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creativia10 · 2 years

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Touches

Touch is still a novel thing for the Fitzroy trio and the new Fitzroy (by marriage). They marvel at moments of enjoying the feeling with their respective soulmate matches.

Pairing: Roman/Virgil, Logan/Patton, Janus/Remus

Wordcount: 2202

Warnings: suggestive themes

Let me know if I need to add more.

Notes: Tuliptober Prompt 17-Touch

Admittedly, much of this came to me last night when I was supposed to be sleeping heh.

So, I meant to put this the other day but I forgot. I have some ideas for Halloween-related works at the end of the prompt days, that I would like to post in October. Since I got a bit behind and skipped some prompts. That may mean doing some in a different order than the prompt list has. But like, there aren't very many I've seen participating in this. Also, I haven't seen any others writing fics for this prompt event. Somehow I doubt anyone really cares if I do these in a different order. I figured I might as well give a heads up though.

*Same note about Roman as previous pieces' recursive fic. Roman doesn't fully know he's nb yet here so he uses he/him in here, so use he/they in comments. Ty

Let me know if I need to add anything.

@transexualfoxprince

Based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors Pieces Verse

Logan and Patton

Touch was something that Logan was not used to yet. They had all grown up being told that touching was indecent and frowned upon. It was another one of the things that Logan didn’t realize he’d been missing until Patton introduced it to them. Patton. His wonderful soulmate.

The two of them were having a picnic outside in a secluded area away from other people. It was nice. They didn’t have others watching them in the manor, and were away from strangers seeing them as well. It was always enjoyable to spend time with Patton no matter what they were doing. Yet still, he appreciated that Patton considered his personal comfort. It also made it easier to try newer things like physical contact with his love.

Some of it came more naturally, which was also strange for Logan. Something about being with Patton made it easier to reach forward to simply hold hands with him. Logan was even the one to initiate their first kiss, something he wouldn’t have predicted. Yet still, there were moments where he couldn’t help thinking about how strange yet nice the feeling was.

The two of them were sitting on a picnic blanket. The basket was in front of them, only little cakes left now. Logan leaned back against a tree they had set up in front of. A seating position that one would think was a lot less comfortable than the cushy chairs back at the manor. Logan found he didn’t mind though. Patton was leaning against Logan with his head resting on Logan’s shoulder. It felt nice. Patton’s curls tickled Logan’s neck slightly where they rested, but Logan couldn’t be perturbed. He reveled in the soft feel of his husband’s hair.

Logan was very aware of Patton’s warmth in every place they made physical contact. It was very comforting. Logan found he could stay like this for a while and be completely content. And yet.

“I’m torn,” Logan said. “Part of me would like to stay like this for as long as we can, as this feels very nice.” Logan could almost feel how Patton smiled at that.

“And yet…I also rather much want to kiss you. I cannot exactly have both.”

Patton chuckled and sat up. Then he turned to face Logan.

“Well, how about this. We kiss, and then I go back to leaning against you.”

Logan smiled at him.

“Ah yes, but there lies another problem.”

Patton’s eyes crinkled, showing his dimples. “Oh?”

Logan reached up and gently twisted some fingers in Patton’s curls.

“I feel once I start kissing you…I’ll be reluctant to stop.”

Patton let out a bubbly laugh and threw a leg over Logan’s lap so he was sitting on him and meeting eyes.

“That hardly seems like a problem to me.”

Logan hmmed. “Perhaps you’re right.”

They both leaned forward and met in a kiss. Kissing felt very nice. His lips were soft as they moved against his own. They pulled away just barely before connecting their lips again. Patton tilted his head more and oh, that was very nice. Logan reveled in the soft warmth of Patton everywhere they touched. He was enjoying this. Enjoying this contact with Patton, his love. Patton did something unexpected then. Logan felt his tongue dip briefly into his mouth.

Logan squeaked and pulled away in surprise. Patton blinked at him and then gasped.

“Oh, sorry honey! I should have made sure that was okay.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, it’s fine. It wasn’t bad. Just- surprised me.” His face was definitely warm now. Patton looked at him for a moment before giving him a small smile.

“Oh?”

Logan nodded, unable to look him in the eyes. “Just, uh, not more than that?”

Patton softened. “Of course, honey. I always want to make sure you are comfortable with anything we do.”

Logan took a deep breath and smiled at his husband. “I know dear. Thank you.”

He leaned forward again to rest their foreheads. Patton gave him another bunny kiss. Something that always made Logan wrinkle his nose and Patton laughed. Logan leaned over to whisper into his ear,

“We can save the more for when we have our space back at the manor.”

Patton looked down a bit, blushing. “I look forward to that, hon.”

Roman and Virgil

It was almost hard to believe that Roman was married now, and to someone he wanted to be with. Virgil. His wonderful soulmate who really was too good to be true. Not who he would have expected, but still the best in so many ways. Roman felt so lucky to have him every time he saw Virgil. It still didn’t feel real. And now, when they had barely known they’d been soulmates, they were living together. He understood Virgil’s fear and wanting them to get married so quickly. Roman certainly couldn’t bare to be separated from his love of course. Yet now, with the reality of this sinking in, some factors dawned on Roman that hadn't at first.

Such as, having to share a room with someone when he hadn’t in a while. Not only that, but a bed. When he hadn’t even been with his love for long yet. It sounded wonderful…but also incredibly overwhelming.

He didn’t know what it would be like, to have someone else in the bed with him. Feeling his warmth just across the mattress. Virgil still wanted to treat them as boyfriends in some ways despite what they were legally. Roman can understand wanting things to be the way he had expected them. Even if in Virgil’s case, it was for a more positive thing. In some ways, Roman appreciated Virgil’s insistence to take things slow anyways. Although Roman hasn't admitted this.

Roman was a hopeless romantic. He loved love. He loved almost everything about being able to be with Virgil. In spite of Roman’s parents still existing in the manor. But Roman was still very inexperienced in anything romantic. He could even say he was inexperienced in even having a friendship. Roman wanted to be with Virgil and loved that he could be, so much. But, he didn’t know if he could be everything that Virgil deserved. Roman didn’t know what he was doing.

He was afraid of messing up. He wanted this to go well. So, well, he got more nervous than he would let on. It helped that simple interactions were easier. Banter wasn’t hard. He bantered with his siblings. There was a different heat to his banters with Virgil though. In fact, often times his siblings would leave if they got too into a debate. Roman didn’t understand why at first. Until he realized that the heat in their debates lead to them touching more.

So, needless to say, Roman had many mixed feelings about this new experience. He sat on the covers, already in his pajamas, as he waited for Virgil to finish up in the bathroom. This didn’t have to be a big deal. They would just be in the same bed. It’s not like he can mess up sleeping. Why was he so nervous about this? He had fallen asleep on Virgil after all, the night they met. Yet, this felt different.

Virgil entered the room when he finished up. He paused and raised an eyebrow at Roman.

“You good, princey?”

Roman briefly imagined Virgil calling him princess, that sounded nice. But he shook away the thought for now to answer Virgil.

“Y-yeah.”

Virgil watched him for a moment. He didn’t seem convinced. Virgil walked over and sat next to Roman on the bed.

“You know, you’re allowed to list boundaries for going slower too. If you’re not ready for this, we can sleep separately.”

“N-no,” Roman said. Even though picturing sharing a bed with Virgil made him feel squirmy. He really didn’t want Virgil separate from him now either.

“I-I do want to share the bed. It’s just, I-“

Roman huffed. This was embarrassing. Why was he being so silly over this?

“Hey,” Virgil bumped his shoulder with Roman’s.

“You’re allowed to be nervous, you know. This is new to both of us. I know your stinky parents practically forced us to go too fast, but I would like to sleep next to you if we both want to.” Virgil slowly reached over and wrapped his hand around Roman’s. Roman’s breath hitched a bit. Even small touches like this one felt like so much to Roman.

“The thought of waking up and seeing your gorgeous endearing face the first thing in the morning. Well, it’s uh, it sounds very nice.”

Virgil was not looking at Roman as he said this, but he squeezed Roman’s hand. Roman wondered if he was blushing.

“Aw, thanks Virge.” He very much wanted to kiss him. Roman turned and did his best to give Virgil a peck.

Virgil smiled and turned before giving him a proper kiss. Roman hummed into it.

“Ready for bed?” Virgil asked after they pulled apart. Roman sucked in a breath and nodded.

Virgil made his way over to the other side of the bed. Roman got under the covers and turned toward Virgil.

“Hey,” Virgil turned on his side to face Roman as well. He reached over and lightly caressed Roman’s cheek.

“We don’t even have to touch or anything.”

“I don’t, um, I wouldn’t mind if we did. Just a little.”

Virgil smiled and nodded. “You got it.”

They scooted towards each other. They scooted towards each other. There was just enough space to reach a hand across each so they could hold hands between them.

“Is this good?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

“Goodnight my love,” Roman said softly. Virgil leaned up to kiss Roman tenderly on the forehead before resting his head back on his own pillow.

“Goodnight, Ro.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered closed as he sighed. Content. This was nice. A good start. He looked forward to when they were ready for more.

Janus and Remus

Janus and Remus lay in bed together, on their sides so they faced each other. It was almost hard to believe now, knowing that they both actually loved each other. The natural touches they were already inclined to were completely fine. Janus had never thought he would be physically affectionate. Certainly growing up being taught most forms of touch were indecent didn’t help. Plus, with Janus’ demisexuality and occasional sex repulsion, it wasn’t something he often wanted.

Then Janus wound up with a soulmate who was physically affectionate. Even though Remus was new to touch himself. Janus found he had alternating desires. Longing for innocent gentle touches shared with Remus along with the other kind. It was new. But it was great because this was Remus.

They both scooted in towards each other so they were right against each other.

“I have you now,” Remus muttered. “I never want to lose you again.”

Janus smiled. “I share the sentiment.”

Things felt different now but in a good way. Janus started to, almost mindlessly, lightly trace fingers along Remus’s arm, up and down. Remus reached around Janus and gripped his hips.

“Is this alright?” He asked. Janus nodded.

“Yes,” He said softly.

Remus rubbed his thumbs against Janus’s hips. Why did that feel good? Janus sighed and fluttered his eyes closed. Their foreheads rested against each other. After a moment Janus felt Remus’s breath against his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. Janus sucked in a breath.

“Y-yes, of course.”

They had kissed before. Not even a few moments ago. But it had been in the heat of the moment. It felt different, thinking of it before now. His brain was still processing that they could do these things now. He guessed it could be a process to get out of the pining mindset. Like it was too good to be true.

Remus brushed his lips briefly against Janus’s, very warm. Then he connected them for a proper kiss. Janus hummed into it as he moved his lips against Remus’s. Remus ran his hands down Janus’s sides and pulled him closer. Janus loved the feel of how close they were to each other. It was a lot, but it was wonderful. They pulled apart to breathe then went back in for another. These moments were so good. After a bit, they stopped. Remus playfully nibbled at the corner of Janus’s chin, getting him to giggle and smack Remus lightly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Remus hmmed. “Yeah, but I’d like to think you like it.”

Janus smiled at him warmly. “Yeah perhaps. Don’t know what that says about me, but I can’t complain.”

Remus winked at him. “That you’re perfect?”

Janus scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Flatterer. You’re overdoing it a bit.”

Remus snorted, “Nahh.”

Janus shook his head. They lay like that for a moment, still warm between them. Remus moved his hand down along Janus’s side and started to lightly caress the side of Janus’s thigh.

“I look forward to the day we are ready to do more, physically.”

Janus looked away, blushing. But he smiled shyly.

“Yeah…me too.”

He leaned against Remus more and they lay like that in bed for a while.

#Tuliptober2022 #tuliptober2022 #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #dukeceit

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the-unspeakable-tsar · 7 months

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X-Manson Chapter 3 by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar

Okay, things are getting pretty heavy again, champions. Right now, you're fixing to look down the business end of something that talks about murder, child abuse and other assorted horrible things. If you've the stomach for it, let's read on. Please comment and reblog if you fee i've missed anything.

Int: What did they say?

DR: They made it clear to me that if I told anyone about what had happened, that she would die, and that everyone I loved or cared about would die, too. Then I fell asleep and they sent me a dream that showed me what happened down in the pool.

*What happened in the pool, doug?

Int: What did happen?

DR: Don't know. Woke up screaming. Forgot the whole thing. Emma says that's how the brain heals itself. It didn't happen that way for her. She remembers everything.

Int: Did you have any further contact with the School or Xavier?

DR: No. I went to talk to Emma the next day, and she was still twenty years older than she'd been the day before. It scared me so much that, when she told me I couldn't talk, I knew I couldn't and I didn't.

Int: Do you think she manipulated you into not talking?

DR: No. She didn't have to. Xavier did that for us.

*The interviewer continues this attitude of distrust towards Emma Frost and Doug continues his weird reverential treatment of Emma.

[Shot of Emma Frost.]

EF: What happened? People died.

Int: David Lehnsherr?

EF: In front of his father. He wasn't the first. What they did to that baby-

*what baby?

She switches on the mute. She sees Frost's lips moving, the only sign that there's anything still alive behind that dead, lopsided face. She races for the toilet and barely makes it. Two bags of chips and a pound of chocolate chip cookies come back up, mostly into the bowl. When she was finishes, she slumps back onto the floor. She looks at the twin sticks of her legs, curled up in front. Her spandex cycling shorts hang loosely from her thighs. Perhaps she is thinking of what her analyst might say. She flushes it all away, then goes back to the kitchen cabinet. She looks at the TV over her shoulder, and sees that Emma Frost is no longer there. Instead, some sort of weedy-looking man is explaining something that must have been very important. She switches off the mute and starts into the shortbreads.

*trevor fitzroy?

[Shot of a weedy-looking man]

WLM: -and so we were completely unprepared for Shaw's charges.

*Sebastian and Shinobi

[Shot of Emma Frost]

EF: I should have known that he wouldn't leave it at that. I should have known that he was going to retaliate.

Int: How did you find out about the charges?

EF: When the detectives came and arrested me in the middle of morning assembly for statutory rape. They were careful to tell the entire school what they were arresting me for, as well.

[Shot of Douglas and Marie-Ange Ramsey]

DR: It was bullshit, pure bullshit. Shinobi was always saying crap like that.

*Shinobi Shaw, the legal son of Sebastian Shaw. Unclear if the hellfire club exists in this au. But, as a note, Shinobi and Emma did have a relationship in the Ultimate Marvel Universe.

Int: Do you think Xavier put him up to it?

DR: No idea. Shinobi was such a complete shit that he probably did it on his own.

Int: Why would Shinobi Shaw have done that on his own?

DR: There was a lot of pot use in the school, even before they legalized it. Emma and the staff knew it wasn't any more dangerous than cigarettes, so they tried to discourage all of us from using it but didn't come down on us hard if we did. I mean, I met Marie-Ange at a hash brownie party. We kind of shared an unofficial award for the longest fit of uncontrolled giggling.

MAR: You would have to remember that.

DR: Anyway, anything harder than pot or hash and you were out. Shinobi got caught with a salt shaker from the school cafeteria that was filled with cocaine, and so he did a deal with the local DA. Xavier might have gotten involved at that point, because the evidence was so flimsy, it shouldn't have stood up in court.

*Dumbass. It's curious that this deal came with the DA, because i think it's implied Xavier is working with the local cops of Salem Center.

Int: I understood that the prosecution presented a strong case.

MAR: In the court or in the newspapers? The conservative media went mad about the story. They had pictures of her in every newscast, dressed up for events in very glamorous outfits. We never saw her like that. She always dressed down on campus, wore baggy clothes, that sort of thing because she knew what could happen to teenaged girls. Even then, she still looked better than any of us. It made her life a misery, constantly being aware of how many men wanted to fuck her. She gave in to that misery at the wrong time.

*Nothing has changed with the conservative media.

DR: She never gave in to it with a student. Never, not that I ever knew of and certainly not with Shinobi.

MAR: Yet you all talked as if you did.

DR: Come on. We had 200 teenaged boys in the school, and one of the most beautiful women in the world looking after us. We used to fantasize all the time, but it would have been like sleeping with Supergirl or Princess Leia. No one would have ever dared do it. No, at some deeper level, I think that most of us loved her. Not sexually, more like something out of the middle ages.

*That's a very odd way to think of things.

MAR: I do believe that you are romanticizing this all too much. The point is, they had no difficulty in finding twelve boys and one girl who hated the world and who were more than happy to say that Emma had fucked them. The conservative media made a circus of it.

*Taking a stab in the dark, I can probably point to one boy besides Shinobi who might have made such a claim. Empath is never far from my mind. The girl however remains a mystery to me.

DR: While the left wing media kept silent. It was a circus. Half the kids got pulled out of school, two of the masters were arrested, and one of them ended up doing ten years in prison when they found an obscene parody of a Mickey Mouse comic that he'd drawn.

*What?

MAR: She would never have employed a master who would have hurt her students.

Int: And yet she could have made you believe this.

MAR: She could not have manipulated 400 students. There was very little privacy in the school. Someone would have talked. You are far too comfortable with the picture of her as the predator, the cold woman who eats her young as Xavier did his. She was not always so cold, not before she tried to kill herself.

*Calling the interviewer out on their shit.

[Shot of E Frost]

EF: I was not always what you see now. The one time that I did see myself on tape, I was horrified. I cannot bear to see what I have become.

