#badger balm

[probablymoons]

mainly sharing this bc its cute & i like making lil pngs. but like fyi, this brand has a balm for sunburns that is pretty magical at healing skin

[hardylettuce]

BADGER BALM! It's cocoa butter-based so it's extremely hydrating, it's long-lasting, it's fair trade, it's organic, it's gluten-free and cruelty-free, and the logo has a badger with a little magic wand. What's not to like?

(The only downside is because it's cocoa butter, it might get a bit melty if it gets too hot. I keep mine on my desk or in a bag rather than right in my pocket)

also expand in the tags on what form of your fav brand is your favorite (e.g., stick, squeeze tube, etc)

[crsh]

what? so i’m just supposed to not cry when i see the baby badger on the night night balm sleeping by herself in a meadow?

[twistingsands]

currently using the badger balm that's just olive oil and beeswax which of course means ginger wants to EAT IT. i open that tin and she's awake and SNIFFING. my moisturized hands pass too close to her face and 👅👅👅

[shiftwux]

RAHHHHHH THE WAR!!!!!!!!!!!

[wishlisted]

“Pink grapefruit” lip balm from Badger

[greenwitchcrafts]

February 2025 Witch Guide

New Moon: February 27th

First Quarter: Feb 5th

Full moon: February 12th

Last Quarter: February 20th

Sabbats: Imbolc- February 1st

February Ice Moon

Also known as:  Cleansing Moon, Deep Snow Moon(Mahican), Eagle Moon(Cree), Bear Moon(Ojibwe), Black Bear Moon(Tlingit), Bony Moon(Cherokee), First Flowers Moon(Catawba), Goose Moon(Haida), Groundhog Moon(Algonquin), Hungry Moon(Cherokee), Ice Moon, Midwinter Moon(Oneida), Raccoon Moon(Dakota), Sleet Moon(Comanche), Solmonath, Suckerfish Moon (Ojibwe) & Quickening Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Aquarius & Pisces

Nature spirts: House Faeries

Deities: Aphrodite, Brigid, Demeter, Diana, Juno, Kuan-Yin, Mars & Persephone

Animals: Otter

Magical: Unicorn

Birds: Chickadee & Eagle

Trees:  Cedar, laurel, myrtle & rowan

Herbs: Balm of Gilead, hyssop, myrrh, sage & spikenard

Flowers: Primrose

Scents: Heliotrope & wisteria

Stones:  Amethyst, jasper, moonstone, obsidian, onyx, pearl, rose quartz, red zircon &topaz

Issues, intentions & powers: Astral travel, banishing, beginnings, empowerment, fertility & purification

Energy: Breaking bad habits, creative expressiveness, energy working to the surface, forgiveness, freedom, friendships, future plans, growth, healing, problem solving, purification, responsibility & science

The explanation behind February’s full Moon name is commonly known as the Snow Moon. This is due to the typically heavy snowfall that occurs in February. On average depending on location & climate conditions, February can be one of the snowiest months of the year according to data from the National Weather Service.

• In the 1760s, Captain Jonathan Carver, who had visited with the Naudowessie (Dakota), wrote that the name used for this period was the Snow Moon, “because more snow commonly falls during this month than any other in the winter.” 

 

Imbolc

Known as: Brigid’s day, Feast of Torches, Feast of Waxing Light & Oimelc

Season: Winter

Element: Air

Symbols: Besoms, Brigid’s cross, candles, candle wheels, corn dolls, cauldrons, fire, ploughs, priapic wands & white flowers

Colors: Black, brown, green, lavender, orange, pink,  red, white & yellow

Oils/Incense: Apricot, basil, bay, carnation, chamomile, cedar, cinnamon, dragon's blood, frankincense, heather, jasmine, myrrh, neroli, peppermint, red sandalwood, sage(green), styrax, vanilla, violet & wisteria

Animals: Badger, cow, deer, groundhog, sheep & snake

Birds: Lark, robin & swan

Stones: Amethyst, bloodstone, ×citrine, clear quartz, garnet, green tourmaline, hematite, iron, lodestone, onyx, red zircon, rose quartz, ruby, turquoise & yellow tourmaline

Mythical: Dragon

Food:  Ale, breads, chives, cider, cornmeal, curry, dairy products, dried fruit, dried meats, eggs, garlic, grains, herbal teas, honey cakes, lamb, mead, muffins, nuts, onions, peppers, poppy seed cakes, pork, potatoes, poultry, pumpkin seeds, raisins, scones, spiced wine & sunflower seeds

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, ashleaf, balsam, basil, bay, benzoin, blackberry, celandine, clover, coltsfoot, coriander, dragon's blood, garlic, lemon, myrrh, reed, rosemary, sage, vervain, wheat, witch hazel & wormwood

Flowers:  Chamomile, crocus, daffodil, heather, iris, rose hips, sunflower, tansy & violet

Trees: Blackthorn, cedar, rowan & sycamore

Goddesses: Anu, Aradia, Arianrhod, Artio, Athena, Branwen, Brigid, Danu, Februa, Gaia, Inanna, Juno, Selene, Selu, Sirona & Vesta

Gods: Aengus Mac Og, Bragi, Cupid, Dian Cecht, Dumuzi, Eros, Februus & Pax

Tarot cards: Death, The Empress & The Star

Spellwork: Air magick, cleansing, divination, fertility & new beginnings

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Awakening, animals, banishing, beginnings, change, fertility, healing, hope, illumination, inspiration, light, patience, pregnancy/childbirth, prophecy, prosperity, purification, transformation, well-being & youth

Activities:

•Make & light white candles

• Clean/decorate your altar & consecrate your  altar tools

• Go on a walk in nature & look for signs of spring

• Make a Brigid’s Cross

• Have a feast with your family/friends

• Give thanks & leave offerings to the Earth

• Set intentions, reflect & look deeper into your goals for spring

• Start a bonfire

• Bless new projects

• Clear snow/ice from public walkways

• Gather & distribute warm clothes, hand warmers & blankets to those who need it

• Pepare plans for your upcoming garden

• Craft a priapic wand

• Spend time with children celebrating Imbolc by making crafts & or baking

• Make or buy new magical tools

• Practice divination & fire scrying

• Draw a cleansing ritual bath for yourself

• Meditate, reflect & say your farewells to winter

• Cleanse & clean your house to prepare for spring

• Create a Brídeóg: a doll of Brigid made of straw

• Make Bride’s bouquet satchets & exchange as symbols of good luck and fertility

• Set aside seasonal food & or drinks as an offering to Brigid to invite her in your home

• Find Imboloc prayers & devotionals that bid farewell to the winter months & honor the goddess Brigid

Imbolc is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of spring. Most commonly it is held on January 31 – February 1, or halfway between the winter solstice & the spring equinox. The holiday is a festival of the hearth, home, a celebration of the lengthening days & the early signs of spring. 

•  It is suggested that Imbolc originally marked the onset of the arrival of fresh sheep milk after a period of food shortage & the beginning of preparations for the spring sowing.

The word “imbolc” means “in the belly” and refers to the pregnancy of ewes at this time of year. The term “oimelc” means ewe’s milk. Around this time of year, many herd animals give birth to their first offspring of the year or are heavily pregnant & as a result, they are producing milk.

