#Rated G

[frameacloud]

Image description: A ceramic sculpture of a white dragon decorated with black stars. Description ends.

✶

[frameacloud]

Therianthropy Day is Friday, November 15, 2024

Therianthropy Day is held every year on the first full moon of November. This year, in 2024, that falls on Friday the 15th. According to NASA, this also happens to be a supermoon, which means it’s slightly brighter than usual.

Why that date, and what is the history of that holiday? 

Therianthropy Day commemorates the first Howl, which was held 30 years ago in November 1994. A Howl is when therians meet up together in person. That was a year after the first therians started to meet up together online in November 1993. Therians first proposed commemorating it as a holiday on that date in 1996, in a conversation thread you can still see here. Based on that history, in 2016, Muninn the Raven proposed observing it as Therianthropy Day, though the first posts and community poll about it attracted little attention. I think the holiday finally really caught on in 2021, when I first saw many therians posting on social media about fun things they were doing for it.

What are therians, anyway?

If therianthropy is a new idea to you, or you want to explain it to others who are unfamiliar with it, this essay is a quick and easy to understand introduction to it. It’s available in several languages already, and more translations would be great.

Learn more about the history of the therian community by reading the Timeline of the Therian Community written by @liongoatsnake

What can we do for Therianthropy Day?

I’ve seen therians celebrate it by wearing gear (for example, a necklace with the therian symbol, or clothes with pictures of their species), meeting up with their therian friends, and howling at the moon.

Enjoy some indie games and zines about therianthropy from this hand-curated itch.io collection. Some therian highlights from that: SlumberDragon’s zine of self-care tips for animal folk, @who-is-page’s therianthropy-inspired solo journaling game Wolf In Man’s Clothing, puppygirlbelly’s interactive story I Am Dog(s), and Digital Freegans’s zines THERIANARCHY and BEAST PUNKS.

Are there days for other sorts of alterhumans too?

There are. Alterhuman Day commemorates when Lio of the Crossroads System coined that word on September 26, 2014. Otherkin Day is on July 9, commemorating when the word was coined in 1990, though Arethinn has found that the word’s origin is a little more complicated than that. Plural Events says that Plural Pride Day is the third Saturday of July, and Plural Acceptance Week is that week.

[otterandterrierwrites]

For the mystery asks, how about 6 and 24?

wordless ways to say "i love you": 6. tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

a/n: two prompts? that's greedy :P you can have one for now. inspired by this post, a different take on Leia?

::::::::::

Her body used to be softer, Leia thinks. Rounder, warmer, pliable, solid. Not like now, when she feels like she’s been filed off into cold sharp angles, when she feels like she could become unmoored and float up and away. She was a river stone, softly shaped by a tenderness that grounded her. Now, she’s a spike.

Affection is second nature to her, and her body remembers that. She was raised to the comfort of touch; she knows to offer it with ease. She thinks nothing of touching a stranger’s arm, of hugging a colleague in triumph, of wrapping an arm around a grieving soldier’s shoulders.

She’s starving; she hungers for touch. It’s not the need that scares her, that hungry void; it’s the fact that she can’t seem to take to touch like she used to. Her body viscerally rebels against it. When she gets injured and they tend to her wounds, she shivers and feels nauseous. Chewbacca gently ruffles her hair, and Luke pats her back, and Han drapes himself over her shoulders, and she stiffens even as she smiles, her skin turning to durasteel. She gets into her cot and piles up the grand total of two blankets she’s been given and all of her clothes on top of her, and the weight isn’t enough, but she closes her eyes anyway and pretends she’s being cuddled.

A year goes by, then two, and her body slowly smoothes down the memories of brutal hands on her shoulders, on her arms, the uncaring needles puncturing her spine, the cold muzzle of blasters at her back. Little by little it’s been nourished back to a healthy diet of companionable, of caring, of careful touch, which she welcomes, and reciprocates.

Except—

Her body does not extend the same courtesy to Han; it still stiffens, and vibrates, and frizzles at his touch, and she doesn’t know why. She’s long past feeling uncomfortable around him; she’s never felt unsafe. She likes his company, even, most of the time. Likes the way they work together. The way he talks to her like few people have dared talk to her before. The way he challenges her without disrespecting her, without making her feel like she couldn’t rise up to it. She likes the way she catches him looking at her sometimes.

