest masterpiece spoke to that.

“Uh,” he said, staring at my handiwork.

“Wait,” I said. “I can explain.”

His mouth twitched. Martin Blackwood, the love of my life, was trying very hard not to laugh at me. “Right,” he said, and put his bag on the counter, carefully avoiding the strings.

“So,” I said. “Here’s what we have so far.” And starting on the left, I walked him through my system.

Red strings connected events and people. Post-It notes indicated category by color, and colored paperclips to indicate subcategories. The unknown was scribbled on white lined notebook paper, generally pinned according to how confident I felt about solving them—i.e., red push-pins meant I don’t have a damned clue, green push-pins meant possibly someday, yellow push-pins meant, I am about to give up on this—

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” said Martin, no longer hiding his grin. “But maybe we could cut to the chase a little? What’s all this for?”

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry. I thought it was obvious.”

“No?” he said, outright grinning now.

I took a deep breath. “So here we have all the players that I know of. Two Agnes Montagues, status unknown; at least one Jared, status known; two Jude Perrys, at least one Melanie, three Georgies, two Nolans, Crew and Banks, Campbell and Jane Prentiss, at least one each of Michael and Helen—”

“Oh, there were more,” said Martin. “They get absorbed.”

I stared at him.

“By choice,” he added. “Trust me, they aren’t upset about it.”

I lost a few seconds as the Eye showed me a merging I couldn’t understand, because they became one and yet they absolutely did not. Michael was legion, which meant Gerry was literally fucking a horde.

I shook my head. Back to reality. “Right. Well. Three Gerrys, sort of. At least one Manuela, something like eight Jonahs, at least one Tim, Peter Lukas, Callum, and Simon Fairchild.”

“I mean, there are more,” he said.

“Oh, I know!” I said brightly, and continued to explain my system.

Satellite feeds “monitoring everything,” Manuela had said. Leitner’s mysteries. Gertrude the unknown. The nonsense of us all being chosen ones. The precise mechanics by which we all ended the world—which included the fact that apparently, I had done it in a totally unique way. “What is the Veil, anyway?” I said.

“A… dimensional skin?” Martin suggested. “I don’t know. I mean, the Fears aren’t exactly like Smirke envisioned them, either.”

“True enough.” Smirke had definitely not imagined anything like what the Eye had become.

It greeted me happily and dumped a few episodes of of 1980s Ducktales in my head.

I needed a moment.

“Jon?” said Martin, concerned.

“It… it’s nothing. Sorry.” It had a catchy theme-tune, though. "Anyway. Here’s the thing. Whatever is happening here… for some reason, it needs us. I… am the only one here who ended the world the way I did. What are the chances? How can it be? It can’t! Why me? Why like this?”

He slides up to me, and as his arms wrap around, I melt into his warmth and his scent, the sandalwood aftershave, the slight crispness of his starched tuxedo jacket, the softness of his fresh-shaven cheek. “Because you’re unique,” he said, and his lips grazed my ear. “I won’t hear otherwise. I am marrying the most amazing man I’ve ever known in any universe.”

I close my eyes, resting my face on his shoulder. Although the tux, I will admit, is not my favorite texture. “Suppose I’d better get ready.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he teased.

I laugh. Then I go to finish arranging my own fancy clothes.

#

It wasn't not a large ceremony, but I’m quite certain it would still give a stranger a bit of vertigo. After all, half the audience was doubled.

At least doubled.

It was important to invite them. To say I was intentionally letting go of any potential lingering unpleasantness, bitterness, fear. To say I was joining this bizarre, piecemeal family—and by their invitation to our wedding, they were joining mine. Speaking of wedding…

A lot of Roman traditions made it through to modern times, and oh, boy.

I was damned lucky I didn’t need to wear a toga. We did have to don wreaths of flowers and herbs (both of us, instead of the “bride”), and would be wearing veils when we made vows. But before that… well, it was damned embarrassing.

So first, the “groom” (we'd decided I would be, based purely on the fact that I am older) must kidnap the “bride,” who pretends to be against it to fool the household gods. I must drag him away (while he loudly protests) with witnesses, who would, in all likelihood, be hurling bawdy jokes and dirty lyrics our way in an encouraging manner.

Then, having obtained my ill-gotten bride, I cart them away to a room with a special couch where we are supposed to consummate. With all our guests in hearing range, just on the other side of the wall. Dear lord.

So we wouldn’t be doing that, but we would do the rest, and spend some time on the stupid little couch while they all enjoyed a reception outside. After, we would sign the contract, and we'd be done. We’d be married. I’d be a husband. Why in hell was I nervous?

Martin kissed my cheek. “See you on the other side.”

“Come on, damsel,” said Tim, and pulled Martin away from me to the other room, where he would pretend to defend his honor.

Michael stood with me. It had insisted on being my friendly household spirit (a ridiculous fulfillment of a ridiculous tradition), and now handed me a small bowl of salts. “To throw and distract Tim,” it said unnecessarily.

“Thank you. And thank you for, uh. Volunteering.”

It grinned at me with too many teeth. “I had to see it happen. Also, Gerry asked it of me.”

Well, that was news (but it didn't have to be, and the Eye offered to show me their conversation in the middle of absolutely bizarre multi-person in single-body sex anyone could imagine, and I shut that right down). “Why?”

Michael shrugged. “Oh, Archivist… is it so hard to  believe others would like to see you happy?”

It was, and I didn’t know what to say.

The embodiment of doubt shivered. “Delicious, but now, it is time to move on. Are you ready for your role, Archivist?”

“Absolutely.” Not at all.

It cackled. The laugh was… less of a headache these days and more an expansion of human sound. “Delicious,” it said again, and steered me toward the door.

#

Ridiculous.

“Oh no! My virtue?” Martin cried as if in doubt it existed at all.

There was laughter as scents and lights and so many voices hit me all at once (and the Eye tried to show me everyone’s everything and I begged It to scale back), and Tim stepped between us and smirked, faux-glaring. “Thou shall not have his virtue, foul fiend.”

Martin was all-in. “Who shall rescue me from my virtue! Oh, wait, I got that backwards…”

The laughter was good-natured. Cheering (a surprising amount for me, by name) to get on with it and give a show, and the vague but ubiquitous command to get em. And I was laughing (and hadn’t expected to, but the joy on Martin’s face—) and people threw flowers and Tim waggled his eyebrows and said, “Put em up, put em uuuuup,” (The Cowardly Lion! the Eye informed me), and I emptied the salt bowl at Tim’s feet.

“I am defeated. My one weakness… salinity!” he said, swanning away.

The hoots and howls rose, and someone banged a tambourine. I was cheered on. By name.

Martin gave me the naughtiest look I have ever seen, and that was saying something. “Oh, no,” he said, absolutely flat. “To be freed from my binding chastity!”

