#( But I would have to move literally across the country and don’t really qualify )

[ofsavior]

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[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( TaehyungxOC) (Chapter 6)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.  ]

Warnings : Get ready for the unsexiest sex in the history of sex.  werewolf sex, knotting etc 

You can completely skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable . 

Literally nothing happens except that they mate. 

Chapter 6

“Luna is staying with Jimin for a week. Jimin’s sister and her kids are home so he’s sure she’ll be fine.” Taehyung said, when I asked him about the young girl. 

I nodded, slightly disappointed because I loved her and was looking forward to seeing her.

Although I suppose he probably didn’t want her to be around when he was doing....well whatever it was that he intended to do to me. I felt my pulse raise, the first tendrils of fear and panic beginning to weave through my veins. 

“You look terrified.” Taehyung commented mildly, fingers curled gently around my elbow as he led me to where his car was parked. I swallowed.

“I am terrified.” I pointed out.” I have no idea what I just agreed to.”

Taehyung hummed, fumbling with his car key and a second later the lights in a swanky black car , a little bit ahead of us, flashed with a familiar beep. Taehyung’s car looked as expensive as it probably was, black and sleek .

“Is this the car you choose anytime you’re seducing unwilling humans?” I teased. 

 I stared at the glossy metallic finish, the swanky lights that lit up along the car’s sharp and beautiful lines and my eyes caught the small exquisitely detailed silver wolf, carefully mounted on the bonnet. 

“Hmm....no one has been unwilling , so far.” Taehyung’s eyes danced with mischief. 

I rolled my eyes at that, handing over my carry-all bag when he held his hand out for it. 

“This isn’t what I would have chosen for myself.” He moved to open the boot space, lifting the small suitcase I’d packed and stowing it inside carefully.

I stared at him wondering what he was talking about.

“Someone like you...for a mate.” He pointed out and I wondered if he even heard the insult . 

“Someone like me for the rest of your life?” I gave him a dry smile.

He closed the boot sharply, the sound making me jump a little.

His gaze was intense, lush lips twisted in a frown.

“A human ...for the rest of my life.” He corrected. I felt a pang of hurt at that. It was somehow worse, knowing that I was just interchangeable with every other human of his acquaintance . He moved closer to me, reaching past me to touch the sensor on his key to the door. 

The door opened when he touched the handle, arms brushing my body as he leaned in close to me  and I flinched back instinctively..

He gave me a look. 

“Sorry...I’m just a little on edge.” 

He sighed.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice was steady and firm , his gaze calm and soothing as he stared at me and for the millionth time, I found myself utterly enthralled by his beauty. The perfect , sharp as a blade jawline, flawless skin and sharp, bewitching eyes. 

“I think.... you know that’s a lie.” I smiled a little. He had the good grace to look a little contrite. He stepped back a bit to give me space to get in. 

“It’s not a lie.” 

I tilted my head and stared at him.

“Really? You’re telling me a human mating a wolf isn’t going to do a number on the human? ” 

Taehyung frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s not going to leave any permanent damage.” 

I let out a slightly strangled laugh.

“How comforting!” 

Taehyung shrugged. 

“ It is how it is. Mating is..... an ancient ritual. Something that we’ve been doing for centuries. At the heart of it, it is something animalistic and feral because it isn’t the human part of me that’s going to be involved. And my wolf isn’t familiar with being gentle. I can’t promise he won’t hurt you but I can promise that I will help fix what he breaks.”

  What he breaks, I thought with a slightly hysterical flash of trepidation. His wolf was going to break ....what exactly?

He must’ve caught the look on my face.

“I think I could have worded that better.” He muttered. 

My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth.

“I’m just wondering if perhaps , a week from now,  I’m going to prefer being shot in the shoulder, to having sex with you.” I croaked out. 

His lips quirked at that.

“Not unless being shot in the shoulder gave you multiple orgasms.....no.” His eyes flashed red, boring holes into mine and my lips parted in a soft gasp. 

Arousal shot straight through my center, hot and heavy and I felt the blood rush to my face so abruptly that I was momentarily lightheaded. Feeling a bit like there was steam gushing out of my ears, I dropped my gaze away from him, down to his knees and then turned away, face flaming. 

I moved to the open door, ready to climb in hide but Taehyung moved quickly, gripping my arm and pulling me around till I crashed into his chest. 

“Tae-” I broke off when he reached out to gently cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a gentle caress. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, smiling gently, “  I find you incredibly desirable and I intend to show you that when you’re in my bed. The fact that my wolf also approves of you will only make the whole thing more enjoyable for you. Trust me, I’ve never had any complaints before.” 

Certain that I was probably the same shade as a ripe tomato, I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and stumbling to the door. I got into the car quickly, slamming the door shut. I could hear him chuckling lightly outside as he finished putting away the rest of my bags. 

I tugged on the seatbelt with shaky fingers, trying not to overthink. I felt torn, confused. Like he was toying with me. He was so carefully vague about what he wanted and what he felt , it was impossible to understand him. I watched the seat belt click into place and the sat back to stare straight ahead. 

The driver’s door opened and Taehyung climbed in, powering the vehicle and slipping his belt on in one smooth move before letting his fingers play across the backlit dashboard. Soft music began crooning through the speakers and he carefully adjust the mirrors manually before gripping the steering wheel and carefully easing the care out of the parking lot.

“We’ll pick up a few supplies on the way.” He commented mildly. 

“Supplies?” 

“Medical supplies.” 

I felt my pulse jump again.

“I’m beginning to regret this immensely.” I whispered, fingers digging into my thigh as I willed myself to not scream. 

Taehyung turned to give me a look.

“you do know, I’d have to bite you, right?” 

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“I...you... what?!” 

Taehyung groaned. 

“please don’t freak out. “ H’s voice deepened, probably in an attempt to be soothing, “ It’s just a small bite. It won’t be that deep or anything but it will leave a mark. It’s supposed to. Kind of a sign that you’re mated.”

I stared at him , dread pooling in the pit of my stomach and making me feel mildly nauseous. 

“Would it.. Would i... ?” I couldn’t even finish it. 

Taehyung looked confused for a second and then his face went completely blank.

“No.” He said shortly. 

“No, I -?”

“No, you won’t turn into a fucking werewolf, Jesus Christ” He snapped furiously,” Do you really think I’m gonna turn you into a were without your fucking consent? “ 

I felt myself sinking back into the plush leather seat in the face of his anger. 

The air was heavy with a tense silence for  a few minutes and then he sighed loudly, breath leaving him in an exhale.

“I’m.... I’m sorry. I know this is frightening for you and I’m grateful that you’re here. I want... Fuck. I want to make this... good for you. And if not good at least ...bearable. “ 

I stared down at my shoes. 

“I’m just... I feel scared because I don’t know what I’m walking into.” 

I looked up when the car slowed down and I noticed he was pulling into the parking lot of an all night mart of some  kind. I watched as he carefully pulled in between two smaller cars .

“You wanna come in with me? Or would you rather wait here?” He asked casually. 

“I’ll...I’ll stay here.”

He hummed and kept the air conditioner and the music running , moving out of the car . I watched him leave , his tall suave figure earning him dazzled looks from the people in the parking lot. 

I watched as nearly every single woman in the place ogled him, taking in the perfectly tailored slacks, the silk shirt and his striking good looks. He looked a little rakish today, having run a  hand through his hair earlier and even from a distance, there was no doubting that he was one of the most gorgeous men in the entire country. 

And no one in their right mind would think he was anything but an alpha, I thought balefully, watching the way he stalked across the tarmac, his gait predatory and focused. People stepped out of his way instinctively. No one met his gaze head on and I knew exactly why.

Staring at Taehyung was like staring down an apex predator. 

Even the dumbest of men wouldn’t be dumb enough to provoke someone who looked like  that. 

 i caught my own reflection in the mirror and felt myself shrink in on myself. 

I wasn’t ugly. 

Far from it.

 I could even be beautiful if I had a couple of hours and access to some good beauty products. But I wasn’t werewolf level beautiful. I couldn’t think of a single quality in me that would qualify me to be Kim Taehyung’s significant other. I remembered the model he had been dating, Ji hyun. She had been so beautiful. Tall and lissome with perfectly sculpted features. 

in what world could I compete with that?

 And What about.... the emotional connection?

 I groaned at the very though of it. 

Love was such an abstract thing to define but I wasn’t a cynic. I could imagine myself being in love with Taehyung, falling for him and in fact, I was pretty sure that I was already half way there already. 

I had wanted him to be interested in me when he had asked me to look after Luna. Had wanted that hot and heavy gaze on me, had wanted him to touch me,  with  less than pure intentions. But it had still  been just  a crush, albeit a big one.

Back then,  I had convinced myself to forget about it because of the sheer impossibility of it ever happening. But now, my traitorous heart was beginning to whisper little phrases of hope at me. 

 What if he likes you too....

What if he fell in love with you too....

I had to tamp down that voice before it grew any louder, I thought miserably. Did I not remember how he had looked, when he’d asked me to come with him? Like he was being held at gunpoint? 

The door clicked open again and I blinked. Taehyung opened the rear door and tossed a few bags on the seat there before the slamming the door shut and climbing in next to me. 

“I’ve asked the house keeper to stock the pantry and get the rooms cleaned. The staff won’t be around for a week so I would have to make sure it doesn’t get too filthy.” 

“I can help... to cook and clean.” I said quickly.

He hesitated before smirking a little. 

There was something feral in the smile, something lewd and suggestive and I felt myself blushing although I had no idea why. 

“What? Why are you looking at me that way....”

He shrugged.

“I just think its cute that you think that.” 

I frowned, not at all sure what he was implying.

“What does that even mean? What am I thinking that’s so ridiculous.?” 

“It cute that you think that you can still move around after getting fucked by an alpha werewolf on his rut. “ His eyes fairly danced with amusement and I felt my jaw drop.

“You- That's- “ I was momentarily incoherent with how much his words had scrambled my brain, “ ... ...How dare you!” I finished in a hash whisper. 

He laughed out loud at that. 

“I’m supposed to be selling this whole mating thing to you . I think I’m doing a bad job of it.” He shook his head, before starting the engine again. 

I didn’t reply, my cheeks hurting from the effort it took not to scream. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held the bags carefully, while a couple of young men carried over my suitcases into the elevator. Taehyung was leaning on the counter at the reception desk and the girl behind the desk was making moon-eyes at him. 

"Mr. Kim, we’ve already spoken to the other residents. The penthouse suit if off limits for the rest of the week as you requested. Your daughter’s nanny was here earlier and she said she’ll bring Luna back when you ask her to.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Excellent. This is my fiance, Yoon Mi Rae.” He said casually and I flushed at the phrase. 

“Oh, fiance?” The woman made no effort to hide the disappointment and disbelief on her face. I smiled weakly.

“Yes. Surprised?” He chuckled and I frowned when the girl laughed too.

“Never thought you would go for a human, Tae.” She tilted her head . 

The nickname surprised me. So they were close, then?

“ Sometimes life surprises you that way.” 

I sighed, turning away at the words. I tamped down the urge to yell at him that I didn’t particularly savor the thought of being mated to him either. That given a choice I would rather be with a man who actually  wanted  me. 

But that wasn’t why I had agreed to this whole thing was it? Taehyung’s cause was bigger than both of us. My father was doing something illegal and damaging and he had to be stopped. 

That was what this was about. 

If I lost sight of that bigger picture and focused on the little things, then I would likely be miserable for a long long time. 

Little things like the fact that Taehyung had absolute no interest in falling in love with a human. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was spacious and decorated s tastefully that I couldn’t help but stop and stare. It was very obvious that Taehyung had painstakingly picked the decor out himself. A few Van Gogh paintings hung on one of the walls and the entire living space was done in muted tones of beige and also colors of rich mahogany brown with lush red and maroon trinkets for relief. 

Taehyung directed the med to leave the suitcases in the master bedroom and then once they left, he carefully closed the door behind them.

I heard the sound of the lock clicking in place and slowly, the dread from earlier returned. 

“Do you drink?” Taehyung asked casually, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the couch., I watched him move to the massive fridge in the kitchen, and felt my lips trembling a bit.

“Just- Just water.” I said softly. 

He grabbed a few bottles of water and carefully poured me a glass. He looked up then and his gaze caught mine. 

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I merely stared back. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked gently. 

I shook my head. 

He nodded, stepping out from behind the counter and walking over , holding out the glass of water. I took it from him cautiously and took a sip. 

“We need to talk about this. I don’t... I don’t want you to be blindsided by anything that happens tomorrow. “

 Tomorrow. 

“Okay. I’m listening. “ I took a few more sips of the water and he carefully took the glass from me. 

I moved to sit on the couch but he stopped me with a hand to my arm. 

“Do you dance?” He said casually. 

I blinked.

“Dance?”

He smiled and snapped his fingers a couple of times. 

I gasped when the lights in the living space dimmed down not turning off entirely but bathing the entire room in hues of gold . The light made him look ten times more enthralling and the soft smile on his face made me want to weep. If I had been half in love earlier, I’d certainly fallen the entire way down in that damned smile. 

“I think you should get used to my body first.” He smiled and stepped closer, gently wrapping one arm around my waist before grabbing my wrist and guiding it to his shoulder. I curled my fingers tentatively, feeling my pulse pound at the smoothness of the silk and the underlying strength of his muscles. I brushed my fingers gently against his shoulder blades, stroking down to his pecs and stopping when my palm rested right over his heart. 

“You like that?” He smiled, “ Because I certainly do” and there was no hint of teasing there, just genuine pleasure and in the face of such honestly, I couldn’t help but blush. 

“You’re.... big.” I finished , feeling my face flame. 

He nodded. 

“I am. Everywhere. its probably going to be a bit of a problem for you later.” He smiled and pulled a small square remote from his pocket. 

Music began to spill into the air from the speakers and I laughed at the song.

“ I was made for loving you”  Tori Kelly’s beautiful voice crooned and I shook my head.

“You are good at this, Alpha Kim.” I said softly. “Is this the part where your conquests begin taking off their clothes?” 

He hummed and began to move, one hand curving around my waist and the other lightly resting on my back. I swayed with him, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

“I actually prefer doing that myself.” He smirked and I nodded, relaxing a bit. Taehyung was likeable, not an asshole by any stretch of the imagination and surprisingly humble considering the kind of wealth he had at his disposal. 

I liked him deeply and while it was obvious he thought he had to handle me like fine china, the truth was I wasn’t even half as scared as I ought to have been. 

“You’re pretty calm now. You were..... very would up earlier.” I pointed out.

He hummed,  his fingers tracing up and down my back before resting at the base of my spine, thumb gentle as it stroked my skin through the fabric of my dress. 

“I can control it easier because you’re right here. My wolf is calm because you’re in my arms. And my rut probably won’t start till I’m ... well , for a few hours at least. “ 

I nodded.

“How do you know its starting?” I asked, curious.

He gave me a grin.

“Oh trust me you’ll know.” He muttered, pulling me slightly closer till I was pressed right up against his body, hips pressing into me gently. I felt the hard press of his erection and even with the layers of fabric between us I could tell how well endowed he was  and I stilled, backing away a little. 

“I’m.... Sorry, I...” I whispered.

But he grabbed my wrists, tugging me back gently.  

“Don’t apologize. Its alright.  You need to get used to me. Like this, I can watch how you react and back off when I want but later...I may not be that coherent. I just want you be comfortable before we start anything. “ He said softly, fingers fluttering down to link with mine. 

“Are you saying you won’t stop if i ask you to?” 

Taehyung hesitated.

“No...if you’re actually hurting or in danger , I’ll know and I will stop. But my wolf probably won’t stop if its just you getting cold feet and you aren’t in any real danger from me. “ 

I looked away, not feeling very reassured. The bigger picture, I reminded myself. I wasn’t here for a good time. I was here because he needed me and not the other way around. 

