#but man... its been a year since literally the lowest point in my life

[newvegascowboy]

+

[tumblemoth4763]

Jesus Christ this year has been rough. It's like everytime I'm trying my damndest to enjoy myself and distract myself from the looming beast that's my depression and anxiety mix, especially around the holidays, they find a way to pop back into my life.

Its not like last time where they texted me, ranting about how great and how much of a healthy person they are and how I'm so awful and toxic. They just popped back up on my insta recommended. All this time later, they're STILL taking pot shots at me. I genuinely don't understand why they're still talking shit about me all this time later, I haven't tried to contact them since literally fucking July, it's them, they keep popping up or straight up contacting me. Like holy fuck why can't they leave me alone???

I'm quite literally at the lowest point in my life so far, and it just keeps going lower. I can't keep going on like this man. I literally just wanted to bake cookies, throw on some Christmas music and play Minecraft. I'm completely fucking alone this Christmas, not even with friends or family, I just want to try to have a good time and one way or another they come along and ruin it.

Genuinely fuck the holidays this year, they've been awful.

[aria-of-deception]

Confess (vax; @mxrvelouscreations

Confession of Love | @mxrvelouscreations

Arodithas had never been in love. He’d had many fans confess their adoration for him, and dodged more than his fair share of propositions from other nobles who thought ‘private performance’ was a clever euphemism, but all of that was superficial at best. Up until this point, everyone who had made their attraction to him known had either only fallen for his charming celebrity façade or been trying to use him. Not that he necessarily blamed them; he’d brought it upon himself by seeking fame and fortune via the con of a literal lifetime. At some point over the last twenty years or so, Aro had managed to convince himself that he wasn’t worthy of real love, and that he was perfectly fine with it.

Vox Machina, with infuriating fervor and persistence, shattered that illusion. They found him at his lowest point, broken and scarred behind bars that he thought he would never escape. Fought him while he had no control over his own body or mind. Picked up the pieces after it was all over, and put up with all of the flaws of the man behind the gilded mask. Why they’d insisted on keeping a wretch like him around, the fallen star couldn’t honestly fathom, but he was eternally grateful.

And terrified.

For the first time since his childhood, he was genuinely afraid of losing the people around him, and Vax’ildan was most certainly at the top of that list. The handsome rogue had broken down all of his walls in record time, whether by calling him out on his bullshit, having his back in every fight, or making him laugh even when he felt dead inside. Every shared glance made Aro’s stomach flutter, now. His heart would nearly pound right out of his chest if he so much as received a compliment from Vax! It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!

Which was precisely why he’d made up his mind to finally make his feelings known before he exploded. His plan wasn’t anything extravagant. Actually, he went out of his way to make sure they wouldn’t have an audience, knocking on Vax’s door in the middle of the night and using insomnia as an excuse to ask for a walk and a chat. “I must confess,” he said once he was sure that they were out of earshot of the camp, “I didn’t just bring you out here to tire myself out.” Nervous and burning with blush, he tried his best to look Vax in the eyes. No going back now. Even The Voice was uncharacteristically silent, though its familiar presence lurked in the back of his mind. A flustered smile played on his lips as he continued to speak. “You have been a wonderful influence on my life. A far better friend than I deserve, or could have ever dreamed of finding. I don’t want to ruin that, especially since we haven’t known each other long, but I can’t deny how deeply I enjoy spending time with you, Vax. You’re…incredible! And if you’re open to it…” He trailed off, hands suddenly growing clammy. Gods, how did Scanlan make this flirting shit look so easy?! “I’d like to spend more time with you. Alone. As more than friends or comrades. You intrigue me.”

[dyandyan0]

two month and two week check-in? 11.12.2024

i can't believe the year is already coming to an end. i feel conflicted about how this year went, i think for the most part i have few regrets and still have a positive outlook for the future for myself. that isn't to say that i haven't had my moments. i do feel though, at this moment specifically, over something a bit stupid and predictable, that i have improved sosososososo much in terms of coping and acceptance than 2022. i am no longer crashing out over things that were pretty obvious from the start. i mean i still have feelings but i'm only human and so is everybody else.

no more being vague though, its been a week since the election. 12 years of trump in politics during my formative years has given me a very bleak perception of politics and the state of the world. i think a factor as to why i'm a bit more numb to other peoples actions lately is because i have been tending to compare my trivial problems to actual problems that people face in this country and the world. i know that probably isn't good from a therapists viewpoint, despite people going through harder times i shouldn't just ignore my own feelings, but in some ways i have to just see it as i gotta be grateful i live in a place where i don't feel like my rights are being super threatened (california for clarification). i was so overwhelmed post election on thursday i started to cry in my car. i fr shed liberal tears. i think it was totally valid though because here's a secret: a part of me is starting to really hate men. and not in a i've been burned by guys in relationships in the past way, because i'm a firm believer that girl's can just be just as bad when it comes to romance, but i was just feeling so sick with how the election turned out. i cried because i remembered myself in middle school, learning about abortion laws and practicing pro-choice debates to advocate for women's healthcare during a time where it didn't even seem like it was even really being threatened. i cried because i have so many friends and women that i have met that have personally shared stories to me of being sa'd and harassed. i cried because i have my own experiences. and now our president is a man who has openly said he would have relations with his own daughter, a man who comfortably said he could just grab women by the pussy, a man who has not one, not two, but 26 sa allegations against him? we're telling our daughters that all that doesn't matter, you can still become the president of the united states despite having that type of character. what does that tell our already red-pilled brain rotted sons? that we can look up to that kind of behavior? that they can get away with it?

i already cried over it, so i'm not going to again, i know that people out there are trying hard to have high hopes despite the outcome of the election. of course i don't think it's the end of the world. i'm just sad. i'm sad that we treat women so badly. i'm sad that we can't just go out alone without having to be hyper-aware of our surroundings. it's hard to feel empowered as a women when all men do is find ways to knock us down. FUUUCCK nick fuentes

i'm genuinely, in every way possible, so thankful for the friends i have made up to this point. i think i said it before here, but it's easy to take their care and concern for granted when you're caught up with life and other relationships. i hung out with motus, len, and andy on sunday night and while we kept clowning him for it, motus got shitfaced and kept repeating how much he 'needed this' and was happy he was being reunited with us. it was seriously the most fun i've had in awhile, and with people that i love dearly. those two literally were my ride or dies end of high school/ early college and quarantine, and i feel as though if i hadn't have had them during my lowest points then i really really don't know where i'd be. the three of us haven't gathered in years at this point because we've all been moving all over the place and getting caught up in work and school, but hanging out with them felt like i was in high school again (in a good way)

so to conclude, i think things will be alright for me, despite passing feelings that the world is falling apart around me.

last quick note, i really thought my attention span was cooked, but i spent all my free time reading this weekend. i finished whered you go bernadette (~350 pg), a book thats been sitting on my shelf for years, in one sitting. it was super fun to read, and i thought it was a sweet story. it was a lot more fun for me to read too because it's based in seattle and i understood a bunch of references regarding that. spoilers though, the only complaint i have about the book was the affair apart. because like why. i think ppl on reddit were also just like they could've voided that part and it still would've been just as good. i feel like the consensus with characters in media cheating is that the character feels irredeemable, which is true imo. i remember reading somewhere that both chandler from friends and jim from the office were supposed to have cheating storylines, but fought against them because they were like i don't think the audience is going to see them the same anymore. they were right for that

i also started tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. i got half way through and it's amazing so far. i'm just kind of scared cause everyone's saying how sad it is in the end. i'll probably talk about it when i finish it.

i don't know if i'll remember to update before the year ends, i leave for the philippines on dec 15 so we'll see!

[juszar2]

Familiar and Full Circle..