And I don’t know what took over me. Maybe my millennia-past youth in student theater, or maybe the shock of everyone’s praise, or maybe… maybe just him, his eyes sparkling, his grin huge and playful, his blush (he was blushing!) amazing and lovely. Whatever the cause, I lost my mind, and dove all-in. “Oh, I’ll free you, all right,” I said (and managed a growl, to his delight), grabbed his hand, and yanked him into me.

He was larger. Heavier. But I stood still like a wall as he fell into me, and my arms around him were strong. “Jon,” he whispered, and licked his lips.

“Let’s blow this Popsicle stand!” I announced, spending all my “cool” credits for the foreseeable future, and ran for the door, pulling him behind me as everybody in the room erupted in cheers.

#

They started music out there, and loud conversation, patient while we did whatever with this steamy tradition.

Martin sat with me on the special couch (loosely inspired by the ancient Roman lectus) and held hands, side by side, both smiling shyly, both red in the face.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this with me,” I said. “I red-stringed your kitchen.”

He laughed. “I’ll take your red strings over anyone’s anything.”

“Madman,” I pronounced, and pulled him in for a kiss.

We took our time, just lying there; we would not be consummating in (relative) public, but it was all symbolic, anyway. Also deeply romantic. To lie there under him, our tux buttons catching on each other, our breath mingled, our lips red and swollen, while out there, people we knew or had known cheered us on.

“This is weirdly inebriating,” I murmured, worrying his lower lip.

“You are,” he murmured back, and made an indecent sound. “You’re making it very difficult to be public-safe.”

“Your jacket is long enough,” I said practically, and he laughed.

“Come on, you goon. We’ve made them wait long enough. Got to sign the paperwork.”

The final formality. The Blackwood-Sims family begins.

We exited the room to ribald cheering, to loud toasts, to Tim and Michael hurrying forward to put veils on us and replace our wreaths. Carefully, both of us holding the same pen, we signed the final paperwork, and it was done. To massive cheering, we grinned at one another, his veil making his eye color pop, and finally joined everyone else in a feast well-started.

Can a man made of eyes get pleasantly sloshed? I was about to find out.

#

I have never “partied.” I can’t even qualify that with like this, because I simply never have. After today, I sort of see the appeal.

In true traditional fashion, everyone stayed and ate and drank until they were completely blotto. Some took advantage of the couches places strategically around the room to sleep it off. Others hired drivers to take them home; still others disappeared into mist, or vanished into webbing, or accepted a trip (so bold) through someone’s conjured doors.

Martin was out, leaning on the table with his head on his hands, dreaming… well, um. Things not meant for others.

I was considerably less drunk than I’d hoped I’d be, but at least I’d had a short while of feeling blissfully buzzed, delightedly dozy, and we all had a very good time. And I was married. There was that.

Married.

I could absolutely not be happier than this.

I hummed as I clean up a little, not that it was my job, but it was the least I can do to thank the people who came together to make this happen. I gathered and stacked cups, hummed some more as I put trash into a bag, and ensured everyone’s airways were unhindered.

I was married.

I couldn’t help smiling like a fool as I moved between tables. After this, we were going home. I’ve requested time off from my new job (and Spider Martin is hardly going to argue) so we could have something of a honeymoon, though I wasn’t entirely sure where.

Martin wanted to go to Canada. It was a magnificent place, apparently—neither France nor England ever had control over it, and the lack of colonialism left the land pristine and the people varied and creative. The Canadian nation was evidently a loosely affiliated network of tribal associations, and it was a wonderful place to visit.

I wanted to visit. I wanted to see, all on my own, without the Eye showing me… and It wanted that, too. It wanted to see through me. It wanted my heart, my mind, my brain; I didn’t fully understand why I was so to Its taste, but the crucial point was that we—

I felt it happen before I saw it.

Felt the parting of air, the ripping of this dimension’s flesh. The opening of a portal: the one that happened before in Martin’s tiny kitchen.

No. Not now. Why was this happening now? I turned to find that hole in the air, and that older Jonah Magnus staring at me through it.

He took in the tables, the sleeping guests, and just slightly, wrinkled his nose. Oh, older Magnus looked worse for wear. His shirt was sweat-stained, and his hair all stood on end as though he’d been running his hands through it. I saw the ghost of young Jonah in his face, in his features, but this man was entirely different. A scowling man, a harried man. He did not look at me with adoration, for one thing, which was deeply appreciated.

I’d had a plan for this. Exactly what I would say and how. Instead, I blurted, “You came back.”

“Come through,” he snapped. “At once.”

What the blazes? “Why would I do that?” I snap back. “You’re interrupting my wedding, I’ll have you know.” (My entire planned conversation had at this point gone up in flame.)

He startled. “You wed?”

“Yes! Who are you? What do you want? What are you doing?” I said.

Magnus kept looking around the room, frowning more by the moment. “Most unexpected,” he muttered. “No matter. Bring your bride. Come through. Before it’s too late.”

“I don’t have a reason, do I?” Gods, I was messing this up.

He drew himself up straight, and I finally noticed how broad his shoulders were, and how defined his forearms. “Very well,” he said. “I wanted to do this the easy way.”

Those were never good words to hear. I took a step back. “Do what the easy way?”

His look was withering. “Save the world, you bloody monster.” And he held up a—

I—

Don’t know what—

Sirens?

Darkness.

#

I woke to Martin’s scent, familiar and lovely. My head was in his lap; this was a good place to be, a safe place, and I turned my face to press it into his wonderful, soft belly and hide from the world.

“Jon,” he said softly.

“Mmm,” I said.

“Jon,” said Jonah Magnus, and I went stiff.

I turned my face slowly to find young Jonah there. He had a violently black eye, and what might be some dried blood on the side of his neck. But his expression… it was not defeated. It was not upset. It was triumphant. “I knew he’d wake.”

Martin’s arms were around me, and he lifted me slightly, holding me to his chest. “You scared me a lot, Jon,” he said, almost lightly, almost casually, into my hair.

I felt absolutely… awful. It was almost familiar; in secondary, I’d driven myself half-mad trying to get the best possible grades in my final year, and ended up passing out from… well, a combination of poor decisions. Waking from that faint felt like this; difficult to open my eyes, difficult to remain conscious, impossible to really focus on anything.

Martin made the tiniest sound. A miserable sound. As if he’d been crying.

I would not be unable to comfort him now, and with my push of will, my body seemed to settle. I gripped Martin’s arm. “What happened?”

“You were attacked,” he said, and suddenly I was aware of flashing lights, of many voices. There was an ambulance outside.

Oh, gods. “What happened? Is everyone…”

“It was close,” said Martin. “But everyone is okay.”

“What happened?” I cried.

“Hold on, Jon,” said Martin, and turned to talk to the police officer who came over to see me now that I was awake.

I lay silent, held by my husband, fighting dizziness. Jonah said nothing, but did not leave, and I realized the dark spots on his shirt were… burned. Cloth singed black.