Taehyung took my silence for disapproval and gently touched my face, eyes wide with apology. 

“I’m sorry.” He said calmly, “ Wolves have....different moral codes and that's probably why its incredibly rare for a wolf to mate with a human.”

“What do you think happened with us?” I asked him, “ You obviously need a were in your life. So why did your wolf pick me?”

He didn’t reply. 

“Is this permanent?” 

“For me, yes. For you, no.”

“What does that mean?” 

“When you leave here , you can go back to your old life. You can probably meet another guy and get married if you want. I however would not be able to have another relationship...” 

I felt my jaw drop.

“That’s....” i began but he shook his head. 

“It’s alright. I’m not a huge fan of relationships. I have my work and Luna. My life is complete as is.” 

There was nothing much to say to that. 

“You wanna go to bed now?” He asked quietly . 

I smiled at how nervous he looked.

“Lead the way.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung’s bedroom was almost surgical suite clean and also incredibly huge. The large four poster bed had huge ornate frames and I felt my eyes redden when I saw the handcuffs neatly cuffed to the lowest rung.

Taehyung followed my gaze and smiled.

“Ah. Thats just a precaution.” 

“you want to put me in handcuffs?” i blurted out and he laughed.

“No...I’ll be the one in the handcuffs. When I’m knotting you, my claws are going to pop and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally. The handcuffs will make sure that my hands stay off you.” 

“Okay.... “

He moved around the room, casually fixing the lights , turning most of them off and leaving only a couple of lamps near the bed on. 

“Would you like to shower?” He prompted. “ I bought... well, there's a nightgown in the bathroom that you could wear. Only if you want to .... No pressure.”

Nightgown?

I nodded and moved to the attached bath .

“the towels are in the cupboard.” He called out behind me when I closed the door. 

I stared around at the bathroom which was almost as large as the living space. A bathtub stood in the corner and it looked large enough to hold three people comfortably. A shower stall stood on the left and I quickly stripped out of my clothes and moved to the shower. 

The buttons took a little time for me to figure them out but the hot water on my body was a welcome relief. The water helped loosen my muscles and the slight twinge in my shoulder was almost fully gone. 

I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and noticed the white box , tied together with a satin ribbon. I opened it carefully half expecting something scandalous.

It wasn’t. 

I pulled out the plain white cotton nightgown, and it looked especially fragile. 

Confused but willing to indulge him, I slipped it on quickly, brushing my teeth and fluffing my hair before stepping out. 

Taehyung was half naked on the bed and I froze near the bathroom. He was wearing just a pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his arousal. 

“You alright , sweetheart?” He said gently and the nickname made my teeth hurt. 

“Umm...yeah. So...we’re just doing this then?” 

“I think its starting...” He said tiredly. 

I startled.

“You said... I thought it was tomorrow..?”

“Guess the guy doesn’t wanna wait that long.” Taehyung muttered tiredly and his eyes flashed red. 

But it didn’t fade back to chestnut brown, the way it usually did.

Instead the irises stayed red, like a ruby , glinting across the distance between us as he stared me down. . 

I could feel the hysteric fear beginning to build and I fought to keep it down. It was okay... He was an Alpha and so his eyes flashed red... that’s all. Jungkook’s eyes had flashed red plenty of times when we were together. 

“Come here.” He patted his lap. 

“Okay. “ I squeaked. 

Feet leaden, I walked over to the bed , climbing over carefully and then scooting across the clean white sheets to reach him. i stayed kneeling near him. 

He was staring at me expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to sit there?” I pointed at his lap.

He looked amused. 

“If it isn’t too much of a bother.” He said primly.  

 Stop acting like its your first time.

I yelled at myself internally before throwing one leg over his thighs, raising myself up to hover over him. Taehyung grabbed the back of my thighs. gripping me hard through the flimsy night gown and yanked me forward till I was seated right on his hardness. 

I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself, staring down into his red eyes as he smiled, a slow calculating grin.

"You're beautiful. I had more than my fair share of dirty dreams about you when we first met." He confessed softly, and I felt pleasure bloom inside me at the shallow compliment. Whatever, no compliment was bad if it came from a guy like Taehyung. 

“I’m sure anyone who meets you has the same compulsion,” I pointed out and he chuckled. 

“I wanted to talk to you about tonight. It isn’t because I want to scare you but because I don’t want to blindside you when it happens. Humans aren’t built to take a knot. They just aren’t. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you haven’t tried anything ....along those lines before?” He asked carefully. 

I shook my head.

“The only were I’ve slept with is Jungkook and he never-”

Taehyung snarled, so sudden and uncalled for that I nearly toppled over. A ripping sound near my waist made me balk, and I stared down at my side, where one incredibly sharp claw had popped , tearing cleanly through the fabric of the nightgown. 

“fuck... I’m sorry... Are you okay?” He whispered urgently, the claw retracting and I could only cling to him, shaking a bit.

“Um....” I stared at him and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead like he’d run a mile. I realized he was struggling to control his wolf, eyes flashing red intermittently. ��� Are you alright, Tae?” I asked him, pressing a palm to his chest . He grabbed my wrist before pressing a kiss to the inside of it. 

Taehyung gave me a strangled smile.

“Perhaps, you shouldn’t mention other wolves you’ve slept with when you’re with me,” He suggested and I felt my head swim. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve always thought possessiveness is a pathetic thing to feel for someone but unfortunately as an alpha it pretty much defines my wolf.” He grimaced. 

I reached out, carefully tracing my thumb across his forehead, dabbing up a bit of the sweat gathered there before wiping it on my gown.

“I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities.” I shrugged , grinning and he smiled in return, hands coming up to gently cup my face leading me down for a soft kiss.

The pillowy softness of his lips completely threw me off and I moaned into the kiss, one arm hooking around his neck so I could kiss him better. He tasted heady and minty and altogether delicious, tongue tracing the seam of my lips before slipping in.

There was something incredibly gentle about how he kissed, so at odds with how he behaved when he let his wolf take over and the dichotomy of it was so fascinating to me. 

Kim Taehyung with his soft subtly seductive words, his gentle touches and patient kisses was also Alpha Kim, the wolf with ruby red eyes, blood lust and violence in his gaze when he was threatened. 

When he pulled back I was panting and almost in a trance. 

“I wanted to help you get through tonight without being too hurt. Is that okay?” 

I gave him a bemused smile.

“No, I’d rather you put me through immense pain.” I said drily. 

His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm, and he lightly spanked my thigh. I flinched at the sharp pain, gone before I could fully process it but the delicious heat from the impact stayed, thrumming under my skin. 

“Vixen.” He growled.

I quieted down, watching him expectantly. 

“Why don’t you lie down?” He gave my hips a small squeeze. 

I quickly climbed off him, sinking into the mattress and carefully lying down . 

“I’ll be back. Give me a second.” 

I watched as he carefully climbed off the bed , my gaze drawn to his naked back, the strong width of his shoulders and the way it tapered to his waist. The silk of his boxers left nothing to the imagination and I had to look away, gripping the sheets and breathing evenly through my nose just to curb the urge to whimper. 

Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, I thought desperately, feeling my thighs begin to tingle. Naked man, dim lighting and bed equaled sex in my mind and my body was responding easily to the atmosphere and Taehyung’s gorgeous body was just an added bonus. 

He grabbed something from the cupboard and a bottle from the dresser and I stared, curious as he made his way over. 

“Have you ever dabbled with ....bdsm?” He asked casually , tossing the bottle up and catching it easily.  I stared at his long , long fingers, the way they looked, gripping the surface. 

I felt myself flush from the top of my head all the way down to the soles of my feet. 

“Uh... A couple of times. I was really young.” I said hastily. “ He was...uh..well he was older and...”

“Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t want you to get scared. You’ve been in subspace then?” He was making his way over and I could feel nervousness build. It took a me a second to process what he’d just asked. 

I hesitated. 

“It... I was too scared to fully let go..” I admitted. “ I fall easily and it terrified me because I didn’t fully trust him .” 

Taehyung hummed, moving closer to me and carefully placing a strip of black cloth on the pillow next to my head. He dropped the bottle on the mattress and knelt on the edge, next to me, stroking the hair back from my face and smiling.  

“I understand. Do you  feel that way with me, too? If you do, we can think of some other way to do this. “ 

I felt my eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch of his fingers. 

“I trust you.” I said softly.

He nodded.

“It’s nothing intense , I swear. I just want to blindfold you. And then maybe a little bit of impact play...i noticed you liked that....” His lips quirked. 

I blushed , nodding. He picked up the dark strip of cloth, stretched it between his fingers, testing the give of the material. 

“The blindfold is going to help keep you grounded. No distractions, yeah? I want you to follow my voice and feel my touch, don’t think about anything else ....is that clear?” 

I nodded.

“Words, angel.” He said gently. 

My toes curled at the endearment. 

“Uh... Yes.” 

“Yes, sir.” He corrected gently. 

I felt my body run hot and cold all at once, lips parting and throat going dry. 

“S-Sorry?”

Taehyung chuckled gently and I jumped when he gently placed the blindfold over my eyes, the world dissolving in black before me as he carefully tied the strip behind . 

Once it was secured, I felt the gentle touch of his finger across my cheeks.

“It’s not just about you tonight, is it, pet?” His voice had dipped lower, the drawl more pronounced. “ Don’t you think I deserve to feel good too?” 

I almost sat up , nervous and jittery because I couldn’t see him and I startled when cool hands gripped my waist and shoulder, holding me down.

“What’s wrong, angel?” 

I swallowed.

“Nothing.. I... I’m sorry. “

“Colour?”

I blanked out for a second.

“Red for stop, yellow if you want me to slow down and green if you’re okay to continue, angel.” He said gently.

I nodded again. 

“Words, angel. I need you to use your words at all times.” 

“Yes...” I whispered.

“Yes?” He prompted. 

“Yes sir.” I answered quietly.

“Good girl.” He whispered and I felt the light touch of his lips against mine. I felt my breathing even out at the gentle caress. Fingers fluttered over my hand and I felt him gently loosen my grip on the sheets. 

He gripped my wrist gently and moved it over my shoulder.

“I want your hand over your shoulder at all times. Can you do that for me? If you can’t , I can restrain them for you.” 

I was already moving them down almost unconsciously. He hummed, pulling my wrist back up and I flushed. I wasn’t going to be able to do that. 

“Please ..tie them up for me.” I whispered. 

He didn’t reply and I felt him move away , my body suddenly cold from his absence , and I took deep steadying breaths. I felt myself relaxing against the covers, lips parting as I stopped trying to hold my hands up, just letting them rest on the pillows , limbs loose. 

The touch of something silky to my wrists, made me jump, but fingers pressed my hips, stroking gently.

“Shush....its okay , baby. Let me just take care of you, yeah?” Taehyung’s voice came from right near my ear and I exhaled.

“Yes sir.” I whispered and he laughed softly, the sound mellifluous against my lobe. 

“Now you’re learning. ” He pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth, lips slightly wet and forceful as he breathed , “ Good girl.”  and I felt the words all over me, like euphoria in my veins, spreading to every part of me.

 It was blissful, the way warmth spread through me, my limbs going lax as I felt him carefully tie my wrists to the bed post, the thought if tugging on them didn’t even cross my mind.

 All I wanted to do was to stay here forever, my head clear and thoughts practically nonexistent. It was like nothing existed, except for the endless dark I was in and the touch of his fingers on me. The music of his voice as he whispered praise against my skin. 

I felt bereft when he moved away but he was back before I could fully miss him. 

“I’m going to touch you baby.....Going to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Perfect.”

I heard the pop of a bottle opening.

I felt the bed dip as he climbed on, kneeling near my legs. 

A few seconds later, fingers lightly gripped my ankle, warm and smooth.  lifting my foot up and placing it on his lap. 

My lips parted in a filthy moan when he dug his fingertips into my ankle, smoothing out the skin and pain blossomed where he squeezed, the muscles protesting as he gently massaged the knots away. 

“I’m going to get familiar with your body first.... wanna know what makes you feel good.” 

“Okay Tae....” I breathed out.

A sharp spank on my thigh made me jolt in surprise and I gasped, heat licking its way up my leg and making me clench my thighs together . The pain was sharp and stinging and it made my eyes water just a bit.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, is it pet?” He sounded annoyed and I felt myself scrambling to apologize. 

“No..I’m sorry ... sir.. I’m...”

“I’m being very patient with you , pet. Next time, I won’t stop with one.” 

I nodded before quickly remembering.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed and went back to massaging my feet, first one then the other. I relaxed against the pillows, feeling my eyes grow heavy as he worked his magic on me and time became insignificant.

I didn’t know how long I’d laid there and it was only when his hands moved up, past my knee, across my thighs and then closer my inner thighs that I began to come to myself. 

“Can I take your panties off baby....” He whispered, voice hoarse.

I was breathing through my mouth, slightly dizzy. 

“Yes, sir.” I whispered. Fingers hooked on the edged of the fabric, tugging my underwear down and off me swiftly. Somehow everything inside me shifted when I felt him against my skin. The soothing pleasure disappeared, replaced by apprehension . 

“Beautiful .” He whispered and I swallowed, nervous and scared.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong angel? You alright?” He asked urgently. 

I swallowed again.

“I’m...Sir... I... what are you... I want...” I couldn’t get my thoughts in order and the panic rose again. 

“Its okay baby... tell me what’s wrong?” He whispered gently, and I bit my lips. 

“Red.... I... I’m not... I can’t ....”

He moved away at once and a second later, the blindfold came off . i blinked at the dim light and Taehyung was kneeling right next to me, worry clouding his eyes .

“You okay?” He whispered. 

“Can you ....on top of me? I’m just.. I feel so cold.” I whispered. 

Taehyung smiled, wide before nodding. 

“That’s fine. Anything for you...” 

The next second, I felt him move on top of me, hot and warm, heavy and firm and solid as he pressed into me. I wanted to touch him, to reach out and grip him and anchor myself because I felt like I was about to float away. 

“Should I take the restraints' off?, “ Taehyung read my mind so swiftly , it left me reeling. “  Do you wanna touch me?” He whispered and I nodded. 

“Okay... as you wish baby...we’re doing it your way... okay?” 

“Okay...sir.”

“You can call me Tae....” He  said warmly and I felt myself relax a bit more. He pulled on the restraints quickly and my wrists dropped to the bed t once, my shoulder beginning to throb a little but even the pain was muted, barely there. 

He massaged my wrists gently, pressed a kiss to them and I felt affection bloom inside me along with regret. 

“I’m sorry...” I whispered.

Taehyung glanced at me in surprise and shook his head.

The first time isn’t going to be perfect. It happens.” He kissed me again, gently but firmly, fingers fluttering down my waist .

“First time?” I grinned. “ Wow I didn’t know I was your first, Alpha Kim.” 

“First time with each other , brat.” He lightly spanked my hips and I yelped.

“I’m beginning to think, this whole spanking thing is more for you, than me...” I wrinkled my nose.

Taehyung grinned.

“I prefer paddles and whips actually. “ He said coolly and I felt my heart leap to my throat. 

“I-”

“Don’t worry... only with  absolutely willing partners.” He winked.

And then he groaned, eyes flashing red. 

“Fuck....” He groaned. 

“What’s wrong...?” I whispered, worried. 

“Can I touch you... I think... It’s ... My wolf... “ He muttered and I smiled wrapping both arms around his next and drawing him down for a kiss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this okay....? Fuck...” Taehyung grunted and I keened as his fingers slipped in deeper, stroking and searching and I blinked away tears, face pressed into the pillow as I lay face down on the bed. Taehyung was on me, finger fucking me so well that I’d already cum twice and now my limbs weren’t functioning at all. 