The extreme cowardice and lying is so familiar and I see it the same as I had when those guys were right there bitching him. It was astounding because I'd never seen a male be so scary up to that point in my life. He lied and said he thought one of them was related to me.... As if that had made any sense, but he tried it anyway. He later abandoned that false reality because he knew I'd not bought it. I did not know that person at all. It was unabated cowardice... This situation, if true as God has quite literally allowed me to see, would be the exact same cowardice only personified. But it would reveal ALL that he truly is, his character as a man. It's as if I could see him grinning and sounding like a jealous female youth as the homosexual con's him and instructs him of what it would like him to do to its enemy... While recounting my life as it has stewed over me and watched from the background since adolescence. I could see him humped over grinning taking direction from the enemy of the person he has implored over years to "love him back", him being the only reason I would have him in my life and an unchangeable situation where great people would have to find out that he is the lowest and is doing things that are gutter disgusting and they could not imagine a person doing.... This is that person. A character so low that any other choice and I mean just about any would have been better than to know that this is what I saddled great people with. A lowest character, parasitic type of being that knows not the first thing of dignity nor class. A hide in the closet with your enemies sick freak desperately out of touch with reality and suffering from dissociative personality disorder. A sociopath as delusional as they come making up his reality as he goes along through life. Disabled where truth is concerned. And has an inability to take responsibility for what he does.... Almost as if to have two identities, a false decency professing conservatism and calling what is not a scumbag a scumbag..? Refusing to acknowledge that he is the real scumbag. I think it is mental illness all of it. You can know someone a long time and not know that they have mental illness. He was challenged where related to me and the cowardice kicked in fast. I could have forewarned him that asking to be with me could mean seeing unusual effort of scorn, envy and jealousy. They get severe! And it is because I dissent! I cannot be pocketed nor bitched nor conned. I care not of you kissing my ass, and in fact that makes me see your con better. You cannot feign humility.. I see you almost always and I am guarded with my life. And I will decline and there is no go along to get along. I love hard and am giving to an uncommon degree. He will go along to get along and does not want to be seen as lame. All things that I never needed near me. I am the kind of woman that needed a real man. So badly I failed myself and not one of the 30 can I get back. I was offered an easy life by a multitude of ethnicities and professions. Personhood and keeping my word was all that mattered because I am capable! But to find out that what I saw all those years ago has roots. It is his design and lack of morals or dignity is him... And great people know and witness. How do I know anyone like that? Who would do that? A weasel. Almost female. I always heave to remember I'm speaking to a habitual liar with personality disorders. So strange how he has been revealed. I marvel at how This... Is That, what I'd seen then. I know there is a man like me who has means and could be trusted to not serve as a teen girl and accommodate my enemies. It grows more disgusting by the day.... Just the thought. Yuck, how sorry I am.

[twilightpoison]

It’s been brought up to me that a lot of my content is Isekai based. However I didn’t want this to be a Ieskai HC post. Instead let me tell you all about a stupid thing I came up with as a kid that I’ve been meaning to make into a fic for so long.:

What if the characters you play actually can feel your presence and/or can hear your commentary when playing?

Fair warning I never play Hyrule Warriors and Twilight Princess so let me know if I got things wrong.

Head canons under cut!

General head canons (These are all platonic headcanons btw.):

- Let’s say that the simple reason that you are here was to help the chain. Think of it like you’re the groups companion on this journey. Who better then someone that knows about each hyrule?

- The people who dealt with a lot of magic recognize you at first. The others need a bit of a push to connect the dots but everyone gets there.

- The connection wasn’t as strong at times during their original adventures, so its not like they could always hear you or sense you.

Time:

- You saw him and it was clear he has another sibling now.

- Time knew you where telling the true, that you followed both of his adventures however he wasn’t going to be fully open to you.

- Guess who isn’t scared of Time? You.

- Literally at one point you’ve pointed at Time and with a straight face says “thats a child”.

- This is also how the chain found out that Time actually fought the moon technically.

- “You fought Majora on the moon while it was falling. That’s not the same thing.”

- You meet Malon and it was an awkward first meeting since how do you explain this in the first place.

- Yet the two of you got along amazingly.

- When you and time are alone you instantly ask Time if he knew how she got the cow in his house. He kinda just… stares at you? Like you just met his wife and thats what your asking about?!

- The answer was that he wasn’t sure how she did that but the cow isn’t in his old house anymore. Since different timelines and all.

- It’s honestly weird for him to have someone remember both of his adventures in confidence.

- All be a little awkward hearing someone go, “oh yeah! Time had to do something similar.”

- Early on Time did go over boundaries since he really doesn’t like to talk about his adventures to much.

- So instead you both agree to be as cryptic as possible or at least there is an attempt on your part. Since your the only other person that can confirm or deny his claims.

- And no. You also don’t know his true age. But your guess is the closest.

Twilight:

- Since he is one of the Link’s that is drenched in magic, he recognizes your aura instantly.

- Chaotic sibling energy.

- If he is giving Wild or any of the other Link’s a hard time you are by his side calling Twilight out. Unless if the person in question did something truly idiotic then you let him go off.

- Speaking of, you call this man out as much as you possibly can. Like hell if you’re going to let the others think he isn’t a gremlin.

- He did try to stop you by covering your mouth but you licked his hand. So…. guess what he isn’t trying again unless it’s necessary.

- Somethings are kept a secret though. Since he did live through it and even if it was stupid he still could of gotten really hurt.

- You both play good cop, bad cop to the younger Links all the time.

- Twi is surprisingly very open with you about his adventure, to finally talk to someone about it with out having it sound crazy is nice.

- He also has some questions about you and your life. Since before this adventure started you just disappeared.

- The two of you honestly get along like two best friends who haven’t seen each other in years but still can banter like its the good old days.

- Knowing only small amounts about what they all been through it’s nice to know that you’re looking after the others as well.

- That feeling makes him really push himself to protect the family he has here and luckily you are here can smack him upside the head before lecturing him.

Warriors:

- heeeeey… you know what happen the last time he met someone that was suppose to be watching over the hero’s spirit?

- Yeah, so….War’s isn’t so keen on trusting you like some of these Heroes.

- You seem nice and not obsessively crazy. If anything what makes him decide to give you a chance. It’s seeing you get along with the other Heroes post battle or around the campfire when you think no one is watching.

- The moment that he recognizes you. You were cursing out some monsters and calling Dink every name under the sun. Which he actually remembers hearing your panicked voice briefly when fighting Cia.

- Anyway, you guys are a sass duo and even a trio when you get Leg involved.

- You steal his scarf sometimes with Time and Wind’s help

- He finds you and Wind wrapped inside of it leaning on time and his heart just- clenches, he has more siblings now!

- Then Warriors realizes he has another sibling… another sibling that will prank him…

- You two can be found discussing tactical strategies. Mostly him teaching you though since depending on the person not many people will know how to lead an army. Yet he is a good teacher and you catch on pretty quickly.

- Same with Twi, Warrior’s needs someone to pull him back sometimes it seems. Who better then to remind him then the person that already saw his lowest moment when his ego got the better of him?

- Seriously speaking. He wouldn’t come to you to talk. If anything he will try to avoid you if he wasn’t his best. In his head he has a reputation to uphold. Which will lead to a heart to heart. No sass. No banter. Just you and him sitting down to remind him that he is human.

- He needs a hug. Please give him a hug.

Sky:

- Sky actually didn’t recognize you at first!

- Yes he felt your presence and hear your voice in his adventure, but that was a while ago at this point. Also he isn’t as connected to magic as the others are.

- He does slowly befriend you despite everything.

- It wasn’t until you referred to a certain demon lord as a ‘B*tch A** Clown’ and a flood gate of memories open up for him. Memories of you cursing out Ghirahim, calling the imprisoned an ‘avocado with feet’ and so on.

- Nothing really changes between you two honestly, he just accepts it.

- If anything he becomes more open to you about everything, setting clear boundaries on what he doesn’t want to bring up. He will tell everyone about the curse eventually, but just hasn’t found a good opportunity too. Things like that.

- You do have to argue with Sky that the curse wasn’t his fault since you were also there when it was put on him, also the fact that he didn’t asked to be cursed in the first place.

- Most of the time you two are together its to get away from the chaos that the group of nine heroes could bring.

- Walking or sitting in silence is how you two end up most of the time together. It may not look like you two are bonding. There are some days while Sky is wood carving you would work on your small hobby as well. Then there are days he plays the harp and your reading.

- Despite it all he really enjoys the peace you bring. There is a sense of comfort that you have.

- When you and Sun finally meet. The first thing you ask him is to be invited to the wedding and it may or may not been in front of her too…

Wild:

- The recognition was really slow for him like Sky. Since Wild just got off of his first adventure he didn’t actually notice you were gone.

- It was until he realized that he couldn’t hear your panicked voice or snarky remarks when fighting in his head. That he finally realized you where outside of his head. He was quick to connects the dots after that.

- There was a moment where he didn’t know how to react since he just figured that you were just from his imagination.