Imbolc is mentioned in some of the earliest Irish literature and it is associated with important events in Irish mythology. It is believed that Imbolc was originally a pagan festival associated with the lambing season and the goddess Brigid. It's believed that Imbolc was Christianized as a festival of Saint Brigid, who herself is thought to also be a Christianization of the goddess.

• Joseph Vendryes and Christian-Joseph Guyonvarc'h suggested that it may have also been a purification festival, similar to the ancient Roman festival Lupercalia which took place at the same time of year.

Some scholars argue that the date of Imbolc was significant in Ireland since the Neolithic. A few passage tombs in Ireland are aligned with the sunrise around the times of Imbolc & Samhain.

Related festivals:

•Groundhog Day: February 2nd- 

Is a tradition observed in the United States & Canada every year. It derives from the Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on this day & sees its shadow, it will retreat to its den & winter will go on for six more weeks; if it does not see its shadow, spring will arrive early.

• While the tradition remains popular in the 21st century, studies have found no consistent association between a groundhog seeing its shadow & the subsequent arrival time of spring-like weather.

•St. Brigid’s Day: February 1st-

Celebrates the beginning of spring and the celebration of Lá Fhéile Bríde, St Brigid’s Day. The day has long symbolised hope, renewal and the feminine.

•Because Saint Brigid has been theorised as linked to the goddess Brigid, some associate the festival of Imbolc with the goddess.

St. Brigid is the patroness saint (or ‘mother saint’) of Ireland. She is patroness of many things, including poetry, learning, healing, protection, blacksmithing, livestock & dairy production. In her honour, a perpetual fire was kept burning at Kildare for centuries & a recent campaign successfully established her feast day as a national holiday in 2023.

The customs of St Brigid's Day did not begin to be recorded in detail until the early modern era. In recent centuries, its traditions have included weaving Brigid's crosses, hung over doors and windows to protect against fire, illness, and evil spirits. People also made a doll of Brigid (a Brídeóg), which was paraded around the community by girls, sometimes accompanied by 'strawboys'. Brigid was said to visit one's home on St Brigid's Eve. To receive her blessings, people would make a bed for Brigid, leave her food and drink, and set items of clothing outside for her to bless. Holy wells would be visited, a special meal would be had, and the day was traditionally linked with weather lore.

•  Candlemas: February 2nd-

 Is a Christian feast day on February 2nd commemorating the presentation of Jesus at the Temple. It is based upon the account of the presentation of Jesus in Luke 2:22-40. 

•While it is customary for Christians in some countries to remove their Christmas decorations on Twelfth Night, those in other Christian countries historically remove them after Candlemas.

On Candlemas, many Christians also take their candles to their local church, where they are blessed and then used for the rest of the year. For Christians, these blessed candles serve as a symbol of Jesus Christ, who is referred to as the Light of the World.

•Setsubun: February 2nd-

Is the day before the beginning of spring in the old calendar in Japan. The name literally means 'seasonal division’, referring to the day just before the first day of spring.

Both Setsubun & Risshun are celebrated yearly as part of the Spring Festival (Haru matsuri ) in Japan. In its association with the Lunar New Year, Setsubun, though not the official New Year, was thought of as similar in its ritual & cultural associations of 'cleansing’ the previous year as the beginning of the new season of spring. Setsubun was accompanied by a number of rituals & traditions held at various levels to drive away the previous year’s bad fortunes & evil spirits for the year to come.

• The commonly practiced tradition of throwing of roasted soybeans (called "fukumame") in order to drive away evil spirits & bring good fortune into one's home is upheld by both places of worship & regular people. Then, as part of bringing luck in, it is customary to eat roasted soybeans, one for each year of one's life (kazoedoshi), plus one more for bringing good luck for the year.

Other celebrations:

• Lupercalia: February 13-15th-

In ancient Rome, this festival was conducted annually on February 13th through 15th under the superintendence of a corporation of priests called Luperci. The origins of the festival are obscure, although the likely derivation of its name from lupus (Latin: “wolf”) has variously suggested connection with an ancient deity who protected herds from wolves & with the legendary she-wolf who nursed Romulus & Remus. As a fertility rite, the festival is also associated with the god Faunus to purify the city, promoting health & fertility.

Each Lupercalia began with the sacrifice by the Luperci of goats & a dog, after which two of the Luperci were led to the altar, their foreheads were touched with a bloody knife & the blood was wiped off with wool dipped in milk; the ritual required that the two young men laugh. The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the sacrificial animals & ran in two bands around the Palatine hill, striking with the thongs at any woman who came near them. A blow from the thong was supposed to render a woman fertile.

In 494 CE the Christian church under Pope Gelasius I forbade participation in the festival. Tradition holds that he appropriated the form of the rite as the Feast of the Purification (Candlemas), celebrated on February 2, but it is likely that the Christian feast was established in the previous century. It has also been alternately suggested that Pope Gelasius I replaced Lupercalia with St. Valentine’s Day, celebrated on February 14th, but the origin of that holiday was likely much later.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2025 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

Llewellyn's Sabbat Essentials: Imbolc

Note:

This guide was written with Moon phases and dates corresponding to North America. These guides are supposed to be a generalized stepping off point to do your own research & help celebrate the way you feel called to.

•THIS IS CONDENSED INFORMATION AND SPECIFICS MAY NOT BE MENTIONED

This isn't based off what I do personally & I'm by no way suggesting people celebrate a certain way. It's stuff I've read & put together from books so people of different traditions & practices can get an idea of what to do for the sabbat, months or research for themselves.

Note that for Native American names, each Moon name was traditionally applied to the entire lunar month in which it occurred, the month starting either with the new Moon or full Moon. Also the name of the lunar month might vary each year or between bands or other groups within the same nation.

Some names listed here may reflect usage at once in history but may no longer be used by a designated group today. Many of the names listed here are English interpretations of the words used in Native American languages. They are only roughly aligned here with the months of the Gregorian calendar; you’ll notice that some names are repeated in multiple months.

The ones listed are the ones that were used in the books I used for correspondences & there are many more that are not mentioned.

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

People being idiots, Rhys bashing, broken bones, discussion of medical decisions

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

She had hoped that the antidote would be enough to get the fever to lower at least a little bit, to let him come awake in some sense…but even as she poured the third dose of it down her mate’s throat, Galena could feel his skin underneath her fingertips burn with fever. 

Still not anywhere close to his normal range.

He rested easier and by now, his magic easily let itself be cradled by hers, though she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just pure exhaustion from him…or maybe it was that his shadows kept watch over them all. 

Nesta had disappeared because at least one of them should have had more than catnaps during that night. The General fell asleep against that overstuffed armchair, mouth open, lightly snoring, and she badgered the shadows into covering him with a blanket. 

She was sure that he would immediately wake up if she approached if only because she had no chance to be silent with a constant limp and the help of her cane. But the shadows could do it. 

Galena was also treated to the view of Cassian nearly falling off said overstuffed armchair when another cough of Azriel’s woke him up from his sleep. 

The Lord of Bloodshed seemed to be nothing more than just a male at all. 

Galena kept busy checking the levels of Azriel’s blood, which slowly turned into something that was no longer a fucking mess, but still not good. 

She was going to have to put him on so many potions to even get him anywhere close to where he should be. Broadband vitamins especially. 

Still, the fever stayed. 

As Nesta came to check on them the next morning, she took the third vial of blood that day and tested it once again. 