“Okay...just please....” I groaned when another finger traced my entrance and a sob got wrenched out of me when he dipped it in lightly.

“Doing so well for me baby, taking my fingers so well... Can’t wait to see you wrapped around my knot....gonna claim you and fuck you so well, my pretty , pretty pet...” He pushed the fourth finger in and the stretch made me wail. 

Taehyung had a filthy , filthy mouth and everything he said made me want to cry. The stretch of four fingers was too much and I had to grit my teeth, breathe through my mouth just to stay in my senses. I took deep shuddering breaths, willing myself not to start sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry... “ He kept apologizing, alternating the push and pull of his fingers with wet, messy kisses along my shoulder. I groaned , eyes heavy as I tried to stay conscious.

“..’s too much...” I slurred, my eyes wet with tears and lashes damp. 

“Just a bit more... I don’t wanna hurt you when I... when we ... please baby...just hold on a little yeah...” Taehyung sounded desperate.

I sobbed out in protest when his fingers went in deeper, cleaving my insides and trying to make room where there was none. It went on for a few minutes and then his thumb was brushing my clit, lightly , barely a brush and I was cumming again, clamping around his fingers so hard that I felt like I was crumbling on the inside.

“Okay.... “ Taehyung kept his fingers inside me, soothing me through the tremors., “ I think... It’s okay... I think this should work.” He pressed one last kiss to my shoulder and I made to turn over but he held my shoulders down. 

“Let’s do it like this, angel.... It’ll hurt less.” He whispered and then he was pulling his fingers out , spreading my thighs apart so he could lie in between and I whimpered at the emptiness, feeling like I’d stepped right off a cliff , but before I could hit bottom and shatter, he was on me, grounding me, gripping me tight as he pressed his hardness against me.

“You ready?” He whispered.

I managed a weak nod and a second later he pushed in .

It felt a little like being stabbed straight through, only a million times more pleasurable. 

And then he was gripping my waist, lifting me up and moving me till I was on all fours, staring at the rungs of his four poster bed. He moved his hips gently, pulling out just a bit before pushing back in and I felt my eyes roll back in my head. 

He was so fucking big even the four fingers felt like too little of a stretch. 

His hands came around to grasp the lower rung of the bed. 

“Put the handcuffs on me .” He said from behind me and I exhaled harshly, trying not to collapse into the bed as I fumbled with the metal restraints. My head felt heavy, my body thrumming with adrenaline and exhaustion and I could feel the messy wetness between my thighs, dripping down the length of my legs and pooling on the soft white sheets. 

When the handcuffs had locked both his wrists in place he shuddered behind me. He was so big inside me that I couldn’t even clench down on him, my inner walls stretched so wide around him that I felt like I was inch away from coming apart.

“We’re doing this... any last wishes?” 

I smiled despite myself , shaking my head.

“Is it too late to say I don’t put out on the first date?” I choked out and his laughter, warm and inviting flooded my senses, a better aphrodisiac than the hour long foreplay he’d subjected me to. 

“Is it too early to say that I want to do this to you, everyday for the rest of our lives.” He whispered and I felt my eyes widen in shock, the confession so unexpected that I actually nearly pulled away from him. 

But before I could fully relish what I’d just heard, he was gripping the bed hard and pulling out before shoving right back in. 

“Oh, God...” I choked out as he fucked into me, each thrust carefully sharp and strong. He had insane control over his hips, the steady staccato of his body hitting the back of my thigh, loud and incessant in the quiet darkness. 

“Touch yourself for me baby..... come on make yourself cum so I can make you mine...” He said harshly and I felt the warm wetness of his lips against my shoulder, kissing and leaving wet trails as he mouthed at the skin there.....and I slipped a finger between my legs , rubbing lightly at my clit , my body screaming in protest because I had long fallen over the edge of overstimulation and this was just too much , too fast now. But I kept my eyes closed, listening to his voice as I gently rubbed circles on the swollen nub at my entrance and when I felt my orgasm hit, my eyes flew open.

“Tae, I’m....” I began , raising my head as I began to clamp down on him . My eyes widened as the hands in front of me transformed, claws popping out from each finger , razor sharp and deadly. 

I closed my eyes in terror, a scream getting torn out of me just as Taehyung growled behind me, pushing hard inside me, going deeper than I thought was even possible. The lips at my shoulder moved, pulling back and my eyes flew open in shock when twin pricks of pain bloomed on the junction between my neck and shoulder. 

Fear broke through the adrenaline fueled mess of pleasure in my head and I whimpered when he sank his fangs into me, teeth breaking skin without any effort and the hot, warm wetness of my blood as it gushed out of the tear. as right. 

Humans did not belong with wolves because this...this was just so effing painful.

And then before I could fully recover from the pain of the bite, I felt him shifting inside me. And then somehow he seemed to be getting bigger, inside me. 

“I’m so sorry , baby.” Taehyung whispered, “ Can you get the  handcuffs.?”

I pulled on the safety in the handcuff and he pulled his hands away, gripping my waist and lightly turning me over till I was on my side, panting as he stayed inside me . We lay there, staring at the side wall, him spooning me as he struggled to stay still inside me, because everytime he moved, I whimpered. 

“Just a few minutes.... I... I can’t pull out for a few minutes.” He whispered, now licking away at the blood on the bite mark and I couldn’t bring myself to respond because it felt a little like I was being split into two. 

“How... how much bigger are you going to get?” I choked out , vaguely aware that he was still cumming inside me that there was so much of it that it was beginning to drip out of me.

Taehyung didn’t reply and I closed my eyes. 

The pain was building , now, steady and sure, slowly replacing the pleasure and I wondered briefly if I should have gotten drunk for this. But Taehyung had been very adamant about me being sober. 

I flinched when he shifted a little.

“So that’s it then ? We’re werewolf married now?” I choked out.

Taehyung chuckled.

“Yes, we’re werewolf married.” He said gently and moved to touch my face but the movement jostled him inside me and I let out a low keen of pain. Taehyung froze. 

“Does it hurt too bad?” he asked worriedly.

I grimaced.

“Not the most pleasant wedding I’ve been to.....But definitely prefer it to getting shot though.” I choked out and he laughed,  stilling quickly when I whined at the movement. 

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry...Once I can move, i’ll get you the pain killers and I’ll clean the bite mark too. It’s not too bad. Don’t think you’ll need stitches even. “ 

I blinked back tears as the pain intensified steadily. 

I felt my eyes grow heavy , exhaustion slowly seeping in along with the pain.

“I think... I’m gonna pass out.” I whispered. 

Taehyung kissed me gently.

“That’s probably your body offering you some respite. You should probably take it up on that offer.  “ He whispered and I couldn’t even muster a smile. 

Instead I closed my eyes and let the darkness wash over me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Did I really just write 7k of bad porn ?  Why yes...yes I did. 

Also poor taehyung, my baby really tried to make it good for her :’( 

As always comments are love <3 Please show me more love <3 I’m needy.....

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ���poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

��So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: Nirvana in Fire, Episode 02

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 54 Episodes!

A Cunning Plan

Let's start by checking in with the in-progress schemes. Nirvana in Fire features many, many overlapping schemes that stretch across multiple episodes.

Princess Nihuang's Marriage: Princess Nihuang is betrothed to a dead guy, and that's fine with her. If she needs tender emotional care she's got Xia Dong. Xia Dong is married to a dead guy so this works well for both of them.  

The Emperor wants to marry Nihuang off, because she's got a loyal heap of troops at the southern border, and he's a paranoid old fuck, who doesn't like anyone to have the power to overthrow him. Marrying her will sort of force her to hand her troops off to her impulsive younger brother, or something.

The Emperor has a soft spot for Nihuang, however, so he's allowed her to set a bunch of impossible conditions on the marriage, including a martial arts contest. NIF is a hybrid palace drama and Wuxia drama, so there are courtesans and backstabbing and sneaky maids and sneaky eunuchs but also, people can fly.

The two main power seekers, Prince Yu and the Crown Prince, have flunkies that they want Nihuang to marry, but their flunkies suck at martial arts, so if they want her to marry one of their dudes, there will have to be cheating.

Note that Nihuang's good friends Jingrui and Yujin are taking part in the contest to marry her, which might be weird, except they both know she can beat their asses so they seem to just be joining in for fun & prestige. 

The fact that she doesn't want to marry either of these loveable cuties means that she's pretty serious about staying betrothed to her first love, despite his apparent deadness.

(more after the cut!)

Recruiting Mei Changsu / Killing Mei Changsu: Team Prince Yu wants to recruit Mei Changsu. Team Crown Prince wants to recruit him or kill him, if recruiting him doesn't work. 

Mei Changsu acts like this is so tedious; all he wants to do is rest. But they only want to recruit him because he and his pal Lin Chen made them believe he is the answer to their problems.  Whenever Mei Changsu acts annoyed at something, it's probably something he actually orchestrated. "Pork chops again?" (secretly buys more pork chops).

The Duke Qing/ Landgrab Case: In Episode 1, the Jiangzuo Alliance protected some witnesses against Duke Qing in an enslavement/land grabbing case. It's difficult for me to find anything about historical land grabbing in China because Google is full of 21st century land grabbing information. Anyway Duke Qing works for Prince Yu, so the witnesses are (whether they mean to be or not) on The Crown Prince's side. The Emperor has an interest in this case, because land grabbing is bad, apparently, even by corrupt-emperor standards. Xia Dong is in charge of investigating.

The Chiyan Army Case: This is the big conspiracy that the entire show is about. 11 years ago, the Emperor received evidence that Prince Qi, Lin Xie (Mei Changsu's father), and the entire Chiyan army were going to rebel. This was supposedly reported by Xia Dong's husband, Nie Feng, before Lin Xie supposedly killed him. The emperor ordered executions for everybody.

Prince Jing thought this was a bunch of bullshit and didn't hesitate to say so, which got him sent off to distant regions to do army things for years at a time, and landed him a place high up on the emperor’s shit list.

The Hazelnut Pastry Scheme: This is a small scale, benevolent scheme, in which Concubine Jing will eventually stop making cookies with hazelnuts in them, because Mei Changsu is allergic to them. 

Ok, that’s the scheme roundup for this episode. On with the show!

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

After a quick expository chat between the Emperor and Gong Gao, laying out the reasons for the Nihuang Marriage Scheme, we go to Prince Yu’s place to watch superhot Meng Zhi, commander of the emperor's guards, whip some ass. Not, alas, literally.  Despite his leather shoulder thingies and his handsome beard, and his commanding ways on a battlefield, when it comes to interpersonal relations he is pretty much a labrador retriever puppy in human form.

Meng Zhi is kicking the asses of Prince Yu’s fighters to determine if they're qualified to compete in the Marriage contest. They are not. He points out to the Prince that they can't put such terrible wimps into the competition because it will make the country’s defenses look weak.  

This beatdown is observed by Prince Yu and by Xie Yu, who Prince Yu thinks is on his side. Xie is 100% on the Crown Prince's side, but is carefully hiding that fact; he has his son working for Prince Yu as part of his cover.

In determining how severe an ass kicking is, everyone talks about how many moves it takes to defeat someone, like it's chess. Meng Zhi can beat literally anyone else in the show. He's number two on the Langya List of fighters & we never meet #1.

Fe Liu Was Fast as Lightning

Mei Changsu is hanging out in the garden at Xie manor while Fe Liu jumps around. Fe Liu wants Mei Changsu to play Roblox with him, and pouts when MCS opts for staying in the garden and reading a book.

Fe Liu is utterly devoted to Mei Changsu; I really love their relationship. Fe Liu’s backstory isn't fully explained in the show, but apparently he was raised from an early age to focus on being extremely lethal, and didn't spend much time learning to talk or other skills, making him the epitome of the asynchronous/ gifted teen. Mei Changsu isn’t who raised him to be like this; MCS and Lin Chen rescued him, which is why he is now Mei Changsu’s personal murder pet.

Fe Liu is both a complete fantasy character and also a really believable teen, beautifully acted by Leo Wu, who DMBJ fans know from Tomb of the Sea, and who Xiao Zhan fans know from Battle Through the Heavens.

Fe Lui promptly gets into a fight with Meng Zhi, who's visiting Xie manor. All Fe Liu was doing was leaping about the rooftops like an assassin, but since Xie Yu is the sort of guy that a lot of people would like to kill, Meng Zhi doesn't think this is so good. They have a hilarious, entertaining fight with many, many wire-assisted moves.

They're pretty evenly matched, and Xie Yu watches them with extreme interest until Mei Changsu shows up and tells Fe Liu to stop. Xie Yu is watching because he needs to know how many dudes he should send to assassinate Mei Changsu. Answer: more. Always more.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately since it’s probably all part of MCS’s plan) Fe Liu's extreme skilz make it obvious that his boss is someone important. Mei Changsu discusses this with Jingrui and Yujin in an open-air setting where Jingrui's brother Xie Bi can totally hear them.  In no time flat, father and son have reported his identity to their respective princes.

Over at Prince Yu's place, Qin Banruo and her awesome eye makeup join the party. She's Prince Yu’s advisor/manipulator, working for the (fallen) Hua kingdom, led by the (deceased) Princess Xuanji . She has a network of spies who work for her, that she deploys for Prince Yu's schemes. Her ultimate goal is not to help him, however, but just to fuck up the Da Liang Empire, which conquered the Hua.

(Nearly) Everybody Hates Jingyan

Xia Dong heads out on her assignment in the Land Grab Case, and Nihuang goes to see her off. They talk about gender expectations and how annoying it is to have to marry a dude, and briefly hang out being WLW goals with their mutual devotion, excellent fashion sense and deadly fighting abilities. Nihuang, in particular, wears the prettiest things and also stands at attention like she's commanding an army; I adore her.

They're interrupted by the arrival of Prince Jing, who is greeted cheerfully by Nihuang and eye-rollingly by Xia Dong.  

He's wearing an awesome brass-and-blue armor that we never see again after this episode. It's too bad - it's a good color for him and it has a cool vampire cloak with a high collar.

Prince Jing takes the opportunity to snark at Xia Dong about her investigation and the Xuanjing Bureau’s penchant for inventing finding conspiracies, and then rides off before she can reply.

This leads Nihuang and Xia Dong to get into their chronic argument about the Chiyan Conspiracy and the Lin family, and then Xia Dong hits the road.

Prince Jing and his subordinates stand around outside the palace waiting to report to the emperor while the emperor ignores him. They get sweatier and sweatier while they wait. which makes me like the Emperor a little bit more.

Prince Yu and CP Xian are busy sucking up to the emperor as they look at a manuscript. They are a bunch of assholes and you can see that Gao Zhan isn't a fan of this bullshit.

Eventually Gao Zhan reminds/persuades the emperor to summon Prince Jing, whose brothers snark at him like a couple of 12 year old girls while he radiates manly vigor and handsomeness.  

Consort Jin is bummed that she can't see Prince Jing for another 5 days, and her maid sidekick says random comforting things. This maid, Xiao Xin, is actually a little snake, who works for Qin Banruo's network. We don't learn that until sometime later.

All of the maids have this same hairstyle. If you are a westerner and you think this hairstyle is crazy, have a look at some Roman and Byzantine historic hairstyles. I'm not saying this hairstyle is NOT crazy, mind you; just that crazy hair was a feature of many, many historical empires.  

Consort Jing has someone deliver her hazelnut cookies to Prince Jing; she doesn’t know about Mei Changsu yet so hazelnut is still on the menu. Nicest mom. Also smartest, helpful-est mom, as the story develops.

Suck-Up Contest

At Xie manor, Xie Bi tries to get Mei Changsu to go meet the Empress, who has stopped by with Nihuang specifically to meet him, as part of the Recruit Mei Changsu scheme. Jingrui says nope, fuck that, he's not going to be a pawn in your political games, fuck off. We get to see Jingrui being steely and righteous, which is both cool and hot. Nihuang should totally marry him.