- He now has another adventuring buddy with Hyurle! Though luckily you do keep the both of them from harm. Mostly because if something happens to them you will get in trouble with like Twi and Leg and thats never fun.

- Though you have your moments. Shield surfing and paragliding are on top of that list and Wild is all up for teaching you the ropes.

- The topic of the history of hyrule gets brought up a lot with the two of you. Since his era has a lot of connections to the past era’s. He is all up for learning about what came from where. Soon theories start to fly about.

- When You, Him and Flora are finally all together. There is nothing stopping you all from bouncing off theories. With your outside knowledge mixing with what they know. Things start to fall into place.

- The answer to why the timeline is like this doesn’t get answer. But hey! At least you all are having fun!

- If you can’t cook he will teach you that too! If you can! Well buckle up your going to share your knowledge with him whether you want to or not.

- Once you know how or get used to cooking while camping, you help him out a lot and its these moments where you both talk the most.

- It’s comforting to him to know he wasn’t alone this whole time.

Legend:

- As soon as you two locked eyes he felt instant dread. Yes he knew. No he isn’t going to opening up to you.

- Playful Insults to bond? Yeah that’s literally how he talks to everyone so no special treatment.

- He keeps you at a distance but its not actually working.

- You talk about his adventures so casually like it happened a few days ago. You avoid Link’s Awakening though. If you got hurt with the plot twist then you could only imagine the pain Leg went through.

- “I’m still trying to process the fact you married a tree.” “Hey remember that one time with Yuga, you slammed face first into a wall so hard you knocked yourself out?” “God do you not wear pants because of the fish thing?”

- This relationship is literally: Only I can bully this one.

- He fears the moment you meet Ravio and Fable knowing full well you all will bond over teasing him.

- Overall though he knows you got his back no matter what, to the point he finds himself confining in you slowly.

- Guess who is also teaming up with Hyrule to get Legend to sleep. It you.

- Once you probably have forced him to sleep by getting wolfie to lay on him. It was the wolf or yourself. In the end it was both of you and he was trapped.

- A sign that he was becoming soft towards you was when he started sharing his items with you. He trusts that you know how to use them and if you don’t he is actually willing to show you.

- He regrets giving the bee badge to you.

Hyrule:

- Another person that is drenched in magic. It only took one look at you for him to realize who you were.

- The two of you were awkward as anything at first. Since to you he never really spoken in his adventure so you didn’t know how to picture his personality.

- There’s a lot of mystery in your mind about him since again there isn’t much to go off of with what your given in game. It’s weird for him to hear about how you interpret his personality from that perspective.

- Hyrule didn’t honestly expect you to try and befriend him tbh. It mostly him over thinking it.

- You do follow him sometimes when he wants to wander around and explore. Mostly because you claim he finds the coolest things when he does.

- But its just a excuse to actually get to know him.

- The two of you trade stories and questions about each of your lives. There might be things you know that he might not know of about his adventure and his hyrule.

- Of course never going into to much details since there are things you couldn’t tell him.

- Hyrule honestly was dreading the day you all would land in his Era. He loves his home but is also very aware of it not being the most…welcoming place.

- So it’s more then surprising to him that there is even more then the glint of familiarity and excitement on your face. Knowing full well what dangers where a head of you, you still were open to exploring his world to the fullest.

- It’s honestly refreshing to see someone love his era as much as he does.

- Another boy that needs hugs, please give him a hug.

- You both cheer each other on though.

- This relationship is just aggressive support between you two and the others.

Four: (I’m actively mixing the Four Sword game and manga just to be clear.)

- Not sure if he would know exactly who you where since during the second adventure your voice and presence bounce between the four of them.

- Yet I also feel like he took after you because he was a child in his first adventure, which worries you a lot. Since you did have choice words for Vaati.

- The first to realize was Vio then it went Blue, Red and Green. Despite being in the same head it was just a theory they had over all. They all had their own ways of confirming it.

- Vio noticed the small things you do around Four. Like not stepping on their shadow, and covering Four when things got chaotic in their head. Small references here and there. When the two of you are alone he almost quizzes you about things. Just to see how much you know and to see if your telling the true or not.

- Blue recognize your mannerisms being something he picked up on during the first and second adventure. Only vaguely since again he was a child / there was only a small part only with him. Your fighting banter when your in battle made you see where Blue got his colorful language from…

- Your comfort was what clued Red in. He remembers your presence more clearly then the others from the first and second adventure. It was a comforting (yet chaotic) presence in their adventures that he latched on to. More so from his first adventure since as a kid he made an imaginary friend to process the fact he could sense and hear your presence. When you came back in the second time around it felt so natural for Red to have you there and really helped make him go forward through his small journey.

- For Green? It was a lot of things but when he see’s you treating each color differently when they are in charged. It’s a refreshing sight to be honest. He just enjoys hearing and seeing that his brothers had someone to confide in. Even when they switch who is in control you some how could tell and spoke to them accordingly.

- They were all some what surprise that none of the others picked up on your treatment of him swapping so much. Yet their also glad because their not ready to reveal themselves quiet yet.

- As Four or as you nicknamed him ‘Rainbow’ the two of you tend to sick together when the world’s shift around. Since his body needs more time to recover.

- You two are another pair that cheers each other on when the moral is low.

- He introduces you to the Minish! Getting you a jabber nut so you can speak to them too. You can’t shrink down to properly talk to them so this was the next best thing.

- The four of them makes you a dagger to bring home to remember him by, there’s a kin stone imbedded where the blade meets the hilt.

Wind: (hello self projection my dear friend)

- Wind didn’t recognize you ether at first, yet he didn’t even blink when you join everyone. He was fully on board with getting a new member and is easiest the most opened.

- It was when you two are alone together that something clicked in his head. You see during the Wind Waker he was alone most of the time when he was on land. So he had to face a lot by himself.

- Having you was reassuring to him when facing some of the monsters alone, especially with the puppet ganon fight. The two of you both agree that it was creepy.

- CHAOTIC SIBLINGS PART 2… well kinda

- Wind is a lot more mature then you realized but you two still have those moments.

- You, Aryll and Grandma get along too! So he and his family basically sees you and the chain as family.

- Pranking buddies! You’re targets would never know. Mostly because your covering up for him. You two team up with Four and Wild so the pranks can get chaotic at times.

- No matter what age you are compare to him and if your ok with it he does like platonic physical affection. Your going to be trading off with Warriors a lot of the time for cuddles or it’s the three of you together.

- You teaching him our worlds sea shanties and him teaching you his? Heck yeah! Even making up songs with the others is something on the table and in the works which is nice.

- It’s another thing to bring back home thats personalized!

Honestly since I’ve written all of this down I want to write the fic more. Though I’ll probably not only because idk if people would even read it lol. So it will just be a bunch of head canons. Anyway rambling is done.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Chilling in Yiling

We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous.  

He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu. 

Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.

Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.

Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.

(more after the cut)

This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesn’t deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does. 

Dream a Little Dream of Me

While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface.  The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.

He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites. 

A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.

Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma. 

His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.

This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked.  Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.

Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"

Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.

The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it. 

Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it. 

He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.

Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.

It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.

In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there. 

Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother.  This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about what’s really happening to be confused, but not surprised.

Do the Whumpty Whump

After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified) 

Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman. 

He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.

Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.

Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights.  He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjing’s physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines. 

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part. 

They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.

Wen Chao thinks that he can’t haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.

This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats. 

Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about.  He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him. 

Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages. 

She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.

Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch.  Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.

Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxian’s.  This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.

He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.

While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.

Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.

They Say That Every Man Must Fall

Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.

I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released

You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly.  

I’ve Been Dead Once

We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.

I hang around dying to be tortured  You'll never be alone in the bone orchard

The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.

For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.

He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets.  All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.

The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge. 

He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)

The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man. 

Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello  

Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost. 

[keyrousse]

 💬 💬 💬 my fat fingers disapprove of this symbol 😆

Thank you very much! :)

3 symbols, three quotes :)

1. A scene from "Consequences" that was "[insert some poetic description here]" in the first draft and I literally rolled my eyes at my past self when I got to that moment while editing. I don't know if it's poetic, but that's the best I could come up with at that point:

They lay down and take their time to admire the colours of the evening sky, full of reds and pinks, with clouds like cotton wool scattered over them, reflecting the sun, with some sparks dancing on them, looking nothing like he’s ever seen. Those must be reflections, too, but he has no idea of what: they flow like water, but they’re so bright the water must be shining on its own. It looks like magic, and soon he feels like he’s flying among those clouds; he feels lightheaded and he grabs the grass by reflex, afraid he’ll fall. Once he’s sure he’s safe, he allows his mind to wander and fly, listen to the birdsong, watch the sparks and flowing colours until the sky is dark. Even then, the white reflections are visible and their dance is soothing. He allows himself to let go of all worries from the last few weeks he spent working with Rience. He doesn’t think of the future. He just stares at the lights and feels at peace for the first time in years.