It should not be a big deal every time he puts a hand on her lower back their fingers brush as she hands him a datapad he brushes a strand of hair out of her face she touches his arm to get his attention in a meeting their knees bump under the dejarik table, she’s a grown-up woman who doesn’t swoon at the sight of a bare ankle, it’s not that, it’s that it’s not enough, and the want, the impossibility of it, makes her recoil.

So what if he tells her things about him she’s sure he hasn’t told a lot of people? What if he brings her caf from the Falcon every morning? What if he brings back little things from his missions just for her?

What if she wants him to leave because she fears she’s in too deep and the thought of losing one more person she cares about terrifies her, and what if she wants him to stay for the exact same reason?

What if all of those words stick in her throat and she can’t tell him, not now, not ever, not until she’s done her duty to all the ghosts she owes her life to.

***********

They lost contact with the Falcon four days ago, received a confusing, static-filled transmission from Chewbacca twelve hours ago, and the freighter is late by two days. On the third day, Chewie says they’re on their way. On the fourth day, they arrive, and she’s got medics standing by, but she’s the first one to walk towards the ramp. He’s limping as he almost hangs from the Wookiee’s neck, something bulky under his shirt, his face pale and haggard. But he sees her and one corner of his mouth lifts, and when she steps up to him and hugs him, so very careful of whatever injuries almost kept him back from her for good, and he melts around her, and her face presses against his warm, beating neck that ripples with something unsaid, she thinks, finally, that she’s not starving anymore.

[steddieunderdogfics]

these unspoken things by runraerun

@runraerun

Rating: General Audiences

8,570 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning:

Tags: Amnesia, Amnesiac Steve Harrington, Concussed Steve Harrington, Brain Damage, Steve Harrington Whump, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Eddie Munson Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, steve harrington pov, Steve Harrington-centric, Memory Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Protective Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Gay Eddie Munson, POV Eddie Munson, Everybody Lives, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Whump, First Kiss, Human Diaster Eddie Munson, now with art!

Summary:

Steve wakes up in the hospital with a headache, a haircut, and a boyfriend. He doesn’t remember how he got any of them. Or, the tried and true amnesia trope—but make it Steddie.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Love Confessions.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[jayvik-ao3]

Festering Affections

by egg_thief

Rated G, 3.2k words, complete

Tags: fluff, feelings realization, cuddling & snuggling

Summary:

Ever so carefully- as if his hair were made of glass instead of silk and daydreams- Viktor reaches his hand out, his fingers stretching toward Jayce’s hair. He wavers for a moment, hesitating only a second- what if Jayce pulls away? What if he is misreading this whole scenario? What if he crosses a line that cannot be uncrossed- He is laying with his head in your lap, Viktor chides himself. If anyone crossed a line, it was him. This is merely retaliation- the consequences of his actions. Something Jayce needs exposure to anyway. And with that, Viktor slips his fingers into Jayce’s hair.

or: jayce has a thing for laying his head in peoples laps. and having his hair pet

[2nd2ndalto]

