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c7thetumbler · 11 months ago

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Quick Game reviews: January 2024

... Huh that banner looks pretty empty without a years worth of games on a lot of different platforms on it. I'll have to think of a better way to fill space

Anyway, let's be a bit better about being on top of this. Also, instead of just scrubbing google without mentioning where I got the screenshots from, I'm going to start putting link where I got the screenshots from underneath. If I didn't put it, it's art from that game's store page.

Most of these games were ones I picked up in bulk during the Steam winter sale, so there's a few weird ones.

Slay the Spire (Steam)

Opening up with a strong one. I'm very late to Slay the Spire; so late that I had believed that it was much older than it was because just everyone had referenced it so many times and I still hadn't touched it I didn't realize it's only like 5 years old.

It holds up very well! A Rogue-like card game the plays a lot like Dominion but vs enemies instead of other players, with RPG elements to top it off. Despite having "beaten" it, I keep going back to it and I'm having a great time. It helps having played dominion before, as you have moments playing this kind of game where you realize core aspects of it. For example, taking all of the best cards every time you can isn't a great idea, as the more cards you have the less chance you have at drawing any one of them. It's better to have cards that combo well together, or with relics you've acquired, than to have a bunch of good cards that don't. It's best to stick to a particular aspect of your character, like focusing on whether you want to play The Silent as a machine gun that can rapid fire shiv the enemy dozens of time in a turn, or a tanky poisoner who can last for a long time to build up poison stack. It's much more beneficial to pick one while you're gathering your materials, than it is to say "Well attacking a lot is a nice and passive poison is also nice" and doing neither well.

It was also interesting having gone back and played this after having played so many lazy game projects or cash grab games that just did this exact style of gameplay and didn't make it interesting. I had no idea I was literally just playing Slay the Spire, but not as good.

Highly recommend it! It's a very fun game, and a good time to just play a round or two while you're watching a video.

Mail Mole + 'Xpress Deliveries (Steam)

This is a game I 100%'d!

Mail Mole is a linear 3D platformer akin to Super Mario 3D world, but you play as mole who digs underground and can combo dashing with jumping and good timing you can really blast through levels. You collect carrots instead of coins, turnips instead of green stars or giant coins, and each level has it's own time goals for bronze, silver and gold medals.

It's pretty fun! The jumping takes a bit to get used to as your jump happens when you release the button instead when you press, and your momentum from your dash carries over but only for a set amount of time after a landing dash. Overall the controls are easy to understand. With some practice and an understanding of how comboing jumps and dashes works, the game can feel pretty satisfying, if a little bit floaty, as you fly from platform to platform attempting to not fling yourself off the ledge long enough to make it to the end and get the gold medal.

As far as content goes, there's 8 "worlds" each with 4 levels. Additionally each world has a vs bot mode where you race 3 npc bots to the end of a level for an additional power cell, the game's main progression collectible. There's a significant amount there, and with the extra 'Xpress Deliveries levels it's worth its weight. I ended up with 7 hours on the game, which for an indie platformer is pretty good.

That being said, the game isn't necessarily very challenging. Jumps are pretty straightforward, with some rare exceptions, and if you just want to "beat" the game you can do so without breaking much of a sweat. The real meat of it is trying to get everything and do well in the levels to get those medals, which also isn't an extreme task. 100%'ing it took 6.7 hours, and I was never really stuck on a single level more than 2-3 replays after the intial run through the level

Overall, I'd recommend it to fans of laid back 3D platformers; if you've play 3D land, suzy cube, or other cartoony 3D indie platformers, you'll be right at home here

screenshot from The Cutting Room Floor

Mario Party 3 (N64, Switch Online)

This was one of things that I, as a child, had decided I would do someday, and then each time I played it over the years I kept thinking, "Oh I never did Get S Rank Miracle star in the story mode on Hard Mode to see if you get anything" and then proceeded to not do play it. I finally changed that!

.... It wasn't worth it. While at the time Mario Party 3 had a lot of uniqueness and charm, nowadays it's simply just been outdone, and the sheer amount of minigames in modern Mario Parties just outclasses it. Additionally, getting those scores is hard as balls, getting all the minigames requires a substantial amount of luck, and in true Mario Party fashion you can just lose everything very suddenly and that's just on you.

Nostalgia carries the N64 Mario parties pretty hard, and in a world where Mario Party Superstars and Super Mario Party exists it just doesn't hold up. Also Mario Party 2 is better.

The Citadel

What a title I have a cursed history with. anyway.

I did end up playing this for not very long. I have a long history with Doom and similar fast paced mindless shooters (Boomer shooters? is that what the kids are calling it?), so when I saw this game on the store a few years ago I shoved it on my wishlist. I finally picked it up, and it's pretty tough from what I've played. But I just quickly lost interest; didn't feel as satisfying or punchy as Doom does and I had other games to play. I haven't played this enough for a great recommending opinion, but my first impression is that it's just fine.

Screenshot from promotional screenshots on the game's Steam page

Pseudoregalia (Steam)

Props to my boy Keewy for streaming this and making me think "Huh I could try that".

This game's incredibly good. But obviously not everyone's cup of tea. You play as a tall rabbit goat woman who fights with a big cross baton and platforms using a variety of skills you pick up along the way. It's very much focused solely on the skilled platforming aspect within rooms. Like if Celeste was a bit slower paced, 3D, and had progressive upgrades in an open environment. I guess that's probably not a sensible comparison; It's more like if Metroid Prime was solely melee, 3rd person, and focused on platforming. It's hard to describe in text, but a quick look at some gameplay and you'll get it.

A key aspect of this is it doesn't take any time to explain to you what's going on, how to play, or even where you're at. You start out basically only able to jump, and through some well paced rooms slowly get the idea of how to attack, and a couple of hallways later your path branches out to a number of different ways where you can go and explore. There is no map, so you'll have to make note of areas you've not been able to fully explore before moving onto another area and trying your hand at that. The major upgrades all tend to be very well done, often giving you non-standard movement options that give you different ways of approaching jump situations that don't necessarily have just the one solution.

Most of the game consists of hallways and big rooms with an N64/ PSX aesthetic, with blocky geometry but gothic-reminiscent architecture and texture. The music does a good job of complimenting these areas, making the time you spend attempting to chain wall kicks and dashing slides to get to the next platform feel like you're wandering surreal, oppressive hallways but with a sense of curiosity and freedom given by the game's abilities.

I'm not sure if that made a whole lot of sense. But I collected everything because it was just really fun! Take a look at a gameplay video, and if you like the look of the gameplay the game delivers very well on the whole experience

Screenshot from promotional screenshots on the game's Steam page

Lil Gator Game (Steam)

I 100%'d this one as well:

Another 3D platfomer, but this time a very open world setting. Basically a very small version of Breath of the Wild where your main actions are to attack, jump, float, and climb. You play as a little gator, whose acting a out a legend of zelda style adventure with cardboard monsters and animal friends as NPCS with quest givers in order to inspire your Sister, who used to play these games with you, to join in on the fun instead of focusing on her college work.

It's a very simple game; you're never really going to have moments where you don't know what to do or feel stuck, and you can't even take damage because "kids can't die in video games." Instead, it's solely about roaming around, finding all your friends and doing their quests (solving their problems) so they will go back to the main hub area and build up the adventure town for your game.

It's a very chill romp, and I'd recommend it to anyone who just wants to turn their brain off and jump around with a cute little game with an adorable story and aesthetic.

Screenshot is a screengrab from a frame of the trailer on the game's Steam page

HAZAMA_QUEEN (Steam)

Another 100 % (though it only took 45 minutes)

I'm not sure how this one ended up on my wishlist; I probably saw it during one of the steam sales that encourages you to go through your discovery queues and thought "sure why not."

This was interesting because it took a run or two to realize what the game actually wanted. It's not a doom style game where you try and shoot monsters and progress through the level; it's a fast-paced runner game where you MUST kill enemies and run to the level in time before your health meter runs out. This meter is of c0ourse only filled more when you shoot enemies, so it's a lot of balancing between making sure you kill what you need vs moving past it to actually finish the level.

Additionally at the end of each level you get a choice of 3 cards, which can give you different weapons and upgrades to help you go through future levels easier. These cards can be quite vague however, as the game was clearly originally made in Japanese and contains a number of references to streamers and culture that I didn't understand. Alternative weapons are half "this gun is more powerful probably" and half "what even is this thing", and the while the games aesthetic has some charm in clearly being a small passion project only one or two people worked on for fun, it doesn't really carry it very far and things are more weird than interesting. Like if I did get it it wouldn't add that much to the experience.

Overall, it's a fun, very short and fast-paced game. At $5 it's definitely not worth it, but I'd give it a try if it ever goes on sale for like a buck or lower.

Screenshot from promotional screenshots on the game's Steam page

Spidersaurs (Steam)

I didn't want to touch this game after I beat it lol.

The purely fictitious group of people, fans of mine, will know that me and Wayforward go back. Even before Shantae I was playing Mighty Flip Champs, and am generally a huge fan of their offerings outside of Shantae like the remake of Ducktales, Mighty Switch Force, and...

*squints at their catalogue*

Oh I guess I do mostly just like them for Shantae.

Anyway, on paper this game looks fun. I was never a huge fan of Contra because I get mad very easily, but this looked very campy and like it had enough unique charm to look past that. In reality, unfortunately, it plays like Contra with some hand drawn cartoony aesthetics that WayForward is known for, and doesn't really have tight enough level design or gameplay to make me want to go back anytime soon.

There's a number of levels, bosses, and even just enemies that just don't feel right; nothing's particularly satisfying to accomplish and it's very easy to get frustrated when you accidentally scroll the screen too far and now you can't go back or die off the bottom. Enemy placement can be infuriating, and in an effort to keep you moving there's an enemy that comes out of nowhere and attacks you if you sit still for too long. That got me more times than it should've while I was waiting for a weapon I didn't want to despawn, or waiting for an enemy to come out of its hole so I can shoot it.

The art's good. I'll give it that. WayForward continued its trend of quality visuals and the character design it's known for, but that can't carry a game. I'd give this one a pass.

Screenshot from promotional screenshots on the game's Steam page

Monster Girl Manager (Steam)

So I don't think I've played Darkest Dungeon, but I feel like it plays similar to this but without a few mechanics around bonding with your monster girls and swapping positions. THe general crux of it is that you summon randomly generated monster girls with their skills and abilities based off of the kind of creature they are and their personality (all defined in typical anime tropes, ie tsundere, yandere, etc) and try and build up their stats so you can progress through a 10 level section of the dungeon.

The dungeons themselves aren't too complex. Traversing the map takes energy and you run into events that can either help or harm you depending on your squad and enemies with aa variety of different attributes. Like Slay the Spire, you can run into a number of relics that improve your abilities and can try and get them to compliment your girls' playstyle to progress further. On paper, it's a pretty solid loop and I did find myself enjoying some of the dungeoneering and crazy combos.

In practice however, it's a lot of grinding. Whenever you start a 10 level section you begin with no relics, so you have to re-find stuff and build up again. This runs into trouble when you beat a boss easily, but then the next block is too hard for your girls' current stat, so you have to pass time improving them by managin their motivation and telling them to work jobs throughout the week that will lower their eneergy and motivation, but improve a specific stat, again dependent on the girl's type and personality.

Again, that doesn't sound too bad, however there are many limitations that just make this frustrating. Specifically, your girls only exist for a number of weeks (I think like 10 or something) before they fade away. New girls you summon are back at level one, so now you have to use your winnings from previous squad arrangements to upgrade your facilities and gear to help them level up *slightly* faster so you can get further with them. This puts an unnecessary amount of stress and grind time on top of an otherwise decent gameloop, and after my first squad got Ship of Theseus'd I was over it.

I would avoid this one; it's pretty grindy and not all that interesting past the initial premise, though it could be someone's cup of tea.

Also, to be clear, it's not lewd. Just very anime trope-y

Screenshot from promotional screenshots on the game's Steam page

Quake II (Steam)

Finishing up the list is the remasted version of Quake II that unexpectedly released halfway through last year. Quake II wasn't one that I played when I was a small'un, mostly limited to Doom, Doom II, and Chex Quest, but I did play the original Quake as well and saw my dad playing this in those years so I decided to give it a try.

The updated graphics and controls are refreshing; a lot of the time when revisiting this error you have to argue with the game to get it to play in a way that works for modern sensibilities, but this redo holds up very well. Something I didn't realize is this melds more with Half-life style gameplay than it does with the single-level action that Doom and Quake were known for. While the game is still broken into levels, each level has a number of interconnected sub areas that each have their own oibjectives, enemies, and secrets to find before you can finish and move onto the next, and they can get surprisingly long.

This is a classic and now can hold up to the test of time with this release; I very much recommend it!

________________________________

So how do I end shorter ones like this? DO I say my favorite game I played during this period?

I guess it would have to go to Pseudoregalia. While I thoroughly enjoyed and continue to play Slay the Spire, Pseudoregalia's satisfying gameplay, intriguing world, and well done level design stuck with me a lot harder than another well-done rogue-like did.

I also wanted to pick up Palworld, but have held off and will continue doing so for a bit while the dust settles and it continues to get updates, so that's why it's not on here.

#game reviews #slay the spire #quake ii #mail mole #Monster girl manager #spidersaurs #hazama_queen #lil gator game #mario party 3 #the citadel #pseudoregalia

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buffalojournal · 25 days ago

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Three Poems by Shane Kowalski

White Plains

Who wasn’t born in White Plains? I need a perfect other to relate to and eroticize. Or else? Or else my fanaticism wilts. I remember that time we both reached for your fallen umbrella in the rain. I remember wasting oodles and oodles of time doing nothing, parked in snowy parking lots. I have relics—eyeballs in jars, skeletons wearing sunglasses, a single letter of affection from the beautiful hermit of Lake Erie. What do you remember from those days before we could know anything we wanted?

Turnips

I was halfway to Okeechobee when I fell off the turnip truck. In a small town whose name I could never pin down. It was such a small town you ended up knowing everybody. Hell, even if it were a big town you’d know everybody! Would end up finding the love of your life there! What luck! Raising a rascal family! Oh, Beaver! Retiring thirty years later with a gold star and a potluck dinner! Mmm… What happened to the turnips, one can only guess. Perhaps they found their perfect ends, too. Perhaps the truck never stopped. Anything is possible.

What Did We Miss?

What if when they finally made it to Mars (after many failed attempts), all they found was a completely different timeline of what could’ve happened on Earth? But the timeline isn’t actively happening on Mars, but only displayed on a 10" monitor? So when the first lifeforms to visit from Earth arrive, they will be so entranced by what could’ve been, they won’t even stop to think if they should even be on Mars? They will lose all sense of time and place Eventually, perhaps, they will watch a particular scene or event in the timeline that will wake them up, but only temporarily, from the stupor of ambiguous nostalgic transfixion? But they will be so overcome with a sense of “something,” that they will feel compelled to just think about how they could make the ongoing alternate timeline a reality? Would they need to start again? is what they would think? But how can one possibly start again, from the very beginning, as if nothing, none of it, had ever happened? Should they go back to Earth? is another thought that might pass through them? And what if the answers to their questions are so clouded they just sit on the one lonely chair that’s been there the whole time? And they’ll feel so consumed with desire to watch more of the timeline (what have they missed?), they won’t even bother to question why a single chair is there in the first place? They surely didn’t bring it with them? It was already there? Someone has built this chair? Perhaps not to sit in? Perhaps to do something else with? But what could one possibly do with a chair, except to sit in it? Why are we calling it a chair even? Who says what’s there in the first place? Who’s even out there?