2. The very tense friends-to-lovers from the end of my whumpy "Broadchurch" fic:

Fuck it, Ellie thinks.

“You know, those first hours after your accident, when we didn't know whether you'd survive, they were some of the worst moments of my life, about as bad as when you told me that Joe had killed Danny,” she says. Alec’s still looking at her, the wine in his hand almost forgotten. Ellie can’t stop now. “There you were, in the hospital bed, probably dying, and I could only think how you’d been the only person who'd talk to me when my best friend loathed me, who would distract me, see me as someone other than the murderer’s wife whose anger let the murderer go free, show me there’s a reason we do this. I was scared shitless for you.”

“Ellie…”

She puts her glass on the table and wipes her tears away.

“I couldn’t imagine losing you, you goddamn knob, and I hated you for this, hated you for making me care about you. I hate you, and you’re here, still my boss and my best friend who’s seen me at my lowest.”

“Ellie…” Alec repeats and it sounds like a whine. His glass is on the table already and he turned towards her, he’s sitting with one leg bent on the couch, the foot of the other on the floor, his hands on his lap twitching uncomfortably like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“And this?” she continues and hears herself raise her voice as she’s simply unable to stop the flow of words anymore, she doesn’t care whether they make much sense. “Whatever is happening here between us, this is new, this is terrifying, but I know that you’ll be able to take anything I’ll throw at you, and you won’t be ever able to push me away and damn I’m so scared that we ended up at this point, but I’ve seen you in that hospital bed, seen you here, just now, among my own friends and I care about you and being just your friend is not enough anymore.”

3. this little scene between the witcher brothers happily working at Vizima Police (yes, I know, boring), from "Appearances". It's only a part of their conversation, but I loved the relationship between them, with Lambert being his adorable self.

“Lambert, what are you doing here?” he asked and opened the case files again. “I thought you’d be busy processing all the information from that very successful drug bust.”

“I was, but apparently I was pissing everyone off, so they told me to go down here,” the man, Lambert, replied with a shrug. He turned his chair around and leaned his forearms on the backrest in front of him. “They say it calms me down, though I have no idea why, since I hate your pretty mug.”

He spoke with a somewhat hoarse voice, absolutely devoid of emotions.

“I’m flattered,” Geralt replied dryly.

“But seriously, you know the feeling when it seems you have everything, yet something’s missing and you have no idea what?” Lambert asked.

“Yep,” Geralt popped the ‘p’. “You think you missed something?”

“I think we just busted another middleman and we’re not any closer to the higher-ups.”

Geralt glanced at him.

“You know, every bust brings you closer to the top, so…” Eskel started.

“Bullshit,” Lambert cut in, “at this point we need a miracle.”

[monkey-network]

Why Klaus IS Christmas Kino

Klaus isn’t flawless, let’s get this out the way. My love for this film won’t deny that it bears a couple nits that can distract the experience. Jesper and Alva’s relationship felt like an eye-rolling inevitability, notable cliches here & there, a notable song felt both fitting and out of place, and while enjoyable, I’m not as big a fan of the climax as I thought. But in spite of it all, I love this film and it is one of the best modern animated Christmas films, period? Follow me here. I could go on about its wonderful animation cuz yeah, it’s unlike any other film. But a philosophy of mine is that the best animation enhances the writing and I can say Klaus is that surprisingly well written and has become an all time Christmas fave

*deep breath in* So let’s do this...

I mention that Klaus has its cliches, but you gotta know that it’s smarter than expected. Believe me when I say if the writers didn’t care, this could’ve actually been so much worse. Jesper could’ve been more manipulative towards everyone for his goals, Klaus would’ve given up entirely after knowing the truth about Jesper, we could’ve had an argument between Jesper and his dad about upholding business, the townsfolk could’ve reverted back to their old ways, plenty writing moments where this could’ve been Emoji Movie levels of insulting to your intellect. BUT, they don’t. The film never really turns back on itself, it keeps moving where, as the notable quote goes, an act of good will sparks another as it starts with Jesper’s father.

Even if nepotism was responsible for Jesper getting the job in the first place, he clearly sees his son be more spoiled than he’s worth so is like, “Ma boi, I will send you to the ends of the earth or leave you to the streets if you don’t do something with yourself.” He never cared about his son representing the postal company, or ruining his top class image, he was only tired of Jesper taking advantage of his fortune while not having any ambition of his own. Can’t help but say Jesper’s dad is a very respectable character because the sole reason the whole plot happened in the first place was because he just wanted his son to do better. It’s that act of genuine consideration that pushes Jesper to his wake up call as he reaches Smeerensburg.

People have compared this movie to Emperor’s New Groove through Jesper’s character and I say yes, but this film takes that next step and put Jesper in the pit of pits way early. Reminds me more of Ratatouille’s beginning where Remy’s lowest point is around the same time as Jesper’s. The harsh atmosphere of the island is treated very blunt in how this is our mailman’s nightmare come true. With his situation, our guy is truly at his lowest. Gives up now, he’ll be cut off his inheritance and probably will have worse. Everyone hates him and each other, his post office itself is in shambles, symbolic of how communication is practically thin outside conflict, and the teacher turned fish seller Alva is that path Jesper could notably be if he didn’t try. Everything is literally grey for this guy, but like Ratatouille, when you’re at your lowest there’s no where else to go but up. That’s where Klaus comes in...

This is genuinely the most clever interpretation of Santa I know, hands down. A well established woodsman, a crafter both of living, for him and the birds that reside in his woods, and recreation with the toys he made himself not just for kids, but specifically the kids he and his wife wanted but couldn’t have. Klaus feels like a real person, not just another take on the mythical man. You’re with him and Jesper as he, after familiar winds provide him a letter, a small spark to do something good, soon opens up and gets reminded of what’s kept him going all these years. It is no wonder he sees his wife in Jesper, it’s thanks to him that he could refurbish his dashed dream into a new one. He didn’t just want to do it for the children of the island, but for himself. That is another thing about this film: communication. I mention before how it’s practically thin at first due to a long going feud that isn’t even aware of why it’s still going. The joy in hate is only for hatred’s sake, and they make it very clear how miserable it all feels. That is where Jesper comes in. They don’t take shortcuts with how he gets the ball rolling, both accidentally and purposefully, he boots up to get things done, pushes himself to go to Klaus to make things happen. This is all in part by the youth, what really ties the plot together...

As I mentioned before (again), life in Smeerensburg is noticeably miserable but thanks to Klaus, by extension Jesper, the kids are enticed to do what it takes to get some genuine joy in their lives through the toys they’re able to get. They’ll make them letters, and if they can’t write, they’ll go to Alva for teachings, and if they act naughty, they’ll try to do good which in turn pushes the adults to do good for the sake of their kids. It really would’ve been one thing to sure enough make the kids spoiled because of the toy giving, focusing more on the extrinsic value of Klaus’s kindness but no. The children are very grateful for these gifts enough to feel compelled to do good, and it makes them feel good as much as it soon makes the adults more convinced to stop fighting. It helps that this all takes place in older times cuz I believe this would’ve been far different, possibly worse, if this took place in modern times. That or just kinda rip off Arthur Christmas, it’s my guess. As such, it gradually becomes an amazing Christmas film because it isn’t just the presents, the Santa Claus myth, the festive style of it all that makes this holiday special to me. It’s the warmth... of togetherness.

My favorite detail about Klaus is how it transitions from cold to warm with its atmosphere. We start out with the emptiest, harshest environment, enough fog to choke your eyes, and then we get to this moment with a brighter, clearer sight of the more united town as the Christmas spirit builds in the film, even when it isn’t even that day yet in-universe, so too does the warmhearted feeling that can come from celebrating it appear more and more. This film fleshes out more of what the Grinch taught me, what A Charlie Brown Christmas taught me, what I’ve come to appreciate about Christmas as I grew up in this materialistic world. I can say everyday can have the Holiday spirit, but Christmas is the time where I feel compelled to be grateful of what I’ve made and got and give back when honestly, I don’t care about getting the most expensive stuff anymore like I used to when I was way younger. This film is so sincere in what it wants to say, and you know this is indeed the same guy that made Minions. Yeah, not kidding and I’ll let you sit with that if you’re reading this as I continue because we have to talk about that moment...