Int: Do you recall what you were like before your injury?

EF: I do, and it is so strange to me. I can almost drown in the memories, they are so sweet and warm.

Int: Why did you try to kill yourself?

EF: Trying to keep the school open had been such an effort. I had expended almost all of my cash reserves, and the school had gone into bankruptcy. The strain killed my father, who had been suffering from a heart condition. Of the two physicians who had saved my mind as children, one died and the other had a stroke. I was arrested twice and held in a psi-blocked cell, and all I could read were the warders, whose minds were almost uniformly hideous. I was released on bail before the trial, on the understanding that I would be re-incarcerated before the hearings to prevent my influencing the jury. It was so ridiculous, because neither the judge nor the prosecution were shielded from Xavier. I was so alone, and I threw myself at John.

*bit skeptical of Emma throwing herself at John Kelly.

Int: John Kelly.

EF: Yes. Right after his divorce. The papers found out, and used it to tar him. We were together perhaps all of three weeks. It was hard for me because he was resistant and I could never quite see him clearly. In the end, he broke off the relationship quite abruptly, leaving me alone. I received a phone call the same afternoon saying that I should present myself to the prison the next day, as the jury selection was about to begin. I was wandering through the house and I saw this old hunting rifle above a door. It had been there for years as a decoration. It had a bullet in it, so I pointed it at my head and pulled the trigger with my toe. The powder was very old, so it didn't kill me.

[Shot of Marie-Ange and Douglas Ramsey]

MAR: I found Miss Frost in her chambers. I was one of the last students to leave the school, as my parents were still trying to raise the funds to return me to France. I heard the shot, and disregarded her orders that she should be left alone.

DR: There was a court order banning her from contact with minors. She was confined to her apartment and we'd see her watching us, sometimes. What was left of the choir would sing at night, under her window. We could see the strain was getting to her.

MAR: I could not take the chance that the sound was a car backfiring or something of that sort. I climbed in through the window from the roof and found her on the dining room floor, all covered in blood. I performed the first aid that I knew, and phoned for the ambulance.

DR: If Marie-Ange had waited a minute longer, Emma would have died.

MAR: Emma did die, or rather much of her did. The bullet destroyed several important parts of her brain. She lost all of her psi abilities, and her ability to feel.

*I think this is a reference to the Age of Apocalypse, wherein Emma received surgery to have part of her mind removed along with her psychic powers.

DR: Not like in tactile feeling, feeling as in personality. She became very cold, iced over.

MAR: And this got her off, on a technicality. She never had the chance to defend herself, and so her reputation remains blackened.

[Shot of Emma Frost]

EF: It freed me from the noise, and from my feelings. That alone would end my life as a teacher. I still consult for state and assist with the development of facilities in public schools for mutant education, but I could never be involved with students on a day to day basis again.

Int: Yet you remain friends with many of your former students.

EF: Oh yes. When I'm with them, I can feel the ghosts of feelings come back like the pain from phantom limbs, except that it's not phantom pain, it's phantom joy.

*I find myself relating to the concept of Phantom Joy.

[Shot of a portly man in a sweater, wearing a blazer but no tie. He is puffing on a pipe that has not been lit.]

[Caption: Nicholas Dio Cassius, Roy Cohn Professor of American History, University of Chicago]

*No idea about the name, but what the fuck is going on with the University of Chicago in this universe? They have a Trofim Lysenko of Genetics title and a Roy Cohn Professor of History title.

**Roy Cohn, as many of you well know, was an American prosecutor who is well known for being Joe McCarthy's chief counsel when McCarthy was carrying out his witch hunt for communists.

NDC: It was one of the most celebrated cases involving the Hinckley Law. Because her old personality was destroyed, she could no longer be accused of any crime. They made a deal that so long as she stayed away from adolescents, they would let her go. The death of her accuser from a heroin overdose before her trail no doubt helped. Her defence was very strong, perhaps stronger than she realized.

*Is that a reference to John Hinckley Jr? Did John Hinckley Jr get his mind destroyed by a psychic?

Int: Was there a political dimension to her break-up with the Senator?

NDC: Most certainly. Kelly was always flirting with disaster. The coalition that produced the Second Revolution that demolished the idea that corporate and property rights were superior to human rights, this coalition was always unstable. Throughout the Kennedy, Johnson, Kennedy, King, Bradley and Kennedy administrations, the only way that they could keep the revolution on track was when the Progressives, the Liberals, and the Democrats would all stand behind one presidential candidate. The Republicans were always the largest party of the four, and at any moment could have swept away the gains of a generation. Kelly had been instrumental in the foundation of the Social Democrats and might have even been their candidate in '84, but for the scandal. It also imperiled the passage of the Chavez amendment, and had that failed the United States might have remained unilingual and the southern borders might have ended up looking something like that wall that used to surround West Berlin.

*Damn, sure would be bad if something like that happened right? Something like a southern border wall would be pretty dystopian and fucked up, right?

Int: How did he react to her suicide?

NDC: No one is really sure. The authorized Kelly biography says that it was responsible for his abandoning his presidential bid in '84 and in not seeking the bids in '88 or '96, when he might have stood a chance, but no scholar takes that book seriously. From what I know of the work of other biographers, there is a case to be made that it may have contributed to brief descent into alcoholism. One is struck with the parallel with that incident with Kennedy, the one that was rescued from that car crash by the secretary who had gills.

[Shot of a short, pear-shaped man wearing a powdered wig that sits slightly askew upon his head. He is wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, and 18th century clothing. He looks not unlike popular images of Benjamin Franklin, but also seems to be under the influence of mind-altering substances.]

*That is the best goddamned description of Sebastian Shaw i've ever read.

[Caption: Sebastian Shaw, Private Investor, Phuket, Thailand]

*of course shaw is one of those gross white men who fuck off to Thailand.

SS: Of course, they would make this out to be a tragic history. Poor Emma Frost. Poor, poor, crippled, Emma Frost. After what she did to my son, they should have hanged the bitch.

*I take it the Hellfire Club doesn't exist. At least, not one where Emma is a member. Though, I think if Shinobi's claims were valid, i don't think Shaw would have this reaction. I think he's only being this boisterous and angry because he knows it's bullshit, and there's something for him to gain from it. Frightening old conservatives like him are usually only of this mindset if this happens to a girl child.

Int: Did your son ever discuss the alleged incident with you?

SS: He most certainly did. I had sent him to the Academy, as a legacy. It was an excellent school when I attended. They brought up young men to be the leaders of tomorrow. The lash was not spared, no, not once.

*thoughts had by Dennis Prager.

Int: I thought that that would have been illegal.

SS: Oh, no, no, not at all. Very character building. And even if it had been illegal for the common folk, such rules would not have applied within the confines of the academy grounds. It was a school for the building of elites.

Int: So your son's letters must have come as quite a shock.

SS: Oh, yes. Not only did that witch take over the school herself, she desecrated the quads by bringing in both female teachers and students. How could men learn to become men in presence of all that disgusting femininity?

*he seems awfully disgusted by femininity, is there something you'd like to share with the class, Sebastian?

[Text of a letter superimposed on the screen, read by a narrator with an incongruously English accent]

Narr: On Walpurgisnacht, Miss Emma led a black mass in the quadrangle. We had no choice but to participate, or our families would be killed. We were led down into the cellars and the old gymnasium, where we were forced to don black hooded robes and bow down before an altar with an inverted cross on it. Miss Emma stood on the altar in a skin-tight white leather outfit, with her most trusted students at her side. Gradually, they unrobed her, revealing her full roseate-nippled breasts and her broad muscular stomach. As the crowd chanted, they stripped her of her remaining undergarments and set about licking her with their tongues. I was tied to a school bedframe with hempen ropes. Once she had been groomed by her minions, she approached me with the lighted end of a Cuban cigar….

*Good god, lot to cover here. The description of Emma feels very in line with her White Queen outfit from the comics, but the circumstances surrounding it feel like a combination of things. For one, the dream-like atmosphere and the impossible scenario feel like something from the McMartin Preschool trials. Where cops coerced children into making up these impossible claims of satanic rituals perpetrated by their teachers and parents. Now, the thing with the cigar reminds me of Clinton-Lewinsky scandal.

[Shot of S Shaw]

Int: Didn't you find this a bit difficult to believe?

SS: Not at all. It is exactly what I would have expected of a woman of that sort.

Dangerous, conservative moron.

Int: Was his statement to the authorities of this nature?

SS: It contained passages that were far more disturbing than this.

*making his story wild and strange, "Too strange to be fake."

Int: Why do you think that they believed him?

SS: Because they were true!

Int: But the parts about the children?

SS: Just look at that man Xavier. What would make you think she was any different?

Int: Why did you release these letters to the newspapers?

SS: It was necessary, to show that my son was not what the liberal media were making him out to be.

Int: What was that?

SS: A drug-addled fantasist. They had senators and eggheads of all descriptions besmirching my son's character. I had to fight back to preserve the good name of my family.

*ah, an anti-intellectual, just like a real-life conservative shitheel.

Int: Why did you not remove him from the school after you received the first letter?

SS: It was a most stressful time, and I believe that I made a noble, yet erroneous decision. I and the other members of the Republican Central Committee were involved in plotting election strategies for the '88 elections, and all of my resources were committed to this enterprise. Had I been for one moment able to step away from our deliberations, perhaps my son would have been spared the worst of it.

*Sebastian Shaw would have gotten Reagan elected in a heartbeat.

Int: It was that important?

SS: My god, sir, yes. What this country needed then and still needs now is a return to the government of our forefathers. They were men of universal knowledge, experts in every field, not like the pointy-headed liberal specialists of today. They knew the world, and everything worth knowing. We don't need a single one of the amendments passed to our hallowed constitution, especially not those that destroyed the hallowed right of all men to own unlimited property. With that right, every man can aspire to being one of the Gods themselves!

Int: This sounds similar to the arguments expressed by the mad philosopher Scalia.

SS: If there were any justice in this land, Mr. Scalia would be on the Supreme Court, not locked away in an asylum.

*goddamn it.

Int: But this is Thailand.

SS: But in spirit, I remain at home in what was once the greatest country in the world.

You're a fucking idiot, Shaw.

#marvel #fanfiction #x men comics #charles xavier #xmen #annotations #sebastian shaw #emma frost #shinobi shaw #doug ramsey #Roy Cohn #Scalia #marvel theories #annotated fanfiction #new mutants #marvel community #marvel comics #marvel fanfiction

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chocolatebananapancake · 1 year

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El Chaltén

A three hour drive from El Calafate sits El Chaltèn. A tiny town in the middle of Parque National Los Glaciers. From the town itself, you can see the mountains surrounding it and it is a very beautiful sight. The outline of the mountains is on the logo for the Patagonia clothing brand. And it's most famous for Fitzroy. In reality it has at least 24 hikes of different difficulties.

Climbers used to come here before it was known to trekkers. They would camp out at one of the rivers to wait for it to be low enough to jump across to access the mountains.

We had booked to stay in this cool looking tiny house which turned out way better than we expected. The owner Capa, a carpenter (El Carpintero) built it all himself. He upcycled lots of stuff for the place, like windows and doors and even the boxes he's used for moving make up the stairs to the bedroom at the top. It was definitely the best place we've stayed at so far. He's super creative and the place was so comfortable even with such a small space. We had a great chat with him when we arrived where he told us about the history of the town. It turns out he's the park ranger and built loads of the trails! He's worked all over the world as a park ranger, in Canada, Australia, Antarctica, America. And in Iguazu (our next destination). He was an awesome guy!

By the time we were settled in our tiny house it was evening so we had some time to visit the supermercado to pick up food for the next days trek. You've got to get creative when you're jumping from place to place. Don't want to carry stuff between towns. And they won't always have what you're looking for. But if you're pretty happy with a plain cheese butty then you're in luck. We also opted for some cup-a-soup for the top of the mountains which turned out to be excellent 👌

We ate at this tiny pizzeria on our street. People kept getting turned away it was so busy, they let you get a half and half pizza and we got one whole pizza each. It was a lot of pizza. But was sooo delicious! We had to take some home in the end.

The next day we were up at 7 to get ready and on the road at 9am for our Fitzroy hike to Laguna de los Tres. Set to be an 8 hour round trip over 20km so we had some walking to do! It was a great hike, the weather started out quite cloudy. But it cleared up as soon as we got closer to the mountains. It was a great view to see the clouds parting and the peaks showing. Like some kind of photoshop job. See the photos we put up for what I mean!

The start of the hike is uphill but flattened out for the majority and then the very last bit is 1km of steep climbing/scramble. Capa lent us a pole each which we were thankful for! We smashed the way there in about 3hrs 30 mins which was ace as it gave us more time to spend admiring the view.

The 45min uphill battle was worth it for the view of the mountains over the lake. It was also in a sort of bowl so was sheltered from the wind. The water was icy and freezing but it didn't stop a few people taking a dip!

On the route we passed a few campsites. We didn't know you could camp here. You could come here to do a similar adventure to the one we had in Torres Del Paine. Although quite different. To enter the park here is free, for now. It won't be long until they start charging people. Which they should do as conservation costs money. The camps had none of the amenities we had in Torres. Everything you need you will have to carry, food, tents etc. They each have one "toilet" each…and it's not pretty! But as in other places, you can drink straight from the streams. So it's camping for the real adventurers.

The way down was great as we saw lots of the great views we missed out on in the morning due to the clouds. We made it back to town before 5pm, tired but enough energy to enjoy a few beers and some dinner before an early night.

We hadn't planned much else for our visit but Capa told us about another hike, Loma Del Pliegue Tumbado. And we had to do the trail that the actual park ranger suggested. Turns out it was another 8hr round trip but 22km. After the day before we were quite tired so it turned out to be much tougher than usual. It was a gradual uphill all the way. Which we'd normally enjoy but not as much this time. The mirador (viewpoint) was obviously another beautiful one but much colder than yesterday. We were glad for our hot cup-a-soup!

There was another viewpoint 2km away, up a huge hill, you could just faintly see the path going up. We took the decision not to do it! Got to stay within your abilities. And we knew we'd be struggling on the way back after that! The walk back was very tough. Our feet were feeling battered. Plus downhill really does a number on them. But the trail was cool. It snakes through open fields with wild cows and through ancient looking woods. Over hills with yet more fantastic views. We finished that one quite quickly too even though it was a struggle and made it back to town at around 3:30pm.

The town, being so small is generally closed through the day as there aren't normally people there then, they are usually off hiking. So it opens up again at 6pm. So we had a great excuse to go back to the tiny house for a nap and chill out. Dan even tried to make a Yerba Mate that Capa had left for guests. Mate is a traditional tea drink that is very popular in Chile and Argentina. People drink it as a communal thing passing the tea around to be shared. It's supposed to be made in a particular way which we don't know of so we made it quite strong. Not so enjoyable for us! Hopefully we can try it again when it is made by someone who knows what they are doing!

That night we enjoyed more beers in a few bars and a lovely dinner in a place that Capa had recommended.

The next day was pretty chill, we had to pack in the morning as we were checking out and heading back to El Calafate. Before we left though we went for a leisurely breakfast and a super quick hike to Mirador de los Cóndores. Its one that Capa said he'd built for the retirees. Making accessible trails for people is ace, everyone should have the ability to enjoy a good hike. This one was on top of a hill though so not sure all could do it! And it was the one all the tour buses go for so was quite busy. We had to keep trying to overtake people 😄

But anyway it was cool, a great view of the town and there were 6 Andean Condors flying around it. They were huge! As one of the largest flying birds in the world they are around 1m tall and they have a massive wingspan of 3 metres.

El Chaltén might be our favourite place so far. On par with Torres. The vibe in the town is very chill and there is lots to do hiking wise. You could definitely stay there longer than the three nights we did. Anyways, that's all for now. We are on the bus to El Calafate again as we're catching a flight tomorrow morning (Sunday) to Puerto Iguazu to see the waterfalls!

Vicky

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maplecourtesy · 3 years

Text

TAZ:G NOTES, EPISODE 35

WE’RE BACK BABEY. i am skipping my uncles wedding for this also i have comletely forgotten not only what happened last episode but also the entire plot. also i’m kinda glad there wasnt an episode last time cuz it was smack in the middle of exams and i’d feel left out again </3

TIME TO PARTY????? EXCITING OPENING. :OO?? CHAOS PARTY????? CHAOS PARTY. O H. CHAOS AND ORDER PARTY.. INTERESTING

CHAOS YOUNGER SIBLING. yeah thats fair. i think it’d have been funnier if chaos was older though.OH WHAT HAPPENED LAST EPISODE WAS GOODCASTLE REVEAL.

[most of the content under the cut, because spoilers!!]

chaos having regrets and developing an emotional connection to the plan was not how i expected this episode to start but i can dig it. oh boy this is actually really interesting. i thought it’d be a fun party episode. but. i guess chaos order party Would start like this.

THREE MORTAL CHILDREN. every reminder i get that the thundermen are literal actual teenagers makes my heart do a little flip. they r just kids :(  GOODCASTLE FUCK YEAH. FUCK YEAH MAN. FUCK YEAH GOODCASTLE.

SIR REGINALD THISTLEWHIP. IS THAT WHAT HIS NAME HAS ALWAYS BEEN. IS IT FISTLEWHIP. FIZZLEWHIP??? i like fizzlewhip.