🦬 Shane Kowalski

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nervouscloudtheorist · 8 months ago

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April 23rd 2024

Dear Diary,

So Shrunk might be the only exception to the “ we build everything in a day” rule. I went to main street today and there was no construction or nothing! I was really excited to see what he had planned but I guess I have to wait again. It was really kind of a let down. The fact that today was the first day that it's rained since I've been here only solidified the fact that it was a really sad day.

It wasn't all too bad though because I think I got a gold star in gardening because I have black roses! That's right, black roses. Everyone should marvel at my greatness. I'm just kidding though, I would be no where without Leif's help. I really wish we had a cafe or something because I would really like to sit down and talk to Leif more.

Since Clay has been busy hanging out with Ribbot, I haven't had much of anyone to talk to so Leif fills that void a bit. Chrissy is also opening up to me more since I have made it a point to talk to her so she never has to feel like she needs to leave the town again. I will make sure to have the best town so that no one ever feels that way again. Except maybe Sly.

I don't trust him and it's not because he's an alligator crocodile? Something. It's because I'm almost 100% confident that he is the one leaving pitfall seeds around town. I think he just wants me to fall into one but I will not be subjected to such ridiculous pranks! If he fell into one that I had buried though that would be kind of funny.

Oh! I forgot to mention that mom sent me a green bar shirt. She said she got one for herself and that I should wear it so that we can match. She also asked if I was too cool to wear it. I'm not though! As soon as I saw that mom sent it to me you know I had to wear it! Mom chooses out the best clothes for us to wear. She's so thoughtful. I often miss her but I'm super excited because Mother's day is coming up and I have a ticket to go see her! It feels like so far away but I know that it's just around the corner. I hope Isabelle will be able to handle everything while I'm gone, but maybe I should let her go see her mom instead because I am Mayor and it would be kind of rude to not let her see her family... I'll ask her when I go into Town hall tomorrow.

I know I haven't mentioned it, but I have been actively in town hall trying to clean up the paperwork that the previous mayor Tortimer left. I have not been successful. I know it seems like I'm being a lazy mayor but he had a lot of paper!!

Clay complemented my green bar shirt so I think I'm gonna make sure to wear it more often because like I said, mom has really good taste in fashion.

Speaking of fashion, I am worried that the Able sisters might not be the most reliable place to get clothes because I haven't been able to find anything nice in a while. Maybe I should try to do something to get them to upgrade their shop, but I feel like buying their stock might be the only way to do it and I'm worried because then what will I do with all the clothes....

Also, my turnips are only at 72 bells today. Not a very exciting amount...I feel like I wasted money buying those turnips now...

Oh it's getting late and I better do some research on the time paradoxes if I ever want to find Joan's secret.

TTYL

-Finn

#animal crossing #journals #new leaf #creative writing #journaling #animal crossing new leaf #video games #nintendo #acnl #writing

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mosneakers · 3 years ago

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Cottage Trinkets Jewelry Set

After the recent influx of tourists and new residents in the little cottage of Henford-on-Bagley, Darling thrift has a HUGE haul for you today!

I was a teeny bit disappointed by the lack of cute jewelry that came with my favorite pack, Cottage Living, so I decided to make a few little whimsical pieces to complete our cottage looks and live our best cottagecore lives 🥰

Info and Downloads below:

Garden Charms Necklace:

Bring some charm to your simmies of all ages with this garden fruit and veggie themed necklace 😊

5 swatches in total: red strawberry, pink strawberry, carrot, turnip, parsnip

available for all ages

base game compatible

some bodies with custom sliders may experience some clipping issues (the original mesh was converted from a base game child necklace)

Unfortunately unable to get them to look okay on most adult men, so for now it's mainly made for feminine frames/women (some may be able to use it, just remove feminine filter in CAS to give it a try)

disabled random

Download [patreon]

Most Delicate Necklace:

On a whim, your sim wanders out into their favorite meadow, and picks some pretty little flowers to make a necklace 🌼 It's delicate, but it makes a statement!

I made this using the child's flower necklace that came with Outdoor Retreat, but converted it for adults and toddlers and hand-painted it to give it a more painterly, pastel palette 🤍

Made for all ages

8 swatches in total

Except toddlers, they have the 8 original EA colors in addition to my 8 pastel swatches

Again with this one, some clipping for males/masculine frames and sims with certain sliders may occur

Requires outdoor retreat

disabled random

Download [patreon]

Lantern Earrings:

Combining two of my favorite things; lights and clouds! 💡☁️ Cute little dangly globe-lantern shaped earrings with some cloud patterns and some pastel swatches too!

11 swatches

ages teen-elder

should work fine for both masculine and feminine frames

base game compatible

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Download [patreon]

Ring From Local Blacksmith:

A dainty metal ring with intricate detailing, most likely a nice gift from the local cottage Blacksmith! 😚

5 swatches including gold, rose gold, silver, white silver, and wrought-iron black

available for female ages teen-elder

right hand, ring finger

slightly crooked because it was welded by hand of course

base game compatible

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Download [patreon, early access until 08/19/21]

Mushroom Ring:

A (rather rough) edit of the base game eyeball mesh, recolored into some lil' mushrooms. We can never have enough mushroom stuffs am I right, simblr?🍄

slightly ugly up close but beats the eyeball ring and is as cute as a button when viewing from a normal distance

12 swatches, one of those include an acorn 🌰

left hand, index finger

ages teen-elder

base game compatible

disabled random

Download [patreon]

"I Dried These Myself" Pressed Flowers Necklace

Combining the cottage theme with the crafting theme that has also been pretty big lately, this is a set of necklaces with hand-painted flowers, that's meant to look like dried/pressed flowers in resin on a variety of metal chains to pick from

12 swatches

Base game compatible

fine for both frames/genders

ages teen-elder

disabled random

my first jewelry piece, hope you like 🥺👉👈

For the readers: Starling wasn't thrilled about this preview shot, sorry girl 😬😛

Download [patreon]

Cloud & Star Necklace:

A little homemade looking set of cloud earrings, with a star shaped bud ⭐☁️

fine for both frames

ages teen-elder

requires seasons

disabled random

Download [patreon]

�� Tip: Goes well with Folklore hair, for all the cottage vibes!

Individual packages or entire collection available. While these pieces may not be perfect, I've been having so much fun in CAS playing with them and I feel like I captured the magic I was going for. Hope you can enjoy them too 💖

#ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #maxis match cc #ts4 jewelry #sims 4 #maxis match jewelry #cottage cc #cottagecore #CottageTrinketsJewelrySet #ts4 accessories #DarlingThriftCC

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docholligay · 4 years ago

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An Overwatch Christmas Carol: Stave III---The Second of the Spirits

Hello there! The third part of this is up up up, and at 11,000 words I know it’s long, so if you wanted to read it in parts that’s great and okay! I worked hard on this and I hope you like it!

Her alarm struck, though she had not set it, and she felt at her own body as she awoke from the horrible nightmare.

Ana, like most people of her ilk, believed herself ready in any moment for any sort of thing that came her way, that she could master it, and tolerate it, and come out victorious. So have all of us, in a moment where we are very courageous in our own homes and beds, said that same. And so despite the harrowing nature of what she had just experienced, it seemed to Ana Amari that anything between a children’s choir and an army might have been just as expected.

But what Ana was most unnerved by, and utterly unprepared for, was nothing. The alarm sounded, and still it stayed dark, a cold, and quiet, just as her room had always been, and no matter how many times she looked over to the clock, at five, ten, or twenty minutes, still the same nothing answered her back. This was enough to make her brave, as it might us all, and so she spat her words into the darkness.

“Ridiculous.”

There was a light from the other room, at that, peeking and shining under the door with a brilliance Ana did not know.. The apartment in Brixton was tiny and dark, and would never have been accused of any manner of warmth by anyone, and yet now the light coming from the living room was golden and warm, dancing light firelight on the walls despite there being no fireplace anywhere near the building.

“Right then!” There was a chipper, high voice from the other room, “Come on! Christmas is ‘alf over already!”

Ana stepped out of bed, creeping toward the door. There had been Jack, and there had been Reinhardt, and despite herself, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that it was all something in her mind. And she knew that voice, had known it for more years than semed reasonable, when she reflected upon it.

She turned the corner into the living room. There was a tree brightly festooned with ornaments and tinsel, and while it might not have been the finest tree in the world it had clearly been dressed with great enthusiasm. There were stockings hung from the edge of the window, carefully nailed in, mismatched and well-loved. The room rang with an echo of laughter, almost as a chorus, but one voice above them all.

And, on what had been her coffee table, now grown long and covered with a white cloth, a grand feast, ham with a rich, shiny, glaze, turkey overflowing with stuffing, rich turnip and parsnip gratin, dripping with sauce, bowls full of roasted potatoes and mashed potatoes, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire puddings, and mince pies with brandy butter.

Tracer sat cross-legged on the end of it, in a bright green sweater, which looked thick and soft even from this distance, a crown of red and green gold star tinsel, mixed here and there with jingle bells, on her head. There was a Christmas pudding in front of her, and she popped a bit into her mouth before she looked up and saw Ana. She swallowed, licked the fork, and grinned.

“Right then.” She set down the plate, and leapt to her feet, “Come on! Christmas is ‘alf over already!”

Ana opened her mouth to protest, but if she had to hear another lecture about narrative structure and known mythologies, she was going to lose whatever was left of her mind. Besides, she had little belief that Tracer would care much about her own feelings on Christmas, and even smaller still was that small pang of regret, the part from last Christmas still dancing in her mind.

“You already said that.” She allowed.

Tracer stood up straight for a moment, and considered, hand at her chin. “I did, didn’t I?” she laughed. “Was right both times!”

Lena Oxton had died. Ana knew this. She knew it in the same way that she knew Jack had died, and Reinhardt had died, and she had attended their funerals, and she had seem them burned or buried. But Tracer’s death was newer to her, having been an interruption to the month of November, the dirt on her grave not quite settled.

It was as, well, unsettling, as her encounter with Reinhardt had been. The room seemed to respond to her, the lights twinkling when she laughed, the smell of the Christmas feast following her about the room like a cologne. The flames seemed to dance and she bopped about the place, and it was only in that moment, Tracer’s eyes glittering brightly, that Ana noticed something.

She wore no chronal accelerator. Ana never would have remembered her without it.

Too much. Draw back.

“You look fairly good, for someone who has been dead for six weeks.” Ana snorted.

Tracer’s eyes narrowed, and the cheer left her face.

“Don’t get smart with me Ana, not in the mood.” She scowled, “Doing this for Jack, because I said I would, so I did, and I’m a woman of me word. But don’t think I particularly feel any sorrow over the idea of you spending the rest of your life alone. I don’t, not a drop.”

Ana opened her mouth for a moment, and then reconsidered. The image of Jack in her mind, of him somehow gathering this group of people beyond the grave to help her, the constant reiteration that this was her last chance, somehow for once in her life, Ana Amari could not come up with some sharp rebuke.

She looked straight ahead, and frowned, adjusting her scarf. “The night will be over before you know it, so, let’s go.”

Tracer nodded. “Right then.” She snapped her fingers, and the two them exploded into sparks against the night, rushing off into the present.

They were outside as the morning sun shone brightly through the streets of London, even the fog feeling it must cast away into the night and not disturb the sacred joy of that beautiful and crisp day. There was the smallest dust of snow on the ground, though you would have been forgiven for thinking it was so much more for the delight in children’s eyes as they gazed out of their windows.

Tracer ran down the sidewalk, jumped, grabbed onto a pole and swung back toward Ana, all in one swift motion, landing right in front of her, eyes glittering.

“Christmas morning!” She gestured grandly, London caught in a sort of pause, the hurry Ana was used to at seven am only a distant memory. “‘appy Christmas, London!”

Tracer rushed over to where a bunch of pigeons were cuddled on the eave of a window, and pulled two large handfuls of birdseed out of her pockets, tossing it all in front of them.

“‘Appy Christmas, little ones!”

“Did you just have that--”

But Tracer was already off, running through the sidewalks and stopping wherever she found someone to greet. A happy Christmas to the little dog with a biscuit, a happy Christmas to his owner with a box of tea, pulled from that same pocket. A happy Christmas to the nurse just walking to home, hoping her husband could distract the kids long enough so she could see them open presents, a gift card to the Pret by the hospital pressed into her hand even as she looked confused. A happy Christmas to the bus driver with a bottle of scotch, rested by his side with bow. .

Eventually, Tracer seemed to realize herself, and broke into a laugh that seemed to ripple through the street, the lights glowing a touch brighter as she did it, even the icy lace on the windows seeming to glitter just a little more brightly as she dashed back toward Ana.

“Right, right, I,” She dramatically paused in front of Ana, “Love Christmas. But you don’t ‘ave to!” She interrupted Ana’s protest, “For that isn’t the real point, not ‘ere, is it?”

“Giving people all these things, but,” Ana shook her head. “Is the point that people will be driven into debt over it? That it’s an excuse to press honest people into working more and harder, and later? The Christmas spirit, for sale at Mark and Spencer’s.”

“Marks and Spencer, but I’ll allow it.” She rocked back on her heels. “There are plenty of people who don’t understand the meaning of what Christmas is, and often they’re the ones with the biggest trees, and that’s the God’s honest truth. What I show you ‘ere? Ought to be in every day. Every where. Because it isn’t about any ‘oliday, or turkey, or nothing. Is it, Ana Amari?”

She drew something out of her pocket, a small gold book,, maybe the size of a credit card, and she flipped it open before pressing it into Ana’s hand. A picture of her and Pharah, Pharah only a baby, long ago and oh so far away. They both looked so different. So full of promise.

“Come on, Ana, there is just so much to see.”

She looked up from it only to realize that they were inside someone’s living room, parents looking at each other with tired eyes as a little girl ran happily around a dollhouse, placing the furniture in this room or that.

“Up all night constructing it, they was,” She shook her head, the bells tinkling, “but it ‘ardly matters. Was all she wanted, right?”

Tracer drew something out of her pocket, and knelt down next to the girl’s dollhouse, nearly nose to nose with her. Ana, whatever Reinhardt might think, had listened to him, and assumed the same was true here, that they could neither see nor hear the two of them, but the girl paused and looked in Tracer’s direction with such intensity that Ana wondered for a moment. Tracer put something in her palm, and closed her hand around it, smiling.

Tracer jumped back up next to Ana and threw an arm around her, Ana shrugging it off just as quickly as the little girl opened her hand.

“Look! Mummy! Daddy! It’s a kitty just like Patch! I didn’t seen it before oh it’s just like her!”

Her parents looked confused, each looking at the other, but the little girl was radiant in that moment of joy, and though Ana refused to look over at Tracer, she could feel the happiness pouring off her.

“I don’t know what you--”

“Next!”

But Tracer’s fingers snapped again, and they found themselves back in Brixton, outside of Ana’s apartment building with the falling, tattered awnings over crumbling bricks at windows. It was nothing to look at, but at least it was a place to sleep, and that was all the more Ana thought of it. It looked particularly dreary, if she were being honest, today, where she could see the scraps of Christmas trees in windows, and plenty without, people like her who didn’t participate in the nonsense of Christmas, who were fully cognizant that nothing changed on one day, no matter when that day was.

“Up she goes!”

Tracer grinned brightly, jumped on top of a dumpster out back, and grabbed onto the drainpipe, the tinsel in her hair shimmering in the dim morning light, throwing off stars into the daytime. She quickly began to shimmy up, humming “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” as she did so.

“Tracer,” She crossed her arms and stared up at her, “I have a key.”