The Empress is annoyed that Mei Changsu doesn't show up, and Nihuang is like, it's ok, I don’t actually give a fuck about meeting new men. But I did want to meet his murder puppy Fe Liu.

Grand Princess Liyang says they don’t need to bother meeting pugilists, despite her son being one and her supposed best friends/co-parents also being pugilists.

Grand Princess Liyang will probably be glad Mei Changsu didn’t come to her little party, once she realizes what tends to happen when Mei Changsu comes to a party.

Then we go to the suitor tournament, in which everyone more or less sucks.

The princes really want to go over to Mei Changsu’s balcony to meet him, and they have a hilarious silent interaction where they both try not to be the first one to move. They finally cave, and go together.  

Then they compete to see who can be the most cringe and blow the most smoke up Mei Changsu's ass.

They ply him with gifts and flattery, which he mostly manages to resist.

Cookie Time with Granny

Then they get summoned to go meet the grand empress, who is (I think) the mother of the previous emperor, the grandmother of the current emperor, and the great grandmother of basically every highborn character of the current generation, including Nihuang and Yujin, although it’s not clear where they sit in the family tree. Historically, cousin marriage - particularly of maternal cousins - was no big whoop in China, so it's not surprising that a lot of nobles would share a great-grandmother.

The Grand Empress is a sweet lady with dementia. She can’t figure out who the hell anyone is. First-time viewers feel the same way.  

Her dementia is pretty well depicted, unlike a lot of TV dementia, or at least it matches up to my experiences with my own elders. She remembers the distant past more vividly than recent times; when she understands who’s in front of her she connects with them emotionally, but she falls off track easily. And she projects the identities of people she misses onto people who are around her.

Like many other grannies, no matter who is visiting, she wants them to 1. get married 2. produce offspring 3. eat something, you’re so skinny

When Mei Changsu meets Granny she immediately calls him Lin Shu, either because she recognizes him or because she really misses Lin Shu, or both. She calls Nihuang over and joins their hands, and Mei Changsu grabs onto Nihuang's hand and holds it for a while.

Everyone thinks it's adorable that Granny has dementia and is confused about that guy who was horribly killed, except Nihuang, who was already checking Mei Changsu out and is somewhat verklempt. She might have to revise her anti-man feelings a little bit.

Everyone leaves, and Nihuang hits up Mei Changsu to take a walk with her, casually mentioning that she could have his hand cut off for touching her, but since she's not in the mood, he's ok.

She prods a bit to find out what he's doing in town and what he's up to. “Do you have a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend or just a stalker who works for you?” She asks him which of the two princes he's going to support, but they’re interrupted by a eunuch beating a slave child. That’s the price you pay for trying to have a date in the palace, I guess.

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Truth (1x05)

Well, okay then.

Cons:

I've complained about the uneven time given to Sam and Bucky, and while I appreciate where this episode went with everything, it did shine a further light on how little Sam has had to do all season. How his growth has been happening in the background to other things. I wish the balance could have been changed a little.

I also continue to be less interested in the Flag Smashers than I am in anything else in the show. Not the ideology or how they function politically in this world, but the actual individual characters. Spending time getting to know them makes sense, it humanizes their struggles and what they're willing to sacrifice for their cause. But I just don't find Karli to be a particularly compelling individual, so it makes those scenes a slough to get through.

The opening fight scene between Sam, Bucky, and John Walker was good, but it wasn't great. The whole time I was watching it I kept thinking about the Tony/Steve/Bucky fight at the end of Civil War, three men fighting, the shield pinging between them. So much angst and desperation and history and weight to the whole thing. This fight should have been like that, but instead it felt a little more measured. Sam and Bucky are fighting to take the shield away from a dangerous man who has clearly lost control. It almost felt like they were just doing a job. Their connection to the shield was muted during the fight itself, which made that final beat, when Bucky throws the shield down at Sam's side and walks off, hit a little less hard.

And that's one other thing - I loved the Sam and Bucky talk, of course I did. Bucky needed to apologize and it was great to see. But what changed Bucky's mind? We see Sam's journey, but Bucky starts the episode still in that mindset of blaming Sam, and then he comes and helps with the boat, and then he apologizes. What made him realize that he needed to adjust his perspective? I wish I could have understood that a bit more. The only scene we get of him on his own is with Zemo, and that bit of closure seems wholly disconnected to the stuff with the shield.

Pros:

This is a small thing, but I've gotta bring it up: when Bucky is apologizing to Sam, he says "when Steve told me what he was planning"... and when I tell you I screamed... this is literally so important to me. I hate the end of Endgame for Steve. I truly do. The one thing that makes it bearable is the head-canon that he cleared it with Bucky first, that Bucky knew, before Steve left to go return the stones, what he was going to do. And now we have actual canon confirmation that that was the case! I am so incredibly moved by that, I can't even tell you.

But let's talk about that whole scene, shall we? I feel like I could ramble on about it for quite some time, but I'll just say that seeing them throw the shield around like a damn football was so... funny? But also sweet? There's something here about men and how they communicate and how hard it can be to break down the walls and be vulnerable. They manage it because they frame it around a physical activity, with the shared symbol of complicated national loyalties bouncing around between them. Also, the shared symbol of their dead friend Steve. It opens up something between them, allowing Sam to give his "tough love" advice. Allowing Bucky to give a heartfelt apology. It's the stuff they never would have said to each other in that therapy session, but they can say it now, and that's beautiful. The best moment for me, and it was really subtle, was Bucky handing the shield to Sam, saying sorry. Then Sam continues to throw it against the trees and let it bounce back, and he does it specifically so Bucky can catch it again. So there's this almost ceremonial hand-off, and then Sam, magnanimous, lets Bucky know it's still a part of him too.

And Bucky talking about the shield as his family? Yes please. I love it so much. This scene really wrapped up Bucky's arc for me on this show, in a way I hadn't known to expect. Sam tells him that Steve is gone, and that it doesn't matter what Steve thought, or what he meant. Bucky needs to stop defining himself solely by other people. This doesn't mean the struggle is over. Bucky's got a long road ahead. But he understands that road now, and Sam helped him to find his way, which I think is just the loveliest thing.

Another thing about the way these men communicate, is that the apology was necessary, and it was good that it happened, but even before that apology, Bucky showed up and helped with the boat. He fished for an invite to stay, and Sam gave it without question. They joke about being "partners", no, "co-workers," "just two guys who had a mutual friend," but the fact is, they're a part of each other's lives, and they come through for each other. Even with lingering resentments.

I'll talk briefly about Zemo here before we get into the Sam stuff in this episode... I kind of love that he went gently with the Wakandans. It was so different from what I expected, and yet it also followed logically from everything we knew about him from Civil War. It felt like a natural button to his arc on this show. And him telling Bucky that there's no resentment on his end... I mean, on the one hand, I sure as fuck would hope not, given what Zemo tried to do to Bucky. But also that's the point, isn't it? Sam says as much during the tough love speech. Bucky needs to make amends by being of service, by giving closure to the people he hurt as the Winter Solider. Even if they were bad people. Even if they don't "deserve" it.

I still worry about the optics of Sam taking on the shield instead of retiring it permanently. But I was impressed by how far the show was willing to go in explaining the weight of that choice. Isaiah doesn't say some party line like "I love America but these were some bad people." He doesn't say "things were bad then but they're better now." No. He says the truth, which is that America did this to him. It wasn't one bad actor sneaking through an otherwise benevolent system. It was a corrosive, systemic issue that ruined his life, separated him from his loved ones, forced him to hide away and live as a dead man. And he's telling Sam that it's still like that. Oh, sure, things have changed. But not as much as they need to, and not in the ways that really count for a lot, a lot of people.

I respect that the show laid this out, didn't pull its punches in stating this reality. Sam is being positioned as perhaps naïve, overly optimistic, in still wanting to take that pain and make something good from it. Overly optimistic? Willing to jump into situations that are too big for any one man to manage, no matter what? Well, if there's a list of qualifiers for Captain America, I'd say Sam fits the bill just as much, if not more, than Steve did.

And we see that Sam has a community, a history, a deep connection to his sister and his nephews and all the people his parents knew back in the day. I'm a sucker for a good moment like the one we got with the boat, everyone turning up to help. And then Sarah saying that they can't sell it after all... it's just so moving. Sam's fighting the big fights and the small ones, and that makes him worthy of being an exemplar of human excellence. If he wants to fight that fight while holding the shield, I would trust him to try and turn the symbol into something worthy.

Briefly, I want to talk about Lemar. That scene where John went to his parents was really interesting, because it showed that opinions on these very serious issues are by no means shared universally. You've got Isaiah saying that no black man with any self respect would ever take up the shield. Then you've got Lemar's parents saying how proud their son was to be Captain America's partner. It's a lot more complicated than people want to make it. Things would be simpler if we all agreed that America sucks and its history and legacy is negative and racist and therefore let's burn the whole thing to the ground. But there are a lot of people, a lot of black Americans, who like being Americans, who are proud to serve their country. It's not an attitude I know how to understand, but pretending it doesn't exist isn't doing anyone any favors. I like that we saw this aspect of it, too.

A couple last tidbits, moments I really enjoyed.

- Bucky flirting with Sarah.

- Sam's nephews playing with the shield, Bucky waking up and smiling at the sight.

- The super relevant, super hard to hear scene at the end of all the government officials getting ready to round up refugees and march them back across borders... like, damn.

- Bucky forgetting he has a metal arm, but then later using it to save Sam some trouble on the boat.

This was a great episode. Do I have qualms about the arc of the series as a whole? Yes I do. I'll be very curious to see where everything lands in next week's finale. But in all, this one was a winner in my books.

9/10

[luvervinyl]

same anon!! okay, so I get that Morgan left to be with his new family (I don’t ship moreid, but kudos to those who do! I respect you), but what I really don’t understand is why Reid was so upset about it?? I get that so many people have been ripped away from him (his dad, gideon, maeve, emily, hotch) but morgan literally just left the BAU?? He wasn’t shot or anything?? And it isn’t life he moved across the country— boi probably lives like 15-20 minutes away, Reid could visit him whenever he wanted to! I just don’t get it??

if we're going by canon, then I see why because they were like "brothers" and they were close friends so I can see how having a brother-like figure and friend that you've worked with for years having left can be hard. also morgan was a protector to him and he's lost protectors before as that person in an episode asked !!  

so I get that having morgan by him for years then having him leave would have a toll on him so I get why he was upset about it !! but yeah he did just move 15-20 minutes away but that's different from getting to see morgan everyday for multiple hours a day. but that's okay for you to have your own opinion on this, you're entitled to that !! 

if we're talking moreid. I can see how it would be harder !!  like his lover in this case leaving to be with his family and once again reid has lost protectors before and that still qualifies for this case !! so like if you were to view it from a romantic stand point it would definitely make more sense for why he was so upset (to me at least). 

also given that morgan also had a job and their schedules are pretty rough he can't exactly go see him whenever he wanted !! it would most definitely be hard to do that. on another note stan one(1) bisexual king named derek morgan !! 

[howtosurviveaphysicsdegree]

Equality, diversity and inclusion in Physics

Equality and diversity are very important to me. But more often than not people who think they stand for equality don’t, because they feel like promoting more diversity in physics will somehow lower the prestige and make what it means to be part of the physics community less reputed. This is what inequality looks like. Because whether you are male, female or non-binary, whether you are Black or white, whether you are neurodivergent or not, these factors do not influence whether you are good or bad at physics, mathematics, or any area of science. People feel, mainly straight white men if I’m honest, that outreach and encouraging people to get involved in science, is not worthwhile because “the people who want to be scientists will end up being scientists” and that they shouldn’t need encouragement to get there, because dedication and overcoming barriers is ‘character building’.

But, with respect, I disagree entirely. A white man can grow up watching TV where all the scientists on there look like him. Where he can go to school and just say the words “I want to study science” and he will not face prejudice, he will be able to get the normal qualifications, not experience prejudice, and overall the route is relatively easy, particularly if they went to a private school. The statistics of those at Oxford and Cambridge, no matter what they say, still have a disproportionate number of people from the public schools such as Eton, Harrow, etc.

Women get a different outlook. I was privileged enough to attend an all girls school. This meant I didn’t feel overshadowed by my male peers at school, and I was just able to be myself, and I do certainly think I was somewhat blinded by this and I didn’t really acknowledge the amount of stereotypes and injustices that exist. But this only emphasised that they did exist by the time I went to University. At University I was suddenly in male dominated classes. Surrounded by people of so many different backgrounds in the overall university environment, yet in Physics it still was predominantly white men from public school. And honestly, I don’t blame the university for this at all, I do believe it is a problem in society as to what girls subconsciously see as welcoming or unwelcoming environments, and physics I believe is seen as unwelcoming to women.

The point of ED&I isn’t to put unqualified minorities into science which could dampen their prestige, ED&I is about trying to change the fact that minorities often have to work 3x harder to get the same or less credit than they would get if they were straight, white and male.

The bias of some men that they think, not even consciously most the time, that they can just speak over you because your idea isn’t as good as theirs, even when it turns out you are right.

The fact that certain members of faculty will refer to male students of your age as ‘bright young men’  and yet I am still referred to as a ‘wee girl’. This is a direct quote from one male member of staff. This choice of language is demeaning and makes women feel excluded and inferior.

For gender non-conforming, non-binary and transgender folks, the language used by some senior (male) members of staff belittling them, stating things along the lines of “all these boys dressing up as girls just to make an impression. Do they know how stupid it makes them look?”, again, a direct quote of a male staff member speaking to another (female) staff member who, I might add, looked extremely uncomfortable. This isn’t ok behaviour and honestly, it won’t change unless you call it out. Be active. Stand up for yourself and those who don’t have a voice or who are too scared to speak out. In addition, people being able to just openly say how ‘silly’ they think pronoun badges are, or how they think it ‘unnecessary’ for people to state their pronouns in email signatures. Does it affect your quality of life? Does it hurt anyone? Are you well-educated/an expert on this matter? No? Then don’t comment. No one is forcing you to do it but at least don’t belittle the people who aren’t being dicks. To be honest, I never wore pronoun badges or put my pronoun in my email signature before hearing this comment. But after hearing that comment I did both of those things. Even if you’re not trans, be an ally. Don’t make a marginalised community feel even more alienated. Make it normal.

The necessity that so many postdoctoral roles so often require you to spend a few years in the States and that this is not viable for many women with children who can’t just travel from country to country with a toddler or an older child who has friends at school and doesn’t want to move. This is an equality issue. Having a child doesn’t affect your worth as a researcher. It doesn’t make you any lesser, but it does make it harder for you to get a job that suits your lifestyle. That is inequality. By stopping a mother from getting a job she is well qualified for you could be preventing a scientific advance that that person could make in the future. Instead they choose to leave the field because they need security.

The latest news that the new honorary fellows announced by the IOP - there are more honorary fellows named Brian than there are female fellows. Does that scream equality and diversity to you?

Recently I was harassed on social media by straight white male, senior academics. None of whom I’d met before. Being called so many different things; being called Leftist and it being meant as an insult. Being called naive. Literally being called “one of the crazies”. But I will take this abuse and harassment even if it leaves me in tears in the small hours of the night, if it gets the message across and proves that free speech doesn’t mean speech free from consequences. Because it doesn’t and if someone is a racist or discriminating against minorities even if I can’t get them fired because my voice means so little I will move heaven and earth to make sure everyone knows their true character. Because they are wrong and this is a battle that they must lose and the day we give up standing up for ourselves is the day they win.