WKJSBKDJFBJ FITZROY GRIFFIN. HE IS KNIGHT IOF GOODCASTLE NOW. WJSBDJKFJB FITZROYS LOSING HIS MIND. MANS BEAN IS GETTING F R E A K E D.

FITZROY IS HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS. HES JUST BELLY FLOPPED IN FRONT OF SIR REGINALD FIZZLEWHIP AND SPIRALING

the sword thing being the only reason he wanted to be a knight. me too.

knight to knight. reggie. FITZIE AND REGGIE. AND.. AL.

HEY GORDIE HI GORDIE I MISSED U GORDIE MY FATHER DAD<3333333

oh boy right rainer in trouble.

fitzroy maplecourt, knight of the realm of goodcastle, Dance Commander.

HIERO DIDNT KNOW??? man theres so many characters happening everywhere all the time.

festo: what day is it! fitzroy: its judgement day.

festo: oh shit!

have i ever mentioned how much i love festo because i REALLY love festo.

groundsy’s hut.. havent heard that in a while. that was like forbidden right it has to be important

they are Squadded up… althea gordie festo Reggie this is gonna be fun

THYE R JUST CHILDREN ALTHEA CMONNNN U CAN GIVE EM A LITTLE .. A LITTLE NUDGE U CAN HELP EM OUT.

althea: if U dont have a plan. and WE don’t have a plan. then whos fighting the bajillion demons.

R THEY TALKING ABOUT THE XORN?????? XORN TIME????

GORDIEGORDIEGORDIE LETS GO

JWBSJDBFJSDJNKF ALL OF THEM DOING THEIR DUMB CROSSTALK OF TRYING TO SACRIFICE HIMSELF. FITZROY DEFENDING FESTO. THIS IS HILARIOUS. i know a couple people thatd be happy if justins plan went the way he wanted but i for one am glad that there will be no sacrifices

GROUNDSYS PLACE. ITS BEEN LIKE A YEAR SINCE I HEARD ABOUT GROUNDSY.

oh thank god the thundermen get a rest. finally. TIBIA AND GHERKIN<33 MISSED THEM. SPOOKY SCARY SKELETONS. BELLETON.

last nights chat was the sleepover chat right<33333 missing that<3333333

FITZROY IT WAS VERY FUNNY IT WAS REALLY FUNNY BUT ALSO… U JUST PUT UR FACE ON THE WHOLE CRIME.

ADMITTEDLY IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS IF THEY JUST UP AND LEFT. AND THEN PIRATE ARC. AND THATS THE REST OF GRADUATION.

argo my beloved. u are the lovable rogue.

WHAT NOOOOOO NO WE CANT LOSE THUNDERMEN LLC. THEY CAN JUST BE PALS CALLED THE THUNDERMEN LLC

OOO THE MUSIC… COMMODORE IN JAIIIIL BABYY. ayo they fucked him up real goodWHY DID HE JUST ESCAPE THAT CANT BE GOOD THATS NOT GOOD.

firbolg i love u he is just dreaming that is all,, awww firby<33333 oh wait what time travel stuff???? oh boy okay. time travel fucks with my head and i am bad at thinking already. its super cool though!!! “what is powerpoint.”  OH. IS THIS A CHAOS FITZROY DREAM???? I MISSED U I MISSED U I MISSED U. LOOKING DOWN ON CHAOS. SEXY. IDK IF THIS IS CHAOS FITZROY OR NOT BUT THIS IS GOOD NEVERTHELESS.

i still dont know about order but i think i can sympathize with chaos which is. alarming.

FITZROY U ARE THE CHOSEN ONE AND I LOVE U AND I THINK U SHOULD DISMANTLE CAPITALISM AS A WHOLE NEXT TIME.

did this motherfucker say heighth

chaos: this may be the last time we see each other

argo, without missing a beat: oh thank GOD.

WHBSKJDS YEAH ARGONAUT ME TOO

yknow ever since they were like argo likes to be called argonaut ive been calling him argo more i think

NEW CHAOS VIBE. oh my god the rose tinted glasses.

FUCK O F F I JUST YELLED SO LOUD. CHAOS IS JUST A KID THEYRE JUST A KID I CANT DO THIS ACTUALLY. I BREAK WHENEVER ANYONE ENDS UP BEING “JUST A KID” AS MENTIONED BEFORE IN MY “THUNDERMEN R JUST KIDS” NOTE. OUGHFHDFHDFHGDH CHAOS IS JUST. A KID GOING OFF WHAT ORDER HAS BEEN TELLING THEM IS RIGHT FOR EONS. THEYRE JUST A NAIVE KID THEY DONT KNOW A WORLD OUTSIDE OF THE ONE THAT ORDER HAS BUILT FOR THEM THEY DONT KNOW ANY DIFFERENT UFGHJDFG . THEY ARE SCARED. SHUT THE FUCK UP TRAVIS IM GOING THRU A LOT RN. me when i become a chaos sympathizer. AND THEY JSUT SAID THIS MIGHT BE THE LAST TIME WE SEE THEM??? AFTER THAT BIT ???? DONT DO THIS TO ME DONT.

just took a 10 minute break from the episode to try and figure out what the trope of some great and powerful person being a child all along is called. results inconclusive but its one of my favorite tropes.

A TANTRUM. A TANTRUM, SHUT UP THSI FUCKIGNF CHILD THING IS MAKING ME SO SAD.

ayo festo i was having a moment.

FITZROY SLAP MAGIC AU.

AYOOOO???????? AYO FESTO PARTY TIME????????? AYOOOOOOOOOOOO???? FINALLY. FUCK. YES. FINALLY.

F U N. H A T S. FUN HATS FUN HATS.

stupid argo with his stupid straw boater hat. and firbolg with their stupid leaf hat. and fitzroy with a JAMIROQUAI HAT??????? WITH. ANTLERS?!?!?!?!?!? FUCK YES. YES. YESYESYES. THIS IS MY FAVORITE EPISODE THIS IS MY FAVORITE EPISDOE. FUNNEE HATS.

they are doing drugs.

they are doing so many drugs at once .

DRUG MUSIC. THIS IS SO FUN

oh we are in drug audio time. PARTYTIME PARTYTIME.

argo literally doin the whole barbershop quartet bit

YEHAHHHHH GO OFF ARGO DRUGS FUN AND GOOD (jk haha dont do drugs guys . or like not too much)

YOU ARE THE WIND AND YOU ARE THE MOON. NATURE AND HIS FRIENDS AND HIS CLAN.. LOVE THAT.

ayo is fitzroy having one of them villain tango moments except homoerotically with a glowing golden version of himself. there is so much symbolism there about how that’s the physical representation of his magic and stuff but i will ignore all of it and focus on just how sexy of a visual concept that is.

THIS IS. SO SEXY. THEY. WINK. OH MY GOD.. THE “YOU DONT KNOW WHERE THEY BEGIN AND YOU END” LINE. THIS IS SO HOMOEROTIC IS IT MEANT TO BE. THEY HAVE TO KNOW WHAT THEYRE DOING WITH THIS. FITZROY MAGIC BACK FUCK Y E S .

argo fucking. dork.

THUNDERCLAP. AYOOOOOOOO LETS GO FITZROYYY. “AS EASY AS YOUR HEARTBEATS, THE MAGIC FLOWS OUT OF YOU” THIS FUCKS.

“i guess you could say the magic was inside- *vomiting noises*” HESKDHFNKSDN TAHSTB SO FUNNY HES SO FUNNY

MY FAVORITE EPISODE. THIS IS THE ONE. TAZ GRAD EPISODE 35 MY BELOVED. IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW. thank u travis for my life. also griffin for my life. oh hey this ended up being a long post for such a short episode. huh! its cuz it was the best episode thats why.

#taz #taz graduation spoilers #taz grad #taz g #taz grad spoilers #the adventure zone #taz episode 35 #sir fitzroy maplecourt #fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #argo keene #master firbolg #the firbolg #taz graduation #taz notes by krys #krys talks

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cadence-talle · 3 years

Text

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

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

Wordcount: 9,587

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!

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

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

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

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.”

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts.

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.”

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter.

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her.

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving.

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans.

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I didn’t-”

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses.

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!”

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her.

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter.

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble.

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?”

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont.

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory.

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it.

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund.

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.”

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie.

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more.

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.”

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel.

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are

I know you only do that to annoy me.

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize.

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster.

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side.

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.”

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.”

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother?

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.”

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves.

“You’re even prettier in person.”

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.”

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks.

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.”

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.”

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.”

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.”

Fitz nods. “Neat.”

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze.

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker.

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?”

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too.

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances.

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs.

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.”

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.”

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.”

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans.

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up.

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND.

“Cookies,” he announces.

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place.

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti.

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile.

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up.

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.”

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red.

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number.

415-623-7868

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.)

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good.

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet.

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up.

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven.

What on earth was that.

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?”

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.”

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile.

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep.

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp.

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.”

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs.

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak.

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods.

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers.

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air.

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is.

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod.

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.”

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back.

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus.

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for.

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Dex can’t sleep.

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something.

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty.

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them.

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it.

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.”

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you.

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter.

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head.

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time.

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering.

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.”

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs.

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.”

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.”

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.”

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins.

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing.

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it.

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again.

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room.

What the fuck was that.

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.”

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex.

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that.

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him.

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off.

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it.

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve.

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder.

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is.

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win.

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug.

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment.

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.”

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss.

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods.

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.”

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother.

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her.

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape.

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing.

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it.

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing.

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.”

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.”

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests.

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-”

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days.

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans.

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously.

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.”

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him.

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.”

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up.

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look.

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.”

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?”

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch.

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing.

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?”

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.”

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm.

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?”

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony.

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what.

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say.

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge.

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness.

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes.

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten!

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little.

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin.

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet.

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City.

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

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cloudcover23 · 4 years

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Two Princes Season 3 Episode 7 Reactions:

< Episode 6

Okay. Last episode of The Two Princes ever. Here we go. I'm not crying. You're crying.

Scottish dude is devastated with the rest of us.

Rupert and Darling will NOT be the Two Princes

Write a letter to Spotify and Gimlet and KCS and EVERYONE INVOLVED

Rupert is walking up to the gauntlet

He's not scared!

Despair > fear. I like that honestly

You can't talk him down because Rupert already has all these thoughts in his head all the time. He's used to dealing with it and pushing forward.

Rupert song!

He's so emotional you guys! My baby!

Omg his voice.

All us Heartlanders are linked arms with Rupert. Backing him up.

I'm not as emotional as I thought I'd be…

Nope. Never mind. Flashbacks. Get me every time. Here come the waterworks!

This is it you guys. The last episode. They've come so far! MY BABIES

He's telling us (the fans) that even though they're going to be gone we'll always carry them in our hearts. I'm going to miss you Rupert!

Rupert has gone through so much. You can't tear him down because he's been torn down his whole life and keeps getting back up.

Omg is that him vocalizing behind the flashbacks? Beautiful.

Ahhh! The flashbacks when Amir calls him Fitz

Wait, how is the Despair fading? Idk how this magic works…

Broken magic sound effect

Okay, where is everyone? Tell me that when the despair went away that everyone came back. Please??

Magical fanfare!

They're popping up!

Achievement unlocked!

AMIR!!!!

Hold each other!

Porridge and Fitzroy reunion!

So are all the people from the Northern kingdoms there too?

Set some more seats for the wedding!

Percy! Such a good knight!

Joan is happy!!

Joan's approval!

Joan's face is smashed in Percy's hug… Percy is taller than Joan

Percy can't swim?

KISSING A BOY!!!

We called it y'all!

Joan's dad! Reconciliate!

Good apology Brutus.

Go to her Joan

Fire breathing goblin? Is that what the thing looked like?

Lol, she hasn't been paying attention… classic Cecily. I guess she wasn't in any of the scenes where they talked about the end of the world or the despair thing.

Tell her Joan.

Cecily. Come on strong? You?

DATE!

Cecily is squeeing

Good question Cecily. Standards!

SHUT UP AND KISS ME!! JECILY STYLE!! SOMEONE CALLED IT!!

Warm your cockles… I could make a dirty joke. I really could. I really want to.

Ronnie chuckles

RECONCILIATE

What is the Chamberlain Barabbas ship name?

They holding hands

CHAMBERLAIN FINDS LOVE!

Wenceslaus isn't too happy.

Domestic family song in the background

ADOPT HIMMMMM

Omg Amir is game!

Like, I don’t think they should be parents right away… but I do like this.

Darling came back

Darling wants to start taking responsibility for his actions. Percy just went through that metamorphosis. Maybe they could help… each… other… DARCY FOR LIFE

Oh no he still got that happiness curse

Oh the fairy just swoops in? Convenient.

Poof! Magic fairy!

Tiny mortals. Is she giant?

She was watching everyone die.

I'm a victim. You're a victim. Everyone's a victim.

I don't like this fairy.

Lots of harm. Lots of foul.

So nice.

She's a sucker for happy endings… except she was watching everyone die…

Rolls her 'r's

This is… so convenient.

Yah, Rupert is confused just like me.

Love saves the day. *eye roll* I mean okay fine.

DON’T BLESS THEM YOU SCHEMEING FAIRY

What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

"You still want to marry me?" "try and stop me" That could have been fluffier. I guess we needed a break from all the heartfelt interactions?

Wedding bells!

Weddings instantly make me cry.

Chamberlain is officiating. Perfect. He was the one who started it all. I always wondered if he knew what the prophecy really meant? Or before the attacking forest cut him off was he going to tell Rupert that when he gets to the hollow that he needs to kill the other prince?

East and West and Heartland. Are they not all one country now?

Okay, what tradition are they getting married under? I assume the East and the West have different ones. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY TRADITIONAL??

Mawiage! Skip to the end! Have you da wing?

Despite his need to micromanage! LOL

Their tear-filled eyes looking at each other. Hands clasped between them. Smiling. In front of everyone. Omg this is happening

Propensity to overreact!

Lord Chamberlain of the Heartland!

He crying y'all

"bring those big beautiful lips over here my love" I… hated that…

THEY HUSBANDS!!!

Can't wait for tonight!? Boys! This a kids show! (lol, Amir's little "oh yeah" I can't)

Omg Rupert’s speech about living a full life together. I love it.

NOT ENOUGH MUSHY STUFF. WHO SAID THERE WAS TOO MUCH MUSHY STUFF??

Happy beginning! TOTALLY A THING.

Air punches

Another song! How did I not see that coming?

Take that booty to the dance floor Amir

Doing the Carlton dance to this

This is so happy!

Belt it!

Wence is in there too!

Please don't end.

No credits no.

Please.

I love this story. I love these princes. Thank you guys.

#spoilers #ttp spoilers #ttp season 3 spoilers #ttp #ttp season 3 #the two princes

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gayiconwaluigi · 4 years

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Tracking the dynamic between Argo and Fitzroy eps 9-11.

Episode 9:

Fitzroy: Damn!! This is good jerky!! Argo: Oh, my mom would be pleased to hear you say that. What—how about you, Firbolg? You want to try a little bite?

Argo: Well, I'd agree to that idea, as long as we could maybe name it after my ma. Cause y'know, she was a very important part of my life. Fitzroy: Thundermom! Argo: [quietly] Thundermom…

Argo: Memories, huh? What about you, Fitzroy? What about your folks? Fitzroy: Oh… You know, uh, the—the house where I grew up, Argo, it‘s um… I don‘t like to flaunt it, but uh… it was large enough that I would go days without seeing either of my parents, and uh, they would frequently sort of travel from villa to villa. Or ‗vi-ya,‘ as they would say it.

Argo: Avast ye—oh, he‘s already dead. I actually should've said the ava— but then it wouldn‘t have been a sneak attack if I'd yelled out ‗avast ye.‘ Firbolg: This is the problem. Fitzroy: Well, it still wasn‘t a sneak attack, if you think about it… Argo: It wouldn‘t have been, no.

Fitzroy: [quietly] There may be invisible imps in here. So make sure you sneak attack just every square inch of the room, okay partner? Argo: Well, it doesn‘t really work like that. That‘s not sneaky. Fitzroy: Well, again, I think… the last play was a little bit also unsneaky, but let‘s just, um… hm. Uhh… Argo: Let me try something. Let me try something.

Griffin: And I attack the model skeleton with my maul. Argo: You have sneak attack too?! Fitzroy: Sure, if this is what we‘re calling it. I sneak attack the heck out of him.

Fitzroy: What… just… happened, Argo? Argo: Hell if I know. [laughs] I have—I have magic, too! I have one freakin‘ spell!

Fitzroy: Argo, take a grabski, bud! We‘re all takin‘ one. Argo: Uh, I'll take the… oh, I don't know. I'll take the arsenic. I'll take some arsenic. Travis: Whoa! Fitzroy: I don‘t love that. Argo: Well, I am a rogue.

Argo: Sneak attack!! Fitzroy: Now this is a good—yes!