“...You better not pout, I’m telling you why,” Another pull up the pipe, “Lena Claus is coming, to town,” she looked back down at Ana and shook her head merrily, “No you don’t! Left it in your room, then, didn’t you?”

She did not wait for an answer, simply started back up the pipe, as Ana felt for a pocket that she realized wasn’t there.

“Tracer.”

“What?” She turned around, swinging out with one arm, “Bit too old for this, Amari? I could do it all day.”

Ana huffed, but scrambled up onto the top of the dumpster and grabbed the pipe.

“Death has done wonders for you health, but not your attitude, Oxton!”

Tracer nodded. “That IS true.”

Ana began to climb behind her, grumbling as her hands tried to gain purchase on the cold drainpipe, her hands aching with the swell in her knuckles. Feeling her age, a bit, but also feeling a bit of something else, something she could not quite place. She looked up at Tracer above her, still climbing, toward the third floor, occasionally giving a bit of a bounce, or a swing.

Perhaps it was a bit....bad. It was true, that Tracer was well in a way Ana had not seen her in more than a year, and that was all she had said. But there was a sudden realization that Tracer so loved this moment, with a glowing smile and a song on her lips, because she was still basking in the joy of what it was to have her body obey her again, just as it had for years. It felt unkind, even if it wasn’t unfair, to criticize her for it, and she could not remember having had the feeling much before, least of all with Tracer.

“....Just you wait, poppet, got all her gifts ‘ere in her back trouser pocket, Lena Claus is coming to town…”

Ana struggled to pull herself up, slipping a bit on the iciness of the pipe.

Maybe not that bad.

“That doesn’t rhyme!” Another small slip, and a scowl as one of her slippers dangled off her foot.

“Slant rhyme, innit?” Tracer looked in a window, “Good enough for Shakespeare, good enough for me. ‘Ere we are!” She cocked her head and laughed down to Ana, her nose wrinkling, with its spray of freckles gathering like bunches of holly, those lights in all the windows bouncing again, along with her.

Ana slipped again, and felt her foot give way, but with a snap of Tracer’s fingers, they were inside a beige-walled apartment much like Ana’s, same layout, same unloveable carpet, same cheap seaming at the windows, but oh, so much more crowded. Not that it was particularly hard to do, but Ana looked at a man and a woman, sitting on their small threadbare couch together, a toddler sitting on the woman’s lap as the two of them directed the three other little children around the tiny apartment, with only a small smattering of toys to distract them.

Despite this, the apartment felt warmer than Ana’s own ever had, more filled with light despite the bareness of the walls, and maybe it was only the smile between the parents and their children, or maybe it was the chatter in a language Ana did not know, but knew the feeling of without having to understand the meaning, but somehow she felt a certain twinge of what she had felt all those years ago in that miserable military camp, all those Christmases ago.

She resented it.

“I suppose I’m supposed to be amazed it’s Christmas here, too?” She glanced sidelong at Tracer.

Tracer jumped up onto the back of the couch and sat there, cross-legged, shaking her head. “Ana, s’not Christmas here, they’re Muslim, don’t you notice anything? Thought you was,” she made her hands into claws, “the Shrike!”

Ana glowered, unable to decide if she were more annoyed at herself or at Tracer, and glanced around. Of course she would have noticed, if she had a moment, if she hadn’t been waiting for whatever lesson Tracer meant to lay upon her.

“Our point in being here, isn’t Christmas at all, as I said.” Tracer pointed to the both of them. “Inconvenienced by Christmas more than anything, they are. All the schools closed, all the meal programs off or offering a bit of ‘am, nothing really to make them keep the slightest bit merry in all the world. But...look at them. ‘Appy to spend the day with their little family. New to London, right, and filled with something like the Christmas spirit. And that, Ana, is ‘ope. That, Ana, is universal.”

Ana huffed. “They have nothing.” she pointed her chin to the kitchen, where daal and rice cooked, spiced carefully and beautifully, “Such a meager feast.”

“But very appreciated!” Tracer jumped off the back of the couch and shuffled toward the tiny corner of the apartment that served for a kitchen. “She’s been working plenty ‘ard, for the meal they ‘ave here. Everyone knows it.”

The family chattered happily, even as the father had to rise and place a sweater in the sill of the window to keep out the chill from the cold wind that dared to slip inside, and even as the mother smiled sadly toward the large pan on the stove, her eyes full of wishing for something else. But neither of those small, tiny regrets seemed to be able to steal the joy they had at simply being with their children, despite missing a day’s work, despite missing out on the childcare, despite all the things Ana might have laid, not unfairly, at Christmas’ feet, a sense of pleasantness seemed to endure, like cider hanging in the air long after the drink is gone.

“I--” Ana began to say something, something in the back of her mind, and then shook it away.

Tracer nodded, as if knowing that the bounds of this room had been reached in their capacity to teach her student.

“Need to see something a bit more familiar, don’t you? Come on then!” Tracer walked over to the door, and opened it, ushering Ana through, who came along, though grumbling.

Tracer reached into her pocket and materialized a large cardboard tray, laden so heavily with delicacies that Tracer had to catch it with her other hand. Biryani chock full of meat, paratha so decadent that it looked as if it might melt under the simple wave of Tracer’s hand, sweet rice smelling richly of cinnamon and raisins, and things Ana did not even know, but made her feel a pang of jealousy and hunger all the same.

Tracer went to knock on the door, thought a moment, and as a sparkle fell from her fingertips, she drew a Christmas pudding out of her pocket, sauce dripping over the sides, nuts and fruits bright on the top.

“Just so as to welcome them to the neighborhood, try something new, as well.”

She set it down with the rest of the food, and then knocked. There was a call from inside and the swiftest patter of feet as a little boy rushed and opened it, even as his father rose from the couch to call after him. At seeing Tracer, his eyes grew wide, but Tracer smiled as she put a finger to her lips, and with one last slip into that pocket, took out a 100 pound note and tucked it next to the pudding.

She turned and quickly went down the hallway, giggling as the father looked all about the place, unable to see anything at all, while the little boy broke into a bright smile himself, and waved.

Ana found herself waving back, and then stopped herself when she saw Tracer, hands in her pockets, grinning with such a luminosity that Ana would have sworn the hallway was brighter than it had ever dared to be.

“So you are what, Noel Baba now? Must be nice, to be so easily loved.”

“Oh!” She slid down the bannister, and at the end, let herself fall into a somersault and popped back up to her feet in one smooth motion. “I’d love to be Father Christmas, really! But of course, no, there’s no real Father Christmas, so near as I know, but, we all sort of are, right? Father Christmas, and all of us spirits, can only come once a year, and so how lucky and powerful can we be? You, on the other ‘and, ‘ave seen that family at the little mail cubbies for six months now, innit?”

And did not reply, but it was certainly true, that she had seen her. That she had noticed the mother trying to wrangle to children, and the father’s long hours, and the mother has once admired, in halting English, Ana’s scarf, seeming slightly shy of the ragged edge of her own. She had told Ana her name.

Ana could not remember it.

“Always ‘ad the power to do what I did, on any given day, right? Could ‘ave given them all that, but didn’t. Could ‘ave given the bus driver what takes you every day a gift, as well. You’ve ‘ad enough chance to be that bearer, Ana. You waste it, and you can’t pin that on me, not rightly.”

Ana walked down the stairs after her. “I live on the next floor, you have taught me enough--”

But as she stepped down another stair, her foot plunged into the snow on the sidewalk, and she looked up. On a simple street, still being rebuilt after the Battle, but about half redone with a grocery store and several apartment building patched back together. But even the ruins were decked with lights here and there, a bit of English humor at the edges of a healing misery.

“Things like that,” she felt compelled to defend herself, “are only patches on, on a bigger problem.”

Tracer stopped her walking and turned around. “Right then, so you go about with an ‘ole in your trousers til you can buy new? Mustn’t bother with a patch, of course not.”

She looked over Ana as they stood, nearly nose to nose. Tracer’s eyes did not linger, and never had so long as Ana had known her. They flitted, instead, like a hummingbird, from moment to moment and bit to bit, but somehow you got the sense that she was taking in all of you, whether you particularly wanted her to or not. In her eyes, Ana saw reflected bright lights of gold and white and green, though she did not recall there being lights so near.

She was still smiling, had never stopped, and this perhaps annoyed Ana worst of all.

Tracer cocked her head, and she took a step back, looking up and down at Ana.

“Like there’s no point in apologizing, right?”

“I tried--”

Tracer burst out laughing. “Oh, right, right! When you told ‘er that it wasn’t as if your mum were there for you, and so she might as well get over it and see a therapist? Some apology, I’ll say.” Tracer spun around in a pirouette, but than turned back. “And still--”

“Fareeha is a military woman. More even than me. To the good. She works things out in probability, in risk, in order. What would be the benefit of sentimentality, for all that? She does not do things that don’t benefit her. She hasn’t since she was a child. She had a plan, even then. She does what needs doing and I--there’s no reason I would fit into that.”

Tracer looked at her moment, and gave a confused shake of the head. “You really don’t know her at all, do you? No more, at least, than any clerk in the new office, and that’s the truth.” She did not give Ana a chance to respond, to argue. “Come on, then! Let me introduce you to your daughter.”

Tracer threw her arm around Ana’s shoulder, and though she took a deep breath and tried very calmly not to sock her right in the jaw, she had to admit that the warmth she had felt in those other rooms, she wanted to feel in Pharah’s home. She wanted to know what it might feel like to have the warmth of Pharah’s love, something that had been lost to her for so long.

Ana had never been to see the apartment they moved into after the Battle for London, and nearly paused for a moment as Tracer let go of her and jumped on the railing and then through the window, but the snap of her fingers gave no moment to think more of it. Their old place, she knew, had been destroyed, parts of it simply cratered in, Pharah rifling through what they had to try and reconstruct their belongings. Mercy, of course, had gone to pieces, by Ana’s measure, some memory of childhood bothering her enough that she kept her distance. The new place had been built of an old shell, like so many things in London, and Pharah had taken pains with the layout. It was a lovely place, bright and welcoming without being devoid of a certain peculiar charm, seeming less like a new-constructed box and more like it might have been in London all this time, even from the inside.

The furniture was new, and tidy, and Ana nearly laughed to see what she assumed could only be her daughter’s way of making sure everything had its place, and was put into it. Little cubbyholes built in by the door for shoes, books organized by subject and alphabetized, a few lying on the dark coffee table near where Mercy sat, reading one of them. But it was not without its hominiess, the smell of Mercy’s coffee in the air, and even Ana was not immune to it, walking to the mantle over a small fireplace, where a few framed pictures nestled among bright silver and blue garlands.

“A bit personal innit?” Tracer looked at the mantle herself, ‘Not quite the barracks you imagined.”

Ana let her fingers rest on a picture of Pharah and Mercy at their wedding, smiling under the chuppah, the pink roses and daisies in Mercy’s hands blooming brightly. Pharah’s hair was in a low ponytail, tightly held and shining, but she wore still the small gold charm in her hair, as she had for so many years. No longer, of course, not after everything that had happened between them.

Ana gave a mirthless chuckle, “All Angela’s, even before she was punishing me.”

Tracer grabbed at the picture. “She built that chuppah herself, you know. So it’d be a piece of her that was also Ang’s dream. Didn’t put it that way, of course, Fareeha, but that’s what it was.”

There were other pictures, crowded family tables and smiling faces in different locations--bright beaches and a ski chalet, even one at Disneyland Paris all of them squeezed into the frame together. There were, of course, none of Ana.

Tracer pointed to one at the edge of the mantle, Pharah and Tracer side by side as comrades they could not have imagined becoming, everything bright and green around them, both smiling, Tracer holding onto an iron gate, but her other arm firmly around Pharah. Pharah wore her usual deep blue, and Ana found herself jealous at the tightness of her grip on Tracer, the way they grinned at each other, Pharah’s other hand at her shoulder.

“She cared for me, you know.” Tracer said, tapping at the edge of the picture.

“Yes,” Ana rolled her eyes and turned away from the mantle, her voice brisker and more cold than even that wind outside “I know, she preferred you to me, because she preferred anyone to me, if this is your point I can just go home, because--”

“Bloody ‘ell, Ana, it’s not what I said!” Tracer scowled, the lights in her eyes near to bursting with the heat of lost patience. “You are so bloody lucky I owe both Rein and Jack a bloody fucking SCORE of favors--”

“--Well, you don’t owe me any, so you can just--”

“God no, you’d ‘ad to ‘ave done something kind for me even once for me to owe you--”

“--Oh, poor pitiful Lena, as if you don’t have enough adoration, you attention hou--”

“--You meanspirited little desert rat, ought to let you rot, I ought--”

“--You don’t know the first thing about--”

“SHE’S ‘OLDING ME UP IN THIS PICTURE!” Tracer had taken it, and held it in front of Ana’s face. Angela looked up from her book, around the room for a moment, confused, and both Ana and Tracer fell quiet. “Didn’t notice, did you? When you looked? But she is. Was just after me last birthday. Couldn’t really stand on me own much.”

Ana took the picture from her and looked down at it. Of course it was clear, looking at it now. Pharah's arm was at her waist, and her thumb was looped into Tracer’s belt loop, holding her close to Pharah’s solidness. Her other hand was at Tracer’s shoulder, steadying her, as Tracer did her best to hold herself up. She should have seen it.

Tracer took it back from her and placed it back on the mantle. “Not many people see that, when they look, because that’s way with Fareeha, right? I meant--and you never knew this--she literally helped take care of me.”

“No benefit to ‘er, mostly a drain on ‘er already limited time, being as she was running all of Overwatch herself. But from the time I started to need a bit of ‘elp, now and again,” she passed a hand across the pictures, and small whirls opened, showing she and Pharah together, in a park, in Tracer’s bedroom, out on Winston’s patio, poring over paperwork, simply sharing a lunch together, “Every Thursday, eight to eight, she did. Earlier, it was Overwatch paperwork,” she touched the edge of that whirl in its frame, and it came alive, she and Pharah arguing playfully over a stack of papers, “Pretending it was on business. Got to be more and more, of course. Took the pressure off Em and Win, when I couldn’t ‘ardly do nothing for meself. Cooked, did the washing,” she touched the edge of another photo, and the two of them were in a dark pub, Tracer in a corner chair with the table tucked up close to her, “Got me out the ‘ouse, when she could. When I could, honestly. And,” her voice got soft, “at the fag end of it all…”

She touched the edge of a silver frame, the whorl opening just a little more to show Pharah feeding Tracer, Tracer’s body trembling.

Ana looked at the photos, and then over toward the window, where a soft morning snow was falling, so heavy in the drifts that it was easy to forget that it was built of delicate individual lace. Had she been gone from her daughter’s life for so much of that year? She had known that Pharah had assumed the duties of Overwatch, that she was often too busy to be seen, but she had pictured something so much different. So much more in the ways that Ana had isolated herself.

“You know,” Tracer passed a hand over all the frames, bringing the photos back to themselves, and put her hands on her hips, “I ‘ave had a bit more fun in me life, than that particular bit of it, that much I’ll say. Don’t much like to think about it, though really, you get so much of life, and only, what, two percent of it, maybe three or four at the outside, is all that bad, than what is there to fuss about? But,” She pointed to Ana, “Much as I ‘ate it, you need to know it. You ‘ave to learn to ‘ear Fareeha, love. You must, if there’s any ‘ope at all.”

Tracer walked away from the mantle, and away from Mercy, and hustled toward the kitchen, small but well-appointed, and laid out in a certain unmistakeable logic that could only have come from Pharah’s own mind. She had put so much of herself, Ana thought, in this home, even as soft as all the furnishings were, and even with the Shabbat candlesticks and kiddush cup tucked into the corner of the kitchen. It was as if Mercy was the rose and Pharah the trellis, growing around the things that Pharah had made.