The compounds were gone. 

But that wasn’t the only surprise she found. 

The curse that left her mouth would have made Aunt Madja wash out her mouth with soap, she was certain of that. 

“What?” Cassian demanded immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“He has faebane in his system,” Galena hissed. Faebane. Granted just minute traces but enough to keep his fever going, enough that the infection in his lungs had something to latch onto…enough to weaken him…“I didn’t recognise it at first because it’s just traces.“

“Somebody poisoned him?” Nesta snapped. “When?” 

Galena shook her head. “I don’t know, it’s… It’s weak…It’s…”

Something… niggled at the edges of her brain, the shadows swirled worried, having rushed over to her at her outburst. 

Master wasn’t poisoned. We would have sensed that… They assured her. 

But if he wasn’t poisoned…Where did the faebane come from…

She pulled back the duvet that was tucked around him, a comment from Cassian suddenly tugging at her mind. The one thing was that he got some bruises on his chest, but that was it.

Bruises…

They were still there. They should have healed by now, especially if he had used some of the Bruise Balm she made. They should have…

“He got them around two, three weeks ago,” Cassian explained as she stared at them, willing them to tell her what was going on…

She reached out to touch, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing…

She wasn’t even sure what she was searching for…maybe to assure herself that he was alive, that…her fingertips weren’t particularly sensitive on a good day, so it wasn’t like she was probably going to actually feel if there was…

And then her fingers tripped over a scar right between two ribs…

“Ash Bolt to his chest,” Cassian answered quietly. “But that was years ago.” 

“Madja removed it?” she asked carefully and he nodded, realisation dawning on his face. 

“You think it was dipped in faebane?” he asked curiously. 

“I think it was filled with that…and think my Aunt didn’t remove all of it,” she admitted quietly. “Just a shard…it healed, probably encapsulated…and then he got hit in the chest, fractured the shard…faebane got into his system once again…”

She couldn’t prove it. It was a theory. But it was the only one that made sense to her. 

“What do we do now?” Cassian asked her, crossing his arms. 

“Do you want to hear what I would do or what Madja would suggest?” Galena asked with a sigh. 

It would be two drastically different things. 

“You would do two different things?” Nesta asked, curious. 

“We take very different approaches,” Galena admitted. “Mine tend to be more aggressive…more on the experimental sides. Hers would be…traditional and proven.” 

One wasn’t better than the other, in Galena’s opinion. But still…

She looked at her mate, at his still form in that bed…and Galena knew what she wanted to do. She knew that she wouldn’t have a fucking night of peace until she was sure that he didn’t have a nightmare attached to a countdown in his chest when she didn’t know when that clock would run out. 

“You would open him up and take it out,” Cassian said quietly. She just nodded.

“I would prove my hypothesis,” she agreed. “The shadows are sure that he wasn’t poisoned and the only way for him to get faebane into his system would be if it has already been present before. So yes. I would reopen the scar…flush it out.”

“And Madja?”

“Madja would give him an antidote, leave it be, fill him to his gills with potions and wait until he wakes up and can make that decision himself,” she said evenly. “One option isn’t particularly better than the other. Both have arguments for and against it,” she said quietly. “Who’s his next of kin?” she asked because that was a decision that they couldn’t make without consulting them. 

“Doesn’t really work that way for him,” Cassian said with a sigh. ”He has two half brothers but I would rather drive my sword through them than consult them on any detail of his medical care.”

Right. 

“So…You?” Galena suggested. He stared at her. 

“I can’t make that decision alone,” Cassian said, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“So you and… and somebody else?” she suggested. 

“Rhys. Mor. Amren,”  he said with a decisive nod. 

“Then I think you should get them in here,” Galena said carefully. “Madja and Zoreen said they would be back this morning. You’ll get to hear all about how my idea is a horrible idea soon enough.” She wasn’t bitter when she said that. 

It was just…her Aunt and Galena had vastly different approaches and her aunt believed that she needed to fogto the Personal Cost because she preferred to stay in the stillroom than be stared at by random people in the street. 

Or something like that. 

It took less than an hour until Cassian had somehow pulled together who he wanted to have, as Madja and Zoreen arrived…her aunt checking over her work like she still tended to do to this day. 

Some things would never change. 

“Good job, little mouse,” her aunt that softly, a hand placed on her shoulder. The childhood nickname made something in her tighten. “So what is the problem?” 

She opened her mouth in response, but by then Cassian spilt into the room, followed by a…very bruised-looking High Lord, who was moving rather gingerly…a bright blonde beauty that she knew to be The Morrigan…and a small, dark-haired female with startling grey eyes. Which meant that that must be Amren.

“She’ll explain it better than I can,” Cassian said at that moment, waving to her. She steeled herself for the glances she knew she was going to get, staring at the wall somewhere beyond the three newcomers because she really wasn’t…she couldn’t deal with that right now.

Not running on a few hours of sleep and the worry churning in her gut. 

“Would you like some Pain Relief Potion, High Lord?” Her aunt asked, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. He opened his mouth to respond but The Morrigan was quicker.

“No. I want him to learn his lesson,” The Morrigan hissed between her teeth. 

“Every time I heal the bruises, she just gives me more,” the High Lord gave back drily. 

“Mor,” Cassian said with a sigh. “Give him some Pain Relief Potion, please,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And maybe fix the nose I broke as well when you are already at it…” he mumbled under his breath. 

“What's wrong with Az?” The Morrigan demanded at that moment, immediately coming to his bedside. 

She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than Galena had ever imagined her to be, with flowing blonde hair and warm brown eyes…Beauty a war would be fought over. 

And clearly…clearly she doted on Azriel. 

“He has faebane in his blood,” Galena answered quietly, resulting in a gasp coming from her. 

“Faebane?” The High Lord repeated, sounding incredulous. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “The shadows have assured us that he wasn’t poisoned recently. Which leads me to the conclusion that the faebane has already been in his system for longer.” 

“Explain, Galena,” her aunt demanded. “What’s your thought process?”

“Two weeks ago, he was injured. There are still bruises on his chest,” she explained. “They should be healed by now. They are not. Naturally quick healing slowed down by the faebane. A few years ago he got an ash bolt to his chest…” she trailed off leadingly. 

“Yes. I removed it. He was fine,” her aunt agreed. 

“Did you remove the whole thing in one piece?” Galena asked pointedly.

Her aunt met her gaze, shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. “No, it shattered when I removed it. You know ashwood. It’s notorious for splintering apart if it gets wet,” she explained. “I…there was faebane on that…” she said thoughtfully. 

“I think you missed a splinter.”

Her aunt blinked at that. 

“I cleaned out the wound. Twice,“ she pointed out with a huff. 

“I think there is a splinter inside him,” Galena repeated. “You plied him with potions, sewed him up… I think it was fine, it healed. He got punched with enough force on the chest…the splinter broke apart…probably cut something inside him. The faebane that was on it went back into his system…That made it easy for the infections in his lungs to take root.” 

“Her reasoning is sound,” Zoreen agreed. “There is no way he got it from somewhere else?”

“It’s trace amounts,” Galena said. “If somebody tried to poison him, they would use more…”

“What do you want to do?” Zoreen asked, looking at her leadingly. 

She took a deep breath. She knew her aunt wouldn’t like this. “I want to open him up and remove the splinter,” she said carefully.