Fitzroy: Hey, Argo, you're just— Travis: If you're wondering, you get some in your hair. Fitzroy: Yeah, Argo, you're just kind of trying some stuff out tonight, aren't you? Argo: [laughs] I'm just really exploring meself. I'm discovering Argo! Fitzroy: Okay, so just like, moving forward, how did you feel about the head-butt operation? Argo: Probably a bad choice. ‗Cause now I've got ichor. But my skin is so naturally… y'know, it always looks like it‘s kind of covered in water and oily and stuff that, hopefully, the ichor will wash out.

Argo: Oh, okay. [sings] Night fever, night fever… Fitzroy: I don‘t think he was speaking… Argo: Oh, you didn‘t mean that literally?

Griffin: Yeah. Uh, I think that sort of takes the wind out of me, as I see Argo, uh, seemingly be killed by a razor-sharp chain. So I'm going to try and get over to him, taking an attack of opportunity, and try to get in his bag if I can.

Griffin: [laughs] I'm glad I said I drop out of rage, as uh, as I see that, because I lose my half damage ability, and uh, that‘s gonna take me down to, uh, two hit points! So, I dive towards Argo, take an enormous hit. Uhh, reach into his bag, grab the medicine kit, think about it real hard, about just kind of eatin‘ it myself, uh… but no, I'm going to uh, use it to revive Argo.

Summary: Lots of back and forth between Argo and Fitzroy. Argo is investigating Fitzroy (from what it appears). There’s a back and forth about Fitzroy wanting to sneak attack (Argo’s thing) and Argo wanting to do magic (Fitzroy’s thing). Argo head butts an imp, and even Fitzroy knows that’s dumb. Fitzroy drops out of rage to help Argo and helps Argo instead of helping himself after getting knocked to 2 HP.

Episode 10:

Gary: Those imps taught you something, eh? Fitzroy: Yeah, those imps taught me a lot about life and love. [????Griffin?????]

Argo: Umm… well, I did, uh… thanks to my new hero, Fitz, I—I escaped from the brink of death. I missed a lot, because I was at zero—no, I was unconscious.

Argo: By god, the little guy came along and brought me back to life, and I owe him a life debt. Buckminster: Oh! Fitzroy: Uh, yes, and a lot of times, when people say that, they do mean it sort of… um… metaphorically. At this school, there is actually a sort of fungible like, equivalent to a life debt. And we can get into that later.

Argo: No, wait, we need to try to guess, don‘t we? Buckminster: No, it‘s not a riddle, it‘s a joke. Fitzroy: No, it‘s not a riddle. It‘s not a quiz. It‘s a joke. Argo: Oh, gotcha. We don‘t know!

Argo: Uh, well, I mean, it was interesting. It was kind of creepy. Umm… but uh, yeah. I almost died. So, that was kind of a sucky, y'know, angle to it. Jackle: No. Argo. Argo, I'm not talking about the imps, boy. I'm talking about, what did you learn about Fitzroy Maplecourt? What'd you learn about his family? Argo: Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah. Oh, listen to this. You're gonna love this. His ma, her name was Dindra. And she handed out really good gum. Had a big purse. Had a huge purse. And in this purse, she kept like, jewels and gems, and uh, amulets, and uh, hot mint gum, apparently. So… that—that‘s… that‘s about the extent of what I learned. Jackle: [sighs] Argo: These guys don‘t like talkin‘ about themselves. They don‘t want to share. [weepy] I mean, they kind of bond together, and they got their little things, and they talk, but nobody—

Argo: Because listen… the—the guy could‘a… he had a chance to help himself, or save my salty ass. And he saved my salty ass. I… I… I don‘t feel so comfortable spying on him, especially if it‘s gonna lead to something bad happenin‘ to him. He‘s not a bad guy. For an arrogant jerk, he‘s kind of a nice arrogant jerk.

Argo: Well why can't I just come out and ask him? Why can't I, instead of just sittin‘ around, y'know, trying to be—

Argo: I understand. Okay, let me just tell you something. That‘s fine. And I‘ll pursue this up to a point. But if it reaches the point where something bad‘s gonna happen to him, you may have your first broken chain link, my… my friend.

Fitzroy: But I don't know how much you've been paying attention – Argo sneaks out at night very frequently. He does not talk very much about the classes he takes. I know he is a rogue by nature, and so, there is a certain amount of that to be expected from him, but… I… there is something very big and strange happening, and there is also something strange happening with our friend, Argo Keene. I don't know if we can bring him in on this.

Fitzroy: Master Firbolg, I trust you with my life. It‘s what… it‘s what happens to you occasionally that I don‘t trust. I don't know that I can say the same for Argo. And I don‘t necessarily know how to get there, so I think… at least for right now, it would behoove us to stay quiet, at least until we can protect ourselves from whatever is doing this to students at this school.

Summary: Fitzroy...I know you’re joking about kissing an imp, but if the imp’s taught you about love and to sacrifice yourself for the one’s you love...Argo call’s Fitzroy “my new hero.” Fitzroy is thinking about taking Argo up on that life debt. Argo is dumb and also sad that his friends exclude him. Argo says he’ll leave if they hurt Fitzroy because he thinks he’s a good person for saving his life instead of trying to save himself instead. Fitzroy doesn’t know how to begin to trust Argo, so he’s not sharing anything with him.

Episode 11:

Fitzroy: Uh, we like to keep it more fluid around here. More jazz-like, with our long term planning. I mean, right now, we've got a great thing going on. We have a fantastic thing going on. My CFO is always crackin‘ the books, trying to ink out every little bit of gold and copper and coin that we can possibly squeeze into our coffers, and Argo is doing… something. Equally vital, I'm sure.

Argo: And y'know, they're great fellas. They're really… they're really good, and they really seem to have really kind of, y'know, connected. They‘ve got… okay, they're both CEO and CFO of this… Thunderman thing, and I don‘t have a title. And it bothers me.

Argo: But I don't know, I'm kind of the odd man out. Y'know, with the two fellas. And it‘s, uh… y'know, like I said, it‘s not a big thing. It‘s just a fittin‘ in, y'know, kind of thing. I've never been one to make friends fast. But y'know, I feel a little left out. Especially at the meetings. Y'know, they all get to make official reports, and I just sit there, writin‘ all the stuff down. Eh, y'know…

Althea: Now, Argo, this isn't necessarily within my prevue. But… have you spoken with them directly? Have you told them that you feel left out, that you would like to be closer friends? Have you… opened up to them? Argo: Well… here‘s the thing. I think Fitz thinks I'm kind of an idiot.

Argo: And thank you. Thank you, by the way, for the compliment. I appreciate that. Althea: Oh, of course. Argo: So far, all I've been complimented on is like, uh, like, stealing things, and killing. It‘s nice to get a compliment on, y'know… bein‘ smart.

Fitzroy: Sneak attack! Travis: Wait, you don‘t have sneak attack! Griffin: I mean, I just did it fast.

Argo: Sneak attack! Crush: Okay. I'm standing right here looking at all three of you, and you're saying out loud, ‗sneak attack.‘ Um, so, this is going to be lesson number one. If you're going— Argo: I was trying to encourage—I was trying to encourage Fitzroy to try it again. Crush: Sure. If you're going to sneak attack – and this is just kind of basic 101 stuff – don‘t yell ‗sneak attack‘ before you do it. Fitzroy: You should whisper it. Crush: No, don‘t—okay. Argo: [whispers] Sneak attaaack!

Fitzroy: Hey, you did a fair amount of ass kicking before you were— Argo: Thank youuu. Fitzroy: Before you were killed.

Fitzroy: They had a evil boss. Crush: Like a big imp? Argo: He was an imperor. Fitzroy: Yowza.

Argo: Um, okay. Listen, um, I'm uh… I'm checkin‘ out—I wanna check out things on uh, Fitzroy. Y'know, I'm on my secret mission, which I assume you know, so it‘s not that big a secret. Sabour: Oh, yes. Yes. Argo: I was thinking, like, any… like, a social register from Goodcastle, or uh, old issues of… Knights Illustrated. Especially the bathing suit of armor issues. [laughs]

Argo: Wow. Caravan? Huh. So he was… a truck driver. [laughs] Travis: Basically, yes. Argo: Oh. [laughing] I'm not meanin‘ to laugh. Um… I… there‘s no way Fitzroy knows this, does he?

Argo’s Letter: Greetings, salutations, and general huzzahs! We haven‘t been formally introduced in the flesh so to speak, but I am Argonaut Keene, friend, roommate, and business associate of your son, Fitzroy. And let me just say right off the bat – your son is quite well. He is excelling in his classwork, wreaking a lot of havoc among imps, and making fast friends with many of his fellow students. Most notably, myself, his best friend, and our other roommate, a Firbolg named… Bud… Furby… Dr. Fungus. I tell you what, that can wait for another letter. Actually, the friendships are the reason I'm contacting you. We've all grown quite fond of Fitzroy and would like to surprise him with a kind of social event. Here at the academy, they have a tradition called a roast – and no, it does not involve cooking of any kind. I had to explain that to the Firbolg… It‘s where friends gather and show their affection for a designated buddy by standing up and making speeches; most of them, good natured ribbing of the honoree. I am organizing just such an event, and Fitzroy will be the honoree! ...Of course, I in return, vow to watch over Fitz and allow no harm to come to him here. That is a solemn promise that I do not make lightly, but to ease any concerns you have over the safety of your boy, my BFF.

Summary: Fitzroy admits that he doesn’t have a role for Argo, and then Argo notes that in his own meeting. Argo is hurt that Fitzroy thinks he’s stupid, and he takes Althea’s compliment that he’s not dumb to heart. There’s the whole sneak attack bit, which I cannot tell if Fitzroy is trying to mock Argo or genuinely has stolen his bit. Argo makes bad jokes and also asks for Knights Illustrated. Argo thinks it’s funny Fitzroy’s dad was a truck driver and trusts Fiztroy so much that he believes he doesn’t know his dad’s a truck driver. Argo labels himself as Fitzroy’s best friend although he’s obviously been upset that he’s not as close to Fiztroy as everyone else is. Then Argo vows to watch over Fitzroy, okay man, chill.

#maplekeene #taz graduation #sir fitzroy maplecourt

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videogamelover99 · 4 years

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Reason

A/N: I physically cannot write something that’s not angst. Anyway, with Episode 15 of TAZ Graduation (by far the best episode, in my opinion), I couldn’t help but need to write this. Warnings for: sexual coercion, abuse of power, classism. AO3 link here.

Summary:

"When you transformed Silvia Nite, the fear in her eyes made you feel powerful. Don't you want that again?"

"...I kinda do."

Chaos takes their time to convince Fitzroy that their power is worth it.

When Fitzroy was eight, his father finally took him with his caravan. It was hired out to a Madam Adaman Fern, a human whose new estate was waiting to be moved into. Fitz had watched the items get loaded in by his father’s crew, one by one: solid red wood furniture, silverware of the purest metal, a grandfather clock, and pounds and pounds of jewelry, carried in malachite boxes, full of amber, jade, gold and precious stones that he’d never thought existed. He’d excitedly watched from his father’s place at the head of the wagon, his father smiling as he calmed the horses down, stroking their necks. It was a long trip, passing fields and rivers and mountains, each more beautiful and grander than the last. Fitzroy, in his short life, had seen nothing father than his nowhere town and the local farmer’s market his mother liked to go to. He tried to consume all of it, to not miss a glimpse of anything they passed on their way. That night, the crew had a hard time wrestling him to sleep.

When he woke up, earlier than he ever had out of his excitement, the first thing his eyes were drawn to was the large, three story mansion. It loomed above the horizon, its marble columns reflecting the light of the dawn in a way that made them shine with early morning luminescence. The caravan pulled up in front of the large iron gate, and the crew got out, ready to unload. Beyond the gate, he could see a cobble-stone driveway, circular and in the center of it – a marble fountain, shaped like many outstretched hands, holding up the sky. In front of the carriage stood a woman, helped down by a man in a black and white frock. They slowly approached the caravan, stopping a few paces away from Fitzroy’s father as he got down to greet them. They had not a speck of dirt or road dust on their silken garments. Jerry, when right in front of them, with his grass stains and horsehair covering his overalls, looked a bit like a homeless vagabond. He nodded politely at the two as they watched the luggage get unloaded.

“Careful with that,” the woman said softly, eyeing the people handling the grandfather clock, “it’s been in my family for generations.”

Then she spared a glance at Fitzroy, and the boy smiled wide, like he always did to grownups he didn’t quite know yet. His mother loved that smile, said none of their neighbors could ever resist it.

The woman did not smile back. Instead, she gave him a look, one that made him want to climb into one of the wagons and never crawl out again. A look of pure, unashamed resentment. They she turned away quickly, as if Fitzroy was not worth any more of her time, her jewelry clinking gently as she did so.

Fitzroy remembered that look well. He’d remembered it, because it was the same look that the students at Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School sent him as he passed down the hall, weighed down with expensive, barely affordable books, and ill-fitting clothing his dad had given him. It was a look he chose to remember, when his body was too tired to stand, when his mind was unfocused, when his muscles ached from the overexertion of his training, when his hands shook when holding the sword. He remembered it, and pushed on, past the pain, past the sickness, past the shaky adrenaline.

You could say that at some point, his tenacity had become singlehandedly fueled by spite.

At first, he thought Silvia Nite was better. She’d called out his potential early on, when he’d felled several on the training field, his shirt clinging to the sweat on his back, his face and hands covered in dirt. She’d smiled, and he smiled back, proud that finally, finally someone was noticing his potential.

He had run into her in the hall once, embarrassed and out of breath from being late to class. She’d offered him a helping hand as he tripped over his own feet, mumbling an apology. “Your class can wait,” she said, leading him by the arm, “walk with me.”

He nodded frantically, at loss for words. She led him through the hall of the castle, and into the courtyard. They walked side by side, and Fitzroy had to fight the impulse to lower his head. She breathed power the same way he breathed oxygen. He’d admired the way she held herself, above any trifles or misunderstandings.

“I hear you’re making quite the progress,” she said, stopping just under an old apple tree.

“Y-yeah…I-I mean-” he choked on his words, nervously wondering if he’d already fucked this up.

She smiled at him. “Breathe.”

And, on command, he did. “That’s me! Always, always punching the clock, working those books…” he wanted to jump off the nearest cliff.

“Good,” she turned away from him, plucking one of the flowers from the tree, watching as a few stray petals flew to the ground, “you know, a lot of the other staff members didn’t believe me.”

“Believe you…?”

“About your potential.” She stroked the petals with the tip of her finger. “You’re a talented young man, Fitzroy,” she turned to him, and grinned. “I’m glad you were able to prove them wrong.”

“Oh…I-uh…thanks, I guess? T-thank you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. You’ve got no one but yourself to praise.” He nodded dumbly. His chested swelled with pride. She’d noticed. Silvia Nite had noticed him. His hard work, his monkey, his time, his pain - everything was finally worth something. “It was very good talking to you, Fitzroy Maplecourt. It’s time for you to head back to class,” and she walked away, the flower still in her hands.

He might’ve felt a little giddy when, after one of her lectures, she’d approached him again. He’d noticed the looks of the other students, some sneers, some of unidentifiable pity. He shrugged them off, thinking them envy. It wasn’t hard, given how much better he was than everyone else at mostly everything. Magic excluded. A Knight didn’t need magic to be successful. A Knight did, however, sometimes needed a helping hand. Which was what Silvia offered to him, placing her long, perfectly trimmed fingernails on his shoulder. She was much taller than him, her elven features similar to his own, and yet so much more pronounced, regal. “I believe there are some people in the oversight guild I can introduce you to. You’d want to build up contacts once you graduate.”

He’d nodded, already having thought of that for months now. Because even though his kingdom, Goodcastle – was already lined up for his taking, something told him broadening his scope was a wise decision.

She let go, stepping back toward her desk. “Meet me at my office tomorrow afternoon. There, we can continue this discussion.”

He should have suspected something, then. But he was too much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? And the opportunity seemed so close. Silvia Nite had tossed in the bait, and he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

But when the time came, and he poked his head into her office, even he could tell that something was wrong. The window blinds were down, and as Silvia walked up to greet him, shaking his hand, and reached over his shoulder to lock the door behind him. A part of him knew, when she told him to sit down, not letting go, smiling, her praise oozing out of her lips like molasses. Suddenly agitated, he shifted in his seat, all to aware of her gaze wandering all over him. They sat down, Silvia behind a redwood desk, him sitting across from her, hands writhing on his lap.

“I can help you, of course,” she’d said, her tone matter of fact, “graduate faster. Find important people to introduce you to. It would be an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” Then she sat back in her leather chair, adorned with the carved faces of eternally hungry wooden lions, and said: “I am a busy woman, though. It would take quite a lot of my schedule to do that for you, do you understand?”

He’d nodded. And flinched, when her hand covered his, and the whole time, his mind was screaming that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. He felt trapped. Under her gaze, in the shadows of the closed blinds, by the lock in the door behind him.

Then her other hand moved to grasp the back of his neck. “So you’ll have to do something for me as well, Fitzroy.” Then she tugged on his collar, and he sprang back, his legs finally working correctly. He was breathing shallow, panicky, because he knew that look. For so long she’d masked it under the pretense of kindness, with nice words and smiles, but at its core, it was all the same. The look of someone who thought that Fitzroy was nothing more than the mud under their shoes. He’d been such an idiot not to see it sooner.

The older woman moved back in surprise, her hand still hovering in the air. Then her gaze narrowed.