Pharah was studying a cookbook carefully in the kitchen, her eyes narrowed as she read the same recipe over and over again, flipping back and forth. She had, on her kitchen island, a very large ham, and several ingredients in front of her, everything examined and re-examined as she quietly mouthed the words of the cookbook to herself. It was silly, to see it as another rejection of Ana herself, and yet she felt herself bristle at it. It was one thing, that Ana knew she kept no particular part of her Muslim heritage particularly close, but it was another to see something so plainly in front of her.

Ana watched her with such rapt attention that she did not even notice Mercy come up behind the two of them.

“Is that a ham?”

“Yes.” She did not look up from the cookbook, but looked back to the ham, and then at her book, flipping through to another part, scowling at it all the while. “I understand how to make the bacon my father sends. I have learned how to make a fry-up. This seems like it should not be that difficult, but...it’s entirely new to me.”

Mercy stood silently for a moment. It had never been stated, but she thought that somehow it had been agreed by them that though she understood Pharah was not religious in the slightest, and sometimes a bit aggressively areligious, depending on her mood, Mercy herself was, and the idea of using her cookware to make pork turned her stomach, just a touch. Was she being unreasonable? Pharah did all of the cooking and never asked anything of her, and--

Pharah’s head snapped up, as if she could read the thread running through Mercy’s mind. “This is disposable.” She touched her hand to the aluminium roaster the ham sat in. “For Christmas.”

Ana turned to Tracer. “You came to show me what, that without my guidance, my daughter is going to forget herself entirely? Become some soft Londoner full of pig fat? I should expect a Christmas tree next? I know that, that is why--”

“Ana,” Tracer looked over at her, “You ever just think of...shutting up, every now and again? Watch. Learn something. God’s sake.”

Mercy thoughtfully touched at the edge of the counter.

“Fareeha. I am Jewish, you are Muslim.” She looked at her wife. “We don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh!” Pharah laughed, the fierce concentration of her dissipating immediately as she looked to Mercy, “Yes! No, no, Angela this is not for us. I was--” She closed the cookbook. “Tracer loved Christmas, very much. I thought that Emily and Winston, that they probably wouldn’t--Emily loves the ham, especially--that it would be hard for them. I thought I would bring Christmas to them, in some small way. I can’t--” she looked back down at her glistening pink ham, “I can’t give them, what it is they want, of course. But a ham, I can give. After what happened,” her face grew dark, and serious, “after what was done to her…”

Mercy looked at her with great love, gave an adoring huff of a sigh, and smiled. “What a beautiful idea.”

Pharah pulled herself from her red cloud, and nodded happily.

Ana stared at the couple, both chatting now about the ham, side by side, neither of them having any particular clue what they were doing, but the room was filled with their love of their friends, and for each other, and their child, so much so that Ana could almost smell the dinner they planned to cook. They glowed completely in the light not of what they were given, but what they were giving, Mercy inelegantly pointing out side dishes, Pharah noting what might be in the well-stocked and organized fridge.

“My father!” Pharah exploded in the thought, an excited light in her eyes Ana had not seen for many years. Had she missed all the times it had flashed? Had she only seen her daughter’s cool, collected gaze? Pharah looked at the aviator’s watch on her wrist, and then up at a small clock on the side of the cabinet. “He should be awake by now. He would know how to make this, though I think Rebecca prefers a turkey for Christmas.”

Ana could say nothing, merely took a step toward them, mouth agape.

“That’s right, Ana,” Tracer got up from leaning against the wall, “Despite your very best efforts, she grew up ��uman. Despite your very best efforts to make ‘er something like you, she ‘as a bloody ‘eart after all, and friends, and a family, and she takes care of them, when they need it. Must ‘ave been Sam’s influence, I think.”

Ana felt a flash of guilt, and pain, and then anger, and she whirled around to punch Tracer, who jumped to the side as Ana’s fist plunged through the wall but did not stop her pursuit. Tracer dodged again as she came, Ana frustrated by her age, and Tracer’s grin, humbled by the fact that it had never only been her ability to blink that made her a terrifying opponent, angrier yet still. Until Tracer stopped in front of her, and let her hit. Ana put her full force behind it, wanting to take away everything this smug little Englishwoman was saying, because if she could simply hit Tracer, make her stop, it would not be true.

She hit.

The fist went right through her.

“I’m a GHOST, ANA.” Tracer erupted into a fit of laughter so hard it took her a minute to recover, which was not nearly long enough for Ana’s taste, and put her hands on her hips, affecting an exaggerated accent, ‘You look fairly good for someone who has been dead six months, forgot that awful quick, didn’t you then!?”

Ana let her fists fall to the side, though she did not unclench them. “Take me home.”

“Cut a bit close, that did?” Tracer peered into her face. “You know why I put up with you”

“Jack--”

“No, though you do owe ‘im a bit of kindness, for ‘is work in the ‘ereafter for you. But that isn’t it, Ana.” She looked over to where Mercy tenderly touched her belly as Pharah talked on the phone, wishing her father a Merry Christmas, beginning to measure out something for a glaze. “Jack believed in you, and I owe him my field career, and that’s the truth. Reinhardt believed in you, and he was always kind to me. But none of that is why. I’m ‘ere because Angela Zeigler did everything she could for me, from the day she met me, even to the end, and so if I have to spend one day in your miserable company, I will do that for her. Because she is a woman what believes in mercy above all else, and still thinks you deserve it, no matter me own leanings. Think on that, Ana Amari. You’ve done nothing but spit in ‘er face, going on years, and she still ‘olds out ‘er ‘hand so you can do it all over again.”

Ana crossed her arms, but did not take her eyes off the couple. “And you want me to admire this?”

“No, don’t expect that much from you, but I do want you to be cognizant of it, at the least.” She nodded back to Pharah and Mercy. “Some people don’t count the cost.”

Mercy smiled as she backed away from Pharah for a moment. “I am having a wonderful idea. Just wait.”

Before Pharah could say anything, Mercy had her coat on and was running out of the house, and before Ana could even think to protest, Tracer had the two of them zipping after her. The door to the neighbors was right across from theirs, and Mercy knocked on it aggressively, and then looked at her watch, and then knocked again, perhaps deciding it was a perfectly acceptable hour.

A man, in a warm Christmas sweater, his slippers still firmly on his feet, answered.

“Angela? Is everything all right?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she grasped his hand in both of hers, “But I am wondering, if you have any Christmas decorations you aren’t needing? You see, we have friends, and it has been a very lonely holiday for them, and Fareeha and I have nothing to give.”

“So she’s going to bother this man and his family on Christmas Day.” Ana laughed, “The Christmas spirit. Togetherness. Poor planning. If family love can be made by cheap tinsel, than what is it anyway?”

“Shut up, you, and watch.”

The man startled for a minute, but then nodded his head, “Of course, of course, I know you had some unpleasantness this year, and, I’ll never forget that night you came over, when Camilla was sick.”

Mercy shook her head, as if it had been nothing, and walked in the door, following him as he looked in closets and pulled out garlands and took some ornaments off his tree, and put them all in a box. He bent down to explain to the children what they were doing, and a little girl ran off to the fridge and brought back a fat santa made of paper plates, a little boy with a stuffed dormouse with antlers.

They chatted happily to Mercy, and she thanked them profusely, dropped the box right inside her door, and continued onto another house, where there was a tangle of lights given and a bag of tinsel, and then the next, where Mercy was given a large plateful of cookies and other sweets from a little old woman, on and on until Mercy could hardly carry any of it, stacked up as it was. Some of them took it oof their own trees, out of their own kitchens, a spare stocking was taken off the mantle here and there. None of it matched, and all of it was secondhand at best, but it seemed to glisten and gleam with joy.

As Mercy went to round a last corner, Tracer pulled the two of them into small street that would have been called an alleyway in any civilized city, and pulled out of her pocket a tiny tree. She set it on the ground, and blew on it, and it grew to a fine height, not too large, nothing like the giant affair Winston had set up every year in his home since he’d been in London for Christmas, but smelling freshly of pine. She regarded it, and then threw a strand of tinsel here or there on it, so it would look properly discarded.

Mercy saw it out of the corner of her eye, backed up, and her eyes grew wide as she took it all in, something she never could have imagined. She clung the little box she had closer, running best as she could toward the house, calling Pharah’s name.

Ana stood for a moment, the snow falling softly still around her. It was snowing quite a bit, for London, off and on, or maybe it was only Tracer’s wish that this represent Christmas as best it could that made it so. She went to open her mouth, once, twice, but could not bring herself to say what she meant to, what she wanted to.

“She’s done nothing but help the people around her, be kind to them,” Tracer supplied, “So why wouldn’t they, the one time they get the chance, return it? Come on,” She took Ana by the elbow, “night’s coming on fast.”

Tracer pulled the two of them down the alleyway, and they turned the corner into what might have been a wall but instead was just another street, in a different part of the city, the darkness having fallen in the moment it took them to slide between the bricks.

Around them, the warehouse and odd converted apartment buildings rose, lights in this window or that, a tiny balcony with a number of rowdy revelers on it, drinking some hot rum thing that Ana could smell even from the street. Tracer bopped down the sidewalk with her, drawing this thing or that out of her pocket for a stray cat, smiling as she looked into the windows, and then they turned the corner, and her smile faded, just a bit.

It was the same street she had seen with Reinhardt, and yet it lay so still as the last of the light faded from the city that it hardly seemed that it could have been that same place that had been so fresh and alive, every building like tombstones in a row.

The house was quiet outside, and so grey. Where before, Ana could have ignored that it had once been a simple shipping warehouse, there was no mistaking it now, the cool metal of it tinny and burnished as the streetlights began to fly on. There were no bright sounds of cheer, or games being played. No lights trimmed the bannisters, no garlands played in the windows, and even the small dashing of snow seemed greyer than Ana had remembered when she had visited with Reinhardt. There was no doubt about the quietness settled over this house, and the darkness of it, just one lone lamp lit, the window before it dimming and greying even that.

She should have expected it, and yet, somehow, it came as a surprise to her.

“No point in the, ‘narrative structure’, if Tiny Tim is already dead. As I already told Reinhardt.” She looked over at Tracer. “Aren’t I supposed to turn over a new leaf, and prevent your death?”

Tracer shook her head. “No one could do that, love. If love could have saved me, I’d ‘ave lived forever, and it wouldn’t ‘ave been you that did. Just ‘ow life is sometimes. Sometimes, in life, you lose, love, and that’s the bitter truth of it.”

“So what’s the point? Exactly.”

Tracer bucked up her chin and smiled. ‘Come on then! And I will show you, what it is you’re meant to see.”

They slid through the doorway, Tracer not even attempting any manner of gymnastic endeavor to do so. The smells of fresh baking and cinnamon and apples no longer permeated through the house, and Ana looked about for the giant tree with its bright lights and collection of ornaments, the tinsel hung in garlands around the windows and down the stairway, the music playing, and yet there was nothing, just one lone lamp where Emily sat, even the brightness of her red hair dull in the shadowed light.

She was reading a book, curled up in the corner of the couch by herself, her hair hanging over the side where the light might have touched her face, and Ana noticed that her eyes ran over and over the same page, as if simply playacting at reading while the whole of her mind was somewhere else.

The door opened, and a cool deep wind flushed in as Winston came in the door, removing his fogged glasses and wiping them on his sweater.

“Emily.” He gave her a weak smile.

“Oh,” she set down her book, page still unread, “I wondered when it was you’d be coming home.”

She rose to her feet, slowly and quietly, and started toward Winston, who just as quietly took off his shoes and put on his slippers. There was none of the laughter or raucousness that Ana had felt in this room, before, and suddenly, not crowded with a group full of Oxtons, it felt so large. So empty. So silent.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“Oh no,” she tightened her sweater around her, “no, don’t be.”

“I went to--” He hung up his coat, and stared at the wall a moment, “I went to take a wreath, to where she was--well--where she is.” He tried to smile. “One of the silver tinsel ones, with all the rainbow colors and bells? She always--” He took a breath.

“Oh aye, she loved those. Would like that, that you did that, I think.”

“There are some lovely trees, there, I think in summer it’ll be---she loved green--” Emily touched his arm gently, “--it’s a nice place-- brushed off the stone a little bit. For the wreath.”

Emily nodded. “Was good of you. I have, well, there’s a ready meal in the oven.”

They stood there, simply looking at each other, until Winston nodded sadly and slowly worked his way over to the kitchen, opening the oven and taking out the meals inside on their little cookie sheet. Emily had bought several, for him, and he took a large bowl out of the cupboard and dumped them joylessly inside, mixing the mash and what passed for a steak braise all together. He poured himself a large glass of wine, and passed the bottle to Emily, and they sat across from each other at the small table, saying nothing as they quietly ate their food, or picked at it, rather, only a few errant bites here and there.

“It’s the job.” Ana said, barely convincing herself, the Christmas of the past in this same house still dancing in her head. “We lose people. Good people.”

“Didn’t bring you ‘ere because I thought you’d care about Em and Win.” Her arms were crossed, and she leaned against the wall, looking at the two of them, her eyes glistening. Then she shook off her sadness, the jingle bells in her hair ringing as she did it, and smiled again. “Ana, did you just call me a good person?”

Ana chuckled. “Don’t get a big head.”

There was a knock at the door, and a robotic voice rang out over the house, echoing in the emptiness of it.

“Angela is at the door.”

Winston looked puzzled, but rose up to meet it, trying to pick his feet up a little and put on a brave face, giving an unconvincing smile as he opened the door. Mercy’s cheeks were rosy as she bore the ham in her arms, covered with foil but smelling like a dream, salty and sweet and rich, garlands wrapped around her as she struggled to carry them, her eyes bright with the joy that she was determined to bring with her.

“Happy Christmas, Winston!” She came in the door without even being asked, “I was wondering, if maybe Fareeha and I could join you? For the cheer?”

Pharah came up behind her, lugging in the tree and hardly swearing at the pine branches in her face, that same snowflake sweater on in that same bright blue, a red bow jokingly tied in her hair from the decorations they had brought. She looked to Winston, and then took a tattered but convincingly repaired wreath off her arm and stuck it to the door with an adhesive hook, and nodded.

Winston moved to the side as Emily rose to meet them, Mercy embracing them both and hurrying to the kitchen as Pharah rushed back out to the taxi, bringing in boxes and quickly trimming up the home as neatly as she could with the materials she had been provided, doing an impressive job with the few boxes of scattershot decor.

And as she worked, the room began to change, even so slightly. Emily began to put ornaments on the tree, and WInston asked Athena to play some Christmas music, and in a few moments the room was not as it had been on that night, but it began to take on the glow of a surviving candle, one that might light others, one that might let this place know warmth again.

“Fareeha worked--” Ana sighed and walked to where she was decorating the mantle seriously, adjusted each bow, “She worked very hard.”

“Right, she did. Fareeha is like that, as I’ve said. She took care of me, with not a word. Wouldn’t let me protest it, neither. She’s here for Win, and Em, in their time of need, because Fareeha is nothing if not a rock, right?”

“She is very practical.” Ana continued to say these things, but they felt further disconnected form her, as if she was a ghost herself, simply saying the things that she had said before, over and over again, in a loop, ever so softly. “No,” she chuckled, just as softly, “Zeina. Not me. Sam. But not me.”

Tracer faced her, arms crossed, but the look on her face was no longer angry, or cruel, but simply searching.