Yeah, I don’t like being the Nostalgia Critic, but I too don’t take kindly to the ‘liar reveal’ trope myself and this could’ve been a point where the film lost me a little. Though you know what? It still works. See, with that trope, what sucks is that it can tend to unravel the plot to where you know as soon as they break apart, they’ll get back together regardless of the deed done. This is why I don’t like A Bug’s Life, don’t @ me. But I’m not saying it can’t done right, like in Over the Hedge. The breakup between Jesper and the others is painful, but it is necessary to give us a couple great character moments. One is with Jesper and his dad, who came back personally to see that Jesper has indeed built something for himself. We get no dialogue between them but it’s clear that even when Jesper’s unintentionally successful thanks to Yzma and Bubba, he can tell his son wasn’t happy leaving everything behind, so he lets him stay since that was what he truly wanted this whole time. Again, give that man some credit for amazing dad. Another moment comes before the big reveal where not only do we see Jesper come to understand his own guilt surrounding his original intentions, but in the end they never hated him for coming back, especially due to him inadvertently stopping the enemy feud all together. Lastly, without that moment, we probably wouldn’t have got this smile. When Margu, purest character ever that I could make a whole segment about but I don’t wanna keep you too long, started to tear up after calling for Jesper thinking he left for good but she then sees our guy never really left and we get this teary smile:

I felt that. Almost more than anything else in this film.

Cliched as it can appear, the execution excels in those more memorable emotions for this film. It’s been a year since I watched this again and I remember so much about these characters. And my god, I haven’t even gotten to the animation which... my god.

Klaus is indeed the most beautiful upon beautiful films I’ve seen, and what makes it better is that it all enhances the story. I mention before of its transitional visual from cold to warm sights, but goddamn, the character designs, the environments, the expressiveness, the textures all amount to style perfect for this alone. I think it would’ve as well received if it had a more flat look, but they seriously went higher for a traditional appealing story that compliments the unique children’s storybook look of it all. This honestly is better than most of modern Disney films that I’ve seen, ironic since it feels like if you took Tangled the Series and made it 3D with more fluid character animation. And if I’m comparing something to the continuous mindblower that’s Tangled the Series, you’ve most certainly got on my best side.

Sergio Pablos and his team really pulled no punches in making this a great movie. A great Christmas movie, one worth seeing if not at least once but every Holiday season for tradition’s sake. Klaus gave me a good time, made me cry, and above all showed me to never stop having a good heart because doing good can indeed go far, thankless as it can be. Heck, my heart felt more rejuvenated than before in making this critique, that’s a testament to how much good this film means to me personally. What else is there to say?

It's The Best

[ssson-of-sparda]

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music.          Never thought he would come back here one day.                   His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries.     Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle.          “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.”           Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda.           “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.”           “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided.       “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be.   “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.”        “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him.        “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!”  If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.”        Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was.       “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his.             “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?”           New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash.    “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out.       “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?”          “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile.          “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.”           “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?”   Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!”            “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.”          “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.”     And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that.           “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was.             God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue.            “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.”            “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there.      “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes.  “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.”            Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were?    “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but …         “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should.            He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was.    Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all.            “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits.         “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence.             “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference.           “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son.         “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right.  “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them.         “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.”         “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive.      “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.”    In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

[batsinurbelfrey]

Alright everybody. It’s time to talk about why what Stephen Johns is doing is so incredibly important.

I know this post wont perform, since no one here seems to care about Johns. But this NEEDS TO BE STATED. So I am here to fucking do it, after stewing in my feels for over a month. 

TW: Mental health, Suicidal ideation 

To start off, if you are having thoughts of suicide and feel you have no one to talk to, here are some resources. You are not alone. 

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Live Chat

DBSA Suicide Hotline:  1-800-273-8255

DBSA Suicide Hotline En Español :  1-888-628-9454

DBSA  Deaf, hard of hearing TTY and chat options

Now that we have gotten all the caveats out of the way. It’s time to dig into the meat of this. 

Stephen Johns, for the uninitiated, is an ice hockey Defenseman for the Dallas Stars. In 2018 he suffered a severe concussion and was left with post traumatic headaches so serve he was unable to play, and lived in constant pain. He spent 22 months on injury reserve, and during this time was told he would likely never play again, and also that there was seemingly nothing that could be done to fix his headaches. He traveled the country going from specialist to specialist trying invasive treatment after invasive treatment, all of which seemingly never taking. 

Luckily in the end, Johns was able to find a doctor who formulated a solution that helped him, and he made a slow recovery, even returning to the Stars roster earlier this year. However,  During those 22 agonizing months Johns experienced the lowest point of his life. The distance from his career and dreams, paired with the physical pain and feelings of being a burden to those around him drove him to often lay awake contemplating taking his own life. 

He spent months like this quietly, alone with his own dark thoughts and pain, trying to get through it all on his own. “As a man should”. Before finally, In an incredibly brave and strong series of moments, Opening up to his friends and family about what he was going through, and admitting that he needed their help and support. 

Now he has been vocal about how life changing this was for him, How he quite literally might not be alive today if it weren't for falling back on his support network, and trusting them to catch him. And how others should do the same, and that you are never truly as alone as you might feel in your darkest moments. 

Now this is already, at its core, a powerful and moving story and continuing message, but something that makes it so incredibly important is Johns’ profession, gender, and persona. 

Allow me to take us on a momentary detour, for context, specifically the complex issue of Metal Health and Societal Male Expectations. 

Here are some statistics to start us off:

The suicide rate among males is nearly four times higher than females on average

Among adults across all age groups, the prevalence of serious suicidal thoughts was highest among males aged 18-25 

Men were more likely to complete suicides and choose more violent suicide methods, significantly reducing the chances of a failed attempt 

Men who attempt suicide are on average 60% more likely to “succeed” 

Now, I imagine to a lot of you. These statements come as a shock, because mainstream media has for a long time now, in fiction and in news, painted suicide as a predominantly female issue. Something that clicks in with the societal puzzle pieces of being “delicate” and “emotional” as “women always are”. But the truth of the matter is that depression is chemical, and does not care what your gender is. 

Speaking of gender for a moment, going forward I am going to be using very black and white depictions of gender stereotypes. Know that this is because I am addressing society’s binary and expectations, and not because I in fact hold these views or think they apply to 100% of people’s life experiences. 

The key difference between male and female experiences with depression and suicidal ideation, is that because society has chosen to cast women as emotional by nature, there is little to no stigma around telling your closest loves ones how you are feeling, even well before things get to rock bottom. In fact it is frankly expected of women by society to gather and vent to one another about hard days or struggles. These outlets can be crucial in keeping ones head above water, or, even if one still ends up slipping below the surface, having those around them who notice and step in to help. 

Men, by contrast. are expected to be islands in and of themselves. And to weather personal storms with a stone-like stoic resolve. Showing emotion in many facets of life, is considered “not typical” of the “mainstream man’s man”.  Boys generally grow up being taught that emotions are weak and not for them.

While these views are frequently passed down via family they are absolutely reinforced by sports culture and male deceptions in film and television.  

Over the decades Film and Television have made decent strides to diversify these depictions, which is excellent and should not be overlooked, however sports has remained more or less unchanged. Which is a shame since many young boys will often have much stronger connections here, as these players are real humans the can and do tend to idolize.

THIS is why it is so incredibly impactful when sports players speak out about their mental health journeys, and spread messages of hope. 

Stephen Johns is by all accounts, A “Man’s man.” He checks all the boxes. 

Big framed, physically strong, farm boy

Simple clothes, Big beard, a big dog

Son of a former steel mill worker 

Humble and salt of the earth type 

even with all his money he remains in his small home town, where he drinks cheap beer in the same bar he always has, with the same locals he always has

just generally the “type” 

All this said, he still went through what he did, because as we stated above, Depression does not care who you are.  But now, with Johns coming forward and being vocal with his story. There are  children, teens, and young adults all across the country, in similar situations, that can look to Johns, as a “strong male idol”, and see him say “This is okay to feel” and “You are never alone, let people help you.”  And those words coming from someone with that position of “male authority” will hit so much harder than coming from someone these children trust less on the topic, for example perhaps, a mother, sister or female partner. 