I have a headcanon that all the demigod kids routinely end up in each others beds/cabins at night, because nightmares and trauma and whatnot. So I wrote this smol fic.

~~~~~

There Is Rest and There's You

The first time Nico sees Annabeth leaving the Poseidon cabin at an ungodly early hour (having been dragged from his warm bed by Leo and Jason for an ungodly early errand), he flushes, quickly looking away. Because it's obvious, even to him, that she’d spent the night. But Annabeth merely sleepily raises a hand in greeting and continues on her way back to her own cabin.

Jason, maybe noticing Nico’s discomfort, simply shrugs. “Musical cabins,” he explains. “Happens a lot.”

Leo nods in agreement. “Yep. I had some really wicked nightmares last week, three nights running. I ended up on Jason’s floor. Would have been in the bed, but Piper got there first,” he adds, disgruntled.

Huh, Nico thinks. Musical cabins. That's a little weird.

After that, he pays more attention. It’s not unusual, as it turns out, to find the Apollo cabin overstuffed with various campers early in the morning, rivalling even the occupancy of the Hermes cabin. Sometimes it’s couples tucked in together, but more often it’s friends, siblings. Seeking comfort, and sleep.

It's six months into Nico's stay at Camp when he begins forgetting to lock the door to Cabin Thirteen. He nearly runs Harley through with his sword the first night he finds the younger boy fast asleep in his cabin. But after that, it quickly becomes routine to wake to the quiet comfort of someone else’s soft snoring across the darkened room. Most often it's Will, brushing a warm hand over Nico's forehead before settling into the other bed, but sometimes it's Harley, and several times Leo, complaining that Jason’s bed was already full.

It’s a little weird, but surprisingly nice. Nico begins leaving his door unlocked most of the time.

On a night late in February, the nightmares are worse than usual. Nico wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tears welling behind his eyelids. He does what he usually does - dresses quickly, and walks. There’s something meditative about the rhythm of his boots on the ground and the sharp, cold air on his skin that usually settles him.

But the thing is, it’s really cold. And after only about half an hour he finds himself standing in the central green, torn. He can't feel his toes, but he can’t quite stomach the thought of returning to his own empty cabin, either.

His frozen feet lead him up the stairs to Cabin Seven. And gods, it’s warm inside.

There’s a soft rustle of blankets from Will’s bunk.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is soft and scratchy. “What’s wrong?”

The taller boy is out of bed and across the cabin in a heartbeat, reaching for Nico’s hand. Scanning him, Nico knows, blue eyes wide with worry.

Nico shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just - couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs, and the concern on Will’s face fades to sympathy.

“The bunk above mine is empty,” he says simply.

And that’s that. Nico climbs up, snuggles in. Will’s messy blond bedhead pops over the edge of the bunk, his smile fond. He squeezes Nico’s arm. “Sleep tight.” And then he disappears.

Nico worries it might be awkward, in the daylight. It’s anything but. The Apollo cabin is a riot of sound and motion in the morning. Austin flings a stuffed turtle at Nico's head. Nico's foot is hanging off the edge of the bunk, and Kayla tickles it, cackling when he squeaks.

“Breakfast time, sleepyhead,” she chirps.

“Sleep well?” Will asks as Nico climbs back down.

And the thing is, he really did.

Time passes. The nightmares wax and wane, but they get easier, mostly.

Until one night in July. It’s almost a year to the day since he came to stay at Camp - Nico thinks, later, maybe that’s why the nightmares hit particularly hard. He wakes shaking, gasping for air, convinced he’s fading again, permanently this time. It scares him so much more than it did when it was actually happening. He shoves his hands against the wood of his headboard, hard, positive they’re going to slip right through. They don’t, but he can't shake the panic.

Nico’s up and out the door in the space of a breath, no hesitation as he makes a beeline, barefoot, for Cabin Seven. The air is cool for July, the full moon shining bright above.

He can feel his panic ease the second he closes the door behind him, soothed by a quiet symphony of soft breathing.

But the bunk above Will’s is occupied tonight, and as Nico's eyes adjust, he realizes all the others are, too.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is a whisper. “Nightmare?” He sits up, silhouetted in moonlight.

“Yeah.” Nico steps closer. “Looks like you’re all full in here, though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but Will grabs his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You go back to sleep.”

Will gazes at him in the dark, fingers still wrapped around Nico’s wrist. “Or you could stay. Here.”

“There’s no room, though.”

“I have room,” Will whispers.

Nico blinks at Will’s bunk, then back at Will, his stomach attempting to leap into his throat. Will’s eyes are wide, nervous.

“I... um -” Nico begins. He can feel his face heating at the thought of it.