“You talk and talk over ‘ow an Amari shouldn’t ‘ave to say nothing, and Fareeha never does, but with her actions. But you still never could speak ‘er language, could you? That all being true, what do you think she’s saying? And what did you say to ‘er, running off all the time, never telling ‘er when you’d be ‘ome, or if, wondering if you’d died until one day, it was true? Or, you let it be true. Even to ‘er. No Ana, you say Fareeha should speak your language, but she always ‘as. You spoke perfectly bloody clear, to ‘er.

“L--”

The thought was interrupted by another knock at the door, a door that did not wait to be answered, but simply opened, and a flood of people came in, all bearing various small things; a Christmas pudding here, a roast there, some garland, gallons of drink. The Oxtons came in, chattering and laughing, and kissed Winston and Emily on the cheeks, and told Mercy how she was glowing, and Mark clapped Pharah’s shoulder and told her what a wonderful job she’d done, and sorry that they had taken a bit of time, but the family was a bit like herding cats, wasn’t it.

Dva and Brigitte walked through the door to calls of ‘hallo’ and ‘happy Christmas’ and an older woman spotted at Brigitte’s hand as she went toward the kitchen with a large bag of rum and brandy and sweetness.

“That a ring, Miss Lindholm? Thought we might miss it?”

Brigitte laughed like a little girl, a blush rising to her cheeks, and flashed its brightness. “I never think you miss anything. She asked me today.”

Dva shrugged, but in that way that indicated she was quite pleased with herself. “Lena’d give me a hard time for doing it on Christmas.”

“Oh she would! She was wicked!” an aunt laughed, “But I think it’s beautiful. We would ‘ave invited you personally, but expected you back in the Nordics, we did.”

“We would have,” Dva nodded, “but we thought…”

“Of course, of course, love, say no more, it was right kind of you to think of it, and we’re delighted to ‘ave you! Oi!” She called back to the room, “Guess who’s getting married!”

There were cheers and jokes and a dozen questions thrown at the happy couple, as cookies and plates of food were passed around. Pharah was complimented on the quality of her ham, Mercy was told how beautifully she glowed, a few children hung off of Winston and asked him to tell the story of how he beat Doomfist again, though he always looked a little sheepish when he told it. Emily was rapidly pulled into an animated conversation over the best of the Christmas puddings, and the tree was lit, twinkling brightly if a bit patchwork.

Ana would have been lying to say that the room took on the same festivity of the year prior, as there was still the sense of something missing, like an empty spot on a curio shelf, where all the dust and all the space let you know something belonged there, but it was warmer than it had been, and it took on that same glow, even if slightly smaller than the years prior. There was laughter, even if there were a few tears wiped away, a few reassurances that the first year is always the hardest, and didn’t Lena do us all such a favor by bowing out so close to Christmas that the sadnesses seemed to roll together? But still the laughter, the warm, the closeness pervaded, and the rum punch was poured, and they banded together, the lights seeming to grow brighter as they did so.

Parvati jumped up on the back of the couch, and went to hit the side of her glass before thinking better of it and simply whistling loudly, the room turning to her, and, after a bit, deciding to quiet down to a few muttersw, and listen what she had to say.

“Happy Christmas, everyone. Know that we all ‘ave a bit on our minds, this year. Not the first time we’ve ‘ad it. Won’t be the last.”

It sounded so much like Ana’s practicality, and so little, and she felt something inside of her pull, some realized notion that to know the facts of the situation and to wield them cruelly were two different swords, than there had been so many people around her that had always known this, and it hd been Ana alone who refused to see.

“Life’s made up of meetings, and partings, and that’s the way of it, innit?. We’ll carry Lena with us, always.” Parvati raised her glass, “To Lena. I’d say may she rest in peace, but, think we all know that’s the last thing she’d want.”

Everyone took a drink of whatever they had in their hand, the moment not dark at all, but not because everyone in the room was looking away from the shadow. No, they all clearly knew that shadow, and had sat with it, but they brought their own candle into it, burnishing the pain of the loss with the memory of what had been.

Despite herself, she was taken by the notion. Despite herself, she smiled.

Tracer leaned in close to her. “You miss the love of it, Ana, and that’s your tragedy. You don’t see how love can make something beautiful. You see the reality of it, but you don’t see how love can make a hard reality somehow bearable.”

In the back of her mind, London stood, bombed out once again and rebuilding, the patchwork of it stronger and better than what had came before. Hadn’t Egypt done the same? And wasn’t she a daughter of Egypt? How horrible, to know that Tracer was right.

A man began to sing, not a Christmas carol at all, for Ana was beginning to allow the holiday to melt away and see the truth behind it, the core that came together in a million different worlds, some of which had never seen a Christmas at all, and as his voice raised above the din, they began to join him.

“...pretty bubbles in the air, they fly so high, nearly reach the sky….”

Sniffles and tears mixed in, wiped away with a joyful punctuation.

“...Then like my dreams, they fade and die!”

Arms were drawn close around each other, the entire room a tight knot of human light against the darkness, as their voices rose even higher.

“FOOOOOOORTune’s always hiding! I’ve looked everywhere, I’m forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air.”

There was a collapse of laughter, admissions that Lena would have considered it the fittest hymn and carol and battle song of all, and another round of spiced drinks passed around in pitchers.

“No matter what, nothing sinks them.” There was admiration in her voice, now.

Tracer’s voice lowered. “Soft Londoners, full of pork fat.”

She whipped around to look at Tracer. “Don’t MOCK me.”

“You mock yourself, “ Tracer snorted, “acting as if it’s some manner of courage to push away every kind thing what comes your way the whole of your life.”

“I--” Ana stopped herself.

If she valued honesty, what was the lie in what Tracer was telling her? The whole of her life, she had believed that sentiment came to nothing, and it was only encouraging weakness to pad things for herself, for others. How could she ever have thought it would be so simple? She looked at Pharah, sitting alone at the edge of the room, smiling as she drank at her mug, but still somehow disconnected from it all, rubbing at the edge of her watch with a distant look in her eye.

“Fareeha,” Ana watched her, “Tracer, tell me she will be happy. Tell me I haven’t ruined her the way I ruined myself.”

“I live only in the moment, Ana. Future’s not me domain,” She gazed over at Pharah and considered a moment. “But I see something...Fareeha, if you look carefully, you can see a red light about her. You can see a shadow on her face. I see an anger, a rage, deep within her, and if these shadows do not change, I fear for what I see in her. I’m only the ghost of the present, and can’t tell you rightly, of course. But you must remember her getting arrested in Dublin, after I died.” Tracer shook her head. “You turned cold, but Fareeha? Puts lines around everything because she knows what’ll ‘appen if she doesn’t. Fire in her may burn down every good thing in her.”

Ana could not draw her eyes away from Pharah, could not stop seeing the reflection of red light about her, kept telling herself over and over again that it was just from the tree so near, that there was nothing mysterious about it at all, and that every way she had taught Pharah to make an island of herself had not ruined everything.

The party continued, Pharah eventually being drawn from her chair and brought into the games, Ana convincing herself that her eye was old, and failing her. The warmth of the party continued, drawn close and near with laughter and joy, kisses on the cheek and close hugs, questions about Dva and Brigitte’s plans, stories about Tracer, all coming together into a mulled wine all its own.

“Right, then.” Tracer said softly.

Ana looked back to her, a spirit with sharp words and sharper powers, but very much again a woman Ana had simply known, looking at her family with a sorrowful gaze, wishing she could touch them, sing with them, love them. Tracer was like Ana, in that way, she supposed.

No. Because her family would delight to hold and kiss her again, to hear her voice ring over the room, to see her smile. Ana’s family would not. Pharah barely looked at her. Mercy hated her, after her actions this morning. Her grandchild would not know her. She felt that same pang of jealousy and hunger that she had in the tiny Brixton apartment, deeper now, and more keen.

Worst of all was the realization that she had chosen this for herself, over and over again, in every word and action. That she had built the walls so high and so well that no one could hope to scale them, that she had laid the broken glass of her own personal miseries across the top and never for one moment realized that her daughter had the strength to not attempt to climb it any longer. That she would urge others never to try, and show them the scars on her palm from her own failures.

“Can’t stay much longer.”

Ana noticed the party beginning to get quieter, the lights in Tracer’s eyes beginning to fade, and a sudden panic began to grip her, the sense that she might lose everything she felt she had only begun to grasp, that she was on the verge of something great, slipping through her fingers.

“You can’t already go. There’s so much more to teach me.”

Tracer shook her head, somehow growing thinner, and smaller. “I was never meant to be long in this world, Ana. It was always meant to be brief.”

“I have,” Ana began, and then cleared her throat, and looked to Tracer, “I, I was wrong, not to come to your Christmas party. To your birthday.”

Tracer leaned against the wall, and the party faded from view, the golds and reds and greens fading into the greys and blue of the city, Tracer now leaning against the wall of an underground station, cap on her head, leather jacket pulled in close.

“If I could do it over again, I would not have missed your last year.” She paused, “If I could do it over again, I would not have been myself.”

“Why didn’t you, Ana?”

There was no anger in it, not this time, just a hanging sadness as she shook her head and leaned against the wall, some annoucement Ana could not quite make out coming over the station. A chill ran through her, in that moment, only the two of them standing there, the hazy glow of fluorescent lights overhead dimming the world in a way Ana could not quite understand, but knew intrinsically.

“We wasn’t friends, not really, but…I was dying.”

Ana opened her mouth to protest that this was in the past, that it was not Tracer’s realm. That there was nothing to explain, because it was past now, and so what did it matter, she could not go back and have attended either. She opened her mouth to say that no one would have wanted her there anyway. She opened her mouth to say that she was jealous Tracer had so much of love. She opened her mouth to say, that she had been too proud to admit she was lonely.

There was a rumble, down the tracks, the train speeding its way toward the station. She could feel the rush of air coming from the tunnel, the lights in darkness, coming.

“Was dying, Fareeha was trying to bear up under it for everyone, and you couldn’t even--not for neither one of us--not for anyone.”

The train began to screech into the station, and Ana had the horrifying realization, all in one moment, that it was here for Tracer, and surely enough, as she glanced up to the clock, that horrible long shadow of a hand was drawing toward midnight.

“I should have gone,” she barked out as quickly as she could, but that terrible, terrible screeching echoed all through the station, shrieking high and loud as she tried to take Tracer’s hand, only to find that it was fading away, “I never hated you, I only, you were allowed to be light-hearted, and I wasn’t, and I was so--”

Tracer shook her head, her eyes dull with exhaustion, “Can’t ‘ear you, love. ‘Ave to go now.”

“I can do it different!” She reached out again, “I can learn to be different! I should have been, and I wasn’t, but, Tracer--”

The doors to the train opened, and Tracer looked at them with a smile, even as her hand shook. “That’ll be me train. I trust you to the spirit what’s coming round next. You must see that spirit, love, no way round it.”

“What was the point of Jack sending you if I can’t undo any of this!?” She stood in front of Tracer. “I have learned, now, and so you need to send me back, and I’ll do it better,” Tracer’s body passed through her, and she stepped into the car and grabbed onto a pole, glancing back, “LENA!!!”

The doors slammed shut, and Ana pulled and pulled, but she could not stop the horrible droning of the announcement declaring that they were pulling away from the station, and however she screamed and pounded, Tracer could not hear her, but simply looked up at the advertisements on the side of the car, lost in her own world. The train pulled away as quickly as it had come, speeding into the darkness, the only sound in Ana’s ears her own throbbing heartbeat.

The photo of she and Pharah was cool in her hand.

#apologies to other versions of CC I have straight up stolen lines from ahhah

148 notes · View notes

1oserjk · 5 years ago

Text

— special affair

sugar daddy au except it’s just jk spoiling u thru animal crossing

x masterlist

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

Your eyebrows are furrowed and your fingers falter over the buttons of your switch. “Jungkook, you can’t just—“

“Can’t what?” He asks unfazed through the screen of your laptop.

“Did you just give me eighty-thousand bells? Over buying turnips?”

“Is that,” he hesitates, head picking up to read your expression, “not allowed?”

“No, it’s just—why? I offered you to come to my island because Daisy Mae was selling them lower at mine than yours.. You didn’t have to tip me?”

He was also your boyfriend at that, so he didn’t exactly have to act like you were mere strangers who were exchanging over discord.

He shrugs, bare shoulders going up and bed-hair being ruffled between his fingers. “Maybe I just wanted to.”

“I—um. Okay?”

His character on the screen frollicks around your field of pink hybrids. “Can I leave now?”

“If you want.”

“Okay.” He heads toward the direction of your airport, not before sending you a joy reaction. “I love you, bye. Thank you for the turnips.” Then, drops a gold nugget and runs off.

“Jungkook!”

“Hey,” he greets when he walks through your entrance. “They were selling that deluxe washer in pink you’ve been wanting at my Nook’s Cranny today.”

You gasp, “Really? Can I go there right now and get it?”

A green leaf drops below his character and you gape. “I already got it for you. Take it.”

“Thank you, but.. I could have paid for it myself.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a simple shake to his head. “Oh, and I know you’re close to finishing paying off your debt for your house so—“ A bag of bells presents itself as well, before you can even blink. “—here.”

He brushes it off so cooly, probably the hottest thing to see — your boyfriend flaunting his bells like it’s nothing, and you’ll give him a proper thanks the next time you get to see him.

Jungkook invites you to a tour of his finally finished island the very next day.

“Is this why you were too busy yesterday? Because you were terraforming?”

“Basically,” he plainly replies.

“It looks good though,” you compliment. It looks really good, and it’s nothing unexpected from Jungkook when his creative drive is significantly better than yours. “Way better than mine.”

“Shush,” he dismisses quickly, “Your island is pretty and so are you,” he assures. “Come here.”

He doesn’t give you much of a choice when he pushes you through the path leading up to the resident services building of his. “Look at the bulletin board.”

“I—why?”

“Come on,” he whines, and your eyes flutter back to the wide screen where he throws himself sideways at the bed, legs kicking every which way. “I want you to see it.”

“Alright, you big baby. I’m going.” Pressing A, you’re greeted by an image of your very own character with Jungkook’s drawing style integrated with it as one of the messages. It’s simple yet quite well done that only Jungkook can achieve, and you almost go teary-eyed at the sentiment. How he took the time and drew it was absolutely beyond you, and you would definitely ask when your mind conjures up the proper formalities for the question. But for now, you stare all googly eyed.

Real life him is gauging your reaction, careful and hopeful eyes all on you.

“Jungkook..” You start with an awed voice. “This is so sweet.”

“You like it?” He asks with a bitten lip.

“Are you kidding,” you softly laugh, “I love it so much, baby. Thank you.”

He turns shy, stuffing half of his face in the pillow that supports his stomach and chest as he lays on it in his bed, cheeks flushing and you swear you see his chest deflate and relax, getting a good glimpse of your gawking through the shitty quality of the screen.

To him, it’s definitely worth the forty-five minutes in curating it the day before your visit.

He’ll draw you a hundred more and send them out each day to see you bawl all over again like this.

He announces your visit as a date night later when he leads you to one of the cliffs he solely reserved for a starry night, two telescopes on each side of it with a picnic set in between, laid all out on a wide criss-cross blanket.

You both cheesily make wishes when shooting stars pass by, giggling side by side together, but also not.

Virtually, with him, this was the best.

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

+ i’ll leave it up to you if you think of them being in quarantine n social distancing, or tell ur kids that they were just long distance lovers if this pandemic rubs off

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

#mine #special affair #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

“spin me around like you did when we first met”

What do you have to shave more often: legs or armpits? I rarely have to shave my legs because hair doesn’t really grow there.