Her aunt wasn’t the only person who didn’t like that scenario. A gasp came from The Morrigan, Cassian looked like he had swallowed poison, the High Lord was staring at Azriel…Amren was staring at her. 

“Galena,” her aunt said sharply. “We are talking about a living and breathing person and not about one of your books. We are not talking about you mixing some mirthroot and lavender in the stillroom and seeing what happens. We are talking about a living being.  Best case scenario, you find nothing. You want to cut into his torso, carve him up for the off chance that you are right!” 

It cut that the person that knew her best, thought that she just wanted to do this for research. That she hadn’t thought this through. And she had thought this through. Of course, she had. She would never risk someone’s life until she had no choice, unless she was sure of what she was doing… 

“I want to take a calculated risk, to remove something from his body that has the potential of being enormously harmful,” she said carefully. 

Still, she could feel that not everybody was agreeing with her. Rather the opposite to be completely honest. 

“What would you do, Madja?” The High Lord asked. 

“Give him the antidote for faebane over a longer period. A few weeks,” Madja said immediately. 

“It would make him miserable. Probably unconscious and unresponsive,” Zoreen cut in. 

“It would be safer,” Madja disagreed. 

“And you want to leave a potential splinter of ashwood in his chest?” Galena asked quietly. Just leave it there? 

“As long as it doesn’t give him any more problems, yes .  We don’t even know if there is actually ashwood anywhere inside him!”

They didn’t know. They just had a theory, a hypothesis, but no actual proof. 

“I can’t make that decision alone…” Cassian said quietly. “So what do you say?”  

“What do you want to do, Cassian?” The High Lord asked him. 

“Remove it,” Cassian said immediately. 

One in her corner. One. 

“It’s a risk. Can his body stand that, even weakened like it is?” The Morrigan asked, big brown eyes still worriedly staring at Azriel. “What if… 

“The risk is high that his heart is just going to stop,” Madja agreed. Galena didn’t.  

“He’s in his prime and his body is at a peak of physical fitness. Even weakened from the infection, he still is strong ,” she disagreed. “He fought me tooth and nail at first to get his magic to calm down,” she muttered under her breath. 

“If we don’t do it, we could just weaken him more,” The High Lord pointed out reasonably. “Amren?” 

“You are all forgetting one thing,” the slight female said, her voice bone dry.

“What?” Cassian demanded. 

“That none of you have any right to make that decision for him when his mate is right there.”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no…

She was waiting for an explosion. She stared everywhere but at the male still lying unconscious in the bed. At everything but the High Lord, even when she could feel the tremors running through her, could feel the shadows that had settled into Azriel’s shadows come to her side, curl themselves around her hands…ready to defend her from…something. 

Curling themselves around her hands and holding on. 

“Amren, what…” The High Lord started, but Amren was just staring at her. Galena finally met her gaze, feeling how her body seemingly started shaking as she could feel every eye in that room on her.  

“I can smell it on you, girl,” Amren said pointedly. “It’s all over you. I am surprised that Rhysand hadn’t yet picked it out of your head, but maybe you just have very strong mental shields. I just have one question: Any specific reason why you haven’t said a thing about it?”

She swallowed. No words wanted to come out of her throat. 

And then there was Aunt Madja. 

“Galena,” she said, her name…sounding scandalised. 

“It snapped the moment I first saw him,” her voice was broken, and it felt like her throat was closing around shattered glass as she forced out these words. 

“You…” Cassian whispered and she closed her eyes because she couldn’t look at him. Because she couldn’t…she couldn’t look at anybody. 

Her chest felt like it was caving in. 

She didn’t…She hadn’t planned on anybody finding out. She had been planning on saving Azriel and then disappearing back into her Stillroom, and never coming out again. 

That’s what she had wanted. That’s what she had…that’s what she had planned on. She hadn’t wanted to ever tell him. Tell anybody. She had never wanted anybody to find out. It was her secret. She had been ready to take it to the grave with her. 

“Why didn’t you say something ?” The General asked her, and she wasn’t even sure how she forced out the next words. 

“Because I wasn’t going to let it snap for him.” She wasn’t. 

He should have been able to live his life without… without even being bothered by the knowledge of what she was to him. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t after to hi. He had a whole life and friends and family and she…she just…she was nothing but deadweight to him. Nothing but something he would feel obligated to…nothing but…

“Why?” The General demanded, sounding…furious and utterly…despaired and…

“Cassian,” The High Lord warned but Galena didn’t even hear that when her head snapped up. 

“Why?” she echoed. “Look at him,” she said with a wave to Azriel. “And then look at me! Why should a male like him want me ?” she spat out, and suddenly it all welled up inside her. Like a wave crashing against the shore and it burst out of her mouth, without her being able to stop anything.

“Galena…” her aunt said but she didn’t care. 

“I can’t even walk over the market without people staring, without them making their smart little quips that they think I can’t hear. But I can,” she spat. “And I can stand it from everybody around me, how they stare at me, with disgust and pity and shame for something that I had nothing to do with. I was a child  when I got these scars. And I hate people for it, but I can’t do anything against so I do nothing . I live through it. I let them stare at me and talk behind my back and I buy the freaking tomatoes because that’s what you want from me, Aunt Madja, and I hate every fucking second of it!”

Madja stared at her wide-eyed.  

“They just need to get used to you, Little Mouse.” 

The words that had haunted her since her childhood. They just need to get used to you. Said every day before she went to school when she sat through hours of the younglings her age staring at her like she was some kind of exotic animal. 

Said every time she was expected to go to that market…and the people still stared, even when now she was grown up and had a job and was good at her job…whatever she did…it was never enough to make the people stop staring at her. 

Never enough. 

“They had over one and a half centuries to get used to me,” she whispered, staring at her aunt. “They haven’t gotten used to me, they won’t get used to me and I am so…I am so tired of it,” she admitted, tears leaking out of her eyes, but she didn’t care. “But even if they do stare…I don’t know them…not many of them. So what does it matter, right? I go back to the Stillroom and I bury myself in my work and I am good at my job! Fuck it, I am brilliant! I am! And I don’t forget the personal cost, even when you think I do! I think about it every damn day!”

Her chest heaved as the words poured out of her, decades of pent-up unfairness streaming out of her.  

“And still…every time I look in the mirror…I hate the person who stares back. I hate the scars. And if I could rip off every inch of my skin, I would.  I hate that they remind me…that they remind me of the male that tried to kill me and that my mother still chose over me. I hate…I hate them! They are ugly and they make my heart hurt!”

“Galena… They don’t matter,” Madja told her, brown eyes filled with tears. “They don’t matter, Little Mouse. You are…”

“They matter to me!” She snapped, desperation bleeding into her voice . “ You don’t see them every time you look into a mirror! You don’t understand! They don’t hurt you, every day! They don’t make people look at you like you aren’t even a Fae! Like you are something different, a monster ! People see them and they don’t see me! And that’s…I can survive it. I don’t like it but I can survive that.” 

Her voice broke at the last word. She could survive that. If it was somebody that she didn’t know…it still hurt but…she could survive that. But she couldn’t...  

“But him? My mate ? The one person that’s supposed to love me? He’ll stare at me with disgust and pity and I can’t…I can’t…I can’t stand that . I don’t ever want him to look at me. To see me. Because I won’t survive if he stares at me like they do. I don’t want to survive if he does!”