“Gods, di Angelo, just stop talking and get into his bed. Literally no one cares,” Kayla grumbles from the next bunk over. There appears to be at least one Demeter kid in her bed. Maybe two.

Will’s fighting a grin now and he shrugs. Nico shrugs back, then… climbs into the bed. Will scoots over to make room, pulling the blankets over them both. And gods it’s warm, and it smells like Will, and when nothing else calms him, that always does.

Nico lets his eyes close. Then -

“Do - do I feel like I’m fading?” he asks in a whisper, echoes of the nightmare flashing behind his closed eyelids.

Will gazes at him. Then he reaches for Nico’s hand.

“No,” Will whispers. Someone clears their throat nearby and Will grimaces, yanking the blankets over their heads.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his breath brushing Nico’s face.

“No, just - nightmare."

Will nods in understanding. “No. You’re good,” he smiles. He goes to pull the blankets back down, then seems to reconsider.

“That’s um… that’s usually why I end up in your cabin. At night.” he admits, quiet. “Sometimes... I just need to make sure that you’re still solid.”

Nico stomach flip-flops. "Oh."

Will shrugs, sheepish. He pulls the blankets back down, settling on his side. "Here," he says, reaching for Nico's hand again. "Then neither of us has to worry." He tangles their fingers together, reaching out to lay his other hand on Nico's arm, tethering him.

Will's soft smile in the dark is dazzling, and his hands are warm, and Nico worries his own answering smile might just light up the entire cabin.

When he wakes hours later to the familiar sounds of chaos, his head tucked against Will's shoulder, Will's face buried in his hair, well. He thinks maybe this musical cabins thing isn't so bad after all.

Notes

This is a short one! I tried to challenge myself to write something coherent in 1000 words or less. I almost managed it.

It is also my personal headcanon that Harley kind of attaches himself to Nico & sees him as a big brother. This comes up in something else I'm working on as well.

I would love to hear your related headcanons! Snuggly demigods! Sleeping in heaps like puppies!

Jason may not come up much in my fics but please rest assured he is Always Alive.

[saioumaarchive]

"This was it. This was his doom. His downfall. May everyone remember him for what he was. Hilarious. Intelligent. Insanely good looking. And a liar. Amen."

~ Psychiccupid, "Lies On Ice"

It's by Psychiccupid, so you already know it's going to be adorable! In this treat of a fic, Kokichi insists that he's a professional ice skater despite never having skated in his life. When Shuichi calls his bluff via a date to an ice rink, Kokichi's left with no choice but to double down— right?! I adore the author's portrayal of these two being so clearly in love and comfortable with each other. The story is lighthearted and fluffy without being lazy in terms of characterization, and while I would gladly read another five thousand words, I think 2k is plenty of room to have fun with this idea and keep it engaging all the way through. Drop by to leave a comment today!

Rated G 1,864 words, one-shot Published 29 December 2021

~ Mod Equinox

[subparparsley]

Opportunity For Growth

White Collar | General Audiences | Oneshot | 1000 words Neal Caffrey & Peter Burke | Neal Caffrey & Clinton Jones

Summary: Neal's art is being put on show, and he's nervous. Written for the White Collar Flash Fiction prompt - Invitation

@operationmorewhitecollar Tags & Warnings: Artist Neal Caffrey | Good friend Peter Burke | Good friend Clinton Jones | POV Burke & Jones | prompt fic View on AO3 for full fic

Neal was up to something. Normally, Peter wasn’t too concerned, since it was often just secrecy over the mundane, for the sake of Neal feeling more in control of his life; Peter wouldn’t begrudge him that. This, however, was different. Neal had been anxiously checking his phone, for days, and enough was enough. Peter called for Neal from across the office and waited patiently for him to head over. Neal’s head had snapped up at the summons, getting up a moment later, stuffing his phone into his breast pocket before wandering over. He sat down in his usual spot, picked up something to fidget with, and smiled serenely up at Peter — who just stared back, hands on hips. “What’re you up to?” Peter asked, straight to the point. “Why assume I’m up to something?!” Neal whined, protesting the lack of trust. “Because you usually are.” Peter raised a hand to stop any incoming complaints before continuing, “You’ve been obsessing over your phone for days. What’s. Up?”

[xiaokuer-schmetterling]

podfic #​40 [ ✅ ]

ao3! [podfic] I ain't no Superman by LoveAtFirstFight50 alternate: archive.org media player time commitment: about 14 mins fic details:

I ain't no Superman (856 words) by LoveAtFirstFight50 @loveatfirstfight5-0

additional tags: Arguing, Inspired by an Imagine Dragons Song, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

summary:

After a mission nearly goes sideways, a fight erupts. Danny says too much. Steve says what he’s never said. And somehow, that’s what saves them.

-----

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the song! i ain't no superman--imagine dragons

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end post