How? I… why couldn’t I see it?

The Eye was silent.

The Eye was…

“Easy, Jon,” said Martin, because I’d begun to hyperventilate. “You’re all right.

The Eye was silent! “I…”

“It’s fine,” Jonah whispered, leaning in, hand on my arm. “It had a shock, too, through you. It’s recovering. It’s fine.”

I stared at him. “Tell me what happened,” I whispered.

“When we’re out of here.”

I shuddered.

The policewoman leaned over. She looked incredibly uncomfortable, as if struggling to meet my eyes. “Hello, Mister Blackwood-Sims. I know this is the worst time, but we need a statement.”

“I don’t know what happened,” I say, because it was the truth. “We were… everything was done, and I was helping to clean up, and then… suddenly, I’m waking now.” Which was a lie.

“Hm,” said this policewoman. “We’ll be contacting you. Something happened, and hopefully, you’ll be able to remember more. Congratulations, by the way. Sorry this happened, whatever it was.” She did not say that as if she meant it.

“Thank you,” I said, because I had to, and hid my face in Martin’s belly again. I let the world spin around us, clung to my husband, and just held on until we were finally allowed to leave.

#

There was a lot of burning. Jonah wasn’t the only one; Martin fielded text after text as our guests checked in, verifying they were all right, offering aid.

I was amazed. I thought we’d be blamed for… whatever this was.

And what had it been?

Jonah walked with us to Jared’s car, and rode with us to Martin’s apartment, and sat with us in our living room while Martin took my jacket and gave me something cold to drink.

“I don’t know what triage looks like for eyeballs,” I said, trying to be funny.

And the Eye… responded. Washing stations, refractory medical therapy, surgical intervention by an oculoplastic surgeon or neuro-ophthalmologist or neurosurgeon providing a ventriculoperitoneal or lumboperitoneal shunt.

Oh… oh.

I know It felt me react, nearly weeping with relief, unable not to, glad and grateful even though I would have done anything to be free of it in my former life. Are you all right? I thought at It.

In response, It gave me an absolutely bizarre animated movie called, Care Bears Movie II: A New Generation.

I laughed weakly.

Jonah watched me, eyes lidded. “There It is,” he said.

Finally, I was able to turn my attention his way. “Explain. Explain now. If I have to order you by whatever absurd deity you have assign to me, so help me, I will.”

“Easy,” said Martin, pulling me against his chest, arms around me. “Not my favorite thing to say right now, but… we owe him.”

“Owe him!”

“I saw…” Jonah took a slow breath. “I wasn’t invited to your wedding.”

“No, you were not,” I said.

Martin kissed my forehead, and that was enough. I fell silent.

“I understand,” said Jonah, long lashes brushing his cheeks. “I hadn’t been supportive of your relationship. It’s only fair. But I was… nearby. I wanted to congratulate you after, and hopefully put all the unpleasantness away. I waited while those who were going to leave left, and I waited while you were doing whatever in there.” He said that with the dismissive tone of one who clearly would rather not think about us doing whatever in there. “But then I saw a shift.”

“A shift.”

“I’d seen them—we had, my friends and I—a few times when we began truly exploring what we could do in service of the Eye,” he said, “and I recognized it. Someone was wrinkling reality. Damaging the walls between worlds.”

I stared at him. “Multiverse is absolutely not a thing you thought in the 1800s.”

His look was… real. “It was, though not by that term. We’d uncovered that much. The point is, I ran inside, and found you facing something that really took me a moment to understand. I froze, Jon. I apologize.”

I stared at him.

Jonah sighed. “I thought, for a moment, it was my father, back from the dead to haunt me through a hole in the air. But that only lasted a moment; I knew him. Knew him.”

“He was you,” I said softly.

“Me with… many, many different choices made. And he was hurting you.”

“How?” I sat up. “What was happening?”

Jonah studied me. Then he looked at Martin. “Does he know?”

“You know he doesn’t,” Martin whispered.

“You’re both being very worrisome,” I said.

Martin produced his phone—screen now cracked—and opened the camera.

I startled… badly. My eyes were… I… “What the fuck?” I whispered.

“He had something I can only think of as… a prism,” said Jonah.

I shook, was shaking, could not calm my breath. It had been difficult enough to handle my brown eyes turning green, but this—

True polycoria, the Eye said, in which there is an extra pupil, reactive to light and medication, independently dilating and contracting with triggers, and with an intact sphincter muscle. Normally, this leads to handicapped vision, but in your case, it has improved it. Also—

I closed my eyes and my mind tightly.

Jonah was still talking. “It looked like a mirror, sort of, except that you were broken up in the reflection, as though the mirror's surface had shattered. And you were… you were breaking apart, Jon.” His voice cracked. “You were making these horrible cracking sounds, and… there was so much heat.” He shuddered. “Like sunlight through a magnifying glass, though I couldn’t see its source. I tried to help you, but, ah.” He indicated his burns with a small smile, as if to say all was forgiven. “So when that didn’t work, I picked up a chair and threw it at myself. It hit the thing he was holding, and it shattered.”

“That’s when I could move again,” said Martin, his voice so strained. “I was hearing it all, but I couldn’t… no one could move.”

“By then, there was fire all over, in random spots,” said Jonah, “but you’d stopped cracking apart and had fallen to the floor, insensate. We put out the fires. Evacuated people. The other me was… rather furious, actually.”

“He had an argument in some other language,” Martin said, and gave Jonah a sharp look.

Jonah looked far too thoughtful. “He did. He tried to tell me you were the end of the world, and if I didn’t help get you through the portal and to him, it might be too late. I said we’d already all ended it a few times, and didn’t need his help, thanks. He, ah. Didn’t appreciate that.”

“He pulled out a damned handgun,” said Martin.

A Tranter revolver from 1858, I was informed, which was a double-action cap & ball revolver invented by English firearms designer William Tranter in 1858. This model operated with a  dual-trigger mechanism, one to rotate the cylinder and cock the gun, the other to fire it. The first model of his own design used the frame of an Adams-type revolver, with a modification—

That told me something about other-Magnus’s time.

“He did,” said Jonah. “Fortunately, whatever hole he’d opened couldn’t handle bullets. He fired once; it ricocheted. Someone unseen behind him shouted, I told you that wouldn’t work! and then his hole collapsed.”

Slowly, I looked at the camera again. My eyes were normal. I’d willed them normal—or willed them to better hide. “You… you saved us.”

“I saved you,” said Jonah. “I won’t lie about my priorities here—you’d know, anyway, and to you, I will never lie. But… they are your people, so yes, I did make some effort.”

“How bad was the fire?” I can’t fully process all of this.

“It was lots of little fires,” said Martin. “Jonah helped, Jon. I’m not thrilled by this either, but it’s true. He helped.”

“I knew you wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t,” said Jonah.

There was a strange comfort in knowing that his self-satisfying bullshit would work to my benefit for now. More than that: to the benefit of my loved ones. “Thank you. I… I don’t know what would have happened.”