It burst out of her, the words spilling over even as the sobs built in her chest, as she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor and curl herself into a ball and never, never see anybody, be anybody ever again. 

She wanted…she wanted…she…

“Galena,” her aunt said softly, a hand landing on her shoulder, but she flinched, her bad leg spasm, and she nearly hit the floor, if the shadows hadn’t rightened her at the last possible moment, before anybody could do anything about it, before…

“Let me,” said a rough voice that she had heard so often over the last days, as broad hands lifted her, and settled her on the chair she had spent so much time on. 

“Listen to me,” Cassian said as he kneeled before her, as he peeled her hands from her face, ignoring the scars that marred them, holding them in a pair of calloused hands, even as she shook like a leaf. 

“He deserves better than me,” Galena whispered. He did. So much better. And she couldn’t even give him the fault if he did stare at her like she was a monster, because…

“Look at me,” Cassian said fiercely and waited until her eyes lifted and she looked at him. “Azriel isn’t awake, so I am going tell you what I know he would tell you if he could ,” he told her pointedly. “He. Won’t. Care.” He punctuated every word. “I swear to you. He will not care,” Cassian repeated, wiping away her tears. “He has waited centuries for you. And you really think that a couple of scars are going to make him turn you down?” he told her sharply and she swallowed. 

“You don’t know that,” she croaked out. 

She couldn’t…She squashed the warm hope that was growing in her chest. 

Cassian just snorted. 

“I have known my brother for 5 centuries. I know him, Galena. I swear to you, he will not care,” he repeated again. But when he saw the look on her face, he sighed. “Care to weigh in, shadows? Make yourself useful for once?” he asked, the shadows that still swirled around her. 

Your scars match Master’s scars. Master’s scars match yours. He hates them as well.  They told her, gently rubbing through her hair, gently ghosting against her face, against her tears... You should tell us who hurt you. We’ll take care of them. They promised her vengeance. 

“He’s dead,” The High Lord said calmly. 

Her breath caught in her throat at these simple words, at the pitch black darkness in these words. 

If shadows could harrumph they would have done it, she was quite sure. 

Did he suffer? The shadows demanded. 

“It wasn’t enough for what he did to her…but it was something. All the justice I could give her,” The High Lord of the Night Court said calmly, one hand settling on her shoulder.  

“Cassian is right. Azriel won’t care. And don’t tell him I said it, but he was always the hopeless romantic of us three,” there was humour flecking his voice in that simple sentence. Acceptance. “He’ll be so glad that you are finally there.”

It was The Morrigan that broke the silence. “I think you probably have more of a right than any of us to decide what we should do. So what are we going to do now?” 

She swallowed.  

“He’s your mate. It’s your choice,” Cassian agreed quietly. “He would want you to make that choice.”

She closed her eyes, tears still falling over her face. 

So what was…what choice…what choice should she make? 

“We’ll get it out.” She followed her instincts even if it was dangerous. Even when it was an hypothesis she needed to prove…even when…She needed to know for sure.” I don’t forget the personal cost. I know what risk I am taking. It’s a calculated risk,” she said, her voice shaky. 

“Galena,” her aunt said carefully, a weathered old hand wiping away her tears. 

“Do you really think I would risk him if I wasn’t sure?” she asked her aunt, staring at her. “Do you think I would have risked Cosima and Orion if I wasn’t sure? If I wasn’t certain that it would work? I may look like one, but I am not a monster.”

“I know that,” Madja whispered. “Oh, little mouse, I know that.”

[hillbillyoracle]

My Care Kit

I've hesitated posting about this because I know it's not hard for this to get to the wrong side of the site - because even though there's been an awesome shift in the conversation about how care can look at different levels of functioning, we're still not really there yet. So if you're rude in the comments, tags, or reblogs, expect to blocked. Cause I just don't have it in me.

With that out of the way, I wanted to talk about what's been allowing me to be infinitely more regular with skincare, grooming, and to a lesser degree dental routines - my care kit.

It's not mindblowing or original. I basically just took all the stuff I was storing in the bathroom and store it in my bedroom to use there. I'm sure plenty of people have figured this out before me but it took me a minute to realize how helpful this is.

So what's in here?

Skincare

CeraVe AM Moisturizer

The Ordinary Hyaluronic Acid

Good Molecules Discoloration Correcting Serum

CereVe "in the Tub" - Moisturizing Cream

Differin Gel*

*Differing Gel is something I only use when I take this kit to the bathroom as it's important to wash your hands after using a retinol

"But you're supposed to use it on wet skin!" - yeah I know. I keep a small spray bottle in here to wet my skin before applying

"But that can mold!" - yeah I know. It's a small one and I use it up in a few days before I need to refill it. I try to clean it regularly too.

But ultimately done is better than none. I accept some risk in order to make this accessible to me. My skin is no longer so dry it's cracking and getting infected. Thank god.

Grooming

Native Deodorant - Black Oak + Amber

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab & Sphere and Sundry - Her Eyes That Were Full of Shining Perfume Oil

Kat Von D - Everlasting Liquid Lipstick in "Witches"

Besame Cosmetics - Black Cake Mascara

Tweezerman Tweezers

I don't use all of this all of the time but I appreciate having the option. Sometimes you know you're not getting out of bed but you'd like to look nice. Sometimes looking nice helps you get out of bed.

Not pictured but I keep a small mirror on my shelf near where I store this bag. I use that for make up and tweezing. When tweezing, I wipe the edges off with a tissue then toss it the next time I get up. I also rinse it the next time I use it at the sink. Not perfect, I know. But it helps.

I do have a facial razor in here, but I only use that at the sink at the moment. I also want to swap from disposable to reusable soon. But baby steps and all that.

Dental

And now for the part that will horrify some people and be saving grace to others.

Disposable pre-pasted toothbrushes

Sea to Summit Collapsible Cup with Lid

I won't be accepting comments on this. It's personal and I hesitated to share this because I know it's polarizing. But I know there's something like me out there for whom this would help a ton.

I have a horrible reaction to most toothpastes. I'm talking brush my teeth for 2 minutes, shitting on the toilet for multiple hours afterwards bad. It is miserable and makes me terrified to brush my teeth. I also have just always struggled with it and been shamed a lot for it.

These dang pre-pasted toothbrushes for some reason I do not react to. Idk if it's the fact I toss them after or the paste they're using somehow doesn't have the thing I'm reacting to but I can finally brush my teeth without unbearable cramps afterward.

I recommend them for people who are depressed, bedbound, or otherwise can't get to the sink to brush their teeth though. For me it falls into the camp of medical waste - which no one should be shaming anyone for - if it's this or nothing.

The collapsible cup will also put some people off. What I do is spit into the cup, cap it, then empty and clean it whenever I get up next. Gross? Maybe. But it works. I've not had issues with smell this way and since it's capped, there's no way to spill it if I lose my balance or accidentally kick it.

Miscellaneous

Holotaco Nail Kit

Badger Sleep Balm

The nail kit was a gift and boy oh boy is it nice. You don't need this one but something like this is a godsend. It is so nice to be able to clip nails back, file them, and clean them up without needing to like make a session of it in the bathroom. I'm considering adding my fav base coat, nail polish, and top coat so I can more easily paint them too.