I am in no way saying Stephen Johns has come out here and with his words, cured depression and suicidal ideation. But what I am saying is that what he is doing will cause a ripple effect he will never truly be able to know the extent of. To plant the seed in young boy’s minds that the system we have currently is failing them, but they don’t have to let it. 

He also joins the growing roster of men in sports speaking out about these struggles and normalizing them. And truly, the more the better, as each player that comes forward can inspire the players around them to speak up. And every bit we can contribute as individuals no matter how big or small to stop these boys from becoming statistics, is a worthwhile contribution 

He also put himself in the line of fire, to publicly be known for something that has such a strong stigma still for men, In an industry still deeply entrenched in the depths of toxic masculinity, and he did it because if he could help even one other person he knew it would be the right thing to do. And for that, he has my deepest respect and admiration. And I truly wish him all the best in life. 

Man’s a goddamn rock-star. SEND FUCKING POST. 

TL:dR : Young boys need more of their “Manly Idols” normalizing struggles with depression and asking for help, and Stephen Johns is out here PUTTING IN THE HOURS.

[secret-engima]

*kicks down door* WHO WANTS TO READ ME RAMBLE/RANT ABOUT THE GRALEA LEVEL IN FFXV AND WHY IT ACTUALLY WAS A GOOD LEVEL AND EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY THE NOCTIS ROUTE AT LEAST ONCE RATHER THAN THE GLADIO ROUTE EVEN THOUGH IT’S TERRIFYING AND FRUSTRATING.

No one?

WELL TOO BAD.

(Unless you haven’t played or watched the game yet and don’t want spoilers in which case TURN AWAY NOW).

...Ahem. *deep breath* Okay so I will forever stand by my opinion that chapter 13 of the game (the one that takes place on the train and then in Gralea) is Good™ and does exactly what it's supposed to in the narrative. That is not to say I don't hate it with a passion and didn't cheer when they added the Gladiolus route for those of us (like me) who didn't want to replay the Noctis route again, but I will stubbornly insist to anyone that wants to listen that the chapter's difficulty and wildly different tone and pacing was THE POINT of the darn thing and deserves some respect for it.

See, the game up to that point is, if not always lighthearted (because it's not), has still been something of an Adventure Story™. Yes there's horrible tragic things like Insomnia falling and Regis dying, but for the most part the gameplay is exploration and cool combat mechanics and the relationship between the four brothers. It's ... happy for a good chunk of it. There's this light at the end of the tunnel, this comfy assurance that there can be a happy ending, that this can all be fixed and tied up in a neat little bow somehow.

Then Altissia happens. Luna dies, Ignis is blinded, and the game puts you on literal rails, forcing you to go hurtling toward A Different Tone. Everyone is stressed, everyone is scared or angry. You’d THINK that this is the lowest point of the story and that surely there’s going to be an emotional reconciliation between Noctis and Gladio and then we’ll get back to exploring and saving the world and all that jazz.

Except we don’t.

The train scene with Ardyn and Shiva happens, and the entire heartbreak with Prompto happens, and that’s when things start to seriously crack. You lose all access to your magic while stuck in this narrow train, then you lose the Regalia, your symbol of freedom, your main way to travel through the game (even when you fast travel, the animation of arrival shows you getting out of the Regalia). You are now trapped in Gralea. In dark, hostile territory with one of your party missing, one of them blind, the other angry at you, and still no magic. Then a few minutes later you are forcibly separated from the rest of your party, the characters you’ve spent all game getting attached to, and leaning on, and laughing with. They are your last anchor points to the brother dynamic that has kept the whole game on a lighter note and now they are GONE. You have none of your weapons or skills, you have no idea where the others are (first time playing the game without spoilers anyway), you have NOTHING. No hope. No backup. No distractions from the fact that, oh yeah, this is a story where the Bad. Guys. Win. Are winning, have won, and all Noctis (all you) can do is take out the Ring that slowly killed Regis, that Luna died for, the thing that represents everything going wrong and all NOCTIS must do to fix it even when he is painfully, woefully unprepared ... and finally put it on. 

Noctis (and by extension you, the player) MUST shoulder the responsibility of being the king of a lost kingdom, of acknowledging that he IS the king, his dad was MURDERED, and Luna was killed for the thing you are now wearing and everything it means. It’s your only option until you eventually find the dead Ravus and take back Regis’s sword toward the middle/end of the level, which you can’t use recklessly because every swing drains your very life-force, forcing the Ring to still be your “best” option in many cases.

Most of that level is spent running, and hiding, and praying that the MT Units on the floor don’t leap up and try to murder you, or that the daemons don’t notice you, or that the teleporting daemon doesn’t find you, or that Ardyn will just SHUT UP because his taunts are really unhelpful right now.

The only hope you have left in this level is to grit your teeth and get through it with the Ring until you can reunite with your brothers and get magic back and go get the Crystal, the mcguffin of this whole game, and put the game back on the normal track of brotherly dynamics and fun quests. Just get to the Crystal, and everything will somehow start going back to normal.

And then that turns out to be a trap too.

Welcome to the final act of a tragedy, and your character is the one living through it. There will be no restoration of the norm until you’ve seen this to its final conclusion. There will be no light save for the one Noctis dies for.

Even when I first played that level (vanilla, not even a day one patch version btw because I was an idiot like that) and hated it because it was terrifying, I never thought it didn't belong in the story like ... quite a few comments I saw on the internet later insisted it didn’t. This is Noctis's story. This is Noctis's tragedy. THIS is the level that strips every last distraction and security blanket and shelter away from him and makes him put on the Ring and thus shoulder everything it represents. There is- terror here, there is trauma, there is GRIEF. This is practically Noctis's headspace without his brothers, because let's not forget that while we the players are having fun fishing and catching frogs for a silly scientist lady, Noctis is a refugee from an empire that MURDERED HIS FATHER and the FATHER OF HIS SHIELD-BROTHER, destroyed his HOME and then, right before Gralea, murdered Luna, the girl who he's known and talked to and confided in via letter for twelve years. This is a world falling into literal darkness (and if the player hadn’t noticed how the daytime cycle in the game kept getting shorter and shorter before this point YOU CERTAINLY NOTICE NOW) and it's up to Noctis- JUST Noctis, ONLY NOCTIS thanks to a Prophecy made long before he was ever born, to somehow Fix It™.

One person. Just one.

And he has to fix ... all of this.

How?

He doesn’t know. During the Gralea level he DOESN’T KNOW. All he (all we) know is that the Crystal is the key, but since the Crystal only answers to Lucis Caelums, that means Noctis is the key, and Noctis (and you the player) is painfully aware of how Not Ready he is.

And the weight of that is enough to render you helpless in the face of it. The fear of that is a maze. The terror of it is a monster following you down the halls that you cannot escape from and cannot kill while it laughs at your misery.

All of that is GRALEA. The capital city of the people who overthrew his home, killed his father, killed his fiancé, and isolated him from the last safety nets he had.

The entirety of chapter 13 isn’t meant to be enjoyed. It’s meant to make you scared. It’s meant to frustrate you and make you feel helpless. It’s meant to make you feel sick when you learn what the daemons and MTs you’ve been killing really are. It’s meant to make you RAGE against Ardyn, and the Empire, and this entire situation because you’re one person and you’re not prepared for this and it’s NOT FAIR and you just want things to go BACK TO THE WAY IT WAS AND ALL OF THIS SUCKS.

Yeah. It does.

And who else do you think feels like that?

Noctis.

Chapter 13 isn’t meant to be fun. It’s meant to make you feel like Noctis does.

And what emotions would you expect from someone who has just lost everything and is expected to fix everything for everyone else, and now has no distractions or shields between him and his grief?

I remember reading an article about “why this chapter failed” and it was basically to the order of “this game is about a fun road trip with your bros and reuniting with your fiancé and chapter 13 breaks away from that too hard” and I respectfully have to disagree.