“Something I wasn’t willing to allow,” said Jonah, low, his young voice cracking.

Martin sighed. “It’s been… a day.”

I looked at him. “You can’t be all right with this. With… I just…”

“Jonathan Blackwood-Sims,” said Martin. “If you say you ruined our wedding, I swear I’m going to snog you until your face could melt marshmallows.”

I choked.

Jonah stood. “I really need to go get this looked at. I’m glad you’re both all right. Congratulations.”

I looked up at him (and we both pretended my face wasn’t already on fire). “I don’t… know what I owe you. I don’t know how to respond to this yet.”

He was so godsdamned eager. “I know. In time, you will. I’m sincere, Jon. I would die for you.”

“Please don’t,” I muttered.

Jonah smiled, still patient. “Many happy returns.” And he left.

Martin left me long enough to like the door, then sat with me again, and we clung.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Don’t even fucking… I did this. Maybe not on purpose, but my presence is the reason—”

“And you are worth it, so you will stop,” Martin said, almost sharp, holding me so tightly it was like he wanted our ribs to catch on one another, like he wanted us to share a heart. “I feel so… useless.”

“Useless!”

“Here you are, you’re… you’re a god, apparently,” he said, and laughed weakly, “and you’re making things happen by just speaking, and there’s some insane plot going on with an alternate universe, and I’m just… I can’t even say boo! I couldn’t even move when it was happening!”

“Oh, Martin.” I breathed against his neck, kissing the curve, still scented with his cologne, though also now his sweat. I loved all of him, in any condition. “Without you… I know what I said to Gertrude, but I… I need you. So much. Please don’t think… please. Don’t think you’re useless. You’re anything but.”

“The only thing I can do is love you,” he whispered.

“That’s what I need,” I managed. “While you love me, I still feel human.”

He inhaled. Then he started kissing me.

We were both tear-wet, both smelling of smoke and sweat. Both smelling of chemical fire extinguisher, and alcohol. Both trembling from adrenal shock and whatever powers were expended against us tonight. But we lay on that couch together, and pulled off our sodden dress clothes, and held each other, and kept each other in one piece, and it may not have been a traditional wedding night, but it was perfect for us.

We were grounded.

We dozed, the couch's afghan draped over us, murmuring at each other about getting a steam cleaner in here and laughing at our indulgence.

I was so glad I could sleep. I still felt… dizzy, out of it, weak. Perhaps, like I almost blew apart.

What was that? What happened? It didn’t just hit me, either. Somehow, that hurt the Eye? How? How could that happen?

Maybe it didn’t hurt the Eye. Maybe it hurt the parts of It that… were affected by me. This personality. These preferences. This playfulness.

How horrible—yet my gut said that was true. What would have been damaged was not the eternal embodiment of the fear of being seen (of course not), but the… dare I say it? The good parts, or at least, harmless parts, or at least, more controllable parts…

The parts that liked me. That loved me

I was suddenly furious that whoever this other Magnus was, he’d tried to murder my friend. Oh, but since when had the Eye been—

I was suddenly flooded with a lovely recipe for warm vanilla pudding, because Martin liked that, and It liked Martin, and…

Fresh tears dampened the throw pillow beneath me, but I didn’t care. I held my husband. I still had my friend. I didn’t understand what happened... but I would. And when I did, whatever godly powers I had would be brought to bear.

This Magnus would regret the day he came after my loved ones. This Magnus would regret the day he didn’t finish the job. A god of guilt runs this world? For Magnus, I would make this world’s shame feel like a cool breeze on a hot godsdamned day.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Muh-muh,” Martin agreed, already asleep, and I held my husband, and seethed, and took a truly long time to follow him into rest.

#tma #tma fic #tma au #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon x martin #jonmartin #jmart #teaholding #magnus monsterverse

[boasamishipper]

what tdp would have been like if it were written by m*nsantos:

callum is an angry edgy loner orphan who doesn’t need anybody and has a cool scar

alternatively callum is a Nice Guy (tm) who flirts constantly with rayla even when she repeatedly shows she doesn’t like it. they get together in the penultimate season after no buildup and clear indication they’d be better off as friends.

ezran’s personality consists of nothing but his love for jelly tarts

harrow’s death is shown onscreen and he is brutally tortured to death

runaan is tortured and killed off several times. when he comes back the last time for good (after barely speaking the entirety of the season with his design changed to look like he’s a hundred years old), his husband (who isn’t actually referred to as his husband onscreen) is dead. they give him another elf to marry in a post-credits scene after the series finale due to fandom backlash.

at the end of the show, amaya is no longer a general and is made something dumb like a palace adviser because she’s deaf and disabled people can’t be heroes obviously.

rayla has no agency and is shown to be a badass assassin in the beginning and at the end looks to bait for orders about everything

in addition, rayla is killed off in the series finale after sacrificing herself to save the universe and giving callum elf horns for some reason

viren and claudia are the big bads. claudia’s actions are excused by having an abusive childhood. their relationship with each other is never really developed or explained. 

ships change from moment to moment. rayla and callum hold hands? next episode soren and rayla are making out. the episode after that claudia and callum are in love. next episode rayla and callum are together again. no buildup for anything.

all of the lore is thrown out the window after the s1 finale. moonshadow elves can suddenly summon fire. earthblood elves have wings. ezran’s connection with zym is suddenly retconned in a behind the scenes interview. nothing makes sense. you cry.

everyone’s character arc is either stalled or inconsistent

Xadians Are Actually The Oppressors: A Study of Fantasy Reverse Racism

everyone who isn’t whiter than an eggshell is reduced to the comic relief or fridged/tortured/gaslighted on screen for the development of the white characters

there are eight seasons made in the span of two years. fandom discourse over rayla’s age makes you feel like it’s been a million years since the show began. you lament all the wasted potential and watch voltron legendary defender, created by aaron ehasz and justin richmond, instead.

#the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #anti vld #vld salt #vld critical #my stuff #if i've missed anything pls add on

[beautifulhigh]

A whole hour. And we got a max of what 10 minutes of the Mitchell's, I'm calling Ben Jay Lola Callum and Lexi the Mitchells cos they all basically are and I love found family. With all that they've got going on, deafness, kidnapping recovery, pregnancy, surrogate brother's death, they got 10 minutes. Sheesh.

I love this little misfit family taking up residence in the Mitchell home.

It just seemed like everything was building to something that didn't happen. I know it was a week ago but there was no real follow up on Ben breaking down last week. His moment with Lola was wonderful about never being able to hear Lexi again.

God the foreshadowing on that line.

Ben has been carrying on since the boat crash like nothing has changed and tonight's episode seemed to make him realise that it has. He couldn't hear Lexi, couldn't hear what was going on, and it could have been so much worse than it was.