Badger Sleep Balm has become a part of how I wind down and also how I help recover from panic attacks. I've taught myself some basics of self massage and use this to make it go a little easier. I really recommend learning. There are some good videos on youtube and I get fewer cricks in my neck now.

Conclusion

I really hope this helps someone out. Maybe this doesn't suit your particular use case but I hope it serves as an example that sometimes you're not keeping your desired routines because the environment needs a redesign and sometimes that requires thinking outside the box a little.

[atinylittlepain]

Part One

climbing expeditionist!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Past, present, and future dance and daunt in the shadows of Mount Everest. He just wants to get home. She just wants him home.

chapter warnings | 18+ angst, pregnancy, commentary on eco-tourism, steve is a little depresso at 17,000 feet

word count | 3.4K

a/n | this fic is pure self-indulgence, as a climber who thought they'd one day summit everest, and then realized it's been ruined by eco-tourism! anyways, parts of this fic closely follow the 1996 everest climbing disaster, with many key changes. thanks for reading, there's a fun little treat at the end too.

..............................................................

March 1996 - Colorado

“You’re gonna be late if you stick around any longer.”

“Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll run if I have to, just give me a few more minutes with you.” He doesn’t get nervous, she knows, not about these things. He gets charming, all slanted smiles and soft touches, sneaking kisses as he rocks in the soles of his boots, plane ticket tucked between index and middle finger. 

But she gets nervous. Even when they do these things together, let alone now with her staying behind and sending him off. Like watching her heart slip from her ribcage and tiptoe out onto a highwire with no net. With no net. So she gets nervous, and she tries to hide it from him, though she can feel her smile starting to slip the longer she stands here in the airport, throngs of people passing by in cloistered chaos. 

“Did Robin make it out there alright?”

“Yeah, got a fax from her this morning, she’s already at basecamp getting stuff set up with the local guides. Hey, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” 

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Jo.”

“Steve.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and his hands curling over her forearms, leaning in, and in, and in, until his forehead is pressed against hers and she can no longer see the arrivals board, the people rushing by with suitcases and backpacks. Just him, and his smile that is everything, long hair like a curtain around them. She takes two deep breaths, smelling him, the badger balm he rubs into his hands and good clean soap from the shower he took that morning. And she wills herself to hold onto that scent, to tuck it somewhere safe in her mind, and this too, the soft warble of his voice when he asks her can I get one more kiss, please? Never saying no to that, a sweet simple one, followed by another with a little more want, little more ache behind it. He’ll have a beard the next time she sees him, she knows, but for now there’s just the slightest scratch of stubble when she presses her lips against his. 

“Please don’t worry too much about me.” And that makes her laugh, though it tightens and changes into something bordering on a sob, a high, clipped sound, shake of her head, her forehead still against his, and she has to, she has to take the step back, create that space, has to let go for now. He doesn’t abide by that, hands curling around her biceps, come back, come back, one more minute. He’s wearing his wedding ring on a chain around his neck, too many close calls losing it in the snow, in pulling off a mitten, in the chaos of what he does, what they do. She hooks her finger through it and pulls, a young part of her wishing that’d be enough magic to make him stay. 

“I don’t care what time it is there or here, you call me when you get to Kathmandu, and to Lukla, and to base, okay?”

“Of course I will, and you have the fax number. Gonna send me the scans?” His hand coming to rest over the slight swell of her stomach, still new, the small, hard curve of it, but there, but there. She feels like she might be sick, though she’s not sure why, not sure if it’s the pregnancy, or something else. 

“Yeah, baby, I’ll send them over. But seriously, you better go.” They both sigh, both say love to each other, quiet and close, and then it’s catch and release, him walking toward security, beautiful boy, beautiful world of a person in his corduroy pants rolled at the ankles and a new fleece that she stitched a stupidly sweet heart into the tag of, a little thread of luck, and his pack that he prides himself on keeping so light. She snuck a few extra clif bars into one of the side pockets, a different kind of nesting, preparing for a departure instead of an arrival. He looks over his shoulder at her one more time, wire rimmed glasses glinting, one more smile, and then he’s gone in the push and pull of the crowd. 

She knows the trip he’s about to take well, after all, she has done it five times herself. This will be his sixth. He’ll spend a night and a day in Kathmandu, gathering up the group of people who have enough money to pay him to be their guide. Eddie will be there too, his usual self, aviators and absurdly underdressed, and if there’s a woman in this season’s group, she'll swoon and yes, recognize him from the cover of Outside Magazine, climbing’s resident bad boy, according to the journalist that wrote the piece. They’ll be brilliant together, Steve and Eddie, capable, holding court over a shared dinner before their flight to Lukla the next morning, the group listening in quiet reverence as Steve talks about the death zone, and Eddie’s favorite line, when we hit 26 thou, we will literally be dying, so remember how much you paid to be here. 

He calls her that night, a day ahead now, catches her mid-afternoon and tells her that he has a good feeling about this group. No bullshitters, no brass either as far as I can tell. Brass, the big talkers, usually Americans that have decided this trip, this thing, is their self-given right. Brass, usually the first to turn around. She tells him that the crib was delivered, and he asks her if she’ll wait to put it together, he’d like to help when he gets back. Of course, she says, of course she’ll wait for him.

A week and a half goes by before she hears from him again. She doesn’t know whether to be pissed or utterly paralyzed with fear. Robin faxes her, tells her he’s bringing the group to base, and that he asked her to tell her he’s sorry he didn’t call. And later, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, the petty part of her briefly considers letting it go to voicemail. She picks up and the first thing he offers her is an apology.

“I couldn’t find a fucking phone where we were staying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening, Steve, I can’t– you promised me.” The sentence fizzles out, she feels small saying it. What did he promise her? What can be promised in an environment, in a place that stands upon uncertainty? But still, he promised her a few things before he left, promised communication, promised coming home, and promised never doing it again, shutting down the outfit, no more of this. And she’s not sure he knew what it meant to make those promises, ones that can be so easily broken. 

“It’s not gonna happen again, Josie, I promise. We made it to base, by the way, all good, all safe.” As if on cue, she hears Robin first, hey, Jo! Followed by Eddie’s not the same without you, Joey! Tinny voices made small by all the distance, and she realizes that while part of her misses the place, the process of it all, it’s the people she aches for, good people, good friends, a little crazy, but in the same way she is, and the same way Steve is. But he doesn’t seem too interested in sharing her with them, and she can’t blame him when every minute of this phone call costs twenty-five dollars. 

“I’m glad you made it, how does it look this year?”

“Crowded, I swear there’s more outfits every year. It’s gonna be a cluster summiting with all these bodies.”  

“Hmm, you’re always good at getting the jump though.”

“I try. How– how are you feeling? Doctor next Friday, right?”

“My Friday, your Saturday, yeah. We’re doing alright, they’ve been kicking actually.”

“Really?” Pure wonder crackling over the phone, his voice lifting and breathless, making tight heat curl up in her throat, behind her eyes. Of course, she wishes he were here, and of course, she thinks of the stories every year of wives leaving their husbands because they won’t stop chasing mountains. 