This story isn’t about a “fun road trip” and it isn’t just about “reuniting with your fiancé”. From the very first cutscene we are told that it’s not in Regis’s desperate (and soon revealed as last) words to his son about setting forth on a journey and not being able to go back. We are told it’s not in the first hour or so when Insomnia burns and Noctis cries and Cor tells us that “in his last moments together he didn’t want to be your king, he wanted to be your father”. How is that a “fun story about a road trip?”. Yes the road trip IS fun for us, and it IS about the brother relationship, but in a large, LARGE part-

Final Fantasy XV is about a young man setting out into the world and facing the hardships of it. It’s about loss. It’s about regrets. It’s about how no matter how much you want them to, some things can never go back to the way they were yet you must keep going anyway. It’s about how the darkness of the world will just keep taking-taking-taking until someone is willing to pay the price to make it stop, and that sometimes a happy ending for the people you love most means giving up your own personal happy ending on their behalf.

Final Fantasy XV never really hid the fact that it was a tragic, bittersweet story.

But it’s in chapter 13 that the story refuses to let you mistake it for anything else any longer.

Could the chapter have been structured a little better so that the gameplay itself wasn’t so frustrating? Probably. I know almost nothing about game design so that’s not really my call. But does the chapter, for all its frustration and anger-inducing inversion of pacing and tone, brutally get the point across?

Maybe it’s just my opinion, but I’d say yes. Yes it does. Because this video game was the one that fully 100% convinced me, in a way that no other video game had before, that the platform could tell heart wrenching stories, could give me characters I would care for, cry over, rage on the behalf of.

And a big part of that clicked for me at the ending, but it likely wouldn’t have if I hadn’t first struggled my way through chapter 13 and all the emotions it causes and represents just like Noctis did.

...

There. I’m done. Thanks for reading my long-suppressed rant on the most hated chapter of FFXV.

[fireinmywoods]

You've mentioned before that Bones pretty much never calls Jim anything but "Jim." Do you think it's significant that at his birthday party, Bones has everyone toast to "Captain James T. Kirk," and not to "Jim"?

Well, he’s not “Jim” to all those folks, is he?

Sure, during informal downtime like this or a Meaningful Moment while on duty, one of the captain’s inner circle might occasionally call him by his given name - but Leonard knows at the party that he’s speaking to a room full of people who look at James Tiberius Kirk and see their captain first.

Oh, granted, he’s their much adored captain: the captain who traded his life for theirs, the captain they’d gladly follow into hell because he’s proven that he has what it takes to get them out the other side. Any one of the people in that room would jump in front of a phaser blast for him. (In fact, Uhura effectively did just that earlier in the movie.) They admire him; they trust him with their lives; they are fiercely devoted to him. They love him, each in their own way - the senior crew especially - and they know that he loves them in return.

But none of them love Jim the way Leonard does.

They couldn’t if they wanted to, because none of them know Jim like Leonard does. The crew has been through a whole hell of a lot with their revered captain, but Leonard is the one who’s seen him at his worst, at his weirdest, at his lowest and loneliest and most unguarded. He alone has scraped Jim off bar floors and put him to bed on the couch under his granny’s quilt to sleep it off and been awoken the next morning by the melodious sound of hangover puking in the head. He alone has stuck steadfastly by Jim’s side since the day he met the already disreputable bar brawler on the shuttle, took in the busted face and the bloodstained shirt and the small empty smile that didn’t reach those absurdly blue eyes, and decided they were two of a kind. He alone devoted himself to Jim long before that was a popular or even justifiable thing to do, before Jim had proven himself to Starfleet or his peers, before it became unmistakably clear that Jim Kirk was going to Be Somebody.

Leonard loves Jim in a different way than his fellow crew members do, shares a different kind of bond with him, and he’s a touch protective of that love and that bond. I wrote recently that Jim mostly refers to Leonard as Dr. McCoy to the rest of the crew because Bones isn’t really for anyone else. Well, the same holds true in the other direction. Leonard sees only Jim when he looks at him, always, no matter the situation, but he’s not necessarily eager to share him with the rest of the class. The crew can have Captain James T. Kirk, so long as Leonard never loses Jim.

+

Consider this: Jim’s birthday isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone on the Enterprise knows that Jim was born the same day as his father’s famously heroic sacrifice, the same day as an historic event they literally study at the Academy. Every idiot in Starfleet knows that date, at least in the abstract. But Leonard is the only one who understands Jim’s complex relationship with his father’s memory, because Leonard is the only one Jim’s ever been willing to open up to about it. So it’s Leonard who makes a point of acknowledging Jim’s birthday even though he knows from all their years of shared history that Jim would have him ignore it, and it’s Leonard to whom Jim ruminates on what it means for him to be turning 30, and it’s Leonard who says to him: “You spent all this time trying to be George Kirk, and now you’re wondering just what it means to be Jim.”

Leonard cares more than anyone else on the crew about Jim finding the answer to that question, because it’s always been Jim he’s concerned with first and foremost. He’d follow him anywhere - hell, death itself, or even (shudder) New Vulcan - not so much because he trusts him as a captain, but because he wants to be where Jim is. If Jim were to decide to leave the great Captain Kirk behind and instead take on the role of a vice-admiral or an Academy instructor or a goddamn pig farmer, Leonard would be right behind him, grumbling the whole way and death-glaring anyone who suggested he didn’t actually have to follow Jim’s lead if he was so aggrieved about it.

Not that that’s likely to happen any time soon. Jim is an outstanding starship captain: it’s a role perfectly suited to his strengths and passions, and (outside of the odd existential crisis) it’s deeply fulfilling and gives him both the community and the sense of purpose he’s been chasing his whole life. Leonard understands that even better than Jim does; thus the party. But at the end of the day, captaincy is only a role, a means to an end, and Leonard is far more devoted to the man than to the chair. He just wants Jim to be happy - and to be happy, he just wants Jim.

+

I want to be clear that in no way am I seeking to devalue the relationships Jim has with all the other folks at the party. The Enterprise crew is a textbook case of found family, and Jim and Leonard both have incredibly rich and meaningful relationships with many other people. And at the end of the day, they are a family which exists because they are a crew, because they’re stuck with each other for (at minimum) five long, crazy, claustrophobic years, because they have been through no end of shit together, because their bonds and sense of shared identity are what keep them alive and sane and kicking ass as the very finest crew in the Fleet.

And, like many families, they will change, grow, and scatter over the years. Alone or in pairs, crew members will take promotions, accept new assignments, or retire from active starship duty. Many of them will prioritize remaining with these people on this ship for as long as they can, but eventually even Captain Kirk himself will leave the command chair, and life and duty for his hundreds of former crew will go on. The core group will almost certainly come back together occasionally, professionally and otherwise, but in the times between, their bonds be stretched across lightyears, a little muted and faded by the immediacy of daily life. Everyone is the hero of their own story, after all, and those stories will take them through new places and new adventures and new relationships and, yes, new families too.

Jim and Leonard are a different kind of family. They became that for each other long before they came onboard the Enterprise, and the essence of their relationship is unaffected by pesky details of rank or mission. Leonard will never accept reassignment or seek advancement if it means going somewhere without Jim. He’s a doctor, not a ladder-climber, and he’s never been especially passionate about Starfleet or its mandate. He’ll stay on the Enterprise as long as Jim does, and when Jim leaves, he’ll follow him wherever he goes next. Simple as that.

(I have a...complicated...relationship with the comics, but I’d be remiss not to note here that of all Jim’s tight-knit and loyal crew, Leonard is the one who ships out with him on the Endeavour in the Boldly Go comics - even taking a demotion to do so - not long after the birthday party in question.)

+

You may have noticed that I haven’t even touched on the capital-L Love aspect of things. The birthday party is pre-paradigm shift, by my reckoning, and I honestly believe that all of the above holds true whether or not you imagine that they are inevitably headed toward romance. Leonard and Jim’s relationship is just different in AOS. Their friendship is older and deeper and more exclusive than in the original timeline. They’ve grown together in every way, become more integral to each other’s sense of self. They are simply different people than their TOS counterparts, Jim especially, and I’d argue that Jim being a different person has made Leonard a different person along the way.

But, as I so often say, that’s a post for another day.

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter Two

Ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.

Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit.

Word Count: 8,626

Rating: M (+18) oral sex m!receiving

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found. 

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart. 

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

Paz had lucked out. 

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you. 

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him. 

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now. 

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest. 

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him. 

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls. 

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step, unbelievable, you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence. 

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up. 

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed. 

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content. 

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean, probably not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it. 

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone. 

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers. 

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. "Jee-uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around. 

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and harrumphed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him.  "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always." 

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants. 

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship. 

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you. 

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously. 