[eeriansadowtwopointoh]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Maggie Madsen, Red Alert (Transformers) Additional Tags: Hearts and Sparks Ship Week (Transformers), Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe, prompt: alternate universe Series: Part 21 of Embassy Town, Part 7 of Hearts and Sparks Week 2025 Summary:

Security Data Liasion still sounds like a made up position to give the Autobots an excuse to keep her close,but it has given Maggie a chance to stretch her skills and meet more aliens. And her supervisor is an interesting one.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Soul Mate

Author: fablewriter

Rating: G

Status: Completed in May 2013

Word Count: 5,195

Summary: Klaine soulmate AU | They don’t know each other, but people know them. Kurt Hummel is the famous fashion designer, who wears a cuff around his wrist and says that his soulmate’s name is his own business, but jokes at interviews about it. Blaine Anderson is a young, successful singer/songwriter who does the same things, keeping the name hidden from everyone. But what happens when he accidentally tweets.

Tropes/Genre: soulmate!Klaine, fashion designer!Kurt, singer!Blaine, social media, Niff, one shot

Read at: [PDF]

[frameacloud]

Some fact checks about plurality

The "Bible of psychiatry" is the DSM. In 1994, the DSM changed the name of Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) to Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). This was in response to a moral panic where critics claimed that the condition was fake.

The original and current diagnostic criteria do not require trauma for DID (or MPD) (DSM-III, p. 259; DSM-III-R, p. 272; DSM-5-TR, p. 331).

The international counterpart of the DSM is the ICD-11. Its essential features for DID do not require trauma, either.

Both books say that not all cases of multiple personalities are a disorder or a severe impairment. Psychiatry recognizes that medicalizing them is not always appropriate.

Plurality (or multiplicity) is a community umbrella term for many ways of being more than one person in a body. Psychiatrists who know enough about DID are aware of it. Plurality includes but is not the same as DID.

The community has always included plurals who formed for reasons other than trauma. Dividing the community by excluding non-traumagenic plurals and calling them fake is new. That only started in August 2014 on Tumblr, unheard of elsewhere.

When that started, a trauma-caused DID system created the word "endogenic." This means plurals who formed naturally rather than from trauma. The Lunastus Collective coined it in solidarity with them.

(Similarly, the coiner of another umbrella term, "alterhuman," is a member of a traumagenic OSDD system who supports endogenic plurals. The purpose of that word is for plural systems to unite with other sorts who differ from usual definitions of human individual, valuing what we do and do not have in common, instead of in-fighting about who is more legitimate.)

Community historian LB Lee gives several good reasons why-- as trauma-surviving plurals-- they choose not to call themselves "traumagenic" or divide the community by origins. If I may briefly paraphrase a couple of these: If you see suffering as your whole foundation of who you are, then you have a more difficult time envisioning a better situation. If you want others to respect you, a losing strategy is to put down people who are seen as similar to you.

Neither psychiatry nor the greater community of plurals see trauma history as an important distinction in determining whether someone is plural.

[otterandterrierwrites]

wordless ways to say "i love you": 27. leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

for @hanleiahothwars

It was past 2200 when Leia finally got off her shift and headed for the Falcon, hoping she was still on time to catch Han, Chewie and Luke after dinner—and in time for some leftovers, so she wouldn’t have to circle back to the mess hall on her way to bed. She’d told them she might be a little late, but they’d finally received an update on a group of missing operatives, and it’d been over an hour before a rescue mission could be put together for the following day and Leia was finally relieved of duty.

The Falcon’s ramp was down, but inside everything was dim and quiet. Leia still wandered into the main hold, only to have her suspicions confirmed: she was a lot late to dinner. Luke had clearly left, but somebody on the freighter had to be up and about if they hadn’t yet closed the ramp. She was halfway down the corridor to the cockpit when she felt movement behind her—for a fleeting second, she was convinced she could tell it was Han, and her heart skipped a beat.

When she turned around, she found Chewie waving at her. She wasn’t disappointed to see Chewie. She liked Chewie. She was only mildly let down to find out her guess hadn’t been accurate.

‘Hey Chewie,’ she said, tamping down those ridiculous thoughts as she walked back into the main hold. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make dinner. Looks like I missed everyone.’

‘[We were going to wait for you, but Han was summoned to fix a problem with one of the X-Wings going out tomorrow, and Luke has an early shift],’ Chewie explained. ‘[Han asked me to wait a little longer for you.]’

‘I see… Well, I’m glad to have caught you at least,’ Leia said, giving him a smile and touching his arm briefly. ‘But I don’t want to keep you up—it was really kind of you to wait, but texting me would have been fine—it’s on me for being so late.’