If someone gave you a broken car, would you be able to fix it by yourself? I could take it somewhere or ask family members who work on cars, but no I have no idea about car repair. I know nothing. I’d like to not be given a broken car in the first place, though...

Have you ever seen a tornado? Nooo.

Do you have any pet chickens? No.

Does the color red look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything in general.

Do you have any of your Easter candy left over still? Ew, it’s November.

Do you have blue eyes? No, I wish.

Do you have big or small ears? Small.

Do/did you enjoy it when your school would have pep rallies? I did enjoy the pep rallies.

Do you leave everything to the last minute? I’m a PROcrastinator.

Can you hula hoop? Nope.

What color is your keyboard? Black with white lettering.

Do you know someone who has two different colored eyes? No.

Do you like meatloaf? Meh, it’s alright. I like it paired with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Do you pray before every meal? No. I tend to forget. :/

“I’ve been waiting all day, for you to call me baby”

Do you have any goats? No. I don’t live on a farm, so I don’t have chickens or goats or any farm animals.

Can you stand on your tippy toes? No.

Do you live across from a corn field? No, I live across from other houses.

Is your driveway stone? Nope, it’s cement.

Do you like the lemonade Vitamin Water? Yeah. I haven’t had that in a long time, though.

Which is worse: losing your memory or have to be in the hospital for 3 days. Uh, I’d say losing my memory... that’s kinda a huge deal.

Would you ever go to a Lady Gaga concert? Sure. I bet it would be fun.

How many black tank tops do you own? I have a couple black undershirts.

How many pages do you have bookmarked? I have 8 on the bookmarks bar at the top, but that’s it.

Is your age an odd or even number? Odd.

How often do you use the toilet? Uhhh I don’t know, however many times I need to.

Is your best friend older or younger than you? My mom is 23 years older than me.

What color is the back arrow at the top of the page for you? Black.

How many shirts of yours are red? A few.

Have you heard the song Brokenhearted by Karmin? Yeah.

“Tell me how to get back, back to summer paradise with you”

What's something in you room that starts with the letter P? Pillows.

Are you good at pulling pranks? I’m not a prankster.

Do you play Xbox? No.

Can you do a black flip? Nope.

Were you ever on student council in school? No.

Do you have any pets? I have a doggo.

Do you hate when a teacher calls on you and you don't know the answer? That always used to bother me and make me super self-conscious, yes. <<<

When you're sad, do you only listen to sad music? If I listen to music at all, yes.

Have you ever touched a fish? No.

Is your mom's birthday in February? Nope.

Are you hungry right now? No, I had ramen not too long ago.

When's the last time you laughed? Yesterday.

What does your dream prom dress look like? My prom dress was white with gold specks.

Do you still have a Facebook? Yeah.

Do you like Twix candy? Yes. I don’t recall the last time I had one, though.

“We are, the same”.

Do you play the game Draw Something on your iPhone etc..? I used to be obsessed with that game. It was pretty popular a few years ago.

Does your house have two kitchens? No.

Are you a slow or fast runner? Slow.

True or false: You have brown eyes. True.

If you had dark hair, would you get blonde highlights? I had blonde highlights for several years.

Do you have a nickname that you don't enjoy? No.

Do you enjoy chicken noodle soup? Nah.

Do you hate missing school? Catching up on what I missed could be annoying, especially if I had to miss more than a day.

Do you own animal print pants? No.

One of the best feelings in the world is turning in a test, agree? One of the best feelings in the world is not having to even take a test in the first place. <<< Hahah, for real.

Do you use tanning lotion? No.

Have you ever been hurt and then had someone tell you to suck it up? Yes.

Can people read your feelings like an open book? My mom is pretty good at that.

Do you know someone who has lost their entire memory? No.

Do you like turnips? No.

“Sometimes the only person that understands me is my friend that I tell nothing to”

Do you think your life would change if you were on the cover of a magazine? Yikes, I would definitely not want to be on a cover of a magazine.

Do you really think Monday's are that bad? They’re just another day for me now since I’m not in school or have a job.

Is there a movie coming out that you will be seeing for sure? There’s several I want to see whenever they do come out; dates keep getting pushed back.

Are you tired of the question "Are you single" on surveys? No, the ones about relationships annoy me cause I am single.

Are you sad that this month is almost over? It’s only the 5th.

Do you think you could give up eating desserts for a month? Probably. I’d just miss cheesecake.

Do you think your life would change if you switched places with a nerd? I am a nerd.

Do you think you could jump for an hour straight? No. Or at all.

Do you have a pillow pet? No, but I have a small keychain version. It’s a giraffe, of course.

Have you ever told someone something secret and then they told people? Yes.

Do you like Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal? Yesss. It’s one of my favorites.

Do you like ice coffee or it hot? Hotttt.

1-10 : how tired are you? 10.

Have you ever thought about being a rock star? No.

“Let’s be the same crazy people we used to be”

Have you ever woken up to a good morning letter beside you? No.

What color is the roof on your house? Brown.

Will you be seeing the movie the Hunger Games? I saw all of them.

Was your first job being a babysitter? That’s the only “job” I’ve had. I only babysat my brother and cousins, but I did get paid, so.

Is your nose stuffy right now? No, not at the moment, thankfully.

Would you ever get your nails done? I only got them done once. It was for my 8th grade promotion, so it’s been quite a long time. I don’t care to get them done and I don’t have any nails to get done anyway, ha.

Don't you hate when you type and get letters mixed around? It’s annoying.

Have you ever not accepted someone's apology? I’m pretty forgiving.

Does your car have a sun roof? I don’t have a car; I don’t drive.

When's the last time you went fishing? I’ve only done it once back in like 2005.

Have you ever thought about being a movie director? No.

When you get older, do you think you'll have short hair or long hair? I like my long hair, but a part of me does want to cut it short because I just don’t have the energy or motivation to manage or do anything with it.

Would you ever spend over $100 at one store? It happens.

Have you ever snuck out of your house late at night? Nope. I never snuck out of my house. I never wanted or felt the need to do so.

Have you ever danced on the road when it was wet? No...

“Hey, I just met you and this crazy, but here’s my number - so call me maybe”

Do you prefer the sunset or sunrise? Both are pretty.

Have you ever seen a tadpole? I feel like I probably have when I was a kid.

Do you ever miss Myspace? Nah.

Are you currently wearing a sweatshirt? No.

Do you like fudge sundaes? Sure.

Are you one of those people who wear sunglasses inside? I don’t wear sunglasses, ever.

Least favorite month? May-August.

Do you own a yellow umbrella? I don’t have an umbrella.

True or false: There is a 4 in the current time. True, it’s 4:01AM.

Has anyone ever said "Hello?" and then it all fell into place? Huh?

How much money do you usually receive for your birthday if any? My nana sends $20-$25 every birthday and Christmas. I sometimes get money from other family members as well.

How many famous people have you met? Two.

How long is your favorite song? I couldn’t choose just one favorite song.

Was it sunny out today? It’s only 4 in the morning, so it’s currently cold and dark outside. It’s going to be 81F today, though, so it will be sunny later.

Do you like classical music? I enjoy some of it, especially piano pieces.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years ago

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New Horizons Pt 4 (Hakuno, Enkidu, Siduri)

Previously, in New Horizons: 1, 2, 3

___

They were out the entire day.

Hakuno found the being helping her into the car to ride to the depths of the city. They went to a tailor’s shop… and then another tailor’s shop… and then another-

“Enkidu,” Hakuno tugged at the being’s sleeve, looking at the collection of little shops that were housed in the large building. “Are these all owned by groups like the Abel Sisters?”

“They have hired workers,” Enkidu told her, “but yeah. Basically.”

It was amazing.

Endless clothes. Endless opportunities to pose and watch Enkidu pose. Goodness, but they grabbed Siduri from nearby and dragged her into the collection of fabrics, laughing the whole time as they picked outfit after outfit.

The lady Siduri was laughing alongside them, picking more lace and dresses for her.

“She needs a sunhat to go with this dress,” Siduri told the being.

“She does! Hakuno, hold on!”

Enkidu went running for it, telling the sales person nearby what they needed. She could see the poor woman scampering to help.

“They remind me of the Abel Sisters,” Hakuno told the woman nearby.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they always stood by when I shopped on my island.” Hakuno gave Siduri a small smile. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost since Gilgamesh caught me, but I’m so glad he did. I could have gotten hurt.”

Siduri nodded. “Just remember that your cousin, Enkidu, will look after you.”

“I know.”

She knew it was a lie, but that was alright. Enkidu had told her that it was to keep her safe and she wasn’t going to argue it. The day was sunny and bright. The stores were filled with clothes and, for once, she didn’t need to sell items and collect bugs and fish to sell in order to make a living.

And there were no turnips!

Goodness, but there weren’t any turnip price talk with any of these people.

“Here we are!” Enkidu plopped the hat onto her head and Hakuno smiled proudly, watching the two cheer at the sight.

“You look very gorgeous, Hakuno.”

“I’m so proud. My own family,” Enkidu wiped at an eye. “I will protect you as much as I can.”

She laughed, turning and heading back into the dressing room to change back.

“Hakuno,” Siduri knocked on the dressing room door. “Why don’t you stay in that outfit and give us the tags?”

“No thank you!” She handed the clothes over a moment later. “The sweatshirt smells like Gilgamesh so I want to keep wearing it for now.”

The two glanced at one another.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Siduri told her simply. “Just… enjoy your time with us, Hakuno.”

She was.

She was enjoying this trip so much that the moment she tried the ice cream, she found herself in absolute heaven. She had the largest helping other than Enkidu’s second cone and she still found room for a slice of cake at the café they went to later.

This place shouldn’t have been named Fuyuki.

This place should’ve been named Heaven.

“Enkidu,” Hakuno tugged on the being’s arm as they began to leave to head home. “Enkidu! We have to get that!”

The being looked over towards one of the shops nearby, pausing.

There, in the jewelry case, was the finest gold necklace that she had ever seen. The way it hung, in gold sections, reminded her of Gilgamesh’s hair. It even gleamed like his hair under the lights.

“I don’t know if that would suit you,” Enkidu argued.

“Come on! It’s for Gilgamesh!” Hakuno tugged the being along, yanking him into the store and motioning for one of the sales people.

The money card was swiped.

The necklace was carefully boxed and wrapped before being handed to her.

And then, holding her gift to the grumpy golden boy, Hakuno gave Enkidu a small kiss on the cheek.

“Ah, I don’t remember kissing in the game,” Enkidu mumbled.

“I’m glad you let me have this! It looks perfect for Gilgamesh. He was so quiet today that I think he really should have come with us. Buying clothes is fun for everyone… so is fishing though… oh! Or designing! I’m quite good at that.”

Siduri laughed as Hakuno held onto her gift, but it was for Gilgamesh. She really didn’t want to risk its being given.

They returned to the building from before, riding up to the rooms, and then….

And then there was food made soon enough for dinner.

There was a voicemail on the phone that said Gilgamesh was working late.

She waited.

Watching Enkidu play games and fall asleep on the couch, Hakuno waited for the blond to come back to the home. She watched the dark skies outside, waiting for a glimmer of stars or anything to appear. She waited for the door to open, finding herself checking the peep hole and checking the phone for another message.

Siduri had gone home after dinner.

There wasn’t anything to do…

Hakuno looked around, smiling and looking at the newspaper on the kitchen counter amongst some mail.

There was a picture of her and Gilgamesh.

That was cute.

Where is he?

Had he gotten caught up in fishing? It must have been raining if he was. Fishing in the rain always ended with better and more variety of fish. That was how she usually made a good amount of bells.

Maybe…

She picked up the phone, but…

I don’t know his number.

She sat down next to the coffee table, looking at her gift for the man and sighing.

“Please come home,” she whispered.

How was she supposed to thank him for doing so much for her if he wouldn’t come home?

#drabble #drabbles

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moon--vixen · 5 years ago

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Glimwood diaries

May 5th, 2020

I got a call this morning about a friend’s friend’s island selling turnips for 603 bells, so I raced out of bed, so quickly I barely had time to think about Isabelle’s announcement.

or Deirdre’s letter about sending me a birthday gift since she didn’t want to wait for mine, even though she already got me a birthday gift just two months ago

nor did I have time to really appreciate that CJ finally came back for a visit.

no, I hauled ass down my island, toast-in-mouth anime style in yesterday’s clothing just to make it in time, pockets fit to burst with turnips, over to this strange new island.

I could barely believe my eyes when I saw the number. I thought I’d regret spending almost every penny I had to buy turnips, but clearly I was wrong.

I left the kind island owner my only gold rose as my thank you for letting me visit. I’m still floored.

I got home and finally changed, feeling much better in fresh clothes.

while I was doing CJ’s little challenge so I could sell him my fish when I found Fauna pondering something on the beach.

I...I think I could cry. finally, a nickname I actually hope catches on.

finally, with his little challenge out of the way, I got to sell the insane number of fish I’ve been holding on my little shore.

though I do wish I hadn’t bothered seeing his reaction to only one coelacanth. for someone obsessed with fish, he wasn’t near as excited about it as flick always is with the tarantulas I’ve given him.

but still, that extra money was wonderful.

getting to pay off such a large sum, in full, from my pockets, was quite the feeling.

and of course I had to immediately ask to expand. I’ve been dying to decorate my basement. I know exactly what I want to do with it!

and with what I had left, I also decided to go ahead and pay off my incline too!

I decided to make a call, and on my way out, I found Marshal singing to the flowers. it seems Fuchsia is starting to rub off on him lol

it didn’t take much convincing. I do hope Kiki likes it here, even if I do plan to move her house just as soon as she’s done moving in!

I went to quickly visit a friend’s island, she just got a new resident too, and when I got there, another friend of ours was over at the able sisters waiting for it to open. I found it funny at first,

but then I decided to join her, waiting the last 20 minutes until they opened.

and of course, the moment they did, she was the first inside, before even the actual island resident got in.

just before we had to leave, I remembered why I came. to meet her new neighbor! she’s so cute.

and when I finally got home, I was reminded of the shower of stars Isabelle told us about, right as the sun had begun to set. it’s so lovely.

they were especially lovely in my little fairy forest.

I even found Celeste!

so I decided to invite as many people as I could to join me and share in this blessing of stars.

so many came and went, I could barely keep up. one even brought me a “prezzie”!

it was a mush lamp! the lamp I need so very many of, to truly make Glimwood, well, Glimwood

I truly could not be happier with how it looks. I can’t wait to find more.

I am exhausted tonight though. but today was a great day. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds!

#animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #acnh #glimwood diaries

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questofquill · 4 years ago

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Part 2 ~ Petty Thievery & Turnips: Page 1

After a small briefing of their most immediate surroundings (and revelation Clover had a camera attached to their intercom-- because of course), Clover began to spill details of a package dropped nearby. Quill had, apparently, arranged for clothing to be transferred over to the new world for their journey-- and their cats too…? Which was a good thing, considering Quill quickly realized they were dropped into the world with nothing but pants. After some stumbling and rifling around the galactic got their bearings and began to look. Right next to the cart, hidden in a small patch of tall-grass, was a crate.

"This stuff looks… extra." Quill stated, rifling the clothes every which way. "I can't go into that small farm town wearing this!" They practically were swimming in the armor too. Although it gave them a weird sense of power when they wore it, Quill just stuffed them back into the crate, shaking their head.

"It's either that or go in shirtless. Hang onto that stuff though, we'll probably need it." Clover buzzed in. "By the way I didn't know you were a cat person!" Two cats, one black and one white, stared up from the bottom of the box. In response, Quill just groaned at the thought of how they were going to take care of them.