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons. 

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again. 

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped. 

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises. 

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you. 

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made. 

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing. 

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and lots of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water. 

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything. How didn't he owe anything? Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up. 

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the Kote. He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm. 

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines? 

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive. 

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal. 

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull. 

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt. Dank farrik. Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave. 

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome. 

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

"Wha-no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact. 

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point. 

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on. 

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs. 

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard. 

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested. 

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I-Yes," he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache. 

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy. If he could even get in. 

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest. 

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more. 

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod. 

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg. 

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths. 

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accommodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator. 

"G-good. Fuck -- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare.  

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked. Oh fuck. Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue? 

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it. 

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man. 

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt. 

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him. Please never end. But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.

[cogentranting]

Arrow 1x05 Rewatch

. Oliver’s little smirk when Lance is interrogating him. I live for it. 

“You can speak to Mr. Queen’s attorney when he gets here.” He? Where’s Jean Loring? 

“He also thinks I dress up in a mask and a green hood and shoot people. With arrows.” The audacity of Oliver. 

“she knows me better than anyone. She knows I could never be this guy.” OLIVER. I mean. Again. the audacity. Especially because he reveals later that he planned this. That he WANTED to get arrested. And he just has this whole plan revolving around this front of “Laurel knows me so well. She’s the only one who really knows me and she knows I’m not a killer.” When really the crux of the plan is how much Laurel does NOT know him and he plans on exploiting that. Amazing. 

“He raised her to do the right thing and that includes representing an innocent man.” Okay. So. My indiscriminate glee with the irony and Oliver’s attitude aside. This whole set up is really interesting. It reminds me actually of the moment in the season 5 flashbacks when he goes to see Galina (Taiana’s mother) and lies to her and manipulates her with this nice persona which is actually at that point more a mask than his Kapiushon identity. And that scene has always been really interesting to me because it’s Oliver pretending to be a good man at a time when he’s not, and while he lies a lot and puts on masks throughout the series, that particular aspect of it is fairly unique because it comes at what is basically Oliver’s lowest point (morally). And this episode (1x05) is similar in it bringing out this very manipulative side of Oliver that we don’t see in this way all that often (and remember that moment in 5x17 and this moment in 1x05, are actually very close together chronologically. Somewhere between 2 and 7 months apart.) The idea that Oliver, knowing full well that he is attacking and killing people, gets Laurel involved on the basis of this very emotionally laden appeal, citing their history and the connection they had, especially considering the role that Laurel believing oliver to be more moral than he really was played in Oliver cheating on her, and using not only her perception of him, but the way that him reaching out to her would be perceived... it’s cunning, and it’s effective, and it’s kinda messed up. 

But like.... legally... can Laurel represent her ex-boyfriend who her father arrested?

It’s ALL so calculated to manipulate how people perceive him. Appearing in court without a lawyer until Laurel agrees to do it. Protesting the tracking anklet. Throwing the party. His response to the plea deal. 

Speaking of calculated. Oliver knows what that blue sweater is doing to make his eyes pop. He knows. 

But Malcolm and Walter acting like they have no idea why Quentin would have a grudge against Oliver. LIke come one guys. You know. 

I just. I love the polygraph scene. For so many reasons. 

In the same vein about Oliver manipulating people’s perception of him in this episode, what makes this episode great are the places where it’s unclear even to the audience how much of Oliver’s reactions are genuine and how much is purposefully done to affect how Laurel and Quentin see him. Even in the polygraph scene-- did he get pushed into revealing that he was tortured on the island? Or did he see a way around that answer and reveal it anyway to gain sympathy? Did he actually get hung up on his guilt over Sara’s death (which is of course very real) or did he use that guilt as a way of covering up the answer to “have you ever killed anyone” because he knew he couldn’t beat the polygraph on that one? Did reliving his torture and Sara’s death actually overwhelm him to the point that he had to run out, or was he able to keep those reactions in check but put on the act to convince them?  The same idea is present in the scene later in the episode where he shows Laurel his scars and talks about how damaged he is. And we know that there is intentional manipulation going on because Diggle and Oliver’s conversation at the very end-- “So you lied. Or maybe you just gave her a version of the truth.” “I told her what she needed to hear.”-- and we know that there is truth (Oliver IS damaged, he IS guilt-ridden over Sara’s death, he IS traumatized by the torture he suffered) but we don’t know exactly where the line is between the two. 

I also think that Laurel and Quentin’s different reactions are interesting. When Oliver says that he was tortured, Laurel’s mouth is literally hanging open, she’s so shocked. But Quentin doesn’t react. Unlike Laurel he already knew about the scars so part of it is probably just that he put together that either Oliver was tortured in some capacity or he was horrifically cutting himself. But even if he had forewarning of it, just the idea that at this point he is so broken and angry over Sara’s death that he can look at someone who, even if he never really liked, he’s probably known since Oliver was in jr high. To hear this kid you watched grow up say he was tortured and not even react...

Love how little effort everyone at this party put into the theme

“If you think this is what prison’s like you are in for a rude awakening.” So i think this is mainly a joke because clearly Oliver doesn’t think prison is like his little rave thing. But. I do think that even though Diggle has some sense of what Oliver’s been through, because he still thinks Oliver spent those entire 5 years on the Island, Diggle thinks that Oliver doesn’t have a great sense of the real world. Just the world of the fabulously wealthy and the world of deserted islands. While in reality Oliver actually has spent time in some very different walks of life between Russia and Hong Kong and Hub City. 

“I just don’t like being played. Now you might have gotten used to lying to everyone else in your life but I’m the one guy you don’t lie to.” And here we are with that manipulation motif again. Oliver who at this moment actually has no reason to lie to Diggle, can’t trust enough to actually just present his plan to Diggle. He has to pull strings and manipulate to get him to go along with it. At this point trust is so hard for Oliver that it’s easier to just have a different mask for everybody. 

“I can’t remember the last time that I was in this room.”  “I can. Halloween 2005.”  But that’s 2 years before the Gambit sinking. Why was Laurel not in this room for 2 years prior to  that? she was dating Oliver? this is presumably his room? and if it’s NOT his room then its... just a random one? And why would she even comment on it? 

“There were times that I wanted to die. In the end there was something I wanted more.” The clear implication that Oliver is making is that Laurel was sort of his inspiration to keep going throughout his five years. And I’m not so against the Laurel Oliver ship that I’d deny that that is a factor of Oliver’s motivation during his time there. Particularly during the seasons 1 and 2 flashbacks, and at the very end of season 5 (which, if we understand the story chronologically, is probably the specific moment that Oliver is referring to here-- when he was drugged and in pain and had a gun to his own head and hallucinated Laurel convincing him not to kill himself. Which was only like 2 months prior to this conversation). But Laurel and getting back to her is really only referenced a handful of times throughout the flashbacks. That’s probably in part due to the series moving away from her as the main love interest/female lead. But I think its also a disservice to Oliver as a character to reduced his motivation down to that. Oliver is much more driven by 1. a general will to survive (something that is a dominant trait of his but also often in conflict with his suicidal ideation) 2. a concept in his mind of owing his life to others-- he feels he has to fix his father’s wrongs, he has to protect his mother and sister, he has to come make amends to Laurel etc.-- what he owes to others takes utmost priority (and that’s why often his suicidal thoughts come in this form and also have to be combatted in this form-- he thinks he should die because others would be better off without him, vs he should live because they love/need him) 3. a need to atone for his own sins. Interestingly, I think that even when Laurel is serving as Oliver’s motivation, it’s not as much his love for her driving him as a need to make things right with her (in the flashbacks. In the present in season 1 and somewhat season 2, his love for her is more dominant, and often in conflict with his desire to set things right which is why, especially early on, you get weird back and forth between pushing her away and trying to get close to her). 

“Impressive. you have resolve I didn’t credit you for.” Oliver’s iron will is such a central part of his character and contrary to what a lot of people believe, its not something forged into him on the island. It’s something he starts with. And I wonder what that looked like in his youth? Probably a lot more like season 1 Thea (who has that same iron will). 

This arms dealer looks like a discount Vince Vaughn. 

It hurts my heart to see Quentin and Oliver at odds like this. 

“But if any member of my family so much as gets a papercut... I will burn your entire world to ashes.” I love the Queen family so much. 

Oliver: “Good heart to heart Diggle. I’m gonna go kill someone now.”

[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.