“Y-you…” he tried to find his voice, but it was shaking to much for him to form any words. He suddenly wanted to laugh. “You think…you can just…I will never-” He’d never felt so angry in his life.

Her eyebrows rose up, perfect arches she’d no doubt spent hours of her precious time on. She eyed him up and down, standing from her chair, and he bristled, his hands turning to fists. No matter how skilled in combat he’d become, he would still be no match for her. She held his gaze.

Then she sat down, waving a hand. “Alright. You may go, then.”

He practically flung himself at the door, turning the lock with his shaking fingers. “And Fitzroy?” she called, just as he was about to leave, with a tone that sent a chill down his spine, “not everyone is as accommodating as I am.”

After that day, the calls of kissass and teacher’s pet turned to something much more vicious. He made himself suck it up and carried on. Only a few months before graduation. He could make it. After all, one thing was made clear to him. There would be no one who would ever respect him, not until he left this school behind.

The anger didn’t go away. It festered, with every jeer, every rude gesture, every pitying gaze the other teacher had sent his way, and had boiled over when he had to face her once again, in her magic class, trying to light this goddamn candle that would not light the piece of shit-

Her gaze dug into him, ignoring all the other students, the resentful look so clear, so unmistakably present, and if he could just light this goddamned candle so he could leave-

And then the whole room exploded. And moments later, when Silvia Nite was turned back to normal, her gaze wide-eyed and terrified, Fitzroy felt like he couldn’t get enough of the fear in her eyes.

Chaos paused the memory, turning it over in their hand. “You were angry. Good.” They smiled at him, hovering over his shoulder as he looked alongside them. Their shifting head of hair wrapped around his shoulders like a cloud, undulating and free. “You had every right to be.” Their voice was like a whisper of the wind. “She wanted to possess you, control you. Her position gave her the illusion that she could own you. And she was wrong.” They waved their hand, and the memory faded from view, melting around them like sugar. “This is why I chose you.”

They came to him every night, his nonsensical half-dreams replaced by their strange, every-shifting world. Sometimes it was a room in a castle. Sometimes they were out in the woods. And sometimes, the two of them would just sit there, on the foot of his bed, his own body sleeping fitfully behind them. Chaos looked delighted whenever they came. They were possessive, but not in the way people were. They lacked that look in their eyes. They knew they owned him, but not from any illusion of power, not because they thought they were better than him. They owned him, simply because they could.

They turned to him them, smiling, but not amused. Reveling in their truth. “With my power, there will never be such humiliation. Isn’t that reason enough?”

#taz graduation #taz g #sir fitzroy maplecourt #chaos #taz grad spoilers #fanfiction

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theadrogna · 4 years

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@singledarkshade came up with the Dream Show challenge, where we had to give her a list of 7 TV shows or films and we were given a cast of 7 actors in return. Then I got carried away and this is the result: Diaspora

Synopsis:

Earth seeded the galaxy with colonies, sending out ships full of colonists in suspended animation with everything they needed for a life elsewhere. That was a generation ago and now a new ship, the Linnaeus, has been sent to check on the colonies that Earth founded. Have they prospered and conquered new worlds or are they failing and in need of help to survive? The Linnaeus with its team of scientists and problem solvers is Earth’s mission to re-establish contact. The colonies are a long way from Earth and the rules are different when you’re so far from home.

Cast:

Dr Aneurin “Nye” Castell (Arthur Darvill): Nye is the team’s xeno-ecologist and scientific lead. He’s something of an idealist, and a brilliant academic, but never saw himself going into space again. Parsa is an old friend and talked him into joining the crew as an opportunity for furthering his research. He specialises in finding out what makes an Earth-like world inhabitable for humans, and looking at alien ecosystems to investigate how they function. He usually ends up doing a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to sorting out what’s going wrong with a colony. He is able to make intuitive leaps that can be hard for others to follow, but is accepting that not everyone can always keep up. He doesn’t particularly enjoy walking into the unknown, but his scientific curiosity is why he’s here.

Dr Parsa Nazari (Cas Anvar): Leader of the expedition. Originally a scientist himself, he left academia and moved into the role of mission specialist. He’s the one to make the tough decisions, even if sometimes that doesn’t make him popular, especially with his friend, Nye. He’s been working towards leading the Linnaeus mission his whole life, and recruited only the best for the expedition. He has to juggle the scientific side of the mission with the political, and that isn’t always easy, but he’s good at finding acceptable compromises. He leaves behind a divorced husband and two kids to head up the Linnaeus mission.

Rosalind Fitzroy (Torri Higginson): A politician. She’s not well liked amongst the crew, and Parsa fought to exclude her but failed. She is ambitious, but so far her career hasn’t gone as planned. She is able to read people and manipulate them, although often less effectively than she thinks. She’s on the team to remind the colonies that they’re still subject to Earth law and that they’re expected to help their home world, but her role is also smoothing the way for the team with the local authorities. If the colony need advice on how to set up new systems of government or on their economy then Rosalind can help with that too. This could be the most important job of her life, but it’s one that most politicians wouldn’t want, but she sees it as a stepping stone to something better.

Dr Carrie Joshua (Hannah John-Kamen): Carrie is a medical doctor. Her job is to assess the physical health of the colonists and help them with medicines, nutrition and fitness. One of her biggest concerns is how human biology interacts with the new worlds. She enjoys trekking and climbing, and can be found on the ship’s meagre fitness equipment most days before she begins work. On planet, she’s enthusiastic to explore, even in areas which appear dangerous. She is also fearless when it comes to putting her patients first, something that has been known to get her into trouble. She’s one of six siblings, and misses her big family more than anything else while she’s in space.

Kira Sokolov - (Jodhi May): As both the ship’s engineer and technical problem solver, she thinks fast on her feet to fix broken technology with limited resources. Her motto is that “perfect is the enemy of good”. Ed likes to tease her by calling her MacGyver, but it isn’t that far from the truth. She is tenacious and loyal to the team, but has little time for Rosalind because she used to be the representative for the province where Kira grew up. Her family still live there and have to deal with food shortages and rationed water. She’s bilingual and enjoys learning new swear words in every language she meets, but her most annoyed exclamations are in her mother’s native language, Ukrainian.

Ed Avalino (Taika Waititi): The pilot. He drives the bus, but has to double as the lab technician and general assistant to whoever needs him most when they’re on planet. He is the closest thing that the team have to a security person, and does his best to protect them when on planet and assess threats. He is relatively easy going by nature, but can quickly shift gears to deal with a crisis. He gets on with all of the crew, even Rosalind, but shares a love of danger with Carrie. Parsa apparently met him in a Martian jail, but neither of them will talk about that incident, despite Nye desperately wanting the details. Rumours about his past missions as part of the Earth military are probably untrue, but he doesn’t dissuade anyone from exaggerating them further.

Dr Grace Blackwell (Nafessa Williams): Grace is the xeno-psychology expert on the team. The humans in the colonies are not alone and someone is needed to work out what the aliens want. She also often applies her psychology skills to the humans as well. She’s the youngest and most inexperienced member of the team, and was something of a prodigy. She looks up to Nye as a mentor, but occasionally finds his pure pursuit of the academic to be too much and prefers to listen to her gut. No one ever questions her knowledge of her subject, but she sometimes lacks confidence in herself. She knows that this is a once in a lifetime chance to make a difference and she’s grabbing it with both hands. She is a natural ray of sunshine, but finds the long journeys between planets are the hardest part of the job.

Episodes:

1: The Flight of the Linnaeus (Pilot) – Nye Castell is researching far away planets but hasn’t left the safety of his university in years, when Parsa Nazari invites him to join the Earth’s first trouble shooting mission to the Colonies. Nye is unwilling at first, but Parsa plays upon his need to investigate and learn, and eventually he accepts. Flashbacks give a taste of exactly why he is so unwilling to leave the planet. He puts his Earth-bound affairs in order and reports to the Linneaus facility to begin work. Parsa and Nye build the team, but are blindsided by their superiors’ need to include Rosalind Fitzroy, and an attempt to destroy the entire project by an anarchist spy who claims to know something they don’t.

2: Planetfall – The Linneaus arrives at its first destination, the colony of Gessner. This has been chosen as an easy first test of their readiness and skill, since Gessner has been in regular contact and appears to be doing well. Appearances can be deceiving though. The colonists thrive when they’re young but rapidly die when they reach 60, with one notable exception, the governor of the colony who was elected partly due to his magical longevity. It’s up to the Linnaeus crew to find out what’s going wrong.

3: Downfall - Having discovered that the elderly are being deliberate poisoned when they become older and less useful, Rosalind tells the crew that Gessner is no longer their problem as the solution is beyond their ability to fix. Nye, Carrie and Grace disagree strongly, but Ed points out that they have no resources to forcibly change the leadership of the colony, whilst Parsa sides with Rosalind much to everyone’s surprise. Grace outlines a system of psychological pressure points that could be used to change the governmental structure, but is this really the job of the Linnaeus crew?

4: Homesick - After leaving Gessner, the Linnaeus crew have a long journey to the next planet. Nye sleeps badly and sees his long dead mother in the corridors of the ship. It seems like Nye might be suffering from “orbital fever”, a psychological condition that affects astronauts on long voyages and he reluctantly goes to see Carrie. She agrees with his self-diagnosis and tells Parsa that Nye will need to be taken back to Gessner, as the condition typically worsens rapidly to become psychosis if not treated. As the crew readies to turn back, Grace reveals that she’s being visited by the ghosts of her childhood pets. Other members of the crew also start seeing things, leaving the team in no doubt that something else is going on here. Nye works out some of his childhood issues with his hallucinations.

5: All at Sea - Everyone is pleased to reach their next destination, Aelian. Here the colonists share their world with a primitive, but sentient, species of sea dwellers, which hadn’t shown up in the original survey of the world. This has produced a dangerous tension, and one which Grace is ill-equipped to handle despite this being her area of expertise. The entire crew find themselves drawn into what could be the build up to war between the two species who regard Aelian as home.

6: Adapt and Survive - The Linnaeus lands at the colony site of Ellis to find that the landing site is deserted. All that greets them is the remains of buildings and abandoned vehicles. Nye, Ed and Carrie trek into the jungle to see if they can find any trace of the humans who are supposed to live here, while Parsa, Grace, Kira and Rosalind investigate the ruins of the colony for clues. Nye and his group find the colonists, but they’re changed beyond recognition. Parsa discovers the reason and it becomes clear that the Linnaeus needs to leave rapidly.

7: Lost in Space – The rapid departure of the Linnaeus from Ellis leaves the crew with repairs to make to their broken ship as the Linnaeus drifts further from its course. Kira and Ed lead the effort, putting the scientists to work. Nye reveals a little more about his reluctance to come on the mission. Carrie is sure that Rosalind is hiding something, but he has no idea what. Soon the crew are fighting for their lives, racing to make planetfall before the ship breaks down completely.

8: Borderline – The Linnaeus’ crew are faced with a failing colony, known as Genera, where the colonists never seem to manage to make much progress, but are kind and welcoming. Despite the apparent fertility of the world and its ecosystem, the crew of the Linnaeus realised that the colony could only have a single generation before if it dies out completely. Nye refuses to give up in finding a way for the colony to become viable, but Parsa thinks they should cut their losses. Kira takes a young engineer from the colony under her wing. Rosalind attempts to get a message back to Earth.

9: Hooked on a Feeling - Genera still remains something of a mystery to Nye, until Carrie informs him that Kira’s apprentice is suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Nye and Parsa investigate, coming to the conclusion that the entire colony are hooked on the same addictive substance, apparently unwittingly. Nye uses all of his skills to find the culprit.

10: Letters from Home – While the ship continues to deal with the ongoing issues of Genera, Ed receives a message packet from home for the crew. Now in addition to the problems of the colony, the crew find that their life on Earth has caught up to them. Rosalind accidentally ends up revealing just how important their mission is, angering the crew who were not kept informed. The Earth is desperate for resources and dying. Perhaps all they can do is to make their mission a success.

11: Mushroom Stew - The Linnaeus has left Genera behind and is on its way to Dorrien, a planet that seems to favour fungi over almost every other form of life. The colonists have faced difficult growing conditions for their crops, which must be kept in vast greenhouses to protect them from contamination with fungal spores. But as rapidly as the colonists clear land, the mushrooms seem to be doing their best to retake their planet.

12: The Great Chain of Being - The colony of Jekyll was a paradise when the colonists landed, but now the local wildlife is dying out, with great tracts of land becoming barren. Nye and Parsa desperately search for the reason behind the devastation, while the rest of the team try to help the colony deal with the effects of the dying ecosystem. It’s up to the crew of the Linnaeus to find a way that the ecosystem and colony can be saved.

13: Paradise Lost - The colony of Masamune is bland and calm. Even the animals don’t eat each other, but something is killing the colonists. Rosalind is under pressure to report positive findings back to Earth, and asks the team to falsify their reports since every colony they have visited is struggling in some way. She drops the bombshell that if the Linnaeus doesn’t do as it is told then it will be recalled to Earth, having failed to fulfil its purpose.

#RBACL QCC #Dream Show

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thepulta · 4 years

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“Faaaaaaaire?”

Westlie jumped in her seat and whirled towards the screeching. There was a child loitering around the front arches of the library, casually kicking the carpet. It had to be what, eight? No older than ten?

“Faaaaaairee?”

She smashed her hip jumping out of the chair and nearly tripped over her skirt. Westlie strung out several whispered curses and made a flying tackle in the lobby, clamping a hand over the child’s mouth just as it inhaled for another screech. “You’re in a library you little shit! Jesus, don’t scream.”

“ ‘ah can talk as loud as ‘ah want!” The little goblin raised the letter with one arm and fucking punted her shin as hard as its little legs could. Westlie squeaked in pain and shot a glance around the rest of the library. The struggle was being watched by several students.

“God damn it, just give me that.”

“Pay me!”

“Jesus Christ, I paid in advance.” Westlie fished in her pocket and found a penny with some lint. She shoved it forward. “Don’t spend it all on candy.”

The urchin had the nerve to blow raspberries in the middle of the library entrance. It tossed the letter at her - Westlie snatched it midair - and raced away. There were a few polite coughs around the room and some less polite snickering. Westlie’s face burned as red as her hair as she slipped back to her seat.

She opened the note, laying it out flat so she could read it and straighten her desk at the same time. It was written in the same neat, pointed script she remembered from London. Fitzroy did not write unnecessarily.

Welcome to Port Prosper, Miss Faire. I’m glad to hear you arrived safely, and I apologize for The Pyrrhus’ tardiness. I hope you spent a comfortable evening at The Shroom.

The crew is currently loading a shipment of hours, which will most likely take the rest of the afternoon. I’ve decided to give them the night off since our passenger hasn’t arrived, which of course, extends to you as well. If you desire, you can meet us on the dock, port 2, at 8am tomorrow morning after another night at The Shroom or this evening at 5pm simply to get acquainted. You may also feel free to sleep on board the Pyrrhus, although it’s unlikely anyone else will be aboard the ship.

The next port of order will be the Eleutheria Transport Relay whenever our passenger arrives.

Your Captain,

Fitzroy

Funny, the Eleutheria Relay was the one place she hadn’t obsessively practiced navigating to. Westlie resisted the urge to open her books back up and pour over the seasonal wind speeds, trying to weigh her options for the night. She didn’t particularly feel like spending the night alone on board a ship she didn’t know. Then again, she could be at risk of looking tardy. Fitzroy had given her the option though, and it seemed like everyone else would be doing the same. Westlie puffed out a breath and folded the note back up, taking the opportunity to glance around the library. The students from earlier had gone back to their work, bent diligently over thick dictionaries and maps. The place was quite lovely, not as big as the one in London, but close. The entrance was grand and domed, with three wings to the right, left, and front. Books lined the walls of the bottom floors with desks lined towards the entrance. Three spiral staircases granted access to each of the three upper levels with bookcases where one could look down upon the massive (Surface-made, Westlie knew) Pakistani rug at the entrance. The walls were white, blue, and gold; there were a lot of Tuscan columns. ...a lot of them. The architect’s dreams must have been supported by Tuscan columns.

Westlie shelved her maps, absently drifting to another section and running her fingers over the titles. Flora and Fauna of Northeast Albion, A-N. Pteridophyta (Ferns and Horsetails) and their relatives in the southern areas of the Reach: a biologist’s memoirs. Edible varieties of fungi, 5th Edition. Geography and Biology of the Prosper Mountains, Revised and Selected by the Author with Illustrations. She selected that one. That was probably the reason for the gravity abnomaly around the island’s southern tip. Not that the biology of the mountain would help with that, but she was still killing time.

She took the book back to her seat, fanning the pages as she got settled. It opened to several depictions of the mountains around Port Prosper, lovingly illustrationed with several different angles. Gravity... gravity... Westlie yawned as she scanned through the pages, scribbling notes every so often as she found something useful. It ended up being mostly plants with a brief foray into naturalism about the shape of the mountains compared to others in the Reach (fairly large, minus Lustrum’s positive menagerie of peaks and valleys) while having nothing about the gravitational pull. At least she knew the abnomaly existed. Westlie shut the book and glanced up at the clock. 4pm. Well, she’d done enough for one day, hadn’t she?