Time wise... 10 minutes in under 60 is pretty good given we also had:

Linda's sobriety struggle

Jean and Suki

Bex leaving (not telling your mum you love her too? That was... off)

Kush and Whitney and Grey

Dotty blackmailing Ian (you go, girl!)

Lola and Jay and the baby

Sharon struggling to cope with the baby and the funeral

That's eight storylines of which Ben and his hearing loss is one. Maybe one and a half given the influence on the Lola plot. Ben got more than his fair share but the 30 seconds of Callum felt like a tack on to the end. I would have liked to have seen him a little more, mentions at least. (Like with the funeral parlour. "Callum's at his check up, who else is there?") It was like we needed a scene at the end where Ben was surrounded by his family and not really connecting to them, not really part of what was going on. He couldn't hear the comment about Callum's ribs, it was Lexi putting the subtitles on, he has no idea Lola is pregnant or that Jay is planning on proposing. He's disconnected from his family and it breaks my heart.

But that is what happens when you have an ensemble show. It's not the Ballum show, we will share the spotlight. Any Dotty fans would be furious at how little time their feisty queen had today.

In short, it will balance out. I wish that a few more strands carried from one episode to another but I have learned in all my many, many, many years of soap watching that you will never get what you wish for and the bar needs to be set low.

They may still tunnel under it, but go low.

#ballum #eastenders #ben mitchell #callum highway #lola pierce #lexi pierce #hope this makes sense

[son-of-alderaan]

FC: How did it feel when you were suddenly brought on to direct Episode IX after Colin Treverrow departed while the film was still in development?  

Abrams: I wasn’t supposed to be there. I wasn’t the guy, ya’ know? I was working on some other things, and I had something else that I was assuming would be the next project, if we’d be so lucky. And then Kathy Kennedy called and said, “Would you really, seriously, consider coming aboard?” And once that started, it all happened pretty quickly. The whole thing was a crazy leap of faith. And there was an actual moment when I nearly said, “No, I’m not going to do this.” I was trepidatious to begin with, getting involved, because I love Star Wars so much and felt like it was . . . . It was almost, on a personal level, a dangerous thing to get too close to something that you care that much about. And yet, with Force Awakens, I feel like we managed to introduce these new characters—for some people, new actors—and continue a story in a way that I thought had heart and humanity and humor and surprise. Though of course I’m aware that there are critics of that movie, it felt to me like we dodged a bullet. Like we got in there, we got to do something. And I left loving Star Wars as much as I did when I got there. Like, somehow, it was on a personal, selfish level something I was really happy to have done. Not just excited about doing but happy to have done. And to ask to have that happen again, I felt a little bit like I was playing with fire. Like, why go back? We managed to make it work. What the hell am I thinking? And there was a moment when I literally said, “No,” and Katie  said, “You should do this.” And my first thought was, has she met someone? And then I thought, she’s usually right about stuff. And when she said it, I think that she felt like it was an opportunity to bring to a close this story that we had begun and had continued, of course. And I could see that even though the last thing on my mind was going away and jumping back into that, especially with the time constraints that we were faced with . . . .

FC: What were the time constraints?

Abrams: Because they had announced release dates, and everything works backwards.

FC: Was the schedule unusually fast?

Abrams: To have no script and to have a release date and have it be essentially a two-year window when you’re saying (to yourself), you’ve got two years from the decision to do it to release, and you have literally nothing . . . . You don’t have the story, you don’t have the cast, you don’t have the designers, the sets. There was a crew, and there were things that will be worked on for the version that preceded ours, but this was starting over. And because this was such a mega job, I knew at the very least I needed a cowriter to work on this thing, but I didn’t know who that cowriter would be. There was nothing. So the first thing I did was reach out to a writer who I’ve admired for years, Chris Terrio. who I didn’t really know, to say, “Listen, would you want to write Star Wars with me?” And he screamed.

FC: Out of terror or excitement?

Abrams: Probably a bit of both, but I think definitely excitement. And what I realized in that moment was, I hadn’t been aware until then that I needed to work with someone who would scream at the prospect of working on Star Wars. Because I had been through the process, and I was looking at brass tacks: This is what it’s going to take, this is the reality of it. And he was looking at it sort of childlike: Oh my God, I can’t believe we get to play in this world, which I needed to be reminded of. I needed that point of view, because that’s not where I was. Of course, I was excited about what we could do, but I was acutely aware of how little time we had to do a fairly enormous job.

So to answer your question, I went into it in an all-in leap of faith, aware that Katie was very supportive of this thing and felt it was the right thing. And so her divining rod of what’s real and what’s right was a comfort, despite her not being in London (where most of the shooting took place). And it was just an immediate immersion into the what-ifs of it all, which is the fun of it, but also the pressure of it. And I’m not complaining when I say this, but it was having to make decisions based on gut. When Damon Lindelof and I created Lost, we had essentially 12 weeks to write, cast, shoot, cut, and turn in a two-hour pilot with a big cast. And that was a crazy short amount of time. The benefit of that was, we didn’t have time to overthink. There wasn’t time to get studio notes that end up sometimes taking you in lateral positions and making you adjust things—death by a thousand cuts—to a place where something doesn’t resemble what it should be, and you can’t remember why you got there or how. So the good news was I was jumping in with a writer whom I admired enormously; with Kathy and Callum Greene, a producer whom I’d never met; Michelle Rejwan, who had been my assistant, and whom Kathy had hired to work with her as a producer. But it was a completely unknown scenario. I had some gut instincts about where the story would have gone. But without getting in the weeds on episode eight, that was a story that Rian wrote and was telling based on seven before we met. So he was taking the thing in another direction. So we also had to respond to Episode VIII. So our movie was not just following what we had started, it was following what we had started and then had been advanced by someone else. So there was that, and, finally, it was resolving nine movies. While there are some threads of larger ideas and some big picture things that had been conceived decades ago and a lot of ideas that Lawrence Kasdan and I had when we were doing Episode VII, the lack of absolute inevitability, the lack of a complete structure for this thing, given the way it was being run was an enormous challenge.

However, to answer your question—truly, finally—now that I’m back, the difference is I feel like we might’ve done it. Like, I actually feel like this crazy challenge that could have been a wildly uncomfortable contortion of ideas, and a kind of shoving-in of answers and Band-Aids and bridges and things that would have felt messy. Strangely, we were sort of relentless and almost unbearably disciplined about the story and forcing ourselves to question and answer some fundamental things that at the beginning, I absolutely had no clue how we would begin to address. I feel like we’ve gotten to a place—without jinxing anything or sounding more confident than I deserve to be—I feel like we’re in a place where we might have something incredibly special. So I feel relief being home, and I feel gratitude that I got to do it. And more than anything, I’m excited about what I think we might have.

- abridged, link above for full article 

#j.j. abrams #episode ix #star wars epix #the sequel trilogy #interview #bad robot #fast company

[footyplusau]

After the siren: Flaws that could stop contenders

FIFTEEN weeks into the season and what remains abundantly clear is the premiership race is as wide open as it has ever been.