 When she told her friends, her family, that he was still heading out to lead another group, they had looked horrified at the idea. But she also knows it’s a particular situation they’re in. Unplanned, unexpected, but decidedly wanted, by the time they found out she was pregnant, payments had already been made, plane tickets booked, nonrefundable. Clients that know how to throw all of their weight around, very important people with very important wallets giving him their very important money to take them on this very important trip. And so they had to decide some things. Decided that two months out of nine wasn’t all that bad, that five successes couldn’t have just been luck, and that a sixth couldn’t be asking too much more. Thinking these things is different than feeling them, she is now realizing, listening to his voice get caught in static and wind as he tells her how much he loves her and that he’ll talk to her again soon, get some sleep, honey, I love you. 

Yes, different to think about it, plan for it, than to feel it. The bedroom is dark, perfectly silent, perfectly still. She begins to cry with the catch of the phone in the receiver.

…

March, 1990 - base camp

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“That chick with Art’s group.” 

“Don’t point, Steven, we’re all friends here. And that’s Jo Taylor, I met her at the airport, real nice, real cool. Also, requisite reminder that fucking at altitude is contraindicated.” 

“Thanks, Rob, yeah, thank you for that reminder.” Robin’s already off as he grumbles, already introducing herself to other strangers weaving in between brightly colored tents and packs. It’s not lost on him that she and Jo are the only two women at base camp, and he’s having a hard time not staring at this woman he’s never met before. Close-cropped hair and flickering hands, sharp, and she seems to have no trouble holding court with her crew, checking over gear, tanks of oxygen, things he should be doing right now, though he’s still stuck staring at her. 

Up here, it’s somehow both bitingly cold and quick to heat with the sun bouncing and bending over the snow, prayer flags pulled taut on lines in the thin air. Everyone has stripped down to base layers, faces whipped raw by the wind, Eddie walking around in a bright orange pair of Patagonia baggies and little else, steaming thermos in hand. And this girl, woman, person, Jo, in a Talking Heads t-shirt and an unzipped shell and leggings, and even with her reflective sunglasses on he can tell the exact moment when she catches him staring at her, her head tilting to the side, slight pull of her brow. He’s walking toward her, crunching over rocks and snow before he can think too hard about how she doesn’t really look interested in making friends with him.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.” He gives her his name with a hand extended, and she takes it, if not a bit stiff, skeptical, offering him her name in return with her hip popped to the side. He watches his own nervous smile in the reflection of her sunglasses. 

“You’re here with Art’s team, right?”

“I am, yeah. And you’re here with Robin?”

“And Ed, he’s, well, you’ve probably met him.”

“Oh yeah, we all know Munson. No oxygen on Mont Blanc is pretty impressive, or maybe stupid.”

“I’d say both.” Her smile glints in the sun, a little stunner of a thing and he knows he’d like to see it again. 

“Both is probably accurate. I knew who you were too, by the way, you didn’t have to introduce yourself like that.” 

“You did?”

“Of course, men’s speed record for El Cap. That’s just impressive if you ask me.”

“Men’s? As opposed to–”

“Women’s.”

“I didn’t know there was a women’s speed record for El Cap.” Her smile slants and she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, eyes crinkling and squinting in the wind and the sun. 

“There is, I hold it.” 

“Oh, oh, I didn’t– you– I didn’t mean to–” Foot in his mouth and it might as well be down his throat with the way he’s stumbling over his words. She grins, gives his shoulder a squeeze and a shake.

“You’re fine, man, really, just teasing you a little. Is this your first time on Everest?”

“Yeah, you?” He’s not even standing that close to her, but he still notices a freckle somewhere between the round of her cheek and her eye, watches it jump with her smile. She nods, a glance over his shoulder to what awaits them in these next few weeks. A slog, a perfectly graceless suffering. A climb, a brilliant, beautiful thing.

“I’ll see you out on the Icefall, Harrington. It’s nice to meet you.”

…

March 1996 - base camp

“That reporter packed out a fucking espresso maker, can you believe this shit? It’s like goddamn Disney world up here.” Eddie says it just loud enough to garner him a few turned heads as he slumps down in his chair next to Steve, making quick work out of a mug full of instant ramen. 

“I wouldn’t worry about her, Art will get her sorted out before they make it to camp two. I’m just worried there’s gonna be a jam up there. You ever think you’d see the day there’s a line to summit? Because right now, it’s looking like that’s exactly what we’re gonna have on our hands.”

“Any thoughts on how to avoid that?” He hums, pinching off another bite of his clif bar and working his jaw around it, looking out on what seems to be a veritable sea of tents. At least fifteen outfits this year, and all the ragtag debris they entail, lost-looking group members that probably have no business being up here, already hacking into the elbows of their expensive-looking jackets, camping chairs getting knocked over in the wind, boots tucked outside of tents, the sound and smells of human intervention in an otherwise silent landscape. 

“I do, Rob’s not gonna like it though.”

“What am I not gonna like?” A hand on his shoulder, and then a face leaning upside-down over his, almost alien in her round, mirrored sunglasses. 

“Do you know if the other outfits are planning for May tenth?”

“Yeah, as far as I know, same as us. Why?” Easy, all of them easy together, Robin sits down between their chairs, carabiner hooked full of keys jangling at her belt loop. She takes a bite of Eddie’s ramen when he offers her the fork and Eddie grins over the top of her head at Steve, cheshire bright in his thermal and leggings, and suddenly, he thinks, they’re sixteen again, driving cross country to go climb in Yellowstone with a few months worth of part-time job savings split between them. 

“Stevie here wants to be first in line on the Everest Express.”

“It’s not about being first, it’s about not wanting people stuck up there longer than they need to be. If we could just get a couple days–”

“No.”

“Rob–”

“No, Steve. Everybody wants May tenth for a reason. The weather is looking good–”

“The weather is unpredictable and you know it.”

“And, these people need those days to get ready. You start shaving off days and that’s less time they’ll have been at altitude for the last push. This is just the way it is this year, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, and it’s getting worse every year. I really think we’re getting out at the right time, you know, picked the right year to have our last season.” Robin huffs, unfolding her legs and standing back up, shading them from the sun for a moment as she brushes off her cargo pants and runs a hand back through her hair. 

“Look, I’ll take another pass at the weather. Maybe, and that’s a big maybe, we could swing May eighth. But I make no promises.” And then she’s off, wielding her walkie-talkie like a scepter, already rearranging plans in her mind as she ducks back into their comms tent.

He knows he’s frustrating her, bitching about everything, scowling about everything. Eddie had said as much during the first night at base, why are you being such a downer? We’re on a fucking mountain, at least sell it to the customers, man. And he’s right, they’re on a fucking mountain, and it’s beautiful, and it’s brutal, and it’s all the things he’s loved since he started backpacking as a kid. And there are good moments, there are, moments of looking out onto the landscape, the steep tumbling snow and gray slate crags, witchery in the dance and daunt of ice, the near painfully blue sky that can turn dark and mean in a breath. Moments of true awe, and still, still, he knows that he shouldn’t be here, not really. 

Last year, there was a man in their outfit from Texas, brass. Steve can’t remember his name now, but what he can remember is what he admitted to the night before they headed out from base. Everyone had laughed except for Jo and the one other woman who was in their group, when the man confessed that he had forgotten to tell his wife he’d be gone for two months in the spring. And it had been Jo who had plainly asked him if he had any kids, her chin jutted, arms crossed over her chest, her usual all-smiles-all-jokes-but-all-business-lead-guide facade slipping away into something steely, something cold and unamused. Yes, the man had said, two, a boy and a girl. He doesn’t remember much more of that conversation, just that Jo excused herself early from dinner, and when he returned to their tent a little while later, she was already asleep with her back turned to him. 