[smokeybrand]

Mutiny

I’m not a fan of Joe Rogen. I find a lot of what he says to be problematic as f*ck but the way he says it, is FAR more damaging. Dude pushes some wild, dangerous, nonsense under the guise of “free speech”, disingenuous “debate”, and insidiously leading questions. Rogen is the Frat Boy version of Tucker Carlson in a lot of ways and that sh*t just doesn’t appeal to me. Beta males who think too highly of themselves listen to this due and take him seriously. These are people who are not self-actualized, who’s entire personality is based on their car or their sneakers or some other superficial bullsh*t they confuse for a personality, and that’s what Rogen’s entire show is; Superficial bullsh*t. So when he pushes dumb-f*ckery like “Don’t get the shot if you’re young and healthy”, these idiots who are either teenagers or have the mentality of teenagers, f*cking listen and we have a spike in cases. Because Joe Rogen said so.

The other day, this asshole bought into that whole “White Fear” sh*t, talking about how the Straight White Male is the most persecuted demo in America and i just groaned. This is the same exact sh*t Carlson does on his show, verbatim, just slightly less racist. It’s the current strategy of what is fast becoming the American Fascist Party, Republicans. It’s hypocritical f*cking nonsense and i hate it. How the f*ck would Joe Rogen, a Straight White Male with a whole ass podcast, be silenced or censored or persecuted/ He’s a multi-millionaire with one of the most popular platforms on f*cking Spotify. How the f*ck would any White person, especially Straight White Males, get silenced in the US? The bones of this country are built to uphold a very specific form of White Supremacy. Hell, cats talk about all these rights and liberties but, in the very beginning, those rights were only extended to White Male Landowners; basically Rich White Men, and guess who the f*ck Joe Rogen is? The constitution had to be amended to include every one else which means this country was designed to be a haven for objective White Supremacy. The fact that they replaced Straight with Rich is just a misnomer used to broaden that division and you have assholes with real audiences buying into that dangerous bullsh*t, disseminating that poison to their followers. And they just drink that persecution complex kool-aid, up. It’s f*cking absurd.

The irony in all of this is the fact that the country is getting younger and browner. Statistically, by the time Gen Z’s kids come of age, we’ll outnumber White people. The margin will be slight but they’ll be the overall minority in this country and that’s why we have all of this fear-mongering and treasonous tantrums. That system the Founding Fathers built to protect their power, is falling apart. It's all a matter of time. Why do you think they're fighting so hard to keep DC and Puerto Rico from becoming actual States? I can guarantee those cats who signed the Constitution never anticipated the influx of melanated people over the years, interbreeding with their lily White sensibilities, or the homogeneity desegregation would bring to society or the way Black culture ended up shaping the entire American zeitgeist or how the Internet just blew the doors off any illusion US citizens had about our true status in the world at large. I was born in 1984. Ten years before i existed, the South was still heavily segregated. My generation, the Millennials, were the very first to be completely free from the social consequences of the Civil Rights Movement. We were far enough removed from that to just see people, not race. I was exposed to so many more cultures, religions, and people, as a kid, than my ma had been when she was young. It wasn’t like, all of a sudden, we were singing kumbaya together, but it was definitely a start, one that has only gained more and more momentum as the Generations who came after mine, started coming of age in a world whose borders are just ceremonial at this point because of the Tech age.

I met my chick and made friends across the globe in a chatroom. One of my closest friends lives in New Zealand. Another stays in Finland. My birthday twin lives in England. She’s a year older than i am and has a beautiful family. My Puerto Rican sister met her dude around the same time i met my chick. He’s from Alabama. She moved from the island to be with him and they've settled down in Georgia where they share a beautiful daughter. My best friend became so close with an Asian girl from Australia, that he adopted her as his own sister. They spoke at least twice a week for the next fifteen years, all the way up until he passed away. The world is much smaller, much clearer, than it has ever  been before, and it turns out that it’s full of color. Color these Straight White Men are, apparently, terrified of. That’s got to be it. That’s got to be why they’re throwing these big ass tantrums and constantly fear-mongering about it. I don’t understand. When Brie Larson said what she said, it was the truth. There are THOUSANDS of films about White dudes you can watch. The entirety of film history is Straight White Males. What is so bad abut getting some chicks or People of Color or some LBGTQ representation in a few leads? Why can't we have strong Black performances in movies where we don't play the “magical Negro” or f*cking Slave? Why can't we have an all Asian cast when the principals aren't constantly fetishized? What is so terrible about giving a role to a Muslim that isn't linked to some ridiculous terrorist trope? Who’s really offended by this and why are they so goddamn fervent about it? Straight White Males, bud.

It’s because their grip on the reins is slipping. The power and the privilege they’ve had for so long, too long, is started to tip in the other direction. The playing field is, ever so slowly, evening out and these Straight White Males are losing their sh*t. They’ll talk about “being racist against white people” and “it's fine to interview everyone but hire cats who are qualified” with one breath but then absolutely savage voting rights directly focused on crippling the Black vote and desperately cling to the idea that 45 still deserves to be president, even though a steady stream of his criminal incompetence has been flowing out of the the White House since he’s left. The level cognitive dissonance is f*cking hilarious. It’s as bad as the GOP complaining about “cancel culture” while literally silencing Liz Cheney. Are you f*cking kidding me? I gotta sit here and listen to a very vocal minority complain about the direction of the MCU because they’ve decided to add a plethora of female and POC roles going forward into Phase Four. They keep asking “who's this for?” and it's obvious it's for everyone, not just Straight White Males. That, to them, means it's going to be bad. Just because the focus has shifted from three White dudes in leading roles, suddenly the MCU has lost it's way. It’s like, all of a sudden, just because the MCU wants to represent their audience as a whole, not just a narrow and shrinking part of it, we’re not supposed to trust in Feige anymore. Are you kidding me? The Green Knight is slated to be another massive hit for A24. The cat who wrote that film was bounced from studio to studio because he created that story specifically as a vehicle for Dev Patel and no major studio wanted to make it with him in the lead. Dev Patel is a f*cking Oscar winner and a brilliant actor but this movie, draped in surreal and beautiful imagery, driven by a visceral, bloody, focus, wasn’t going to get made because the lead this plot was specifically written for, happens to be brown. But Straight White Males are the ones being silenced? Okay, bud.

Joe Rogen is a symptom of a greater problem and it’s the problem of White Fragility. White Fragility fuels the worst of our society. It's the genesis of racism and bigotry. It drives Nationalism and is fertile ground for cults of personality which blossom into whole ass dictatorships. These motherf*ckers are in they’re feelings and will burn this country to the ground if it means they will stop getting their way. Brie Larson calls out the ridiculousness of the race bias in Hollywood? They attack. Arizona flips Blue because Indigenous people and Black folks come out to vote in droves? Voter fraud and four recounts, one months after the election has been called and Biden has already taken office. Jordan Peele says, out loud, to the entire country, that he’s not interested in telling stories with White people in the lead? Shadow banned from Hollywood. Dude was the toast of Hollywood after Get Out and Us. He said what he said and cat's been trapped behind the camera as a Producer ever since. It’s nuts because these people complaining about how hard it is to be and how unfair the current social climate is to Straight White Males, have called Twatter NPCs whiny, SJW, children, for years. Bro,you’re the same, just racist! You are the Trump to their Obama. You are the thermodynamic reaction to their Civil action. You assholes are arguing the same merit, just on the opposite ends of the spectrum so, if they’re whiny assholes, wouldn’t you have to be, too? The only difference is that the Twatter assholes have a zeal for inclusion while you Rogen Bros have a penchant for White Supremacy and, given the choice, I'd have to agree with the Blue Checkmarks in this regard.

Straight White Males have had the run of this country since before it was a country and look what they’ve done with it. Look where we are, right now, in the year of our lord, 2021. This is as far as we have come under their stewardship. It’s time for a new captain, i think. Sorry if that hard truth hurts your feelings. Now please steer us away from those very obvious rocks. I’d rather not violently crash into that reef and sink into a watery grave before we can get our hands on the wheel to right this ship, all because you assholes are in your feelings, thank you.

[loulougoingsolo]

Spot the big bird

I woke up this morning around 6 a.m. to the sound of a pheasant rooster screaming toot-toot under my window. After that, there was wing flapping, as the bird hopped to another spot. He kept making noise all morning, making it impossible for me to sleep. I don’t normally wake up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday, so the rest of my day has been more or less foggy. But I think I get 50 points for spotting a big bird, right?

In this week’s vlog, Rhett and Link go biking by the L.A. river. I know we are currently mostly making jokes about Rhett’s hair going wild, but can I just say that Link looks a bit like an older lady who has just removed the curlers from their hair after the night and forgot to do the final swoop through the curls, in the beginning of the video? (I admit I occasionally have that hair-do, too, even without the curlers. But I feel I had to mention his hair.)

I’m a simple girl living in the country side, and for me, the idea of a river turned into a concrete ditch is a bit odd - even though I know my brother living in a more urban environment, often goes biking by a similar “constructed” river. Not knowing anything about the L.A., I went on to google the bicycle route the guys are taking in this video, and was glad to find out it has its own Wiki page, in case you’re interested!

It seems there is a bit of a power play going on between the guys, as the drive to the start of their path. Rhett is driving this time, but Link is more familiar with the biking route, so who is in charge? I don’t quite know how a bike trip could be turned into a commune living arrangement type of a situation, or how a commune could suddenly turn into a sex cult, but evidently, whoever tells the others they can only have sex with the one in charge, but not with each other, is the leader. So...how does this apply to biking? Also which is it, if there is always a leader? And how the heck did we get to sex cults this early in the video?

I just love how self-concious Rhett is feeling about wearing the bicycle helmet. And, he actually asked for Link’s opinion about which helmet he should wear. I think it’s very adorable, really, and I just love how Link always finds new, innovative ways to compliment Rhett’s mane. This is the first time I’ve heard the word asinine, but Link says it in the most loving way possible, and to be quite honest, he isn’t wrong. But thankfully, Rhett fixes his lopsided hair, and everything works out just fine.

I have to say, bicycle helmets make me feel very self-concious, too. I actually have a helmet that is almost identical to the one Link has - solid black and practical. Why do we need to feel stupid when wearing something that can literally save our lives? (But since helmets do look kinda stupid, at least solid black goes with everything.) And here’s a Grandson of Anarchy, Rhett McLaughlin, for y’all to enjoy, in his full glory:

We have more lakes than rivers around where I live, and most bicycle routes here are basically dirt roads surrounded by rural landscape, but I think I prefer it that way. The scenery around the L.A. river is too open, too loud and way too constructed for my liking, but there is something very grandiose about the river. Rhett also looks pretty grandiose next to Link. I should be used to their size difference by now, but Link looks so tiny, again. He’s small enough to fit in Rhett’s pocket.

I wasn’t getting at all bored by watching the guys on their bikes, but I admit, the idea of a scavenger hunt is pretty appealing, even if the guys probably won’t find people with old money in the river. But there might have been someone rich there, since who in their right mind throws away a fairly functional looking stroller? Don’t they cost a fortune?

I don’t think the river cleaning crew was joking about finding dead bodies in the river. I know in the nearest bigger city in my area, which has a rapid with dams running across the centre, they empty the river of all water every now and then (usually in the spring), and bodies have been found more than once. (Which reminds me, one time I was on a bicycle ride with my mom, and we took a short cut through the woods, and found a dead goat there. It was horrible. It smelled so bad. There were flies everywhere. And now I’ve given everyone reading this nightmares. Sorry.)

I just realized that the L.A. river was probably where they filmed that one chase scene in Terminator 2. Am I right? I knew those concrete slopes looked somehow familiar. No wonder I had an unpleasant feeling about that river. I saw T2 way too young - they should never have allowed me into the theater at the age of 12. But never mind about that.

There is a lot of junk in that river, and it does make me kinda mad, too, just like Rhett. I once found a whole VCR  in the place I like to go pick mushrooms, so a VHS tape in a river isn’t surprising. One thing good about the digital age is that there aren’t quite that many old VHS or mix tapes lying around. The mix tape of 2020 is a Spotify playlist, I guess.

Since I clearly have nothing better to do, I ended up doing an internet search on different cross symbols, to find the one carved in the tree stump Rhett and Link find. It appears to be a cross potent. No idea why one would be in L.A. river, unless it’s just a very complicated way to make the tree stump rot quicker.

I think my new favourite thing is seeing Link just give up and start laughing, after trying to get Rhett talk about littering without threatening to kill someone. I think it’s only fair to talk trash about people who throw their trash in nature, and a message coming from an angry biker is probably a good idea. But I just love hearing Link snort and giggle.

After the rat chase vlog, and today’s episode, I think there soon is enough material for a full Rhett and Link horror movie. I would love to hear what the people, who asked if everything was okay with the guys, were thinking. One day, the title of these vlogs is going to be “The One Where They Get Arrested”.

I’m not a qualified gif maker, so I can’t capture all the pelvic thrusts of this vlog in their full glory. As enjoyable as it was to see the guys do their solo acts, some things just are more fun when done together. My only excuse for the edit below is that if they have the audacity to film something like this without even moving the camera between takes, they are asking to be edited together. It took me less than 5 minutes to do the edit, which, yes, is pretty crappy, but I just couldn’t miss the opportunity, when it was served to me on a silver platter.

[cancerbiophd]

hello! i was looking through your career stories tag and was inspired to ask for some advice of my own. lately i've been feeling very lost in undergrad. in high school, i was super successful, had goals and stuck to them, and had a path in mind. however, i ended up revising that plan a million times, and now i feel super behind in comparison to my peers. i feel like i lack a ton of skills and that i'm not where i should be (1/2)

(2/2) do you have any advice? and do you/your followers have any stories about people who were successful, got stuck in a rut, but found their way back? i keep reading stories about people who didn’t do well in school then found a successful career, but i never hear about people who were successful in school, got lost, then recovered, and it makes me wonder if there’s hope for me

Hi anon! (Thanks for sending in that 2nd part again after tumblr ate it the first time round)

I fee like I took a similar path to you, and before I launch into my story, here’s my advice on some things you can try:

Break the bad habit of comparing oneself to others. We are all unique, with unique pasts, presents, and futures. To compare two people’s achievements or lack of achievements is unfair. That’s giving an experimental treatment to a sick person and another to someone already healthy and then comparing the results directly to each other. Not a good scientific study huh. Well, we should look at our lives like that too. It’ll take time and practice and a lot of active thinking, but let’s all try our hardest not to compare ourselves to others. We are all carving out our own paths. 

Talk to others with experience and get their insight. Talk to your professors, your counselors, your parents, your parents’ friends, and even older students (like me!). Ask them for advice. Ask them what opportunities you have. Ask them what career choices one can make with your interests and goals. Basically, broaden your knowledge of what’s out there in the world so you can find a niche to fit in. I really wish I had done this because I was very myopic in that “interest in biomedicine” = “clinical doctor or bust!”. I didn’t know that I could go to grad school to study cancer research and then go work in a biotech company (my current path and goal). 

Once you find a career path that interests you, try to experience what “a day in the life of” is like. Because something that sounds great on paper may not be a good fit in person, and vice versa. Options for this include: volunteering, internships, entry-level jobs, shadowing, informational interviews (where you talk to someone in the field in a casual setting and ask them what their job is like), and well-rounded research. Doing things like working in the field or even shadowing also gives you the benefit of learning transferrable skills that could help you on your next step. And that brings me to:

Take a gap year (or a few) if you feel like you need it, especially if you need to gain more experience in a certain field. It’s also a great way to give your body and mind a well-deserved break after decades of school! I took a gap year (well, 2.5 years) to work and get lab experience and it was the best. 