Mess hall leftovers it was, then.

‘I’ll see you guys soon, all right?’ she said, starting to walk past him. It had been a long night, and loath as she was to admit it, she’d been looking forward to a couple of hours among friends, sharing in a meal that had been prepared with more than nutritional value in mind.

‘[Princess, wait!]’ Chewie roared behind her. ‘[That’s not all I had to say to you. Have you eaten yet?]’

‘No, but don’t worry about it—I’ll grab something from the kitchens.’

Sometimes there were sandwiches made with the leftovers available for people on the night shifts, although, since they went by an honour code, their availability tended to vary. If she didn’t have such luck, she could always grab a ration pack. Nobody was greedy about those.

Chewie shook his head. ‘[You don’t have to. Han saved you a plate from dinner and left it in the microwave. That’s why I stayed up.]’

‘Oh, really?’ She immediately brightened at the prospect of getting to enjoy Han’s cooking after all; a vast step up from even the least disgusting ration pack and the mess hall sandwiches. Chewie was already crossing over to the corner of the main hold that served as an unofficial galley, and turning on the microwave (on top of which rested the thermapad somewhat precariously—that was the way things were at the Falcon).

‘That’s very thoughtful,’ Leia said. ‘Thank you, Chewie.’

‘[It’s really Han you should thank],’ the Wookiee mentioned, bringing the hot plate to the dejarik table after a couple of minutes. ‘[He made sure we did not eat all of it. Of course Luke and I wanted you to have the leftovers… it’s just that it was hard to remember because it was nerf stew night.]’

‘Of course,’ Leia said, sitting down at the table and breathing in the flavourful steam of the dish, stomach growling in anticipation. She grabbed the fork Chewie had set down for her, but paused for a moment, as her throat grew tight. Yes; she was glad she got to enjoy Han’s food after all. He didn’t always do it in the most obvious ways, and he’d be quick to deny it if told so, but inviting her and Luke for dinner was one way in which he went against script and showed that he cared. And right now, sitting with a plate of steaming homemade food he’d made sure to save for her even though he didn't have to, that was exactly what she felt: cared for.

[steddieunderdogfics]

for theme weekend 'Wayne Munson fics' i'd love to rec good for my boy by by MacksDramaticShenanigans (there's also a wonderful podfic version of this sweet fic, read by hullomoon) 🖤

good for my boy by MacksDramaticShenanigans

@stevethehairington

Rating: General Audiences

7,419 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Not Canon Compliant - Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, POV Wayne Munson, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Meeting the Parents, accidental first meeting, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Pre-Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Steve Harrington Can Cook, Eggs

Summary

Wayne lets the front door swing shut behind him, rattling and smacking into the frame audibly. “Jesus, Munson!” A voice rings out — the freezer fiend’s, and definitely not Eddie’s. “Took you god damn long enough!” The head finally pops out of the freezer. “I got tired of waiting and — oh.” The stranger’s hand slips from the handle and the freezer door thumps shut. As does the stranger’s mouth when he looks right into the face of, not Eddie Munson as expected, but Wayne Munson. Wayne briefly recognizes him as the Harrington boy.   or, the first time Wayne Munson meets Steve Harrington is a complete accident.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Wayne Munson Fics.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[jayvik-ao3]

Hii I know this blog is a newborn but can you help me find some fics about jayvik developing a relationship during the season 1 time skip? I read "Insinuations" by aevallare and it was SO good I'm still thinking about it

thanks for creating this btw!!

- @arcanefujoshi

Hi :D We hadn't read Insinuations before but it was a really fun read, so thanks for the ask! We have a few fics like that queued up, but here's a small list with some of our choices:

s1 developing relationship

— insinuations by aevallare (rated M | 3k | complete)

Jayce very nearly chokes. “I had thought you’d be too busy for gossip.” “Just because I go out of my way not to be noticed doesn’t mean that I don’t have ears,” Viktor says dryly. - people are going to talk either way.

— The Face That Launched A Thousand Ads by BlueTwo (rated E | 13k | complete)

As the so-called "Man of Progress," Jayce is the ideal brand partner for every marketing specialist in Piltover. He does not realize what this entails, or exactly just how embarrassing it will be— especially when Viktor finds out.

— City Slang by Tlon (rated M | 14k | complete)

Even if their partnership survives Viktor confessing a feeling Jayce doesn’t have, things would change. Better they stay like this — enough affection to keep Viktor from going elsewhere, never nearly as much as he wants, all taken in a way Jayce doesn’t intend. Guilt. Desire. Et cetera. Left alone on New Year’s Eve, Viktor takes a trip back to the undercity. But going home again is much harder than leaving — and it hurts so much worse. At least he might finally admit some feelings to his partner at the end of it.