Port Prosper was in the throes of dusk as she stepped out of the library. People thronged the streets, bustling to and from factories. It reminded her of London. Westlie slipped between the crowds, greeting a peddler and trading pennies for several hotbuns. She munched on one as she made her way back to the hotel, absentmindedly browsing the shop windows. The styles here were slightly different. A little higher on the ankle, a little wider in the hip, a little smaller in the chest. Westlie peered at one jacket with an upright collar. It buttoned down the front like her vest, but it had sleeves and the the collar was enticing. ...it was also a lovely shade of burgundy.

... it was ‘a night off’, wasn’t it?

Westlie slipped inside the shop and waffled over the decision for several minutes before finally giving the shopkeep the sovereigns. The jacket fit like a glove and did a fairly good job of matching her hair. Westlie felt like glowing as she walked down the street, dodging pedestrians and occasionally running children. Her time was her own; there was no sister, no Arthur, no Mary to reign her back. No judgement.

She’d wasted so much time, hadn’t she. A memory of Morgan popped up, unbidden, per usual - and in a bar, also per usual. Westlie had had one of her abysmal days; something about missing deadlines. There’d been a lot of screaming; a lot of accusations. She remembered not even wanting to drink, just huddling in the corner as Morgan sat there with her. They’d been older teens at that point, maybe. “You know,” Morgan had hesitated. “You could come with me on my next trip. You don’t have to stay here.”

“Father would murder me.”

Morgan had hesitated again. “... we don’t have to come back.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Westlie snorted, because it did seem ridiculous. “I have to work. I can’t just fuck off.”

They sat there in silence for a long time. Morgan finally leaned over and curled on her shoulder. It wasn’t a hug, but something akin to it and possibly more meaningful in their affectionless world. She’d let out a soft sigh as they huddled together. “...you’re so unhappy, Wes.”

They hadn’t said anything for the rest of the evening.

Westlie had forgotten about that whole encounter until now and there was a deep, sudden pang of longing for the weight of her sister on her shoulder. She let it settle, heavy in her heart. There was always the possibility they could bump into each other at a port. Morgan travelled voraciously. It was all she did, honestly. Westlie wasn’t sure if she did it to put a small dent in Arthur’s enormous sums of cash, to escape London and that horrid house, or just because she loved travelling and mischief. Regardless, from eighteen years onward she did all three things quite well. When she came home, it was a daily coin flip until she’d leave again. Westlie came to expect a note on her dresser with the lump sum of travel money taken, an address (occasionally), and some form of cheery goodbye. Sometimes, it was in person, like the last time she’d seen her a few months ago.

Westlie’d been woken up at 2am by a knock at the window to find Morgan sitting on her carpetbag in the garden. She remembered thinking it was a distinctly Morgan way to leave town at 2am. She kept throwing pebbles until Westlie opened the window. “Goodbye, Wes! I took a few thousand sovereigns this time!”

Westlie remembered making a rude gesture, half-asleep. ...Annoying but not surprising. Morgan just laughed.

“Don’t tell, but I packed that box of sunlight from the shop too.”

Westlie’s eyes shot open. “That- Fuck, Morgan, that’s expensive!”

“Don’t worry about it! It’ll all take care of itself.”

“You’re going to get robbed blind by some asshole carting around a fucking box of sunlight- What the fuck- What do you even need it for? You’re such a dipshit. Why do I have to deal with this? You know those take months to get in. Goddamn it, Morgan.” Westlie considered grabbing the rope and taking the box back but in the time it’d take to tie it Morgan would absolutely be gone. That was probably why she hadn’t said goodbye normally in the first place. Fucking sneaky.

“Shhh, shh shh shh~” Morgan spun around and blew her a kiss. “Westlie, you worry too much.”

“I worry for both of us. Fucking give me that sunlight. Father’s going to skin you alive when you get back.” Westlie hung halfway out the window, debating if it was worth jumping and squashing the fuck out of the little kleptomaniac.

Morgan gasped in pretend horror. “Oh, I forgot, I have thousands of sovereigns and I won’t be back for months.” Her mouth turned up into a cheeky grin. “Westlie please, you know me better than that. The old bastard won’t remember a thing.”

“I’ll remember!”

“You love me though~” Morgan grabbed her carpetbag and blew Westlie another kiss. “I’ll see you later! Sorry I left so soon. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Morgan!”

Morgan slipped into the darkness with practiced ease, and Westlie glimpsed a cheerful goodbye hand wave before she disappeared into the shadows. Saucy prick.

Westlie remembered going back to bed pissed as hell she’d have to pick up the pieces from stolen sunlight no less. Jesus Christ, there was embezzlement and then there was that. She did remember going to sleep after that and opening up the shop in the morning, but the memory grew a bit fuzzy. Westlie scowled at the irony because she’d tried to forget about it to save her blood pressure, regardless of the outcome she couldn’t quite remember. God, Morgan did the dumbest shit.

Westlie was not going to miss that.

Even with the memories she was still more relaxed than usual as she approached The Humble Shroom. A few skyfarers milled about now after arriving from various ports, footmen moving boxes in and out of the lobby. Westlie took a moment to appreciate the soft touches of civilization they put on display. A rug, a lamp that had probably lived a former life in a grandmother’s cabinet; several crystal sconces on the wall that flickered appealingly. The rooms were off to the right, but there was a soft concerto playing off in the corner from the left where a doorway opened into another room. A bar? Probably where breakfast had been offered earlier. There were more skyfarers milling in and out. Westlie hesitated. She didn’t feel like going to her room and studying, but she didn’t want to stay out and about either. She didn’t need to drink, just... people watch. Tea would be nice.

The bar was excellent for her chosen past time; there were faces from all walks of life. A few stovepipe hats huddled in the corner while miscellaneous groups of suits - with patches or tears and without - circled about at random. There were three shelves of drinks, the aromas of mushroom wine and hard liquor circling about; a waiter handed off a plate of steaming something that smelled delicious. Westlie took a seat in the back and ordered tea, pulling out a piece of paper to work on navigating to the relay. It was far, but it wasn’t that far; a few days to a week or so. There was a bit of tricky gravity somewhere in the region and she tapped the pencil on her lips, staring up at the ceiling as she struggled to recall the numbers.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and she blinked, jerked back to reality. “Hello-?”

Jesus Christ it was Fitzroy.

He looked the slightest bit more worn with a bit of coal dust on his jacket, but otherwise quite the same and unmistakable. “Good evening, Miss Faire. You look well.”

“Thank you. You... you too.” ... she could die on the spot, or she could just die later after she made a complete fool of herself. Or she could have a normal conversation like a normal person. Westlie cleared her throat and folded up the paper while Fitzroy made a questioning motion to the chair across from her. “Yes, please, feel free- have a seat.”

He sat down and crossed his legs, pulling out a pipe from his pocket and taking his time stuffing it. After a good long minute he put up his hand to flag a waiter and glanced at her. “Would you like something.”

“No- ah, thank you. I have tea on the way.”

“Excellent.” His face betrayed nothing if that was the right or wrong answer. “Is that a 1890 Elegant on the shelf? I’ll take a small glass of that, please.”

There was heavy silence until the waiter brought both the tea and mushroom wine. Fitzroy lit his pipe and the smoke puffed lazily, adding to the rich scents around them. Instead of handing it off like the wine, the waiter chose to pour the tea himself. (He did not pour it the way Westlie liked it; she could already tell it’d been seeped too hot and it gave off the slightly acidic odor of a burned teabag. She held her tongue and comforted herself that the bitterness would keep her insides awake as she worked.) Fitzroy took a sip of his wine and savored it. Westlie did not enjoy the tea but she kept her face neutral.

When he placed his drink back down he faced her, dark eyes scrutizing. “I assume you received my note earlier?”

“Yes, sir. About an hour ago, I think.”

“I know the rest of the crew has divided themselves up across the city, so it was a good choice to stay put for the night.”

Westlie couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just nodded.

“As far as introductions go, you’ll meet them all tomorrow. I recently accepted another applicant as Navigator, an Owen West. I understand he’s been a reliable skyfarer for some time. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” Westlie hadn’t. “He seems a bit shakey, but capable. I’ve known the rest of the crew for significantly longer. Marion is quite the ingenious engineer; Selmer is relable and loyal to a fault. Elijah is the kind of man who should be into politics but makes an excellent signaller instead.” He chuckled at a private joke and took another sip, re-crossing his legs and focsing on her. “I can’t speak for Owen, but the others were needling me about you.” There was a thin, not unkind, but not wholely trusting smile and Westlie could very clearly see the impression her interview left on him. “I was going to simply wait until morning, Miss Faire, but if you pardon me for noticing, you are not quite the same person I met in London and I know very little except your father is the kind of man I rarely associate myself with.”

Westlie took another sip of bitter tea, purposefully scalding her tongue as she tried to think. She drew on the remains of her evening, the calm purposefulness as she walked from the library back to the hotel. Why not be honest? She met his eyes and they were supicious, wary, but not unkind. He was being honest in his observations, and she wasn’t the same person in London. “I ran away.” That seemed the most straightforward, blunt way she could put it. Westlie sat the tea cup back in its saucer, half wondering if she was required to give more information. Fitzroy didn’t say anything. She tried to collect her thoughts. ‘I couldn’t take it anymore’ didn’t seem like the best phrase to describe it. Neither was ‘I’m nobody’, or ‘I don’t know who I am’, even though that was absolutely the truth.

Westlie hated sweet tea. She forgot, put two sugar cubes in her half-drunk cup and stirred it.

“Were you working on the Eleutheria Relay route?” Fitzroy broke into her thoughts and Westlie met his gaze again, briefly.

“Oh, before you came. Yes, actually.” She dug into her pocket and handed over the sheet of paper. Fitzroy browsed it. The look wasn’t quite like the interview; there was no judgement, just thoughtful acknowledgement. He was trying to distract her - he was actually quite good at that. Westlie stored that information in the back of her mind.

“You mapped this from Tratinson, didn’t you?”

How-?

“There’s a small abnomaly about three leagues in.” Fitzroy placed the paper on the table and pointed out the column of numbers halfway down. “Tratinson ignores it, because he considers abnomalies smaller than .5 newts to be immaterial. However, it’s enough to increase speed and throw off the trajectory of your second curve here.” He pointed to another set of numbers. “It’s never a big issue because the pull is small enough it doesn’t run you into any islands, but still. I have to look at the book, but Richards takes more of the northern abnomalies into consideration despite his occasional miscalculations.”

Westlie felt a deep flare of respect feed the hunger inside her. She could learn from him. She opened her mouth, couldn’t find which questions to ask, and settled on looking deeply appreciative. “Thank you.”

Fitzroy bobbed his head and took another drink. “It comes with experience.” He paused. “You were obviously well-trained.”

An image of her father brushed across her mind and Westlie’s hatred for the man flared deeply and uncontrollably. “I received a 102 on my piloting exam.” (For the fourth time, because Arthur kept forcing her to retake it, even though she passed the first exam without problems.) “And charting courses is... a hobby.” (It was an obsession. Definitely an obsession, probably unhealthy; kept her from losing her mind after hours of numbers in the ledgers.) “It helps me stay focused.”

She took another sip of tea and nearly spat it out. The sugar made it completely undrinkable. Westlie settled on refilling the cup until near overflowing, hoping between the bitterness and the hot substitute she could scald her tongue and ignore it some more. Between all of it she felt a minute, calmer spark of anger and she grabbed onto it, meeting Fitzroy’s eyes. “I was a navigator on one of my father’s ships. I think that’s what he planned for me to do until he realized I couldn’t take his commands mid-voyage and I wouldn’t save half a crate of supplies by driving through a shitload of scrive-spinsters.” Westlie reigned herself in. “After several instances like that, I worked in the shop instead for a... significant amount of time until I decided that... didn’t suit me.”

She glanced at Fitzroy and his face was blasé, but attentive.

“I won’t let you down.” Westlie remembered her stupid fucking mantra from the morning before and it just felt like something needed to be said. “I know I’m... quiet, and I know...” she hesitated, because it was a bitter pill. “I know my father. Nobody knows him better than I do. I can’t help where I came from, but I want to learn.” Please. She hoped it went unspoken. “And I learn quickly.”

Fitzroy finished his drink and there was the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “You have the job, Miss Faire.”

“Well I-” Westlie moved to take a sip of tea, remembered the saccharine taste in her mouth already and thought better of it. “-You asked,” she tested the waters with a hint of a dry look. “Sir.”

“And I am grateful I know more about you than when we started.” Fitzroy stood up to take his leave, pulling out several coins for the wine. “For the record, Miss Faire, I don’t question your abilities. Anyone who can chart a course by memory under the duress you were under deserves second attention. However, I feel an understanding between us that your father’s company does not require nor, if I may be so forward, deserve special attention, is in order.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Westlie interjected, before she realized what the hell she said.

Another barely visible hint of a smile played on Fitzroy’s lips. “Well my drink is done, but it appears we are firmly in agreement. If you have time after getting settled tomorrow, I might be available to discuss the Richards and Geralt maps if that suits you.” He made a brief bob of the head. “Goodnight, Miss Faire.”

Westlie stared at his back and then at her incredibly shitty tea as he walked away, finally downing the rest of the cup in one disgusting shot and pouring herself something vaguely more palpatable. She slumped back in her seat. That... went well. Tentatively? Possibly? Jesus she needed to go to bed. Getting tea was supposed to be relaxing, and- gods this was shit. Westlie resisted the primal angry urge to dump all of the tea on the ground, dance on the ashes, and refuse to pay; instead she put down coins for her tab and slipped out of the room, trying to decide if Arthur or Fitzroy was more dangerous when angry.

-=-

In her room that night, Westlie dreamed about something peaceful. She woke up after midnight but she couldn’t remember it, just... something about flowers, something about returns. There was a subtle longing for a name, a face; it itched at her mind, making her sleepily tousle her curls. Fucking dreams. Westlie yawned, pulled the pillow closer, and fell into a now deep, dreamless sleep and the feeling was gone in the morning.

-=-

Selmer was a beast of a man. Owen looked horribly nervous. Marion looked... chipper. Elijah looked like he could murder someone in his sleep but probably wouldn’t because he was the nicest of all of them. He’d tipped his hat a bit as Westlie arrived, discerning something as she searched for Fitzroy and headed for the small group of people on the dock around him. That was probably what Fitzroy meant about his alternate self in politics; that was a niche skill. She joined the group, lurking a bit on the outer edges as Fitzroy muttered into a clipboard. After several minutes of writing and scribbling he looked up, unemotionally scanned each of their faces, and made several more notes. It seemed like a lifetime before he put it away.

“Westlie Faire, your crewmates:” Fitzroy nodded to each punctually. “Selmer Gallway, Marion Gascoigne, Elijah Fry, Owen West. Feel free to chat a bit to each other before boarding. I need to submit these reports to the Ministry.”

Westlie felt a rush of euphoria that she wasn’t submitting the reports. Jesus Christ she was free. Fitzroy walked away towards shore and everyone eyed her silently, expecting her to say something. “... Hello.”

Selmer looked like he was going to explode after another five seconds of silence. “‘s a bright day gov’nr! You from around these parts?” He grinned, and he showed all his teeth, flashing a blinding giddy white.

“Ah, from London, actually. I assume you are as well.”

“O’aye, but I packed me bags a long time ago. ‘ah followed Marion on board. A capt’n always needs ah good shov’lah. An a wrench!” He hip-checked Marion and she rolled her eyes.

“Right, right. Well, welcome aboard, Faire.” Marion gave her a little casual unofficial salute. “The Pyrrhus is a great engine! I know you’ll love her. Have you been aboard any others?”

Westlie hesitated, “I ah- some Bediveres.”

Marion’s eyes gleamed. “Now there’s ships! Nothing’s better than the Pyrrhus, obviously, since I’ve helped make our own improvements, but ahh, the Bediveres are gorgeous. Have you driven them? I hear their handling is a little rough around the edges since one of the steam propulsion gaskets blocks the radius grav hinges.”

Westlie had heard about radius hinges exactly once when she and Morgan were shit-faced drunk in a pub on Elinore St. and an equally drunk engineer following Morgan around started bitching about radius hinges and Altanis locomotives for a full hour before they all passed out. She remembered absolutely nothing of that conversation. “I uh- I have driven one.” I was seventeen; please don’t ask about turning radii. “I do remember how fast it was.”

Elijah patted Marion on the shoulder as she opened her mouth to ask more questions. “I’m sure there’ll be time to show her the improvements once she’s settled. Speaking of which-” he gestured a bit into the ship. “The crew’s quarters are to your right from the hatch. Would you like some tea?”

“I would, actually, yes please.” Westlie gave a brief little nod to Owen as she passed by, following Elijah gratefully, and Owen nodded back, his face grave but not unkind or unwelcome; he’d just seen a bit too much. She knew that look.

When she stepped through the hatch, the Pyrrhus itself smelled of hours and cinnamon. It wasn’t a heavy scent, just enough she noticed. The air was wet though, steamy, like Marion had been warming up the engine earlier. There was thin wood panelling on the sides of the walls, polished to a soft sheen through multiple scratches. (Four claws had been dragged down the wood with deep, deep indents at one point.) It was all very orderly though. The crew obviously took great care with their upkeep; the same with their quarters. It was neatly swept, no cobwebs, electric sconces lining the far wall between the bunks. Elijah motioned to the bed at the end of the row where her trunk was sitting, to the right this time, right against the hull; it was opposite the engine, so was probably at least in port, the quietest end of the ship. Westlie glanced around at the bare walls, wondering absently if she could fit them with shelves like the other engine had.