Supplies were gathered and cats were fed. The duo figured their only next option was to head to the small town right away. Night was approaching rather quickly it seemed, and Quill shivered at the thought of encountering whatever night creatures this world offered. Plus their companion didn’t want or need to witness that.

Oh, and they decided to go in shirtless.

Proceeding down the beaten path, Quill took this time to-- finally-- relax a bit. Sun shone down on them from the tops of the trees. They rolled their shoulders, taking in the sweet sights of nature. Even in a foreign world the wilderness was calming. Being surrounded by open field, it's hard not to feel anything but free. It was quiet too-- except for….

Jingling.

Soft, delicate chimes filled Quill's pocket. They paused, blinking, and reached inside. Out came a small and beautiful prismatic bell.

"What the-- how did that get there…?" The object absolutely captured them as they turned it over and over in their hand, and they held their eyes open in wonder. The object seemed to glow for them. "Do you know anything about this?" They sheepishly called to their companion.

"Huh--? Is that a bell? It's so beautiful! Where did you find it?"

Quill flailed their arm. "I don't know! It just showed up in my pocket-- so I take it you don't know anything about it either?"

Shuffling came from the intercom. "No! That wasn't on the list of items you took with you, atleast. And if it was then it shouldn't of just poofed into your pocket!”

Looking the item over some more, a spark of energy shot through Quill's arm, and they gasped. They pocketed it again. "I'm keeping it." Their companion let out an excited "okay" at the mystery before suggesting they continue, as they were still quite a ways away. All the way towards the town, Quill could hear the bell singing.

It was sunset when they made it. The sky was dappled with golds and pinks. The town was definitely a farm town, and it wasn't very big either. Fields of… turnips, stretched on for acres. Just turnips. Quill wandered over to one of the fences and stood stock still, just staring at all the turnips. Behind them a humanoid bear perked up from the porch of his wooden cottage, and grabbing his trusty rake, he toddled over to Quill.

Quill jumped about ten feet in the air and whirled around. Their eyes widened at the bears appearance-- it was a bear after all-- but dressed like a farmer.

"Oh j-jeez I don't think I saw you either, ha!" They stuttered and offered a wave-- but then something struck them. "Those people…?" At this, the ear chip buzzed, and Clover yelled something about "oh it's so cute!" and "you've met one of the locals!" but Quill just ignored them. Social interaction was already not their strongest point.

"Ah." The farmer narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, rake still in hand. "You don't know what's been going on this past year?" He spoke with a gravelly voice and a slight southern drawl.

"I mean I just showed up here an hour ago!--"

"You and your kind have been popping into existence everywhere around here!"

Clover popped in to Quill's ear. "That's strange…." They muttered, and file cabinets could be heard.

"Turnips don't just grow legs and walk away!" He exclaimed. "Turns out some of your lot was camped up the ridge and half the towns crops just up and left."

Quill let out a surprised squeak, glancing around frantically for any answers out of this situation. Unfortunately, there was none.

Noticing their discomfort, the bear let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders noticeably dropped. Also, the rake wasn't pointing at them anymore, which to Quill was a welcome improvement. "You really have no idea what's going on do you?"

The galactic shook their head.

Sighing, he nodded. "I s'pose you can't be of too much trouble then. You do seem awfully confused." A frown adorned his face and he tapped his foot. "You weren't planning on camping nearby were you? I don't think that'd be a good idea until you get your bearings. I can give you some advice and maybe help you get straightened out."

Weight fell off Quill's shoulders so fast they practically stumbled. Relief poured out into their words. "Yeah that'd be great! I have no idea where I am or what I'm doing, you have no idea how HORRIBLE my day has been." They babbled.

He gave Quill a sympathetic look. "Well, we best get started before the sun gets too low." He said. Reaching out he grasped Quill's hand-- much to their discomfort-- and gave it a firm shake. "I'm Bearnard."

Biting back the urge to yank their hand back, Quill responded in kind. "Call me Quill. Nice to meet you…." The name sounded strange on their tongue still, but what can you do.

Bearnard grinned. "Good good, a polite youngster you are! You don't see many of those these days." He chuckled heartily.

Quill returned his laugh weakly. From the intercom, Clover slid their chair over to the mic just to scoff. It was hard to bite back the chuckle in their throat, and Quill shuffled back a step, the bell in their pocket jingling a soft tune. Luckily the bear didn't seem to notice. He was right though, they should get moving. Stars were starting to dot the darkening sky.

By the sounds of it, he noticed too. "You should be getting on your way. How about you go further into town and brush up with more of the townsfolk? You should always introduce yourself to your neighbors, especially if you're fixing on stayin' here for a while."

Yeah, Quill nodded, that sounded like an alright idea. Their travelling companion gave no objections except for clearing their throat, indicating for them to hurry up with their conversation.

"Do you have any questions before you head off?"

#dappervolk #dv #petsite #questofquill #story #my writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers #ongoing

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moon-ruled-rising · 4 years ago

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as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on ao3...

VII: i’ll try to talk refined

I won’t deny,

I’ve got in my mind

all the things I would do.

So, I’ll try to talk refined.

-Hozier, “Talk”

There wasn’t a formal dinner before the gala started. Baelish claimed that there were too many people to host in the grand dining room, which Jon doubted was true. Baelish also told them they were welcome to dine with the Royal Family but the Starks opted to be served in the little dining room in their guest apartments.

The whole process was unbearable. Sansa tried to get the conversation flowing but despite her natural talents no one wanted to talk about the events of the day, Jon least of all.

Their dinner was another show of wealth and pride. As the server put it, “Leg of lamb sauced with mint, honey, and cloves. Mashed yellow turnips in butter, greens dressed with apples and pine nuts, and honeyed wine with cinnamon and nutmeg on the side for choice seasoning.”

He stared at his portion of the lamb, Sansa’s voice a mere hum in the background. He had no appetite but he needed to eat. He planned on having a drink in his hand for most of the night and even nursing on an empty stomach was pushing it.

Too soon, their private dinner was carried away and they were swept to an enormous hall done up in gold and warm light meant to resemble thousands of candles. There were already hundreds of people and Jon doubted there was a limit to how many people they would pack in there.

It was uncomfortably warm, the summer heat and humidity mixing with the mass of bodies. They prefered old fashioned feasts in the North, held in the ancient great hall with low lighting. On those occasions, hundreds of people were welcome because they helped keep the hall warm. Now the same number of bodies was making him claustrophobic.

Jon and Robb stayed close to their father, observing the party from afar. Sansa, however, threw herself into the action. And the people loved her.

“Why can’t you two be that sociable?” Ned pestered.

“We’re not here to make friends,” Robb bristled.

Jon stayed silent and sipped his drink. He was ordered to stay away from alcohol for the night. It was a shame but for the best. Robb on the other hand, was playing it fast and loose with the champagne.

A loud sound brought their attention to the other end of the hall where a large staircase loomed over them all. Sansa returned to her father’s side in anticipation.

“Their Majesties, King Rhaegar I of House Targaryen and Queen Elia of House Martell of the United Kingdoms of Westeros, Prince and Princess of Dorne, Duke and Duchess of the Crownlands and Lord and Lady of King’s Landing and the Watergardens.”

Jon held in his scoff at their excessive titles. It seemed like another subtle way of establishing their power and influence over the people in their midst. The King and Queen entered the room, descending the stairs and basking in the applause of their guests.

“Her Royal Highness, Daenerys Stormborn I of House Targaryen, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone.”

Like a vision, she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was no applause for her, only whispers.

The other guests were dressed in muted colors and tasteful cuts, keeping the possibility for scandal to a minimum. Daenerys on the other hand, seemed to like ruffling feathers. Her bold gown bared her shoulders and much of her chest, it clung to her curves and highlighted every move she made. He always thought red was a warm color but on her it was utterly cold, enhanced by the silvery jewels adorning her body.

Her eyes raked over the crowd before settling on the corner where the Starks were.

Her descent took a lifetime and no one looked away. Never once did she look down or second guess a step. She was calm and graceful. Even when she stepped onto the floor of the hall and was swallowed by courtiers, he could feel her presence.

Robb nudged Jon’s shoulder, shaking him from his reverie.

“She’s going to eat you alive,” Robb jested.

“Oh ye of so little faith.”

“Don’t kid yourself,”

It was true, Jon had no luck with women. Talking to them seemed so easy, until it was time to open his mouth. Then there was the fact that most women he found himself with weren’t what the crown would consider ‘proper’. Jon’s responsibility to keep his, and by default, the crown’s reputation clean won out over his inherently male nature. Ned’s insistence on legitimization meant Jon had much higher expectations to meet. So it was easier to avoid conversation with women whenever possible.

Sansa elbowed him in the ribs, “Now's your chance.”

The courtiers were done with her and she was surveying the table with photos of that year's charity with a girl in a yellow dress. As he approached the pair, Daenerys looked up and briskly walked away. He meant to follow her but the girl in the yellow dress stepped in his way.

“Your Highness, it’s such an honor to meet you,” she greeted.

Jon looked over her shoulder and watched the silver hair disappear into another crowd.

“It’s an honor to meet you too …”

He had never seen this girl in his life but it appeared she had a connection with the princess.

“Missandei. I’m Princess Daenerys’ best friend.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake.

There it was.

Jon shook it and chuckled, “I see.”

It was refreshing to just shake someone’s hand instead of the usual bowing and scraping.

“Is this your first time in the south?”

“It is.”

“Do you like it?”

Her question felt like a trap. She may not have been educated in the ways of the court but she had to know about Daenerys’ engagement. They were best friends.

“I haven’t seen much of it but it’s different from the North that’s for sure.”

“It’s my first time in Westeros too. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Like you said, it’s very different.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Naath.”

“Then how did you meet the Princess?”

“University in Braavos. I think I was the only person who dared to speak to her. Everyone was terrified,” Missandei divulged.

“I can see why,” he agreed, taking a drink from his glass.

The look he received from the foreign woman was enough to make him wish he was invisible. He cleared his throat, aware of how hot his cheeks were. Missandei only laughed and Jon let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s okay. Everyone thinks that when they first meet her.”

She lowered her voice and gave him a serious look, “Just don’t get on her bad side, it won’t end well for you.”

“I couldn’t imagine myself wanting to,” he answered.

The smirk on Missandei’s face worried Jon.

“Did you go to university?”

“No. I entered the military.”

“Right. Well, if you did go, what would you have majored in?”

“Something political, I’m sure.”

He gave her the answer he thought she wanted. That was how politics worked after all, you told people what they wanted to hear. But Jon wasn’t a politician.

“Actually, when I was younger, I wanted to be a veterinarian. My dad had this massive dog and I loved him. My father’s lords joked that the dog was more loyal to me than him.”

“Then why the military?”

Missandei wasn’t an ordinary member of the court, just a visitor. She seemed like a modern woman who was tired of the gossip and passive aggressiveness.

“The title ‘bastard’ doesn’t go away just because some papers were signed. If I went to university, the Northmen would see me as a waste of their tax paying dollars. So I went into the military. I spent four years protecting my people so they wouldn’t see me as the bastard who got lucky.”

She didn’t respond. Maybe he’d overstepped and shared too much. He couldn’t have these kinds of conversations with people at court. And Missandei was easy to talk to.

“That was probably an overshare,” he chuckled, talking a swig of his drink.

“No, it was actually really refreshing. I’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours and everyone is so formal. Nothing goes deeper than the surface. It was nice to hear someone be real for once.”

The smile on her face was genuine, Jon could tell that much. And he felt the corners of his mouth tug up too.

“If you spent four years on active duty, then you’ve been off for two. Why’s that?”

“That’s classified,”

It wasn’t true, of course, but Jon found that when faced with questions that were far too personal, employing the common saying was easier than getting too personal. There was a reason he was sent home but Jon wasn’t fond of talking about it.

Missandei laughed again but her charming smile puttered out when she saw the serious look on Jon’s face, “Oh, you were serious?”

He offered her another grin before taking another sip from his near empty glass.

They talked a little while longer about random subjects. Missandei talked about her home in Naath and Jon about the North.

“I should probably go find where Her Royal Highness has wandered off to.”

“I can come with you,” Jon offered, wanting to meet the mysterious dragon princess for himself.

“No need. It was a pleasure to meet you though.”

And with that, Missandei and her soft yellow gown weaved back into the sweltering crowd. Jon let out a sigh of relief.

He leaned against the wall and studied the bottom of his glass. Maybe it was time for a real drink. Something light that he could nurse for a while and not get into trouble with. Another survey of the crowd revealed Daenerys talking with Missandei near a statue of some political figure.

It didn’t take long for Sansa to make her way over and feign interest in the displayed photos.

“Who were you talking to?”

“The Princess’ best friend.”

“I hope you didn’t embarrass yourself.”

Jon left his wall to stand beside her and pretend to look at the photos as well.

“I don’t think I did. I tried to talk to Daenerys but she ran away when she saw me.”

“If I found out I was engaged to someone I’d never met, I’d bolt too.”

Jon sighed, “What’ve you figured out from the floor?”

“Every distinguished lady here thinks she’s fast and loose. Burning through heirs and millionaire’s sons faster than they can make them. They’re surprised she returned home after that picture went around.”

“Missandei said that people were terrified of her in university.”

“This doesn’t look good for us. The Northmen will never accept someone who causes such a scandal. We can’t afford to look bad on the world stage especially with our economy failing.”

“Not to mention the Boltons,” Robb stated as he arrived at Jon’s side, “Father says they’ve been getting testy, more vocal against our policies. I can’t wait to see what they have to say about this.”

“This is the 21st century, they couldn’t stage a coup if they wanted to. There are too many safeguards.”

“Nothing is safe from men who crave power.”

His father said those words once when Jon was younger. He assumed it was just an off hand comment but Ned started saying it more often as Jon got older.

“They’d rather have no monarchy than us in power,” Sansa remarked.

“Once the great lords see that this was done to protect our people, they won’t question it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Sansa, don’t be such a skeptic. This is how great dynasties survive. They adapt and overcome.” Robb threw his arm around her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.

Sansa hurriedly shrugged it off as another person approached them.

“You must be Princess Sansa,” the gentle, velvety voice greeted.

Draped in fabric the color of a soft sunset and a cluster of suns sitting on her head, the woman stood as tall as Sansa and possessed the same beauty and grace. The Queen smiled as Sansa curtseyed to her.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you.”

“The same to you. You are a breath of fresh air at this court.”

“Thank you.” Sansa blushed.

“If I could, I would have you moved here immediately.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“There’s always space.” she wink before turning. “And you must be Prince Jon.”

Between the too friendly Rhaegar and Daenerys’ cold shoulder, it was the nicest greeting he’d experienced that day. He nodded and greeted her back.

“If it’s alright with you, Jon, I’d like to speak alone.”

Sansa didn’t need to be told twice. Like the socially adept woman she was, she threaded her arm through Robb’s and towed him away. She glanced back over her shoulder in a ‘goodluck’ gesture and Jon prepared himself for his conversation with the queen.

“Have you had the opportunity to talk with my sister?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. She keeps avoiding me.

“That’s a shame. I’m sure she’ll find her way to you eventually. She just returned home and everyone is excited to talk to her about university and her charity work and who knows what else,” Elia rambled, slipping her arm through Jon’s and leading him away from the display table and the crowds.

When they were away from people the queen lowered her voice, “I’m almost afraid to ask what you’ve heard.”

“About the Princess?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not all terrible. But the majority of it’s been … concerning but I’ve learned that the whispers of any court can breed lies.”

“That’s true. Daenerys is too fierce for her own good but Targaryen’s are nothing without their fire. How are you handling the announcement?”