— A Nail To A Hammersmith by orangestarburst (rated G | 2.5k | complete)

Jayce silently observes Viktor and adapts to accommodate him and minimize his pain as best he can without making a thing out of it. They end up making a thing out of it.

— Bad Liar(s) by Luddleston (rated G | 3k | complete)

It doesn't take Mel long to notice that Jayce and Viktor are pretending to be romantically involved. The question is why?

always remeber to kudos and comment the fics you like :))

[2nd2ndalto]

Adventures in Babysitting

Will comes home to discover an unexpected babysitter in his house.

- - - -

(This work is an outtake from Fall Down With You, but you certainly don't need to read one to understand the other)

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Will drags his feet up the steps to his front door, fumbling and nearly dropping his keys. He’s been at the hospital for so many hours he hasn’t even seen sunlight today. He misses it almost as much as he misses his husband and their infant daughter.

When Will last saw Nico, his husband had looked dead on his feet, eyes more shadowed than Will’s ever seen them, valiantly using the last of his wits and energy to shush and rock and bounce a screaming baby. Nico had still managed a half-smile as Will kissed them both goodbye.

Will’s mom likes to say that Nora has her days and nights mixed up, but Will’s not convinced the baby has any concept of time at all, her naps no more than a long blink and her night sleeps interrupted repeatedly for bottles and cuddles and diaper changes and seemingly random, ear-splitting screaming.

The two of them had decided this was the best plan, when they brought Nora into their lives – that Will would continue with his residency and Nico would take a year’s leave from his post-grad studies. It had seemed so sensible at the time, when it was just the two of them, discussing it all with level heads and eight hours’ sleep every night. Now it feels ridiculous that they ever thought this would be easy.

Nico’s bearing the brunt of it, of course. But then there’s the perpetual ache in Will’s chest that comes from knowing he’s physically unable to help as much as he wants to. And besides that, a fourteen-hour shift seems like an interminable amount of time in the life of someone who’s less than 100 days old.

“She smiled,” Nico had told Will one day last week, ecstatic. And Will had been thrilled, of course, but then he’d promptly burst into tears because gods, he’s just missing so much. Nico had held tight to Will with one arm, Nora in the other, all three of them in tears as Nico tried to reassure Will that this was only the first of many smiles.

Finally managing to turn the key in the lock, Will steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him and lowering his backpack to the floor. The house is blessedly quiet, and he takes a moment to lean against the closed door, eyes falling shut. A moment later he feels himself wobble, head bobbing. He should probably find a horizontal surface before passing out. Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way quietly into the living room. There’s no telling where or when there might be a sleeping baby these days, and they’ve learned very quickly to never, ever disturb one of those.

“Good evening, William,” intones a deep voice.

Will nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see his father-in-law - the Lord of the Underworld seated in the glider chair, lit somewhat ominously from the lamp above, their eight-week-old daughter nestled in his arms.

Will clutches at his chest. “Jesus! I mean – Hades! Um – sir.”

Hades rolls his eyes. It reminds Will so much of Nico that he almost laughs. Would have, probably, if he weren't deathly afraid of waking the sleeping child in Hades’ arms.

“There’s no need to call me sir, William. You may call me by my name. As we have previously discussed.”

“Sorry, sir – Hades.”

Will definitely hadn't been expecting company, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of his own disheveled appearance, not to mention the dishes in the sink, the unvacuumed carpet and the coffee table strewn with various baby accessories. He restrains himself from starting to tidy.

“What – um – what are you doing here?” Will stammers. “I mean, not that I’m not pleased to see you, but –”

“My son is sleeping."

Will feels his eyes go wide. “Just – just like a regular sleep though, right? Not, like –”

Hades’ expression softens, marginally. “Yes. He is slumbering. In your – um. Bedroom.”

“And you – you’re –”

“I am babysitting, William.”

“Oh. Wh-why?” Will’s voice comes out higher than he planned.

They gaze at each other for a long moment. Will's so exhausted he wonders if he might be hallucinating this entire encounter.

Hades clears his throat. “My son was badly in need of rest. I believe he prayed to me in a moment of weakness. But I was only too pleased to be summoned to spend some quality time with my granddaughter.”

Will blinks, his tired brain still struggling to make sense of the scene before him. Nora’s dark head is nestled into the crook of Hades’ shoulder, her pudgy cheek squashed against the faces of the damned undulating within his robes. It doesn’t seem conducive to sleeping. But then again, she is a granddaughter of the Underworld.