“None of us care to decorate,” Elijah offered helpfully, reading her mind. “But I’m sure Fitzroy wouldn’t mind. I’m-” he gestured at the door, “-going to make that tea if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped back, spinning around for a moment in the doorway. “Oh the passenger should be here soon, Selmer just carried in her trunk. We don’t know her name yet, but she’s sleeping in the Captain’s Quarters, across from the hall.”

“Oh, excellent.” Westlie had no idea what to do with her hands. What did a first mate do with their hands? She settled for a curt nod of the head. “Thank you, Elijah. That helps.”

His lanky frame disappeared from the doorway, and Westlie took a breath as she opened her trunk. Everything was there (of course it was there; she’d just re-packed it forty minutes before) so she closed it and sat down on the bed. A deep sting of fear hit her as she looked around; the casual, not-quite perfect orderliness of the bunks. Selmer’s? messy pillow. Either Elijah or Owen, they both seemed like good candidates, had repurposed a crate by their bedside and stacked several dozen books on top of it. There were a few more bunks but they seemed untouched. Marion must have moved her quarters somewhere else - which was eccentric actually. Westlie vaguely mused if Fitzroy would let her sleep in the map room. Did they have a map room? They probably had a map room.

She puffed out a breath and looked around the room once more, trying to memorize the small details. The iron bedframes bolted to the floor (advantage: no creaking) the wooden floors fitting snugly against iron walls, the four bare walls curving into an iron ceiling. A soft breeze whispered around the hull and Westlie had a feeling she would get some very nice whistles in the middle of the night being right in the corner. That was alright. This was ‘home’ now, wasn’t it? It was what it was.

A deep pang of not-quite-loneliness, not-quite-sadness hit her and Westlie pushed up her chin a little. No emotions allowed now. She was done here; it was time to work.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself, brushing off her skirt and heading out of the room.

The very first thing she learned on her own was that the Pyrrhus echoed, deeply. The metal walls carried sound; literally carried, where if you leaned in close you could probably see the tiny vibrations of the sheet metal. No whispers were safe. There was the hiss of the kettle in what she assumed was the mess quarters and a roaring, boisterous laugh from Selmer. There were quick footsteps above her - possibly Owen.

“She’s very quiet,” Marion said from the kitchen, and a jar rattled with crackers or some sort of foodstuff. “Do you think she’s alright?”

“Juz giv’ ‘er time to settle in; Willy was pre’y quiet too,” there was a vigorous thump on the table. “Tea man!”

“Gods, you’re so impatient. It’s not ready.”

“You bloody know, Mar’on, you need to make ‘lijah a little thingamabobber that’ll heat the tea up twice as fast. Hook it up to the engine all fancy-like-”

Westlie hesitated at the open doorway to the mess hall, wondering if she should knock to announce her presence, but it absolutely was not necessary as she was almost blown over by the force of Selmer’s, “OI GOV’NAH.” He thumped the table again. “’e got apples, an we got ‘ese kipper snacks and if ‘lijah ever finishs that ‘ere bloody tea ‘e’s got some ought lovely black. Captain says ‘s from India but I think i’ tastes the same as London’s. Once ‘e finishes you can be the judge.”

Marion smiled and patted the table (in a much, much softer, friendly way). “Westlie, right?” she nodded. “We didn’t have breakfast earlier - or Selmer did-”

“But ‘ah’m always down for second breakfast.”

Elijah visibly, almost audibly rolled his eyes.

“-but we were going to have something if you’d like to join us.”

Westlie sat down closest to the door a little grateful for the offer so she didn’t have to figure out where to place herself. “Tea and a few snacks would be lovely, thank you.”

The conversation fell silent with just the hum of the kettle and Selmer tapping the table and fidgeting. Westlie vaguely wondered in the uncomfortable quiet if she was too attuned to it. There was a lot to be said in silence. Selmer very clearly did not think the same way. Finally he leaned forward. “Yous ‘ear the Captian was thinking about a new gun?”

“He did mention it to Owen the other day.” The kettle finally whistled and Elijah moved to pour. “We don’t encounter problems too much though. Is it worth it?”

“Eh, it won’t be too hard to install. Can’t hurt to have a nice bit of firepower now, can it?” Marion took her mug and sipped it gratefully, even though it’d barely seeped. “Absolutely worth it. Thanks, Elijah.”

“Thank you,” Westlie took her mug and settled back, letting the warmth flow through her hands as Elijah handed the next mug off to Selmer. There was a much more comfortable pause as they sipped, Selmer grabbing kipper snacks from the bowl in the middle of the table and tossing them tournament-style into his mouth. He crunched loudly. Westlie wasn’t sure why she wasn’t annoyed at his behavior. He was the spitting image of some of the skyfarers in Morgan’s bars; loud, obnoxious, bustling, but there was a sweet cheerfulness too. Maybe she just needed to be around someone that relaxed right now.

A knock at the hatch startled all of them.

Selmer bounced up, “I got it,” and he was out before anyone could put down their mugs. The hatch opened, and there was an unintelligible, questioning voice. “Oi yas, right this way, gov. I’ll carry in your cargo don’t bother with it. Step right this way.”

“Should we...?” Westlie made a vague gesture to the door. “Help...?”

Marion shook her head with a quick smile. “Selmer’s got it. He likes to feel busy.”

The room was significantly quieter after Selmer left and nobody felt like breaking it. Westlie considered asking where they’d been before London, but it seemed like such an empty question. Or any tales; maybe there’d be something useful. Fitzroy did say they’d been on the longest. For some reason she couldn’t quite muster up the words. The silence was comfortable at least though, Marion seemed to see she didn’t feel like talking and Elijah seemed comfortable with the silence as well. They listened to the footsteps reverberate about the Pyrrhus until Selmer hollared down the hallway. “Cap’ains back!”

Marion offered for Westlie’s tea mug and she handed it over, a few sips left. She tossed them in the sink before going through a back door into what Westlie assumed was the engine room. The cab. Fitzroy said they’d be taking off after the passenger arrived. She nodded once to Elijah before heading out and to the side, climbing up the tight stairwell on her left to the second floor of the Pyrrhus.

Owen was already inside the cab, a few maps spread over the table in the middle of the room, steam hissing from a pressure gasket. He glanced up as she walked in, smiled, and then refocused on whatever he was doing. Numbers, it looked like. Westlie hesitated before pulling the scrap of paper she’d been working on the night before out. “I ah- I did some crunching last night if you want to use this.”

Owen glanced up and blinked. “Oh... Oh, Tratinson. That’ll help actually, thank you.” He took the sheet and Westlie was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room again.

It was a lovely cab. There were some references and maps in small bookshelves in the back, the familiar panels for navigating in the front. The Pyrrhus had bronze handles, steel interworkings with pipes of steam and cables welded to the sides of the cab, leading to the nav panel. The top was slightly domed with curved, arching blue windows for less drag, riveted along all their edges. It was somewhat soothing, Westlie mused, looking at the world through blue-tinted glasses rather than red ones. All the Bediveres had rose or yellow tinted glass. Something about looking more professional and yellow light being bad for your skin; turned the crew sallow.

There were footsteps up the stairs and she somehow picked out Fitzroy’s step in the hall, firm, patient, cat-like. He nodded to her and Owen as he entered the cab. “Everything ready? The cargo is on board. Adelia is settled.”

Westlie instinctively looked for the pressure valve, noting it’d only been a few minutes since the engine grumbled to life under her feet. “Almost. 50 psi to full capacity, sir.”

Fitzroy nodded acknowledgement, checked a pocketwatch, and went through the backdoor, letting a burning blast of steam and soot into the cab. His voice was almost drowned out. “MARION, NEW RECORD TO 250.”

There was a barely intelligible cheer from somewhere in the engine room which Westlie had to assume were Selmer and Marion. She found herself smiling a little as Fitzroy shut the door, brushing off his collar. “She’s done excellent work,” he informed Owen and Westlie without looking at either of them. He browsed the numbers on the table, checking the maps. “Mm, this looks good too. Pressure update?”

Westlie glanced again. “285, sir.”

“Close enough. Owen, take us out, please.”

Owen was already at the controls. They lifted with a lurch, the engine giving an angry hiss as the locomotive released steam from below. Westlie turned and stared out the window, resisting the urge to press her nose against the glass as they rose above Port Prosper. The library shown in the distance, the morning glinting off the glass in the dome with the mountains stretching beyond that, little plants dotting the slopes. Homes cuddled about the city, painted in red, grey, yellow, blue; Prospans weren’t picky. They grew ever more dotted and sparce further from the center, farms drawing lines in the landscape. The wind picked up as they rose higher.

Owen pushed the engine forward and Westlie felt the whisper of the breeze as it brushed the windows. Through the blue tint it was all so very alive, and it felt like... like being in love. Westlie had no idea how to confirm the feeling, but her heart squeezed and the rest of the world fell away. It was so beautiful. This was what she wanted. The love ached like a new happy fire in her chest and she embraced it, pulled it tight around her. It was easier to handle than her anger since it just glowed without burning, with a soft tender warmth. There was no action to it either, no demands, just a deep well of peace. She was never going to let this go, she swore quietly as Port Prosper faded away. She would die before she stopped traveling with the wind, watching these islands pass by, blessed by the soft glow of the fungi along their edges. She’d worked hard and she’d gotten so lucky. So very, very lucky. She would make every single second count. Damn the man who tried to take it from her.

#/sobs #my child went from an angry baby to a floundering anxiety ridden toddler #I'M SO PROUD #idek what to say about this #I did NOT intend for it to turn into 6k tbh #It was supposed to center on this latin phrase that roughly translates to #with the sword she seeks peace under liberty #which is basically what's happened the last 10k words #with less fighting and more screaming lol #but I forgot the phrase existed until I was done finished off everything and then scrolled to the top for my first reread and saw it #shit man I wrote all that and there was no continuity #fuck it though; these are basically increasinly long oneshots #and now I've dragged the crew in to make sure I"m not butchering their characters to pieces #I still don't have a handle on marion; sarah needs to write some shit #next port of order will be initial traumatic crash I think because I can write that; it's westlie relevant #then there was marions stabbing which I want sarah to write then other shit #lots of shit #HOW MUCH SHIT HAS HAPPENED TO US AHHHHGG IT HAPPENED LIKE FOUR MONTHS AGO TOO AND I STILL HAVE ANOTHER EPISODE LEFT BEFORE I MEET MY SIS #/screm #the crew of the pyrrhus #crew of the pyrrhus #adventures of the pyrrhus #the pyrrhus #skyfarer rpg #sunless skies #westlie #selmer #fitzroy #marion #skyfarer

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ghosty-schnibibit · 4 years

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multiple days early taz grad liveblog! ^u^

ngl this took me completely by surprise and i didn't end up listening to it until around ten o'clock, it’s a bit before one in the morning as i’m posting this lol. managed to avoid any spoilers tho!

how's everybody doing in quarantine? i've mainly been playing minecraft and doing relistens of various podcasts, and just generally staying home :P

anyways, on to the episode!

i was not expecting that intro holy shit, this is so meta

as much as i loved the sillier intro i missed the pretty music the last couple episodes, i’m glad trav’s found a way for us to have both

"the offending skeletons" pfff

oh man this sounds so pretty, wow

griffin w h y

well that's terrifying

"your creepy panopticon continues to function" gary serves the eye

yeah who fucking died to make their room available

awww, is fitzroy scared of ghosts?

does firbolg have ghost hunting abilities???

... that's probably just from the spectral cats tho right

"they're steps of the mind" travis what does that even mean

:o!!! fitzroy the cussing boy

um??? fitzroy wtf are you talking about

yay! crepes for my boy! :D

better than i could do lmao

oh great, more creepy buckminster time :|

... dang, that's an interesting choice. i'm trying to think in-character of what would lead fitz to not telling them, and i've come to four main possibilities: a) fitzroy doesn't trust anyone at the school, even his friends, b) fitzroy hasn't found a way to tell them w/o being in the presence of a gary, c) fitzroy is worried that if he tells anyone they might get disappeared like leon, or d) a combination of all of the above.

kumquat? oh it's those little orangey guys, okay, continuing argo's citrus fixation then lol

"my new hero" can't wait to see all the maplekeene fic that comes out of that line lmao

well fuck that's sad :(

aww firbolg my sweet baby

ilu firbolg :')

OH FUCK, did leon send the broach as a message?

i have never gone from laughing to worried so fast holy shit

... so he's not just mind-wiped, he's being actively controlled

good idea fitz, this is very smart

another moment reminding me of how much i love the firbolg's character and how the other boys interact with him

yay! my favorite girl is back :D

my sweet boys, these are such bad puns, absolute morons the lot of you

argo my dipshit son ilu

she is a necromancer lol

oh fun! dad lich!

... i need art of rainer as a blupjeans baby stat

"he's not not dead!" i love this description

i cannot tell if that's a euphemism or if he's insinuating rainer is some kind of frankenstein

oh dang :O

fiztroy you absolute ding dong ilu

oh fun, new npc :D

go firbolg, nice

so leon actually managed to get through to the guild before higglemas did whatever he did to him, and hieronymus and higglemas appear to be on the same page vis-a-vis wanting to keep the guild out of the school... fuck

althea, good to know, i'm so bad at spelling, i was hearing it as alfia

yay! i missed the money zone :D

aww, thank you trav

wait is that the end? does taz just not have ad reads anymore???

hey what the fuck, i am worried for my boys trav you can't just drop that on me apropos of nothing

how trippy for the rest of the staff do you think it was that all of a sudden jackyl's creepy voice suddenly turned into a lilting brogue

argo my sweet boy

IT'S AN ANTI GARY ZONE

... is he going to- yep, he's telling him about the hot mint

argo my sweet boy you are a valued member of the group

"hot mint is nothing new" oh my darling

ilu jackyl

what do you mean not from a person? do they think fitzroy is somehow linked to the demons in the forest?

thank you for that trav i am bad at remembering scenery details

i get what jackyl's saying here but like... there are ways for argo to ask fitz about his magic without being suspicious. they're pretty okay friends at this point, i don't think it's too much of a stretch to bring up magic in conversation like “hey, i have magic from my parents, do you think your magic could have come from yours?”

argo that's kind of a hollow threat, i don't think you can leave, they'd probably kill you :/

ilu argo my sweet boy

yikes, goddamn, the bad roles are back for argo

what was the end of that line clint

NICE, good rolls are back :)

clint you absolute dipshit

it's not boring! i'm very proud of clint getting so many good rolls in a row!

i love this so much lol

ooooh, this is some pretty music

fitz is on supplemental levels of paranoia

i can get that rationale, he can't solve anything if he can't trust his own perceptions

so he's taking a crack at artificing, fun times

this is an extremely good interaction, i am loving this

what does your little high pitched HMMM mean fitzroy? what are you doing my dipshit son???

oh fun, drawf then i'm guessing

green and gold were my university colors trav don't do this to me

fitzroy sounds like me every time i fall down the rabbit hole of metalworking videos on youtube and think “i wanna make a sword!”

... huh. i have to go back and listen to ep. 7, but is crabtree part of the unbroken chain? i'd be more inclined to trust her if so, i don't know if fitz would be safe crafting a mind protecting charm with her if there's even the slightest possibility that she's in on whatever higglemas is doing

fitzroy my dipshit son, you are an absolute dummy, you are the worst

griffin you planned an entire campaign around magical items

i don't like the sound of that "oh!"

oh this has gone just about as bad as it could have gone

that is absolutely not going to happen

nice thinking griffin, holy cow

not a fan of the foreshadowing implications of that

precision is certainly something fitzroy doesn't have

yes thank you for not doing that griffin

this is probably a bad idea and i am worried for firbolg

"let the wiki show, your honor" i want to check the wiki now to see if anyone’s added that lol

jesus that's a creepy feeling

griffin you have no right to make me cry like this

justin you've murdered me

welp, this is extremely bad :|

what are you doing fitzroy, what is the end game here fitzroy

okay, okay that's a good idea but this music is very terrifying

maybe also talk about what's going on with buckminster please, i am so worried about leon

i am at odds with myself because i adore the friendship development that's going on here, but i'm also so worried for literally all of them and poor argo is being left out

oh nice, very excited to see how that goes next ep

thank you for lifting the mood some griffin lol

clint you've killed me

oh i am so looking forward to this conversation

so a lot went down this episode, huh? compared to how lighthearted and silly the last two episodes were we got a ton of plot development, and in retrospect i’m glad we had an emotional buffer before things got too hairy. i am very worried for my boys, i personally think travis is nailing the build-up of suspense and mistrust between characters while keeping the danger factor mysterious enough that there’s no obvious solution as to who’s right not to trust who. i can’t wait to head into the tag and see the kinds of theories people are coming up with because dang if i don’t have some thoughts.

see you guys whenever the next ep comes out i guess!

#taz #taz graduation #the adventure zone #taz spoilers #ghosty liveblogs taz #it's late enough at night i debated posting this now and just queueing it for tomorrow #but i really wanted to throw my thoughts out before i went to bed bc holy shit this ep

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aspiringpolymath · 4 years

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quarantine tag

I was theoretically tagged by @bethanyactually :D

ARE YOU STAYING HOME FROM SCHOOL/WORK? Yes, but I’m between jobs (actually between jobs, I just separated from one and am in the process of getting hired at another) PLUS I had surgery ten days ago, so I’d be holed up at home regardless of this global fuckery.