If you’re the AFL, it is the culmination of years of carefully crafted and meticulously implemented equalisation plans. On any given Friday, Saturday, Sunday (and the occasional Monday and Thursday) any team can beat another team. 

But what is also becoming clear is that the 2017 premiership might not be won by a champion team, necessarily, but perhaps the team with the fewest flaws.

So, at the risk of being branded the resident curmudgeon on AFL.com.au, let’s look at the flaw that might just hold back each of the premiership contenders in 2017.

• The run home: How the race for the finals is shaping up

Greater Western Sydney: On paper, the best team in the competition, but the clock is ticking on whether the Giants will be able to field their best 22 ahead of the finals. Brett Deledio hasn’t played, Stephen Coniglio will have missed half a season when he returns and Ryan Griffen likely won’t play until the start of the finals. And then there is the discipline issue that lingers just beneath the surface. Had Steve Johnson – whose absence arguably cost the Giants in their preliminary final last year – not given away a dumb 50m penalty on Saturday night that gifted the Cats a goal, GWS may yet have won.

Adelaide: The heaviest scoring team in the competition and if the Crows can play the game on their terms, they are really hard to stop. But they’re 4-4 in their past eight games and laboured to the line against the Blues on Saturday. Would they have made it past their fellow top-eight clubs on that effort? Debatable.

Geelong: There was a lot to like about the Cats on Saturday night – three debutants and almost getting the win away to the Giants. But they blew a chance to score a big win on the road and in such an even season, the ability to win on the road is critical. The Cats travel to the Gabba this week and then to Adelaide to face the Crows a fortnight after that. They need to take care of business on the road when they can.

Richmond: Seats aboard the Tiger train are filling fast after the slashing win over Port Adelaide on Saturday night. But can the 11th-best attack in the competition win a premiership? That’s what the Tigers need to deal with. A 2017 flag to the Tigers will be built on the back of a brilliant backline and it won’t be the first time that has happened.

Melbourne: A bit like the Giants, the Demons are struggling to get their best team on the park. And their next few weeks might see them without three midfield guns – Nathan Jones, Jack Viney and Dom Tyson. And then there’s the discipline. Having Jesse Hogan and Jordan Lewis unavailable earlier in the season arguably cost the Demons a win or two, Tom Bugg won’t be playing any time soon, while Dean Kent, Jay Kennedy-Harris, Ben Kennedy and Jake Spencer weren’t considered for selection last week after breaking club rules during the week. Not ideal. Not this year.

Port Adelaide: With the second-best percentage in the competition and the second-most points for, the Power can get the scoreboard working. But the form line is the worry here. Saturday night’s capitulation to Richmond – at home – continued a season-long trend of Port losing to teams in the eight. Even coach Ken Hinkley agrees there is no counterpoint unless his men knock over one of the big boys.

West Coast: Working out which West Coast will turn up week to week is the biggest issue for Adam Simpson. Are they the mob that meekly surrendered a comfortable late lead to Melbourne last week, or the group that travelled across the country the next, overcoming a couple of injuries to knock over the reigning premiers? It was huge for the Eagles to pick up a much-needed win at in Melbourne, but they’ve twice failed at the MCG this year.

• Around the state leagues: Who starred in your club’s twos?

Sydney: The Swans are the form team of the competition, having come back from a 0-6 start to the cusp of the top eight. Their best footy is the best in the competition. But how many petrol tickets have they spent to get back in contention? The Swans have no margin for error and cannot afford to flirt with their form. 

St Kilda: It’s all coming together for the Saints, but a look at their season shows a pair of three-game winning streaks. They’re riding another of those now, which adds to the intrigue of the Richmond game coming up. Win four straight at this time of the year and you start to have the makings of a really good side. The intensity that marked the win over GWS earlier this year was on display again for large parts of the Freo game. But is it the norm for St Kilda in 2017?

The Tribunal times, they should be a-changin’

Some of the inner workings of the AFL’s judicial processes were laid bare on Saturday in a deep-dive interview with AFL football boss Simon Lethlean on ABC radio.

It came after a huge week on the Tribunal front with the Bachar Houli suspension and subsequent AFL-led appeal, and then the crude Tom Bugg strike on Callum Mills on Friday night, which surely will be referred straight to the Tribunal when the Match Review Panel meets on Monday.

What we learned was that while the MRP’s standing as an independent body remains enshrined, Lethlean has a look at what incidents are likely to be reviewed and the recommended sanctions (and otherwise) before they are finalised. There may be times when the MRP seeks his counsel during its deliberations.

But it remains an antiquated system in some ways. It is almost the last vestige of a semi-professional competition once played exclusively in the suburbs of Melbourne, only on Saturday afternoons and run by administrators who could only deal with the affairs of the game at night once their days in the factory, classroom or office were done.

• Nine things we learned from round 15

While it is a given that Bugg will be going straight to the Tribunal, the fact that it won’t be officially confirmed until Monday afternoon is absurd. The medical report that Lethlean said the MRP will rely on in making its adjudication will be available well before Monday morning, given the Swans played on Friday night. There needs to be process, but there is also video technology (Telstra, being an official partner of the AFL, could surely help in this regard) that could allow the MRP to meet remotely, as early as Saturday to make its ruling following Friday night games and, increasingly, Thursday night games as well.

ANALYSIS: Bugg has only one move left

Until that happens, the Bugg episode will be replayed over and over and over again and the game won’t have moved on from the days of black shorts at home, white shorts away and black and white TV. 

The entire AFL judicial process will be reviewed at the end of the season, as it is every year. It is a complicated and multi-layered system. But just as Lethlean courageously defied years of convention by appealing the Houli suspension, he could add some speed and contemporary thinking to the MRP system that sometimes takes too long.

Swans throw players’ code out the window

Of course, what the MRP won’t need to take into consideration are the views of some of Mills’ teammates. Perhaps Bugg brought this all upon himself with his provocative pre-game Instagram message before the Bulldogs game a few weeks back, but the Swans were quite forthright in their condemnation of Bugg after Friday’s game, in a clear departure from the old-fashioned players code that would suddenly appear after a contentious incident.

Defender Nick Smith gave one example on 3AW: “(I was) taught to play footy the right way. You want to hurt your opposition, but not in that fashion.” It was the polite but direct sort of dig one would expect from the Scotch College-educated Smith. But there were no airs and graces from teammate Tom Papley, who told AAP simply that it was a “dog act”. 

We think that’s what Smith wanted to say, only he’s a bit too polite.

Nick Smith told Tom Bugg what he really thought on Friday night. Picture: AFL Photos

Lions’ den gets a lot more attractive 

That’s one hell of a coaching job Chris Fagan is doing at the Gabba after the Brisbane Lions came from 27 points down early in the final quarter to beat Essendon at Etihad Stadium, sending a huge 41,000 crowd home in stunned silence.