Do not give yourself a timeline. This sounds… counter-intuitive, but what I mean is: do not set goals like “dream job at age 30!!” “a house at age 31!!” because they may be a) unrealistic, and b) could set us up for disappointment. Also, we need to realize that we don’t know what the future will bring, and that it’s also ok to take one’s time. We’re all gonna live until we’re 70-80 anyway right? So let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll set goals and work towards them, yes, but let’s not set deadlines for ourselves. We’ve had enough deadlines in school already! 

Don’t give up. Things will be ok. I know it’s not.. super helpful for me to say this, but it’s a real point to make. No matter what happens, keep trying. We can’t reach the light at the end of the tunnel if we stop walking forward, yeah? 

I hope those points are helpful. If you’d like more detail, or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Alright, now to my story, because I feel like I may have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now, so I want to let you know that times may get tough like it did for me, but if you keep going and trying, things will eventually be ok:

Just like you, I was pretty darn successful in high school, also did well in college (like good grades, had goals and met them, etc). I always knew my path was going to lead me somewhere amazing, because that’s how I was brought up my entire life. Then I got stuck in a rut because my original plan A (med school) turned out to not be right for me, and then plan B also turned out not right either (pharmacy school), and then I got straight out rejected from plan C (physician assistant school). I even had to change my major 3 times because of my change of plans (well, one change was because the US recession hit and my college had to cut my original program ugh), so I had to really cram my classes into the summer. I graduated college with a degree that wasn’t going to get me where I wanted to (B.S. in Microbiology, and jobs were still hard to find because of the recession, and basically nowhere to go. I had no job and had no idea what to do (or what I really wanted, really). So I moved back home with a feeling of emptiness that no end in sight. 

My plan was basically to find a job that would open doors for me in the biomedical field. I even got my pharmacy tech license, and I was applying to receptionist positions at clinics. It got to a point where I was so desperate I interviewed to be someone’s personal assistant and they were like “you are way too qualified for this I can’t hire you”. 

And I was so confused as to how I could’ve ended up on the wrong path. I mean, I knew what I did wrong (I didn’t do those point of advice I gave earlier because I didn’t know I had to do them). But I didn’t know how it went so wrong. How did I go from straight A/B’s and proactive student leader in a bunch of clubs to unemployed with no concrete plan in sight? I was bright. I was a hard worker. A fast learner. I knew I could be good at anything I did. This rut I was in wasn’t really supposed to happen. And all the while my friends were going to grad/med school or starting successful careers–a fact my narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother would remind me of every. waking. moment. She would scream at me every day that I was an embarrassment, a disappointment, a “poor investment”, etc. The look of pure hatred she would give me–I have never seen that on another person’s face ever. I couldn’t even see my friends because she essentially put me on house arrest as “punishment”. 

It really was absolute hell. I was cleaning some old storage boxes recently and I found my old diary from that time, and inside was a note. It was a note of despair and resentment and an ending that may have happened… I don’t remember how I got the strength to keep going, but I think I had conjured up the slightest sliver of hope that night, put down my pen, closed the journal, and went to bed. 

So, I kept at it. I studied for the GRE, I looked up grad school programs, and I kept applying to jobs in the biomedical field. I got picked up by a temp agency that was hiring out contract workers to local science companies, and even interviewed for a few available positions. Things were looking a bit better. 

Then I saw a job ad on craigslist looking for a research tech at a lab at my old college. I applied, interviewed, and was turned down. Bummer. Then my mother (in a rare moment of helpfulness) asked a friend of a friend who was a PI in a research institute in Florida if they wanted a totally free unpaid intern. I had a skype interview and they accepted, and I was getting ready to move halfway across the country to be a volunteer with a Bachelor’s degree when I got an email from another new PI at my old college. She had gotten my application from the first PI who I had interviewed with and wanted to meet to see if I could be her research tech. And then literally a week before I was supposed to move to Florida that PI told me she wanted to hire me. Oh thank god. I had graduated in May, and got hired at this position in October. Even though it was only 5 months, it felt like forever for me to finally find my way out of the dark cave and back into the light. 

This PI did research on cancer biomarkers. Working in her lab was one of the best things to ever happen to me: I got the lab experience I was missing, I found a love for cancer research in particular, I applied for (and got into) grad school to study Cancer Biology, and I met a coworker who eventually became my husband (and you betcha we invited the PI to our wedding and asked her to give a speech lol). 

I graduate (hopefully) next semester with my PhD in Cancer Biology, and my husband and I plan on moving to Seattle (a biotech hub) afterwards. I plan on getting a post-doc position at the Fred Hutch Cancer Center, then a scientist position at a local biotech company, and then see where that takes me. Life is good now. Things really did turn out ok. 

I’m so glad I never gave up. 

And I hope you won’t give up either, anon. I pray you don’t have to go through anything as tough but! Yes there’s still hope for you! There is always hope

[xthefxrgxttenx]

@4x0hxnxroll​ said : 🤝 + Beth & Emily

texts the other memes at 3 am: 

Neither girl really does this all too seriously, because Emily puts on a much more serious persona she wishes she had to. And Beth just isn’t funny. And if it does happen, it’s done semi-ironically, or at least so they claim, because, God, who sends each other MEMES at 3 in the morning? Which, to that end, despite not being traditionally funny, Beth is the more likely candidate between the two, especially earlier on until Emily feels able to show her dorkier/nerdier aspects to Beth. And the more Beth grows attached, the less and less ironic (and more and more frequent) the memes become. Such is the way of being a walking fucking paradox. But again, with all that sad, it’s not a hugely integral component of their friendship/relationship. And is more just a “Man, I’m fuckin’ bored, can you believe I’m looking up memes about a fuckin’ llama who kidnapped a child? Help me.’ kind of escape.

tries to convince the other to do an idea that definitely sounds questionable:

Both, but for entirely different reasons. Beth is the more unstable wildchild of the two, digging through her brother’s medicine drawer, using Chris for weed and coke, barhopping, fooling around with strangers etc. And Beth can start to have that Jess-effect on Emily as their relationship progresses, drawing her out of her more cautious bubble and giving her a chance to live a much louder and more adventurous life than she’d have if Beth wasn’t around. Emily, however, has that weird impulsive need to flirt with temptation, and will, entirely on a whim, in a random fit of courage, dare Beth to do something more intimately personal between the two. The kind of adventure that Beth would herself wouldn’t ever be able to initiate. (Like kiss her panties in the living room half naked after texting Sam to come help them.) 

is the designated driver and who always gets wasted:

This depends on the night, to be honest, and often just doesn’t happen at all. Beth can be responsible when she wants. And at times can feel almost COMPELLED to be. So if she knew Emily was gonna be off her face smashed and vulnerable, she’d definitely be a designated driver and stay sober enough to keep her safe. But then, I also kind of feel like once Emily starts to notice how weirdly repressed yet impulsive Beth truly is, she’d actually  want to be a designated driver for Beth once in a while so she can not ONLY get wasted, but also get wasted with SOMEONE WHO CARES. However, absent those exceptions, both girls are likely to just get an uber home because rich and fuck life.

always has to host the impromptu sleepover:

BETH. BETH BETH BETH BETH. BETHBETHBETH. BETHHHH. Emily’s dad is an absolute fucking cunt and while he’s more fond of Beth and Hannah on the surface than their brother, Josh, he’s still a bit of an ABSOLUTE FUCKING CUNT. Emily’s parties are therefore ALWAYS meticulously planned, to make sure her dad isn’t out and that she has MORE than enough time to safely clean up before he gets back. Beth, meanwhile... Sure, Beth’s dad might also be a bit of an absolute fucking cunt, but at least he’s an absolute fucking cunt who DOESN’T FUCKING CARE. Her parents spend more time across the national border than in their home country of Canada. Their house is often vacant, save for Josh and Hannah, who are usually always down for getting shit faced, too. Post-Game, Beth has her own little apartment she lives in that Emily could honestly move into if you needed.

who’s netflix account gets mooched off of:

Actually, in a rare turn of events, its BETH who has her account mooched off of. This is due to Emily’s dad paying for her Netflix and being a lot more strict with what he qualifies as APPROPRIATE for his should-be prodigy of a daughter. Beth’s account, however, is paid for by a dad who could literally give zero shits what Beth watches so long as she stays outta trouble. So Emily can safely watch anything she wants on Beth’s Netflix without being judged or berated by her father. (Though she sometimes has to lie to Hannah and Josh about just exactly WHO is mooching. I mean, come on, when is Beth Freakin’ Washington going to watch CELEBRITY MASTERMIND?) Post-Game, however, might be a different story... (As in, Beth kinda estranges herself from her parents and that sweet free money, and Emily might give Beth her pass and then just blame Beth when Henry wonders who the fuck watched an entire season of Sex and The City overnight.) Once Emily also gets cut off, they find the money for an account between themselves.

brings all the snacks and who supplies the movie:

Emily supplies the movie. With two very specific exceptions. Those exceptions being: 1. When its an early premier or pre-release of one of Beth’s dad’s productions. He’s a bit of a narc and LIKES to have any and all eyes he can to appreciate his psychotic masterpieces. And sometimes Beth genuinely likes some of his films and just wants to watch one once in a while. 2. If Beth is super pushy or passionate about a specific movie, Emily will cave but she won’t hide her feelings. If it’s shit she WILL bitch about it. And if it’s REALLY SHIT, she’ll pull the “I wish Jess was here” card. As for snacks... It’s typically Beth because Emily is full anorexic and unlikely to bring anything “snacky” to begin with, and Beth kind of has this weird obsession with eating with people/people watching her eat. So bringing snacks that Emily might wanna eat with her brings Beth a bizarre sense of joy.

is usually the first one to say sorry after a fight:

Beth. Though only if she genuinely sees that she was in the wrong. Both girls are pretty stubborn and guarded like that, but I do feel like Beth would break first, especially later in the relationship when she’s more obsessed. That being said, Emily also has a pretty quiet GUILTY STREAK that sparks up in game. During the pre-order bonus scene she ends up being pretty apologetic/grateful to Matt for handling her “high-maintenance” self, and she is downright terrified and blaming herself in her better Matt endings. And even if this is sometimes rooted in insecurity, I do think she’d be capable of having those moments with Beth as well, provided Beth had shown extensive enough loyalty through a lot of conflict/drama.

is the ‘ mom friend ‘:

Errrrrrr... Kind of see the bit about the designated driver. It’s kind of the same deal, honestly. Beth is repressed mom having a quiet quarter life crisis. Therefore she sometimes takes care of Emily. Emily is a repressed everything who actually does have a soft side beneath that icy fortress, and would feel bad for Beth and wanna let her be a wild child in safety. But then both are also royally fucked up and might just say fuck it all and get wasted and wake up inside each other panties on a park bench one night. That being said, Emily kind of has the encouraging mother role when it comes to Beth’s insecurities, namely her leg and her eating habits. While Beth is sort of Emily’s tough loving mother when Emily is making stupid mistakes like wanting to call Mike at two in the morning when she can’t even stand without using Beth as a crutch. So it really does just sort of depend on the situation and whether one or both of them are going through psychological bullshit at the times.

calls the other at 12 am to wish the other a happy birthday without fail:

I actually don’t know, to be honest. I feel like it would happen, and both would do it almost ritualistically after the first time, but the first time would either be: 1. Emily because she’s actually secretly super organized in life and might genuinely know certain birthdays of certain friends and just do it on impulse one day. Possibly while drunk. Probably while drunk. 2. Beth would do it out of a need to make Emily feel noticed and special once she learns about the true depths of Emily’s insecurities and need for validation and fear that no one would actually give a shit about her birthday if SHE didn’t make a big deal out of it to begin with. Which really it just depends who does it first. I don’t think either is so romantic or sappy to always do it outright. But once it IS done, if at all, then I feel they’d both do in return for the other doing it. LOYALTY & RECIPROCATION.

is the better wingman to the other:

Ummmm... Emily. Definitely Emily. It has to be Emily. Which, that isn’t to say that Emily is a GOOD wingman. It’s to say that Beth honestly COULDN’T wingman for Emily because Beth could never, ever, EVER be able to overcome her own insecurities to willingly guide attention to someone other than herself. Especially when maybe she herself has a small crush on Emily and wants to fuck her and have Emily’s attention all on HER. (It’s definitely not a SMALL crush.) Emily, meanwhile, would probably deflectively (during) or indifferently (early on) wingwoman for Beth because she’s not allowed to be gay and she spends a lot of time hung up on Mike. THAT BEING SAID: Post-Game, I genuinely don’t think Emily would be able to wingman for Beth either.

‘ the strong must protect the sweet ‘ , who’s the ‘ strong ‘ and who’s the ‘ sweet ‘:

HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?! The bitches protect each other. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. (Maybe literally.) That’s why they’re both designated drivers or moms at different times. That’s why Beth lets Emily use her netflix or stay over. That’s why Emily would at all want to take care of Beth during wild nights out. That being said, I do think, by literal definition, that Emily is physically stronger than Beth (especially post-game due to muscular dystrophy and her fucked up leg post-mine) while Beth might be sweeter than Emily. at least on the surface. But yeah, it’s again SITUATIONAL, based on whether one needs PROTECTING or one needs to be CARED FOR.

pulls the other up for karaoke to sing a duet together:

Oh. It’s Beth. Let’s be real. No fucking way does Emily do karaoke voluntarily. Meanwhile, Beth is a wildchild, as stated, and more importantly she LOVES noise -- ESPECIALLY MUSIC. Hell, it’s her FAVORITE NOISE, even. (Apart from Emily moaning. AHEM.) So Beth would absolutely drag Emily up for karaoke, even if Emily was bitching about it every frictional heel-scrape of the way. The ONLY example possible where Emily takes Beth on stage is out of SPITE. If Jess or Mike or Matt or Hannah has pissed her off sufficiently, maybe peer-pressured her into it, and Emily wants to HURT them. And depending on the specific atmosphere, Beth might just be up for being Emily’s metaphorical blade.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Taylor Swift Album of the Year Winner Face-off: The Universality of Specificity in Fearless and 1989

We don’t know quite yet where Lover will fall in terms of quality and popularity, or if it will ever win a Grammy; but while we wait to find out, let’s examine the “best” of Taylor’s discography by dissecting her two Album of the Year winning works.

The Grammys continue to be the topic of a recycled debate among musicians and consumers alike. How valid is the notion that a Grammy equates to greatness? Unfortunately, no validity tests have been developed or conducted as far as I know, so we cannot say for sure. But at the very least, a Grammy is indicative of respect from the industry. 

But oh, how the industry has changed, and so the Grammys with it. One could argue that Album of the Year (AOTY) has fallen from the highest honor of the Grammys, knocked off by Record of the Year in the age of streaming, in which many artists just pump out single after single, barely selling albums. Few album artists remain in the current musical climate, with Taylor Swift as one of the (if not the) most triumphant of all. Love her or hate her, the girl can sell an album. Her past 4 studio albums have sold 1 million + copies in its first week of release, streaming not included. Part of this might be due to the incentive Swift gives to her fans to not only buy one copy, but multiple, with exclusive magazines, posters, polaroids, and now literal diary entries; but this shows both her innovation and her fanbase’s endless devotion, which continues to grow. If her upcoming 7th studio album, Lover, misses the million mark in its first week, we could expect it to just miss it (although, it currently looks like she won’t have to worry about it); nevertheless, there’s no doubt it’ll go platinum. 

In direct relation to the Grammys, we must ask ourselves whether sales indicate success or quality. It seems from a majority of the past AOTY winners, their sales may have heightened their chances at victory. In Swift’s case, both of her AOTY winners, Fearless (2008) and 1989 (2014) are her best-selling albums, with her best-selling singles; both albums are the most awarded in history for their genres of country and pop, respectively. Does this mean they are her 2 best albums? Swift’s most critically acclaimed song, “All Too Well” from Red (2012) did not qualify for a nomination as it was never a single; Red received 4 Grammy nominations, including AOTY, and lost in all categories. (This, coincidentally, is what motivated Swift to really rev things up on 1989, determined to claim her second AOTY title, which worked.) “All Too Well” is still among Taylor’s best songs without the shiny gramophone, so to say only Grammy winners qualify for a “best” debate would be obtuse. However, this is what we have to work with, and in regards to Swift, the case could be made for both of her two AOTY claimers that they are- objectively- the best of her work (thus far). But which is THE best? 