IF YOU’RE STAYING HOME, WHO IS THERE WITH YOU? My spouse. He’s been working from home and taking care of me (tho I’m a terrible patient, I never want to admit anything is wrong with me, and I’m really bad at letting people do things for me.)

ARE YOU A HOMEBODY? So very much yes. I’m discovering that my day-to-day lifestyle is not that far from shelter-in-place.

AN EVENT THAT YOU WERE LOOKING FORWARD TO THAT GOT CANCELLED? An event I was going to in Chicago has been postponed, and I was going to go to visit my family and friends in Ohio on either side of that, so I’m sad I won’t be seeing anyone. (A friend of mine described it pretty well: “I miss certain people, but I don’t miss PEOPLE, you know?”)

WHAT MOVIES HAVE YOU WATCHED RECENTLY? Lol, I rewatched Baby Boom for the dozenth time the other day. I’m planning to watch Some Like It Hot later today with a friend (virtually, obvs.)

WHAT SHOWS ARE YOU WATCHING? New shows I’ve watched: finally watched the latest season of Great British Bake Off on Netflix (really didn’t like Rosie), High Fidelity (liked it more than the movie), Feel Good (darker than expected, but great cast), I Am Not Okay with This (very enjoyable, need a second series to be announced), just started watching season 3 of Mrs. Maisel bc Mark wanted to, and it does have it’s charms.

Rewatching Schitt’s Creek, and have just started to watch the final season.

WHAT MUSIC ARE YOU LISTENING TO? Haven’t listened to a lot of music, but have been listening to some comedy albums. Emily Heller, Aparna Nancherla, Debra DiGiovanni, Jackie Kashian, Eugene Mirman, and of course, John Mulaney. I’ve also been listening to some of Rufus Wainwright’s Quarantunes performances on Instagram.

WHAT ARE YOU READING? I got a six-month Kindle Unlimited subscription for half off back in November, so I’ve been reading a lot stuff from there (A LOOOOT of stuff). Currently reading a library ebook Hearts on Hold by Charish Reid, a KU book Heart of the Steal by Roan Parrish and Avon Gale. I also bought a load of ebooks from Manifold Press bc they’re having a sale where a lot of their titles are only $2.99 (which is a good deal for their stuff.) I’ve started Stage Whispers by Adam Fitzroy, and am enjoying it so far. :) (I’m hoping to post my March books soon, but you can check out my January and February reads.)

WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR SELF CARE? It’s actually been nice to have an excuse NOT to have to be upbeat and productive. I’ve been laying around and healing, mostly, but I did manage to bake a couple of things yesterday, and I’ve done some cooking, as well. Trying to get out and take a walk most days (tho I overdid it Friday, wasn’t ready to do over a mile yet . . . )

I do need to start wearing clothes that aren’t sweats/leggings sometime, though, or it’ll be a harsh reality when I need to go back to work! :D

Hope everyone is coping as best they can! If you want to do this, do it and say I tagged you! <3

#answers to questions #quarantine questions #about meme

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cam-rowe · 4 years

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I'm thinking about going solo traveling to Australia once this whole covid thing is over. As a local what are some good places that are a bit hip, cool to go to? Also I'm a music nerd, where should I go for good music and vibes in your opinion, are th thrift shops their worth visiting? Thanks!

That’s awesome! I’m very excited for you and hope you are able to travel soon!

I’m from Melbourne, so if you like sitting around at a funky bar or a cute coffee shop (we’re known to have the best coffee in the world and I insist that we do lol), I’ve got lots of recommendations for you!

If you’re into music and you like thrifting as well, I’d definitely recommend going down to Brunswick St in Fitzroy. There are tons of thrift stores (for clothes, for vinyl and even cassettes) and the streets are lined with tons of local pubs that play cool mixes. There’s this bar called Blackcat, it’s got comfy sofas, display local arts and also has a beer garden outside - go in the afternoon with a book so you can sit around and enjoy the atmosphere or go at night for a cocktail or two. There’s also Dixons Recycled, which has a really wide selection of second-hand vinyls, VCR, cassettes, CDs and even movies. You can find tons of gems over there for cheaps. If you’re into records, I’d definitely recommend reserving half a day to spend over at Dixons Recycled since they allow you to test out records and have a record player stationed, complete with a set of earphones so you can stand there and test out the sound before you make the purchase. They also colour code all their records by the condition that they’re in, so it makes the shopping experience much easier. There’s also the Searcher records and I personally think the shop looks very cozy, nice atmosphere and their selections are more tailored. Also, good pricing for what you’re getting! Caulfield South (imo the food in that area is great, there’s not much else to do over there though) has 2-3 record stores that are really worth the look, but you’re not going to find anything that dates pass the 80′s. If you’ve got the funds to spend and you want to buy rare records that you probably thought you’d never see in person, I would highly recommend going to Greville Records (in Prahran). It’s small but it’s lined with records and caters to all genres. The owner (he runs the place by himself) is very knowledgeable in music so if you’re looking for music recommendations, you can tell him what kind of stuff you like and he can show you some music you’d never even heard of before! He’s always up for a chat so don’t be shy. Also, if you have a record you’ve been trying to hunt down but can’t seem to find anywhere, Greville is your best bet tbh!

In terms of thrift shopping, I would say Melbourne does have a few great places but they’re not usually cheap. If you’re from the US, you probably can find way. better stuff and for way cheaper. I would still recommend visiting Vintage Soles (great cowboy boots and American denim selection), Hunter Gatherer (for fur coats and tea dresses), Monkey Jar (very hit or miss tbh but you’re likely to get a good deal if you find something you like!) and Yesteryear vintage (expensive but if you’re lazy, then this is the place for you bc everything is curated so you won’t have to dig through a pile of things to find what you’re looking for!). If you like designer vintage, this store called Reina has opened up in the city and it’s got everything from circa 90s Prada to 00′s Gucci.

If you want any more info or any more rec, I’m happy to help - just shoot me a message! I’ve lived in the city over 10 years now so I know tons of great places that a lot of people who otherwise live in the suburbs have never heard of before.

#ask #answer #not camille

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oxsix · 5 years

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The Long Road to Family

Chapter 8- Just the Four of Us

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

AO3 link

Finally getting round to posting the LIW chapter of this fic

They're strangers, but not for long.

The apartment the four of them have been shacked up in is pretty cramped.

It's London, and according to the people who'd brought them here—that means there's very little available in their price range. And so, the four of them are stuck sharing a tiny, two bedroom apartment, with tiny twin beds for each of them.

And, well, it's awkward to say the least. They're strangers, at best, and here they are, jammed together in this brand new world they've found themselves in. As if the concept of resurrection and a world 500 years advanced from the one you knew weren't big enough revelations; they're also stuck experiencing it all with a group of women they barely know. They may have known of each other before, but they had never properly met.

Maria has always been a self-assured woman, probably over-stepping the line now and then, but she feels tense in this environment. She's worried about what they'll think of her. They all served later Queens, it would be understandable if they held some resentment.

Joan and Maggie have both immediately bagsied beds in the larger room—it has a view overlooking the street, rather than just the next building over—which means that, awkwardly, Maria is going to have to share with Bessie.

Which is a complicated situation in and of itself.

The four of them are essentially strangers, yes, but with the exception of Maria and Bessie. Maria wasn't really sure what to make of her. They had been extraordinarily close when they'd known each other, but Bessie had been fairly young then, and Maria had a tendency to take the younger ladies under her wing.

She liked to keep an eye on them; make sure they were safe. Evidently she had failed with Bessie, then.

What had happened with Henry—not an affair, really, she'd been too young for that then—had driven a wedge between the three of them. The birth of Henry Fitzroy had been awful for Catalina, a particularly heavy blow to her self-worth. A symbol of Henry's ability to beget a son, and therefore, it led many to wonder if Catherine was the problem.

Including the Queen herself.

It was painful, of course, after so many children lost over the years. And Henry had sent Bessie away, out of some misplaced form of respect for his wife. And Maria never saw her again.

Still, Maria thinks that perhaps it had all been a little unfair. She wishes she could have been there for her then. Could have reached out. She wishes she could have looked out for her properly. But telling the King 'no' never ended well for anyone. There were six very good examples of this that came to mind. But so much of life back then, at court, at least, was about appearances. About public perception.

And so they had remained distant. And proper.

And Maria had never been good at communication. She still isn't, really. She doesn't do well with talking, she never knows how to say what she's feeling. There's so many thoughts and ideas that cloud together in her head, she can't put them into words in a way that satisfies what she means. So, instead, she prefers to show it.

She deals mainly in gestures. The grand, sweeping kind that make her feelings clear, without her having to say anything at all. It was what she had done towards the end of her last life—for Catalina.

She hadn't known how to say what she felt, and she had no way of lessening the pain Henry was putting her through. She didn't have any power, or any say. So she had swallowed her pride and broken the rules in a way she would never normally dare. And she had pushed herself to the limit to be there for her Queen. And as she held her old friend while she took her last breaths, Maria knew her feelings would be understood. Catalina knew Maria cared, and she wouldn't die alone. And that was what mattered.

So, this time, Maria decides this might be the best way to reach out. Another gesture. A smaller one, perhaps. But a gesture all the same. Trying to explain how she felt about all of this would probably leave her with a headache, and with an very offended Bessie. Things tend to come out wrong when Maria says them. So, she resolves to take action.

It's worked for her before.

- - -

Bessie doesn't know what to make of all of this. It's a lot, to be fair, to wake up and find the whole world completely changed. And, in all honesty, she doesn't want to be here, dealing with it all in the company of a group of near-strangers.

She knows she should talk to them; get to know them a little. But she can't. Something inside her is fighting back. She's scared—truth be told. She hadn't had much in the way of friends, last time. There had only been Anna, who she'd served towards the end.

Anna was kind-hearted. She was gentle, and had a knack for making everyone in the room love her. It wasn't surprising that she was the only person Bessie had felt truly cared for her. There may have been others before, who'd looked out for her, or even tried to help her—but none of them had stayed.

She had loved her children, too, but even then, she hadn't been able to be as close to them as she wanted. So much of her life was dictated by expectations. She wasn't supposed to be so open and genuinely affectionate. And she'd stayed in line, for fear of the consequences.

Because being a former mistress of the King put her under a lot of scrutiny.

And now she's back to being alone again. Sat by herself on the edge of her mattress—which is too hard. She's not sure if it's such a bad thing. Maybe it's better this way. She wouldn't get hurt, at least. Most of the people who get close to her only hurt her in the end. They told her pretty lies and then left her when she wasn't useful any more.

She should go out there and talk to them; she knows. But she isn't convinced they'll want her. Maggie and Joan seem to have hit it off already—she can hear them laughing from the other room. And Maria hates her. She knows that much. She must.

Bessie had ruined everything for them. And then she'd been sent away. They must have been glad she was gone. She should never have let Henry near her. But then, how could she have told the King no? He was the King. And she was just one of his wife's ladies in waiting. She was no authority in the matter.

So how could she talk to Maria now?

She hears the door to the bedroom creak open slowly. She looks up to see the woman in question enter. She quickly looks away. She thinks she hear Maria sigh, then. But she's not certain. She turns to gaze out of the window again. She doesn't want to make things awkward between them.

But then she feels a weight settle gently on the bed, just behind where she's sitting. She turns, surprised. Maria is sat on the adjacent side of the bed. A warm cup is pressed into Bessie's hands. It's covered in foam on top, and has a sweet smell. Chocolate.

Maria smiles at her, gently. Bessie smiles back. Maria clinks their cups together, then looks away, a little embarrassed.

She doesn't know what to say. Neither does Maria, evidently. It doesn't matter. They sit there, together, in an odd but not uncomfortable silence. The golden light of the sunset casts a gentle warmth on them both, and they watch the end of their first day in the new world together.

And they wonder if the next day will bring them closer together.

- - -

Now that she's back, Joan feels somewhat adrift. Her whole life before had been dictated by strict rules and expectations. She had served her queen, she had been a wife, and then she had been a mother. She had never been subject to only her own desires.

It's both exciting and daunting at the same time. She is free—truly, at last. But she isn't sure what this freedom means, or what to do with it. And in a way, that makes it all the more exhilarating. It's the first time in her life things haven't been laid out for her.

She sits in the living room, on her own at first. The last dregs of yellow sunlight are streaming in through the blinds. It's beautiful; a good introduction to the new world, Joan thinks. It casts stark shadows from the high city buildings, much higher than Joan would have thought possible in her time.

She leans back. Lets out a quiet sigh of contentment.

And then a little laugh. At the sheer absurdity of her situation. She's not certain this isn't all just an odd dream. Perhaps she's come down with a fever. Or maybe consumption. She could wake up tomorrow back in her old body, and her old life.

She could. But she hopes that's not the case.

This new time is exactly what she needs. A new life; a new start. Beholden to no-one.

She'd loved Jane, deeply so. And her death had been painful. To watch the life fade so slowly from her. Clinging desperately to the possibility that she might recover, staying by her side to the bitter end with the vain hope she might get through this. Only to have all of those hopes be crushed. And little Edward left without a mother.

She's ready to be in charge of herself this time. Not to serve anyone.

She's torn on these new women, though. She's felt it before; the pang of losing a loved one. She isn't sure if she can do it again. Perhaps things would be easier if she had nobody to lose. Still, she misses the companionship.

And she can feel herself caving in already.

Earlier, when they'd first been getting their bearings in the flat, she'd walked in on Maggie in their room, softly singing some old tune to herself. She'd been startled by Joan's entrance, and ended up hitting the side of her head on a shelf, and plummeting directly onto the nightstand next to her bed.

What had followed was a flurry of curses and poorly-strung together apologies from both of them. Joan rushed over to take a look at the other girl's head, where a small bump was forming.

Maggie cradled the top of her head, with a slightly pathetic whimper. The two of them looked at each other then, their frantic energy levelling out a little.

And Joan couldn't help it. It bubbled up inside her, and she started laughing. And Maggie did, too. Until there were tears streaming down their faces and they could barely breathe.

Joan likes her already, in spite of herself. Her resolve to avoid repeating the pains of her past has faded already. She's going to make the same mistakes all over again. And she's not going to regret it—not even a single bit.

She'll endure it all again, if she has to. The fear, and the hope, and the crushing loss.

Because it's worth it; she knows.

- - -

Margaret—no, Maggie—has found herself at a bit of a loss. The world around her is so bizarre and new. It's hard to think about her past in the context of how things are now.

The modern monarchy is an entirely different beast to when she was alive. They're still influential, yes. But they're more public figures than absolute rulers. It's odd, looking at how these things are being talked about, on the 'news' programme that's currently playing. Some of it reminds her very much of her own time.

The way the actions of certain members of the royal family are constantly dissected, pulled a part and scrutinised. It makes her anxious, in a way. Hearing people debate endlessly about the dress the duchess wore, or how she opened a car door for herself, which apparently goes against royal protocol.

So the pomp and circumstance she remembers has stayed the same. And even though Maggie knows things are different now, that members of the royal family cannot simply be executed on trumped-up charges any more—she feels nervous for the woman.

It's silly, really. She knows that. But it brings back memories. Ones she'd rather leave behind. About awful, vitriolic words spread about her mistress. About rumours spreading like wildfire, and ending in such an early death. Such an awful death.

She tries to reassure herself. They don't do that any more. She's perfectly safe. But Maggie remembers how many times she had reassured Anne that things would be fine. And she'd been wrong.

Her chest feels tight, and she tries to bury the feelings again. But memories play before her eyes. She doesn't want to go back there, to witness that again. She holds back tears and tries to steady her breathing. She doesn't want to break down now. Joan is sat on the sofa next to her, only half paying attention to the television, and gently bouncing her leg.

She asks if Joan minds her changing the channel. Joan gives a shrug in response.

She takes the odd, black object in her hand, trying to decipher the meanings of all the little buttons. She moves close to the 'television', not sure of how the device works, and holds it close to the little blinking red light. She doesn't know what the buttons mean, so she pushes one of the numbers, and hopes she won't break anything.

The screen flickers as the scene playing out on the television changes. Maggie moves back to sit on the sofa. As she sits, Joan shuffles over to sit closer to her. She gives Maggie a small smile—one that inquires if she is alright. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and smiles back, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes yet.

She rests her weight against Joan's side, and the other girl leans into it, too. And they stay there for hours, watching television shows they don't really understand just yet. They share in their confusion, and giggle at the things that don't make sense to them, or that would have been outrageous in their day.

And Maggie feels a little bit lighter, like some weight has been taken from her shoulders. Things might be okay this time.

It's the middle of the night when Bessie and Maria finally emerge from their room. Evidently, they don't feel like sleeping, either. They join Maggie and Joan, sitting on the other small sofa in the room, even more confused by the strange device they're watching.

And that's how the four of them see in the next day, talking and laughing and trying to unravel the workings of this strange new world together.

Things have changed. They don't have to serve anyone this time. And maybe they can figure out what it all means, together.

#six the musical fanfic #six fanfiction #six the musical #maria on the drums #bessie on the bass #joan on the keys #maggie on guitar #cut maggie some slack please she's never used a remote before

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