More weeks than not there has been a bit to like about the Lions and on Sunday it was four goals from the rapidly emerging Eric Hipwood and 29 classy touches in just his second game from last year’s No.23 draft pick Alex Witherden. When Lewis Taylor and Dayne Zorko play well, the Lions become that much harder to beat.

The Lions are on a journey and they’re savouring every moment. Witness the unbridled excitement from coach Chris Fagan afterwards in the coach’s box, on the ground and in the rooms.

The Lions can’t make the finals and will likely win the wooden spoon. But if you’re the No.1 rated junior in the country, you’d have few qualms about joining a club that has bottomed out and is starting its climb back to respectability.

• Forecast the road to the flag with the AFL Ladder and Finals Predictor

Other observations

1. 30, 30, 25, 95, 103 and 19. That’s the losing margins for St Kilda in their last six trips to Domain Stadium before Sunday. The Saints should have knocked over West Coast in round two, but ran out of steam, but they powered home with two late goals to Josh Bruce to beat Fremantle by nine points after trailing at every change. Before Sunday they had lost 11 out of 12 outside Victoria. Brilliant, brilliant win by the Saints as they put a major bogey to bed. 

2. All the Saints won’t take home to Victoria are the three Brownlow votes. They will go to Michael Walters, who with 32 touches, six marks and six goals, played one of the best games by a small forward you will ever see. Plaudits to the Saints, but the Dockers would have been worthy winners on his efforts alone.

WATCH: Six of the best from Sonny

3. It was a nice weekend for those making their debut, with Tyson Stengle booting two for the Tigers on debut in Adelaide, as did Wylie Buzza for the Cats in the draw against the Giants. Buzza now has the best name in footy, although not for too long. The potential debut of Irving Mosquito in 2019, perhaps for the Hawks as part of their Next Generation academy, has footy’s name watchers giddy with excitement.

4. Adelaide Oval has been the scene of a pair of nice redemption stories in the past two weeks. After being kept goalless in a half by Port Adelaide in round 11, the Hawks came back three weeks later to knock over the Crows. Richmond, meanwhile, lost by 76 points to the Crows in round six, before returning 10 weeks later to beat the Power by 13. The ghosts of the Tigers’ 2014 finals humiliation might have been put to bed once and for all.

5. The nice story of the weekend was Nathan Vardy kicking the sealer for West Coast against the Bulldogs on Saturday. The star-crossed big man managed just 25 games in six years for Geelong and sought a fresh start with the Eagles this year. And while he might have initially been thought of as cover for the season while Nic Naitanui’s reconstructed ACL slowly healed, Vardy has not skipped a beat all year. As he said in a candid post-game interview on Fox Footy afterwards, football is supposed to be fun, but it is anything but when you can’t get on the park. Also good for the Eagles on Saturday was key defender Eric Mackenzie, who has struggled mightily since injuring his knee in 2014. But his confidence is returning and it allows the Eagles to play Jeremy McGovern forward, where he is at his most dangerous.

WATCH: Vardy brilliance gets Eagles home

6. Trent Cotchin the best captain in the league? We’re not buying that just yet. But how good was the change-room vision of Cotchin calmly talking to a clearly rattled Alex Rance at half-time on Saturday night. The soothing talk must have had the desired effect because after a half of being run around by Jackson Trengove, Rance went back to being the best full-back in the competition in the second half and helped engineer a fabulous win. 

7. The Hawks have eschewed the hard tag in recent years and let’s face it, they haven’t really needed to. They’ve let the likes of Scott Pendlebury run amok in recent years but it hasn’t mattered much because overall talent would win out. So the Hawks have turned to youngster Dan Howe and in the last fortnight he has kept Rory Sloane to 23 touches without having much of an influence while on Sunday it was 250-gamer Pendlebury who was kept to 21 touches without ever getting on the leash. The coaching at Hawthorn remains very, very good.

The post After the siren: Flaws that could stop contenders appeared first on Footy Plus.

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#Footy Plus

[footyplusau]

Before the siren

WITH three electric games scheduled for the MCG in the opening round, there is every chance all sorts of AFL attendance records will be smashed this weekend as the 2017 season gets underway.

If the Carlton-Richmond, Collingwood-Western Bulldogs and Essendon-Hawthorn games each attract more than 70,000 fans – and the expectation is they should – then not only would the AFL’s round one attendance record of 367,792, set in 2012, be under threat, but the overall record of 371,212, set in round 15 of 2013, could be surpassed.

We reckon the fans will turn up in droves as Australia’s No.1  sport returns. As episodes such as Luke Hodge’s ‘mystery’ training absence and Jordan De Goey’s bizarre broken hand episode demonstrate, don’t we badly need the games to start so that we can start talking about, you know, the footy? 

Anyhow, we’re putting our neck on the line to project how many people will attend each game. Check back Monday morning to see how we went. 

Carlton v Richmond (MCG, Thursday, 7.20pm AEDT)

Highest: 83,493 – round one, 2015*

We think: 72,000

It’s a Carlton home game, which might keep a few away but if you can’t be excited about going to the footy, when can you? Anecdotally, the opening game gets more than its share of neutral supporters.

Collingwood v Western Bulldogs (MCG, Friday, 7.50pm AEDT)

Highest: 67,920 – round nine, 2006

We think: 69,000

It’s not the Bulldogs’ flag unfurling – that takes place next week – but it is a replacement game for their members so they should rock up in big numbers. There’s always early season optimism at Collingwood and their fans will turn up in droves. Add the likelihood of Travis Cloke making his Dogs debut against the Pies and this is a great piece of fixturing.

St Kilda v Melbourne (Etihad Stadium, Saturday, 4.35pm AEDT)

Highest: 40,004 – round four, 2005

We think: 35,000

Another great piece of fixturing by the AFL as it pits the two clubs considered most likely to break into the top eight this year. Saints fans are up and about at the start of every season, but particularly now after a great summer. Melbourne supporters traditionally hate Docklands, but it is a different team this year, one that appears to have set itself to snap a 14-match losing streak to the Saints. If ever they dare venture to the western side of the CBD, this is the time.

Sydney v Port Adelaide (SCG, Saturday, 4.35pm AEDT)

Highest: 41,317 – round 13, 2014

We think: 32,000

The Swans are a big draw now and optimism is high for another finish deep into September. An issue here will be the weather, which can be sketchy in Sydney at this time of year. A few showers are predicted for this twilight game. Port aren’t a huge draw on the road although chairman ‘Kochie’ will be pleased to be able to drive to the footy.