Both provide strong evidence for the title. Taylor’s sophomore album, Fearless, was released on November 11, 2008, a month and two days before her 19th birthday. When Taylor accepted her 4 Grammys for the album, she was officially the youngest AOTY recipient of all time at the age of 20. The ages here are notable- not because the broken record- but because of its significance in relation to the album content. Fearless is a uniquely precise encapsulation of what it’s like to be a teenage girl. It didn’t matter whether you liked country music or not, because although the country-pop crossover sound had an astronomical impact on both genres and the industry as a whole, Fearless transcends genre because it spoke to a cohort of girls in a way that music never had before. Taylor talks about the transformative period of adolescence in “Fifteen,” in which you are forced to grow up while maybe not really knowing who you’re supposed to be yet. She grieves the loss of a friendship on “Breathe” and thanks her mother, Andrea, for taking her mind off bullies and mean girls on “The Best Day.” What teenage girl hasn’t dramatically sang along to the iconic “You Belong With Me” in the car or in the shower, a cathartic way of asking the person you care for why they don’t see(-ee-ee) you without having to actually say it to their face? In “Love Story,” she takes the Shakespearean classic and staple of any 9th grade English class, Romeo and Juliet, and changes the ending to fit her chosen rose-colored perception of love. And that’s the key here: chosen. “But no matter what love throws at you, you have to believe in it,” she urges in the linear notes of the album booklet, “You have to believe in love stories and prince charmings and happily ever after. That’s why I write these songs. Because I think love is fearless.” Not only does Swift validate those experiences and whimsical feelings, but she encourages the listeners to hold onto them, cherish them, learn from them, and wear them proudly even in the face of adversity and heartbreak. Teenage girls are so often belittled and dismissed, but Fearless is like a warm, sisterly hug from Swift herself, whispering in your ear, “I get you. I’ve been there. You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” 

Fearless’s ability to so effectively address and comfort a target population is a rare and special feat. However, it raises the question: does anyone else listen to it? Fans of Swift who grew up with Fearless surely listen back as an adult with fond nostalgia, and newer and younger fans have the luxury of discovering this wonderful work whenever they need it. But what about those who may have been well past their teen years at its release? Are they able to listen and feel nostalgic too, or are they forgetful and unappreciative of the intense and magical emotions of youth? Does it matter? Does its applicability to a very select group take away from its greatness? I would say, no, it doesn’t. Specific groups need specific art to turn to when they feel like nothing else can adequately meet that need to be seen and understood. 

But even 1989, in its seemingly endless glory, keeps Swift’s trademark specificity. I am sure that decades from now, there will be many think-pieces on how 1989 is one of the greatest pop albums of the century. (And rightfully so!) What makes 1989 such a widely loved album is its universality across ages and gender identities, yet there is still distinct specificity sprinkled in. In “Shake It Off,” Swift’s most successful single to date, she preaches that we cannot control the actions of those making us feel lesser, and so we just have to shake off their words and keep cruising, moving, and grooving; at the same time, she speaks to unique criticism to her, such as her silly and care-free award show dance moves, or her going on “too many dates” and being unable to keep a man. “At least, that’s what people say!” she carelessly sings. We can swap out the hate from her haters with our own, and joyously dance it all away. On the closing track, “Clean,” Taylor laments being sober from an ex for 10 months, missing him but not willing to risk it, but the way she words it leaves it open enough to be applicable to any type of addiction, love or other drugs. Even on more intimate songs, like “Out of the Woods,” she provides distinct details of her relationship, as she recounts an accident where her muse of the song had to receive “twenty stitches in a hospital room.” My heart does a flip every time I hear the line, “we decided to move the furniture so we could dance / baby, like we stood a chance,” because although I have never moved any furniture to dance with a loved one, the reminiscent longing in her voice makes me feel like I have. Swift is such a skilled songwriter due to this exact ability: making the specifics of her life a universal experience.

And so maybe we cannot definitively say which is the better album. Maybe music cannot truly be measured objectively. But through Fearless and 1989, Taylor has achieved what so few others have: not just staggering worldwide sales, but an ever-growing worldwide connection. No matter how much the haters hate, she continues to lay out the delicate strings of her heart in her hands and offers it to the world. I can’t wait to see who grabs hold next.

---

Disclaimer - Blogger’s bias: I always liked Taylor but I truly began to “stan” at the age of 13 in 2008 right after Fearless’s release; it is my favorite album of hers and I truly believe it is objectively her best, but I find myself wanting to listen to 1989 the most often of all of her albums. They are both so special and every single thing Taylor does is superb so jot that down! Buy and stream Lover, Taylor’s 7th studio album, on August 23rd until the end of time. 

[howtohero]

#272 Secret World Governing Societies

Superheroes wield an exorbitant amount of power. They can move mountains, they can evaporate oceans, they can walk around out in the open wearing a cape and nobody makes fun of them or throws cabbages at them. And you know what they say, with great power comes great hubris. The hubris of superheroes, at times, knows no bounds. As superheroes grow more powerful, and rack up more and more victories, they’re going to start seeing themselves as more than just superheroes. It is possible that they might see themselves as messianic figures, destined to shepherd society into a brighter and greater tomorrow. But society doesn’t really liked to be shepherded into any sort of future by pantaloon wearing demagogues. So oftentimes what happens is that superheroes will just band together with other heroes that they respect and create a secret world governing society to govern the world in secret. And it is always a bad idea! 

You see, the world is a very complicated place. And a good many of those complications stem from the actions of superheroes. Yes, it’s true, when you defeated the Fur Trapper by hurling their ginormous mutant polar bear off of a cliff and called it a day, it actually survived and procreated and now there’s a herd (sleuth) What? (A group of bears is called a sleuth.) Really? (Yeah.) Like a detective? (Yeah I guess.) So you’re telling me that Sherlock Bears, the group of bears that are both detectives and roommates and who are all named Sherlock is literally a sleuth. (That’s not at all what I was telling you, but I guess it’s true.) This is the best day of my life. [Focus.] Right, so anyway, now, thanks to you, there’s an entire sleuth of mutant polar bears. The actions of superheroes frequently have unintended consequences that occasionally cause the world to become weirder and more dangerous. Now, if a bunch of superheroes were to join together in order to manipulate world events from behind the scenes, they would doubtlessly only serve to make things even more dangerous and weird. They would then, of course, try to fix that and only make things even weirder and dangerouser. 

What’s more, we already have a term for super powerful people who try to consolidate their power in order to guide and influence world events, we call them supervillains. If you want to go ahead and create a real life Illuminati or Stonemasons or some other elite secret society composed of the smartest and most powerful “superheroes” then you should know that doing so would effectively make you supervillains. Superheroes are powerful heroes who know that their job is to combat evil, not alter the course of history by meddling in affairs they have no business meddling in. Superheroes acting unilaterally, in secret with zero oversight from non-powered people is a recipe for global cataclysm. How long before the heroes decide that the governments of the world are not smart enough, or handsome enough, or powerful enough, to be able to run the world. (As if being able to use magic or stretch your limbs to impossible degrees somehow makes you qualified to run a country.) 

And another thing! Superheroes meeting in secret in poorly lit rooms to discuss their visions for the world is going to look stupid as hell. Superhero costumes are not designed to look imposing or powerful in dark conference rooms. They’re designed for broad daylight. They’re designed to look appealing to an adoring public on the ground as you streak through the sky on your way to fight MegaMole the giant mole! If you’re aiming to be taken seriously during one of these backroom meetings you’re going to need something dark and foreboding. Maybe swap out your cape for a cloak. Maybe get a helmet instead of a domino mask and whoop! You’re a supervillain again. And don’t think you can show up to these meetings without your costume. You definitely don’t want this powerful cabal of heroes to know your true identity. How long do you think it’ll be before one of them decides that you’re a threat to their new world order and uses one of your society’s vast and sprawling connections to get rid of you. (Trust us, it’s not going to take long at all. After all, anybody who wants to be part of a shady world-governing league, is probably going to wind up being a threat at some point. You’re all going to turn on each other relatively quickly.) 

Herein lies another problem with forming a secret cadre of superheroes, in order to properly influence the world from behind the scenes, you’re going to need to utilize some less than savory methods. If what you’re doing needs to be secret then there’s a better than even chance that it’s not going to be moral. Take it from me, when you try to run the world in secret, you need to do business with many shady individuals. Other superheroes, for example, are not going to want to participate in your little exercise. They believe in things like freedom of choice and autonomous governments, and besides, you don’t want to include them anyway. You only have so many seats at your skull shaped conference table. (Skull-shaped was just the only shape they had at the conference table store. Don’t read into it.) So that means you need to rely on supervillains to act as your agents in the field. But of course you can’t call them supervillains. You don’t want to call attention to the fact that you’re employing supervillains to reshape the world in your image. You’ll probably spend a lot of time trying to come up with something to call them only to realize that you’re wasting valuable time that could be better spent figuring how to launch Rockblock into space or something. (You see, Rockblock is incredibly powerful, and has been known to have temper tantrums. It’s only a matter of time before the harm he causes outweighs the good he does. It is in the Organization’s best interest to get rid of Rockblock before this happens. So off to space he goes!) To save time you’ll give them no official title and just refer to them derogatively as goons or thugs or what have you. Honestly it’d be quicker to just refer to them with a catchall like “henchmen” or something. 

Soon, you’ll find yourself having to work with other unsavory figures in order to protect your Earth. (You’re also going to start being very possessive about the Earth. After all, you’re putting in a lot of hours to make it the way you’d like it. You’ve earned the right to call it yours.) You’ll make deals with alien civilizations that had no plans to invade the planet until you started trying to negotiate with them. You’ll enter into contracts with demons, for it is better to promise half of Earth’s souls in exchange for a promise to not invade the surface world with the legions of Hell. Worst of all, you’re going to be using a lot of math in your work. You’re going to be doing prioritization on a global scale. When you decide the entire world is your jurisdiction, you’re quickly going to realize that you’re ok with sacrificing certain places for the benefit of other more high profile locations. And that is a very dangerous path to travel down. 

All in all, a shady secretive organization made up of superheroes who wish to take greater control of the world and everyone in it is only a hop, skip and jump away from becoming a shady secretive organization made up of supervillains who wish to take greater control of the world and everyone in it. So if you’ve got a problem with the world, step up and solve it. But do it in the light, with help and guidance from others. There’s nothing wrong with trying to fix some of the world’s problems, as long as you go about it in the right way. If you find yourself sitting in a poorly lit room, you’re doing it wrong. If you find yourself sitting across from someone named Horgoblith the Soul Torturer, you’re doing it wrong. If you find yourself ordering hit jobs on other superheroes, you’re doing it wrong. As a rule of thumb, if you find yourself doing anything that a supervillain would do, you’re dong it wrong.  

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals.....Chapter Thirty-Six

“Ms. Fenty, you have a visitor,” Robyn’s secretary voice came through the intercom on her desk.

“You can send them in, Liz.”

A few moments passed before her office door opened. Shock then a smile came across her face, “Ms. Lisa?”

Robyn hadn’t seen or spoken to Michael’s mother in some time especially since Robyn told her that the girls’ biological father was back in the picture. Robyn wasn’t sure why the woman had stopped interacting with her but she couldn’t say that she had tried her hardest to keep in contact on her end either. Other than a few phone calls, she kind of let the matter drop.

Lisa brushed her hand over her hair as she stepped further in the office. Robyn pointed towards her couch for her to have a seat as she went to close her office door, “is there something wrong?”

“No. Would you believe I was in the neighborhood and just wanted to say hi?”

“Depends on if that’s the real reason you showed up here.”

“I was really in the neighborhood but I was thinking about the girls and wondered if I could talk to you.”

“Of course you can. Did you want to see them or something? I have no problem arranging that.”

“I did but I also wanted to ask you about their father.”

“Oh. What about him?”

“Do you know him well?”

“Yes, he was a childhood friend of mine, we literally grew up together.”

“So what happened?”

“We had a bit of a falling out. He got married and moved to another country. I found out I was pregnant months after he had already left so he wasn’t aware of my pregnancy.”

“And where did my son fit in?”

“I met Michael when I was already four months pregnant. I told him about the situation but he said he wanted a relationship with me anyway. The rest is kind of history.”

“Oh.”

“May I ask why you are asking me about this? No disrespect but we haven’t really spoken in months since I told you their father was back in the picture. Is there something going on I should know about?”

“No, it’s really just my own curiosity. When you told me that their father was back in their lives, I really didn’t know how to take that or understand where my family would fit in. I figured it was best to keep my distance so you could focus on getting your new family together.”

“My new family? Ms. Lisa, you are still very much an important part of the girls’ lives. I figured the situation was a little awkward but you guys did know that their father wasn’t deceased or anything.”

“That’s very true. I just didn’t realize you knew him as well as you apparently do. When Michael mentioned it was a one night stand, I was expecting him to be a stranger.”

“When did he mention it was a one night stand? I never told him that.”

“We talked after he introduced us and explained the baby situation.”

“Ok but where did he get one night stand from because we never discussed how I got pregnant? I just told him that I was pregnant and the father was no longer in the picture.”

“Oh. I mean he did speak to his sister and-”

“Of course he did and she just assumed I was just laying up with anybody and figured I got pregnant by some stranger.”

“Robyn, I’m sure he wasn’t thinking like that.”

“He wasn’t but your daughter sure was and always has. Why the sudden interest in their father?”

“Jocelyn wants to contest the will, this time on the grounds that the children are no longer considered Michael’s.”

“Legally, they were never considered Michael’s because they were born prior to us being married. Michael knowingly put them in his will even after that was explained to him by his lawyer. What is your daughter’s problem with me? I have never done anything to her.”

“I honestly cannot say.”

‘“Does she want his money that bad?”

“Robyn.”

“No, look if your daughter wants to cause so much hell about this, tell her to come see me and we can resolve whatever issue she has with me. Those trust funds were a gift from Michael. I did not ask for them and I didnt even know about them until he was dead. I have never needed him for money nor asked for it. He chose to be a part of my children’s lives and I am not gonna let her ruin his memory by being such a- you know what tell Jocelyn to come see me.”

“Robyn, I don’t know-”

“No, if she wants to make this into such a big issue, I want her to do it personally. I don’t want to talk to you about it, I want to talk to her. She has my phone numbers and both addresses. As for you, the girls will be home all weekend, you can drop by anytime to spend time with them. I’m not discussing anything else about your other child until she comes to see me.I don’t feel it’s fair for you to get in the middle of something that you didn’t start or have a problem with.”

“I can respect that. And thank you for allowing me a visit.”

“As I said many times before, you are always welcomed to come by and see them, just give me a call and I'll make sure they’re available.”

“Do you think they remember me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you Robyn.”

“It’s not a problem, Ms. Lisa.”

Just as Robyn stood up to walk Ms. Lisa to the door, it cracked open. Robyn smiled at her newest visitor, “hey you.”

“Hey Babe. Were you busy, I didn’t mean to barge in?”

“No, it’s fine. I was just finishing up. Chris, this Lisa Ferrall, Michael’s mother. Ms. Lisa, this is Chris, the twins’ father.”

“Ms. Lisa, it is very nice to meet you. My apologies for interrupting,” Chris said as he shook Lisa’s hand.

“That’s quite alright, I was getting ready to leave anyway. You look familiar to me.”

“I do?”