“Well, um. Thank you,” Will says. “I can take her now though, sir. Hades.” He takes a step towards the god cradling his infant daughter, but Hades shifts the baby, holding her closer.

“You will not.”

“I – won’t?”

“My son tells me you worked many hours at the hospital today. Is this accurate?”

“Well. Yes. Fourteen hours,” Will admits. Honestly, if he hadn’t been confronted by his father-in-law in his living room, there’s probably no way he’d still be upright. His feet and back ache, eyes burning with tiredness.

Hades studies him for a moment. “Sleep, William.”

Will spares a longing glance towards the bedroom. “Really? Are you – are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I do not mind. I intend to stay and offer my assistance until Wednesday morning, at which point your father will arrive.”

Will blinks. “My father? As in… Apollo?”

Hades inclines his head. “Indeed. It is high time that we gods became more involved with our earthly relations. Now, go to bed.”

Will showers first, quickly, just enough to feel he’s gotten rid of the lingering hospital smells. As he pads down the hall, he swears he hears a low, mournful voice singing in the living room. He shakes his head in disbelief.

Will quietly lets himself into the bedroom, heart swelling as he catches sight of his husband, buried in blankets, only a familiar mop of dark hair visible. He climbs into bed as quietly as he can, but Nico stirs when Will nudges close to him. He smells a bit like sweat and sour milk.

“Oh good, now I can sleep properly,” Nico mumbles, snuggling closer to wrap himself around Will. He sighs contentedly, head tucked under Will’s chin, tangling their legs. “How was your day?” The words are hot against Will’s chest.

“It was awful. Nico – your dad is here,” Will whispers, still not entirely sure he didn’t imagine it.

Nico lets out a giggle. He pulls back to gaze at Will, looking a bit guilty.

"The last two days have been a nightmare – I was just so desperate for Nora to sleep. I accidentally prayed to my dad, and he showed up."

Will makes a soft sound of sympathy, brushing the hair off his husband's forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn’t here. Does he like… does he know what to... do?”

Nico shrugs. "He had her fast asleep within five minutes of getting here. Said he used to do the same thing with me."

"That’s actually kind of sweet," Will says, letting out a laugh of the ridiculousness of the situation. "Do you think he’s using some kind of Underworld magic on her?"

"At this point I kind of don’t care," Nico admits.

"You didn’t try to send her to the Underworld the old-fashioned way, did you?" Will teases.

"I mean. She is kind of a monster."

Will laughs, pulling his husband back into his chest.

"I just… I love her so much, Will," Nico mumbles, suddenly sounding tearful. "I’d lay down my life for her without a second thought. But I – I also just want things to be normal again. I want to sleep in bed with you all night. I want to eat a whole meal without anyone screaming at me."

Will hums in agreement, stroking Nico's hair.

“This is so hard," Nico whispers.

“I know, love. Why didn’t you call me?"

“What were you going to do? It’s not like you could leave work. I know how busy things have been there for you lately. I didn’t want to give you another thing to worry about.”

Will sighs. "It has to get better eventually, right?" he murmurs. "I mean... people keep on having babies. Some people even have lots of them."

"Yeah," Nico whispers.

Percy had told them as much, when he and Annabeth had come to visit last week. Will had tried to ignore the haunted look in Percy’s eyes.

"Anyway," Nico continues, sounding incredulous, "my dad said he was proud of me for asking for help. And now he's got like, a whole lineup of babysitters planned."

Will giggles. "That should be entertaining, at least," he says, trying to imagine his own father calming their screaming daughter.

"One day at a time, right?" Nico asks, already sounding half-asleep.

"Yeah," Will breathes. He's already planning on getting to work late tomorrow, determined to cuddle his sleeping husband as long as possible. "Hey. I'm proud of you for asking for help too," he says into Nico’s hair.

"It's good practice. For both of us. We can do this, right? We can... parent better than we were parented?” Nico mumbles. His words are sleepy and slurred, and Will squeezes him tighter.

“I hope so. It's got to help that we want to, right?”

Nico mumbles something unintelligible, melting into Will, heavy and warm. He presses his nose into Will’s chest, the same way Nora does when Will wears her in the BabyBjorn.

Will relaxes into his husband's embrace, willing himself not to respond to Nora's every peep and sigh in sleep the way his brain has already become accustomed to. Someone else is in charge, for the moment.

Everything is okay.

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Notes:

1. Thanks ever so much to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the beta!! 2. When I was a brand new mom, I had a fantasy that ~something would happen to me - not something terrible, but an accident or injury that would put me in the hospital for a few nights so I could GET SOME SLEEP. It didn't happen. I still survived. :) But man, non-sleeping babies are the absolute worst.