Essendon v Hawthorn (MCG, Saturday, 7.25pm AEDT)

Highest: 61,006 – round six, 2010

We think: 85,000

The Bombers were given their choice of round one opponents and plumped for their great 1980s rivals. The banned Dons step out for the first time in 18 months, and even if you’re the most casual Essendon fan – there is no excuse for missing this game. Bumping up this crowd figure even further is the fact that this is a replacement game for Hawthorn members because of the Tasmanian deal, so they’ll be there in huge numbers as well, celebrating their own comeback game as new skipper Jarryd Roughead returns for the first time since 2015 after his cancer fight. Then there’s Jaeger.

Gold Coast v Brisbane Lions (Metricon Stadium, Saturday, 7.05pm AEST)

Highest: 16,593 – round three, 2015

We think: 16,000

It’s a football fiesta at Metricon with the AFLW Grand Final kicking off the day, and if enough Brisbane Lions fans choose to stick around for the nightcap then a healthy crowd figure can be expected. Do the people of the Gold Coast understand that a potentially very good team plays on their doorstep?

North Melbourne v West Coast (Etihad Stadium, Sunday 1.10pm AEDT)

Highest: 33,151 – round 5, 2005

We think: 26,000

The ‘graveyard’ of time slots, but it is that time of the year where we’re between junior cricket and footy seasons, so it’s not that bad for families. The Kangas are up to nearly 35,000 members, so unless they’re into motor racing and attend the Australian Grand Prix instead, let’s hope they turn up in droves. West Coast has about 5,000 fans in Victoria who get to every game.

Adelaide v Greater Western Sydney (Adelaide Oval, Sunday, 2.50pm ACDT)

Highest: 46,737 – round 10, 2016

We think: 42,000

There won’t be much away support, but the Crows can pack out Adelaide Oval on their own and despite some likely key outs for the opening game, hopes of Adelaide supporters are riding high.

Fremantle v Geelong (Domain Stadium, Sunday, 4.40pm AWST)

Highest: 38,565 – round nine, 2014

We think: 36,000

This is a great rivalry, and while serial irritant Hayden Ballantyne’s absence will be keenly felt, new skipper Nat Fyfe is back – and he’s fit, firing and likely to go head to head with Patrick Dangerfield for parts of the game. Going back to the days of Polly Farmer, the Cats have always had a loyal following in Western Australia.

Total crowd prediction: 413,000

* Highest crowd is for home and away games only with the first named team as the home club.

Sore and sorry Swans

Let’s not detract for a moment what a magnificent effort it was by the Western Bulldogs to win the 2016 Grand Final. It was a September (and early October) to remember and to cherish for the Dogs, while the match itself was as engrossing as they come for a flag decider. 

But a bit overlooked amid all the romance was how brave the vanquished Sydney was. They were a kick from the lead until late in the final quarter, and as the subsequent stories of woe started to mount, it is becoming more evident what a great effort it was from the Swans to even get so close. 

Lance Franklin entered the game with a shoulder banged up enough to require a reconstruction after the game and then he injured his ankle in the opening term. He played the game out, but was hampered. 

Kurt Tippett missed an earlier final because of a fractured jaw, but had earlier missed a huge part of the season because of a serious hamstring injury. Luke Parker played the Grand Final with a PCL injury from the week before that needed post-season surgery. Dan Hannebery hurt his knee in the final quarter and tried to play the game out, but had to retreat to the bench. 

Josh Kennedy was sore, Sam Naismith needed a shoulder reconstruction, Callum Mills and Jarrad McVeigh were underdone entering the Grand Final and McVeigh’s calf issues are now chronic. For Tom Mitchell, who came to Hawthorn during the trade period, once the fitness staff there took a good look at him, they decided he needed to be held back from full training until after Christmas.

What does this tell us? That’s eight players (that we know of) who were less than their best in the Grand Final and no doubt, there were plenty of hurting bodies on the other side as well.

The Swans have played deep into September for a few years and you can only admire that they keep fronting up year in and year out as they bash and crash their bodies for longer than most. They’ll likely do so again this year. 

And it probably adds further context to Hawthorn’s achievement of winning three-straight flags from 2013-15 with the physical toll that took. While the Hawks would dearly have loved to have won again last year to enter the record books, what you do hear out of Waverley is how depleted they were at the end of last season. They have subsequently enjoyed both their biggest break and longest pre-season for five years.

Dan Hannebery and Tom Papley were a picture of dejection on Grand Final Day. Picture: AFL Photos

Gabba problems laid bare

That Saturday’s AFLW Grand Final needed to be moved from the Gabba because of turf issues only brought to the surface what the Lions have known for more than a decade – they really are its second-class citizens. 

Talk to those at the Lions and they’ll tell you plenty of stories about the Gabba staff trying to put the Lions, and by extension the AFL, back in their place.

Former Lions coach Justin Leppitsch used to have regular run-ins with notorious curator Kevin Mitchell about access to the ground even in footy season. Never mind that the cricketers are allowed to kick the Sherrin for as long and as often as they want as part of their training sessions.

But as recently as a few weeks ago, Lions media staff were shooed away from the boundary area by security staff merely for trying to take a publicity photo for the AFLW team. That explains why whenever a new player joins the Lions, the obligatory happy snap in the new polo shirt usually takes place high up in the grandstand. 

And when there is cricket on, particularly the Test match that usually starts the summer, Lions admin staff usually aren’t even allowed into those aforementioned grandstands to watch a few overs on their lunch break. 

A caller to SEN radio the other night told of taking a guided tour of the Gabba recently, during which football and the Lions were mentioned once. 

Once!

It is Mitchell who cops much of the flak, and deservedly so. But there are a few others at the Gabba who need to understand that they work for the venue, not just for one of the sports that primarily use it.

The Lions have struggled for a fair go at their home ground. Picture: AFL Photos

My movers and shapers

The annual industry-wide movers and shapers survey has appeared on AFL.com.au the last few days and will also appear in full in this week’s edition of the AFL Record.

It is a fascinating project to compile and now in its second year, the extra twist is those who jump up the rankings and those who slide down or drop out entirely. 

The survey is anonymous and drawn widely from throughout the industry, but for the sake of the exercise, here is my personal top 12. 

1. Gillon McLachlan – Boss of the AFL. Nothing more to add. 2. Simon Lethlean – Brought AFLW to life and now heads up footy operations. Huge job. 3. Richard Goyder – Incoming AFL chairman. Not from Victoria, which is important. 4. Andrew Dillon – AFL chief counsel and McLachlan’s main confidant and sounding board. 5. Alastair Clarkson – The best coach and a brilliant innovator. 6. Caroline Wilson – The best journo in the game. Breaks news and creates agendas. 7. Patrick Dangerfield – Who said great players don’t need to walk down media street? 8. Kerry Stokes/Channel Seven – Shape so much of how we consume the game. 9. Paul Marsh – Happy players, happy game. Needs to bring the CBA home. 10. Ray Gunston – Negotiating the CBA and the AFL’s investment model. Both vital. 11. Eddie McGuire – A bruising year but still commands a huge voice. 12. Rupert Murdoch/News/Herald Sun – Also play a huge role in how the game is consumed by millions.

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