It was the first time that night someone asked him how he felt. His family had been up in arms, weighing

“As well as I can at the moment.”

“Good. Arranged marriages have fallen out of touch but my marriage was arranged and Rhaegar and I are very much in love.” She turned her face to look out over the crowd.

Jon followed her gaze and found it rested on the tall, silver haired king engaged in conversation with several older gentlemen.

“Daenerys will come around. You know, she doesn’t act it, but she’s very much a romantic. When she was younger we would have movie nights and she only wanted to watch classic romances.”

It was hard to imagine the cold woman gliding across the floor as someone who enjoyed romance movies. There was warmth in them, not in her. He certainly didn’t see where the Queen saw the romance in an arranged marriage with the two most uninterested parties.

An assistant approached the queen and whispered something in her ear.

“I’m so sorry but I have to go catch Rhaegar before he gives his speech about this year's charity,” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. Duty calls.”

She laughed and gave him a knowing look before following her assistant off.

Rhaegar’s speech proved to be unnecessarily long but it gave Jon an opportunity to see Daenerys up close. As the king stood at a podium on a makeshift platform, Elia and Daenerys stood beside him.

She laughed at the jokes and smiled at the right times, her eyes sparkling. Even as the speech drew on she maintained her upright posture and never fidgeted. She’d probably experienced longer speeches and spent hours in tedious lessons with impossible teachers.

Rhaegar finished his speech to a polite round of applause and stood with his wife while the photographer snapped a photo.

That was when Daenerys looked down at Jon. Their eyes met. He expected a nice reaction, maybe a smile of sympathy to show that she understood how complicated their situation was. Instead, she clenched her jaw and hardened her eyes. Elia whispered something in her ear that drew her attention away from Jon.

The party resumed and he found himself clenching his fist with an unconscious intensity. He was wound up and starting to get desperate. The princess still evaded him at every turn and the heat of the room was starting to get to him. He knew there was a garden just outside the doors and no one from the court made an effort to talk to him. His eyes locked on the doors and he didn’t break concentration until he stepped through them.

The gallery between the courtyard and the ballroom was dark and quiet but there were people gathered on the various settees that lined the walls. And it was still too many people for Jon. The patio and gardens just beyond were occupied as well.

He continued down the hall, not even looking at the portraits of various Targaryen ancestors or idyllic scenes. He found another door and followed it out.

The fragrant smell of citrus and flowers welcomed him. The air was heavy but still cool. Wherever he was, wasn’t outside. He heard trickling water from within and followed the sound.

Trees lined the walls and life sized statues of naked water bearers and intimate scenes of lovers hid among the plants. And a man sat at the edge of a pool, smoking a cigarette with a bottle of liquor by his side.

A woman floated in the shallow fountain, wearing nothing but a white nightgown. Her silver hair fanned around her, as pale as the moonlight that fell through the glass and onto the rippling water.

Jon didn’t know what to do. He knew he should’ve left, it was a private moment, but then the woman spoke.

“Jorah?”

The man hummed, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the air.

“Do you think they’re missing me right now?”

“I told them you were jetlagged and needed sleep. I don’t think they bought it but we’ll see.”

She sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder and finally stood. She locked eyes with Jon and gasped. It was then that he noticed the slip was see through from the water. He should’ve run right there but his feet were heavy as lead.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, the edge in her voice cold as ice.

Jon wanted to respond but his mouth was dry. It was her.

#jonerys #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #jonerysfanfic #jonerys fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link

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moonlightreal · 5 years ago

Text

Winx season 8/17

Now three or four people are reading these, and I am very happy. =)

In which we root for Stormy.

17 Dress Fit for a Queen

So, a Stella episode.

Alfea! And we’re returning to the simulation class from season one! It’s not called the “magical reality chamber” this time around because honestly, that name is a little silly. But here’s Palladium all dapper in his vest and long hair asking the girls if they’re ready for a “special kind of test.”

Bloom is unsure.

Stella is ready for any kind of test… “as long as it’s about makeup or changing clothes.”

But this test is about visualizing your deepest insecurities, exactly what Stella isn’t an expert at. The cute minor fairies look worried.

Stella says she has no insecurities, but it’s Musa who hops up to go first.

So, what are Musa’s insecurities? Riven. Her taste in boys. Her mom obviously. Choosing to do music against her father’s wishes, though now that the girls are successes I assume Ho Boe would’ve calmed down about that.

Good callback, the set is the same—a door, then a bridge into a domed room that projects the simulation.

While Musa’s insecurities play a Palladium voiceover explains that everyone has insecurities—like, “some are afraid of making mistakes” Virtual rocker Musa flubs a chord.

“Some are afraid of being unable to help others.” Virtual Flora can’t revive withered plants.

Some are afraid of losing control over a situation.” Virtual Tecna has built a humanoid robot that she’s controlling with her phone, making it do dance moves. But her phone control stops working and virtual Tec has to flee because it looks like the robot is going to attack her. Also, virtual Tecna is sitting in a lavender diamond shaped hovering chair that you can get in Winx fairy school. The robot bangs the chair on the ground, it’s funny.

Virtual Aisha is climbing a climbing wall and falls. “Some are afraid of losing their nerve.”

Virtual Bloom gets dumped by virtual Sky. “And some are afraid of losing the one they love.” She runs after virtual Sky, very upset. When real Bloom walks out she says the simulation feels so real.

What’s this test about anyway? It seems kinda traumatic! But Stella has no fear, she thinks she’ll have to ‘come up with a tiny little insecurity I can visualize.” Stell, I know it was an alternate you, but your Nemesis slapped you around with your insecurities not that long ago! I love Stella, but she has the self-awareness of a turnip.

Virtual Stella is in her pajamas and encounters three dressed-up courtiers. They titter. She wonders if she’s under-dressed… nah, they must be overdressed! She snaps her fingers and poofs them into pajamas too, welcoming them to her sleepover.

Then her parents come out and shame her. Stella stutters, falling apart a little. Then the simulation ends. Stella walks out looking mad, and says she could’ve fixed things with her parents if she’d only had more time. Her voice sounds sad but she looks pissed off; I wonder what tone of voice the Italian voice actress had.

Palladium just says, “Of course you could have, Stella.” her doesn’t sound sarcastic, or particularly anything. Then he says they’ll have another class tomorrow morning and leaves. I expected something more like “this test was to help you understand yourself not fix problems in the simulation, which isn’t real after all.” but nope. I kinda wonder if Italian Palladium was sarcastic, maybe I’ll look this episode up on RaiPlay.

Back in the Winx common room the girls talk about how down the test left Stella, and how she never really got over her parents’ separation. Flora comments that Stella always cheers other people up, but hides her own problems.

So the timeslide has not rewritten Stella’s parents splitting up—though in US law ‘separated’ is different from ‘divorced’ but I’m not sure a kids’ show would care about that. Probably nothing. Also Stella’s wish in season 5 seems not to have gotten her folks remarried as was wondered. We haven’t heard much from Luna and Radius in a while.

Star case appearance! It speaks! The next star is on Solaria, conveniently. “It’s easy to be seen but to get it you must be wearing the confidence of a queen.” Was that an attempt at poetry?

The girls look worried, not thrilled. But Stella comes in and she is thrilled: that’s her homeworld! Musa wonders what confidence of a queen means, but Stella knows! It just means a dress! And that’s right up her alley! Bloom is unsure. But Stella has her plan: make a dress and wear it! “After all, nobody’s more confidant than I am!”

Valtor is watching. He dispatches the Trix to get the star first. Stormy says a test of confidence will be child’s play for her, and she’s kinda got a point. I’d put Icy with her “Defeat the Winx once and for all!” every season like clockwork high on the confidence meter.

I have been watching the Trix very closely. This season has a prize in the bottom of the box, and I know mostly what it is so I’m looking for any hint of foreshadowing… so far I have seen not a single hint. I wonder if the prize was added late in the writing of the season like the gang at Rainbow suddenly decided this season needed a little something more, or something. One thing I wish they did was have foreshadowing in the opening sequence—like in anime ops, there will often be a hint, characters with their faces not visible or only shown as a brief flash so you see just enough to suspect…

(see the Umineko game opening for an example.) But this season of Winx the entire op is just clips from the show itself so nothing in the op can sort of contain the whole season’s story… if that makes any sense… yeah, I think Winx ops could be better than they are.

Cut to gorgeous Solaria background. A little bay, the palace, and a… giant building like six times bigger than the palace? Do Solarians live in arcologies instead of normal cities? (spellcheck does not know the word arcology.) there are also some viking style boats in the bay and random crystals spiking out of the water. Very pretty.

The girls on their winxboards fly past the crystals, which are beautifully colored. Stella says her mom can help with dressmaking but her dad can’t even combine colors. Heh. But he’ll be happy about the surprise visit!

Throne room! One throne, two lion statues, the usual drapey above-throne fabrics. Radius sits reading a scroll. He gets up to hug Stella and calls her “Little Star.” Aaaaaw. Then immediately starts a lecture on how busy palace life is and how she should’ve called before visiting.

Stella blows him off, “Fine, fine, we won’t bother you, byeeee!” and leads the somewhat embarrassed Winx out of the throne room. Stella has an idea: her dad seems stressed, he needs a party to cheer him up! Aisha reminds her of their mission and Stella says she can do both. If her friends help. The girls follow, their expressions neutral. I would be having an expression of ‘concerned’ at this point.

Outside the palace Stella walks with her mother while the rest of the Winx wait on a bench. Bloom comments that it’s nice Luna is still living at the royal palace… what IS her status as the king’s ex? Is she a queen? She clearly still rates a royal look and that cool moon crown.

Luna suggests they look for supplies at Muppy village. Whatever that is. Before we can go find out Stella has another idea: a party for her mom too! Bloom wants to talk some sense but before she can get one word out Stella conjures her winxboard and hops on, off to see the muppies!

Bloom doesn’t know what muppies are either.

They seem to live in houses made from mushrooms around the bases of trees, but the front door is size that a person can go in, so those must be big trees. Stella says muppies are great craftsgnomes and they’ll have all the supplies Stella needs for her gown. Musa sensibly asks why the muppies would part with rare supplies but Stella says all she’ll need to do is make them laugh. The rest of the girls look more and more unsure about all this.

The Trix are of course watching from above.

Inside we see many bolts of fabric. Stella sees some bluewhite fabric and decides that’s fit for a queen. It matches her mother’s dress, a nice touch. Then some muppies walk in, they’re short and look about like adult male pixies would, I think. No wings. And way too small for the scale of their shop.

Stella attempts to pay for the fabric with a joke, but it flops. She’s so earnest about it, it’s adorable.

Musa summons soundwaves that make the muppies’ hair and beards spike out. They see each other and burst out laughing. Score! Stella gets her bolt of fabric… and immediately dumps it on aisha to carry while she does some more shopping.

In the next shop Stella finds a spool of gold thread. She starts to tell her joke then rethinks and asks Tecna for help. Tecna conjures a funny robot that rolls around, juggles, then drops the balls on its head. The muppy proprietor laughs. Tecna says , “achievement unlocked” which is becoming slightly annoying as a catchphrase. Stella gets a box of spools of thread… and immediately gives them to Aisha to carry. This’ll end well.

In the next shop they’re coming to buy jewels to put on the dress. This muppy has a big jewel on his hat. Bloom offers to provide the laughs and does a really cool trick with little streams of fire from her fingers. But it’s not actually funny, and the muppy seems worried his shop is going to catch on fire. As Stella tries to reassure him she knocks a bowl of jewels down on her head. Laugh achieved, she wins a bag of jewels… and immediately dumps it on Aisha to carry. Aisha says she should’ve brought a shopping cart.

The girls hop on their winxboards (Aisha’s burdens seem to have vanished) and head back to the palace.

The Trix hop down for their turn.

Darcy: “We don’t have to make these things laugh to get what we need do we?”

Icy: “I’d rather make them cry.”

Stormy: “We’ll let the Winx do all the work for us then take the prime star from them when they least expect it.”

Too bad, it would’ve been fun to see what kind of dress they’d have made.

Back at the palace Stella is working on a dress not unlike the folded-chiffon dresses they wore on Andros in the Sirenix episodes. It’s pale blue/lavender with a skirt that’s short in front and long in back, blue ribbon trim, one shoulder, a wide ribbon choker, and jewels on the bodice. it’s not at all in Stella’s colors and really looks more her mother’s style. I wonder if that’s on purpose, a nod to Stella seeing her her as a true queen.

The other girls bring party stuff: flowers and ribbons, chocolate cake and lemon cake. As you can guess, one parent likes one thing and one parent likes the other. Stella decides they’ll use both decorations and magics the cakes together into a lemon-chocolate cake which is not a flavor combination I have ever heard of. Lemon-cinnamon cake, however, is amazing.

Bloom manages to reroute Stella into trying on the dress.

Nighttime, outside, Stella is wearing the dress and her Solarian crown. The other girls admire her confidence… and a door of light appears!

Cosmix time! Through the door! The Trix follow, because of course they were hanging around.

The girls appear outside a beautiful pearly sphere with another sphere inside it. Inside is the prime star.

Everybody tries to fly in, but only Stella and Stormy can pass through, maybe because they’re the most confident. But when they grab for the prime star they get zapped to…

Stella in her dress meeting the same three courtiers from the simulation. Stella guesses this is a magical test, but at least this time she’s dressed for the setting! She sees her parents and runs to them, asking if they like the party she set up.

But Radius says they have nothing to celebrate: Luna is leaving. Stella can choose who to go with. She looks back and forth between them, unable to choose.

Stormy arrives back at Valtor’s place where he yells at her for being late. Stormy says she can come and go as she pleases and Valtor blasts all three Trix into the walls. Icy and Darcy fall down into the chasm on either side of Valtor’s throne, hanging on by their fingers. Valtor declares he’s powerful enough not to need them anymore. Icy and Darcy yell for help, saying they can’t fly anymore. Stormy does an evil grin that kinda makes me root for her.

Back at the palace Stella watches her parents walk away. She starts crying, saying she doesn’t want to choose.

Stormy gets her badass on! She can still fly, and still do magic, and she throws some at Valtor. “You can’t treat me like that! And you can’t treat my sisters like that! She rescues both Icy and Darcy and declares, ‘Because I’m the most powerful witch in the magic universe!”

Go Stormy!

Back with the prime star, Stormy wins! She gets the star!

Stella realizes, “It didn’t mean a dress, it means the confidence a queen uses to fulfill her duty, no matter how difficult.”

But it’s too late, Stormy’s got the prime star and the Trix escape with it. Stormy also said, “Guess I showed you two!” to her sisters, which did not make Icy a happy camper!

Stella stands defeated.

Stormy presents the prime star to Valtor.

“I knew I could count on you, Stormy. Keep this up and you’ll earn more than compliments. I’m talking about your freedom from my magic bond.”

Stormy gloats. Icy snarls.

Back on Solaria Stella’s wearing her new dress and the other girls are in their dresses from Andros. Party time! Stella worries about the preparations but it’s all perfect.

“No it isn’t! I failed the test! I wasted time on that dress instead of focusing on my confidence!”

Bloom says anyone could’ve made that mistake, and Stella says, ‘Except that I did!” and now the Trix have the star.

Cute moment of Bloom saying they love everything about Stella, the way she’s there for them, not just her confidence, and the Winx get all teary. Stella says she’s lucky to have friends like them, and Bloom says she’s lucky to have family that love her.

Luna comes in and admires Stella’s dress. Stella says her mother was her inspiration, so I guessed that right. Radius loves the chocolate-lemon cake. They tell Stella that she’s their happiness, and there are hugs. Aaw.

#winx club season 8 #winx club

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