“You do, I feel like I might’ve seen you before. Robyn, the girls definitely look like him”

“Yes, Ma’am, they do,” Robyn replied.

“I can see them in your face, especially around the mouth. It’s nice to finally meet you, Chris. I’ll get out of your way then”

“I hope I’m not rushing you out,” Chris interjected.

“No, I’ve some other errands to run, just wanted to touch base with Robyn. You two have a good day.”

Lisa left and Chris turned to Robyn, “you ok?”

Robyn sighed, “No and that woman’s daughter is gonna either send me to jail or to the hospital.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Michael’s sister has been attempting to contest his will since he passed.”

“Why?”

“He left each of the girls a trust fund to be released to them when they turn 19. She wants to have them removed and void the trust fund gifts since they aren’t his biological daughters.”

“Didn’t he know that before he created the trust funds?”

“Yes, and his lawyer advised about it before he even signed and filed the documentation. Michael didn’t care and said it was a gift to them regardless of who their birth father was. His sister has had it out for me since the day we met and I don’t know why.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing until she comes to speak to me personally. I’m tired of her sending her mother to do her dirty work knowing how much I respect that woman. She wants to have this beef then she’s gonna do it herself.”

“Robyn, you sure that’s how you want to handle this?”

Robyn’s eyes narrowed, “you have no idea the hell I put up with from that stupid ass woman so I really don’t want your opinion on this.”

“Babe.”

“Chris, I don’t want to be mad at you so leave it alone.”

Chris held up his hands innocently, “Ok. Why did I never meet her before?”

“Before when? Chris, it’s not like we’ve been in a relationship that long and there was really no reason to meet her.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Why you think so?”

“I mean she was technically their grandmother and a huge part of the girls’ lives, I think that qualifies her as being important.”

“She is important, to them. Really has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you always gonna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Find a way to keep our pasts completely separate. There are alot of people that were in the girls’ lives during my absence but I’ve never met or heard about any of them.”

“Because they’re irrelevant to you. Besides, it’s not like we’re all that close to where they would question or need to be in on anything. Hell, I haven’t heard from Michael’s mother in the months since I told her you were back in the picture.”

“You make it sound like you were exiled.”

“Once Michael died, they really had no reason to continue a relationship with me. His mother was the only one who had a close relationship to the girls so I let that continue but the rest of them didn’t like the fact that Michael was willing to marry me and raise the girls as his considering he knew they weren’t. I’ve never lied to them but they don’t really like me for my honesty either. Not much I can do.”

“So you had nobody after he died?”

“I mean I had my family and of course your family so I wasn’t completely alone.”

“Speaking of my family, why did you never tell them?”

“Chris, you know why. You really think I’d tell Mama, “you know the two little girls you’ve been around since birth, they’re your grandchildren’ and have her not grab you from halfway around the world and make you come back to Texas. Telling them would be just like telling you. I just wanted to leave well enough alone.”

“I get that.”

“Chris, why are you asking me all these questions like this?”

“Like what?”

“All spaced out. If you want to talk about my pregnancy and all of that, just say that. You keep throwing these little questions out here and there like you scared of what I’m gonna say.”

“Because I am scared, hell.”

Robyn laughed as she shifted in her seat on the couch, “Chris, sit down. Why are you still standing anyway?”

“I have no idea but anyway, you can’t really blame me.”

“For being scared? Why not?”

“We’re still relatively new and we’ve had enough drama getting to this point. I don’t want to shake things up quite yet.”

“Chris, one thing has nothing to do with the other.”

“You say that but you can’t honestly believe that.”

“You really think I don’t trust you?”

“No, I’m just not sure if you think you can trust me.”

“Chris, let’s not talk in riddles.”

“I’m not. I really think that you are unsure if you can trust me. I can admit that you aren’t as guarded as before but I can sense your hesitation all the time.”

“Chris, I’ve told you that I trust you.”

“Your trust is situational and you know it. And I’m not knocking you for it, it’s not like I have the best track record but you have to admit that you don’t fully trust me.”

“I don’t have to admit anything because that isn’t true.”

“Robyn, you don’t even let me stay the night with you and the girls already know we’re together.”

“Becuase I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that?”

“Chris, you know.”

“No, I don’t. What I do know is you don’t want them to get comfortable with me being around in such an intimate setting because you aren’t exactly planning on this lasting too long.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to.”

“If it's so bad, why are you with me?”

“I never said it was bad, don’t put words in my mouth. Did I not just say that I’m not knocking you because I understand. Our adult history isn’t all that great so I get it. I am not trying to offend you, Robyn. Why are you being so defensive?”

“Because I feel like I have to be. I’m tired of being questioned like I don’t know my own mind.”

“Again I never said that. Why does everything have to be a damn fight with you? I’m telling you how I feel and the vibe that I get from you when we are together, in what way does that warrant an argument?”

“This is not an argument.”

“Then what is it because it’s definitely not a normal conversation. As soon as I express feeling some kind of way that isn’t complimentary to you, you immediately come out swinging. I want a relationship with you, not a boxing match. I want to be able to openly communicate with you without having to protect myself. We have a history and you can’t pretend that we don’t, you also can’t pretend that said history doesn’t play a part in our relationship. As much as we would like to, we aren’t starting from scratch here.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Can you forget anything that I’ve ever done for or to you?”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Good or bad? Can you forget it like it never happened?”

“Can you?”

“That’s not the question I asked. Besides, I know that I can’t and I’m not gonna act like I can. The slate is not clean, it never will be. I may say something that reminds you of before, can you honestly say that your reaction isn’t gonna carry some pain from the past?”

Robyn sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We have to at some point. Again, we cannot act like we don’t have a history.”

“A history that never went anywhere. It’s not like we fell in love and even tried to live happily ever after. A history that is wholly incomplete. What do you want from me?”

“For you to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest.”

“The only honest feeling you are giving me is anger. I can feel it radiating off your body.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Chris.”

“Well that didn’t take long,” Chris said as he stood up, “I’ma just head out. Probably should’ve never started this conversation.”

“Probably should’ve never started a lot of things.”

“And there it is.”

“There is what?”

“You. The hesitation I was talking about, always comes out with comments like that. We have one disagreement and here you go.”

“Here I go what? You want honesty right?”

“Yea, I want honesty but apparently you can’t handle it as well as you try to dish it. It’s fine. Am I still invited to dinner or am I gonna be walking on eggshells for the rest of this week?”

“I don’t know. Since I don’t know my own mind how about you tell me that decision.”

Chris chuckled lowly, “You spoiling for a bigger fight that I really don’t think we need to have to so I’m just gonna exit as I stated before. I would say that I’ll call you but I’m pretty sure you aren’t gonna answer so enjoy the rest of your day.”

Chris walked out and closed her office door behind him. Robyn grabbed one of her decorative pillows and screamed into it. 

                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you two finally decided to give it a try?” Joyce asked as she took a sip of her tea. Chris sucked his teeth instead of answering.

“Trouble in paradise already? Didn’t see that coming.”

“Mama, you don’t have to be all sarcastic. It’s not like you didn’t expect this.”

“I expected this years ago but now is as good a time as any. How long?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Still trying to maneuver past your pasts, huh?”

“She drives me crazy.”

“And that’s why you love her so much. You need a challenge, Christopher. You’ve spent your entire life charming your way through everything, about time somebody gave you a hard time.”

“Mama, that’s not it.”

“So what is it?”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Good. She shouldn’t.”

Chris sat up straight in his seat and Joyce laughed, “I don’t see what's so funny.”

“You haven’t earned her trust so she shouldn’t give it to you. All you’ve done is wine her, dine her and offer her sex. I haven’t heard any substantial work being put in.”

“Did you not hear all the stuff I just said I did?”

“I heard it and I also understand that all of that was more for your benefit than hers. When are you gonna do something that’s only for her?”

“What?”

“You drive an hour to her job because you want to see her. You drop by her house all the time because you want to be with her. You never once thought about what she wanted and it’s not as if you don’t know what that is.”

“Mama, I’m confused.”

“You said Robyn craves stability.”

“Yes.”

“Then be stable. Be consistent in everything, not just what you say to her but what you do to her. You aren’t trying to repair anything, you’re trying to bring her guilt to the same level as yours but honestly, it’ll never be because what she did will never compare to what you did.”

“I forgave her.”

“You forgave her because you don’t want to be mad at her, you didn’t forgive her because you’re actually ok with that she did. You’ve never addressed her purposely hiding the girls from you. You’ve never addressed how you felt about that situation. You were so busy wanting to be the good guy, you weren’t spending enough time being the right guy. Robyn does not need you to coddle her, she needs you to be there for her and there is a huge difference.”

“How does what I’ve been doing not translate to being there for her?”

“Because you’re around for you. You go to her when you want to go to her. When it is agreeable to you or when you need her. You don’t go to her just to be there. You don’t go to her to listen, you go to talk. You don’t go to her to comfort, you go to be comforted. If I can see it, you can’t tell me that she doesn’t notice too.”

“And you think that’s why she doesn't trust me?”

“She doesn’t trust you now for the same reason she didn’t trust you before. You aren’t stable. As quickly as you moved on from Tiana to her, what’s to make her think you won’t move on from her to someone else? You did it twice before in fact. You remember the night you came home from taking her to homecoming?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And you sat down on this very porch and poured your entire heart out to me, about you both loving each other and not doing anything about it.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t fight for her, Chris. She can’t trust a love that is so easily silenced and dismissed. Robyn didn’t not date you because she didn’t think it was a good idea, she didn’t do it because she didn’t believe that your feelings were as strong as hers.”

Joyce noticed his brow go up as she finished her last statement, “she said that to you, didn’t she?”

“Something similar to it.”

“Chris, the ball has always been in your court. Robyn has always handed the reins over to you and you were just too stupid to use them.” 

“So what am I supposed to do? Go to her?”

“Yes.”

“She’s pissed at me.”

“And? You can’t take a little yelling and screaming? She owes it to you anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because of the situation, you put her in. Hell, all that stuff with Tiana was for your benefit too, she just got dragged along for the ride. She made more concessions to try and help your marriage than even you did and barely got anything to show for it. She watched you sit around for your last relationship and do more effort to make yourself comfortable than either her or Tiana, why should she trust you? What have you actually done to deserve trust? You can’t even be honest about being upset with her but you want her to be honest about loving and trusting you. You come in here, all indignant like you’re the only one carrying any kind of burden when you aren’t. This isn’t just about your feelings because you aren’t dating yourself. She’s defensive because she’s done nothing but be on the offensive and when she finally decides to give a little more even against her better judgment, she gets blasted with not being open and trusting enough. You have not earned anything, Christopher.”

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Like I said, you’ve spent a lot of your life just charming your way through it. Even with your divorce, you still charmed your way out of it with another heartbroken girl lingering after you. You don’t know hard work when it comes to a woman and it's high time that you do. You want Robyn? Earn Robyn. Learn Robyn. Then you can love Robyn. She is not that naive little girl you met in elementary school. She’s a grown woman who has seen a lot, heard a lot and done a lot. Life has changed her a lot more than it's changed you.”

“How’d you know that I was still bothered by the children thing?”

“Because you love children. You love your children and you’ve always wanted to be an active part in the process from beginning to end. There’s no way you moved past it so easily with the simple explanation she gave you. I’m not saying there’s anything else she can explain to you but that doesn’t mean that there’s not a lot of feelings that you are still carrying around. You’ll feel guilty because you’re a good man and a good father. Your daughters mean everything to you and not being around for them would bother you even though you didn’t know they existed. It’s a parental feeling, guilt happens. Also, you’re my son. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Chris chuckled, “what do I do, Mama?”

“Go to your girlfriend and be there for her because it’s for her and not to make you feel better about yourself. She isn’t your consciousness or security blanket, she’s a human being.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris sighed as he knocked on the front door. A few moments passed before he saw a curtain pulled back from a side window and Robyn’s face in it. She rolled her eyes and Chris chuckled as he heard her move to unlock the door. It opened gingerly and she leaned against the door frame, “what?”

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ok, then can I come in?”

“For what?”

“To be with you.”

“I don’t want to be with you.”

“So why you open the door?”

“I was trying to be polite but I can gladly rectify that. Goodnight Chris.”

Robyn closed the door and Chris knocked on it again. 

“Chris, go away,” she said through the door

“I would if I knew that you really wanted me to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I get it now.”

“You get what?”

“Why you don’t trust me”

“Really? Did a psychic drop a clue in your lap?”

“No but I did talk to my mother and she chewed me out for an hour. I’ve been very unfair to you.”

“Chris, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then just listen, ok. I’ve been asking a lot of you without really having to do much on my end and I guess it’s always been that way between us. I’ve been asking you to forget about our history but I’ve been leaning on it ever since I came back to Texas and it’s not fair. I’ve never had to fight for you, I’ve never had to do much to keep you around even when we were just friends but I expected you to jump through all types of hoops to make this work. I left 8 years ago and I’ve been stupid enough to think that those wounds have healed when they haven’t. What I did was wrong and how I’ve been treating you is wrong as well. I have to earn your trust and your love and I was too arrogant to understand exactly what that meant. You have a right to be defensive because I haven’t really given you much evidence to believe that I’d be there to protect you so you’re protecting yourself. I do love you and I thought saying it was enough but I have to show it and show it in ways not dictated by money but with real work and time. I know I come to your job and stuff all the time but that's because I wanted to see you and be around you, I never really took the time to understand what you wanted and needed, from me or this relationship. You’re not blameless in this situation but I’ve been acting like it’s all your fault and it wasn’t. My actions played a part in the decisions you made and whether I believe those decisions were right or wrong, I can't deny that I had a hand in causing them. I put you in an impossible situation eight years ago and I’ve put you in an impossible situation over the last year with Tiana as well. That is my fault and my part has to be corrected. I’m not asking for anything extraordinary or for things to change overnight, I’m just asking for a little cooperation from you. Just a chance for me to fix what I’ve done wrong and come to terms with my feelings over what you did. Just a chance for me to earn your trust. That’s all I’m asking for.”

A few moments passed before Chris saw the door open again. Robyn moved back into the doorframe, “I never asked you for anything. I never had expectations for you”

“And you should have. I should’ve never made you feel as if you were wrong for even wanting to have expectations of me.”

“Loving you all those years has clouded my judgment of you.”

“I get that now. And I never wanted you to change or shortchange yourself to have me in your life. There should be requirements I have to meet. I should have to deal with the consequences of any actions. You’ve been taking all the hits for me and you shouldn’t have to.”

“I didn’t want to, I just-”

“Robyn, you’ve been protecting me from the first time we met. You became my friend because nobody else wanted to be around the goofy kid with a stutter. You stayed my friend even when the stutter went away, puberty hit and suddenly everybody wanted to be around me. You’ve been my friend no matter how many times I’ve wronged you. No matter how many girls have came through my life and turned it upside down. You were always there to make things right again. I never asked you but I always knew that I never had to. I’ve never gave you that confidence in me and I’m sorry.”

“I’ve just always felt that you didn’t love me as much as I loved you.”

“I know and I’ve never taken the time to show you otherwise but I would like to now. If you’d like to give me a chance to try this the right way, I would really like to.”

“Chris.”

“I just want you to think about it. I know you’ve got a lot going on emotionally and I’ve added enough to it. We can take this at whatever pace you feel comfortable. Just think about giving us this chance, ok?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“And I’m sorry about earlier in your office. I was really stubborn and condescending.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is. It wasn’t fair and the way I reacted wasn’t right either. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry I cursed at you.”

Chris chuckled, “I deserved it. I was being insensitive.”

“Did you still want to come in?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I do but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“I can respect that.”

“Will you cuddle with me?”

“I’ll do anything you want and need me to.”

Robyn reached out and took Chris’ hand to bring him inside the house, closing and locking her door behind them.