“You alright?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I’ll be good to lead though, that’s not a problem.”

“I didn’t ask if you’ll be good to lead, I asked if you’re alright.”  Something tight turns in his chest, he keeps his eyes down on his hands, folding and unfolding the empty clif bar wrapper. 

“Yes, no, I knew it was gonna be hard, but this is fucking– something else.” Eddie leans forward, elbows on his knees, brow furrowed, and he’s nodding, and it’s a look of concern. Steve hates it, never the one needing concern, never the one to be concerned about. The leader, right, level-headed, right, no need for concern.

“You talk to Jo today?”

“Last night, she asked if you packed out sticks of butter again this year.” 

“Pfft, of course, a little American comfort at seventeen thousand feet goes a long way. How is she?”

“Doing alright, I think. Had the twenty-week scan on Friday.” He can’t help but smile thinking about it, and Eddie mirrors him, grin spreading and brows raising, oh yeah?

“She found out if it’s a boy or a girl, but she said she’s not gonna tell me until I get home.”

“Well, how about that for a little motivation, huh? I have to admit though, I miss her this year, not the same without her.” Eddie’s smile softens, slighter, sadder, a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and he feels his own face slacken, the ache returning. 

“No, it’s not.” Not letting him fall for long, Eddie gracelessly shrugs his chair closer, arm hooking around Steve’s shoulders, cheek to cheek as he starts pointing out their clients.

“But, think of it this way–” He points to one man, him, another, him, one more, and him.

“Add those three up and you got yourself a nice little college fund.” At the very least, it feels good to laugh, resting his temple on Eddie’s shoulder, letting the sun be the sun, and the moment be the moment. 

“Can’t argue with that.”

“We’re gonna climb that fucking thing on the eighth, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I think we are.”

“I’m with you all the way, man.” He holds his hand out for Steve, and it’s a relief, he finds, to clasp his hand, to hold onto something. And Eddie’s one last send? His smile turning young and slanted, a little wild. Steve nods. One last send.

[armandology]

its because you're always on that damn 2oz tin of unscented badger balm

[pig-wings]

slathering myself in badger balm chest rub

[loststarphounix]

Quick Persona 5 thing *putting on the Persona mask*

I love the dynamic of Ryui/Akira and Ryuji/Yusuke, but my favorite ship has to be Ryuji/Akechi because it hits that subsection of Strangers to Frenemies to Lovers to Tragic Enemies that I crave at times, which is the inevitable betrayal of trust and loyalty and the spiraling of obsession.

Persona 5 spoilers below

Like imagine Ryuji meets Akechi before the beginning of the game, he just thinks this guy is overly nice because he’s secretly a creep. He has no idea is Akechi is an actual celebrity and Akechi finds this immediately amusing and makes use of this by using Ryuji as a soundboard of sorts - gauging his reaction to certain key phrases and words to see what the average teenager is thinking and the trends of the day.

They are passing friends at first: seeing each other at the train station but going to different sides of the platform or heading out the station, seeing each other in the crowded streets after school and track practice where Ryuji is heading to the arcade or the ramen shop. Then they start to actually meet up on purpose, at the park or by the movie theater to enjoy whatever mindless action film was playing because that was Ryuji’s favorite genre. Akechi even visited his home a few times and was invited to stay for dinner with the family. It was nice…domesticed in a way he always dreamed. And more and more, Ryuji became his favorite person to text or call on days when he’s at his lowest or when the adults around him had pushed his buttons with their self importance. He was like a balm that soothed his heart. It was around this time, that Akechi realized that his affection was turning romantic, but he didn’t stop it. In fact, he decided to let it grow - after all he deserves love, like any of the other normal, more stupid teenagers their age. He could make Ryuji fall for him he was certain: he was attractive, not too tall, attentive and intelligent. He just had to make strategic moves to ensure their relationship evolved in the way his mind envisioned and it would be perfect.

But after second year, after Ryuji is attacked and subsequently kicked off the track team, things change. Ryuji is still his sunshine self, but it’s muted somehow, like the light was almost snuffed. Akechi hates that anything in this disgusting world tried to take the light from his only source of happiness. How dare it even think of touching Ryuji! The blond was his and the world had no claim to him.

Akechi makes himself more available to Ryuji, who even though is very much in pain and recovering, is badgering the young detective (“ have you eaten anything other than pancakes? Like I know I have a ramen obsession, but yours outdoes mine!” “You’ve been sleeping right?”) and it endears him to the blond. He wants to help, but Ryuji insists he can handle Kamoshida on his own and that his mom has enough to worry about than some other teen sticking his nose into their lives. But this doesn’t satisfy the brunet, because he cannot believe this goofy, lovable oaf wouldn’t want his money and connections to make his life better; even if he doesn’t know who Akechi actually is.

This leads to him planning on making Ryuji want to spend more time with him, promising himself that he’d reveal who he actually is and make Ryuji and his mom’s lives so much better. It wasn’t like it was going to be hard, Ryuji became his schools pariah after Kamoshida disbanded the track and field team. He was lonely, lost…in desperate need of a friend. And Akechi was that friend, giving him attention and love. And soon, with time, Ryuji would see that he didn’t need any of those idiots. He could have all he ever wanted, being by Akechi’s side.

But then Akira comes along and ruins everything Akechi worked on for the past year. How could he have predicted that the delinquent who transferred to Shujin Academy after assaulting and upstanding adult? And that Ryuji foolishly would see this thug as a kindred spirit?

Ryuji was spending more and more away from Akechi, to be with that scum. The light seemed brighter now, soaking the world in a warm glow that emitted from him every time they squeezed five minutes together. But it wasn’t from him. And it made Akechi want to scream at the injustice if it all. He was the one who found Ryuji first - the one who saw him as he was. Why can’t he be the cause for this warmth? Why was he not good enough to make Ryuji bloom again?

And after his cover being blown by this Akira and Miss Ann at the tv station, he can see the appeal…kind of. Akira was smart, he’ll give him that; clever too with how he almost trapped Akechi on live television with his questioning. Ryuji looked so impressed by his new “friend”, it made Akechi want to vomit. But he wasn’t Akechi, who knew how to sooth Ryuji on his bad days and knew just how to help when his leg started to acting up.

Then he finds out the truth about Ryuji and the Phantom Thieves - that his little sunshine was apart of that group of thugs? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

And when Ryuji discovers his secrets - who Crow really is - and falls right into that criminals arms, it drives him to the breaking point. He decides that he’ll use the Palaces and Mementos to create the world that always should been his: him happy and loved and in love with Ryuji by his side, with Akira chained and humiliated; forced to see Akechi touch and claim what was never his again and again for all eternity.

Ryuji would be a little upset at first, but he’ll forgive Akechi. He’s foolishly kind like that. And he’ll understand in time why the other did what he did. He will…Akechi will make sure he will.

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 9: Isabelle

Izzy shivered as the wind whistled around her. The closer the sun sank to the horizon, the colder it became, especially without any sort of jacket, but Izzy was stubborn and didn’t want to admit defeat just because of a little chill. Especially since admitting defeat would mean going back home and dealing with her parents and Fletcher again.

A creak of metal startled Izzy out of her thoughts, but before she could do much more than begin to uncurl, a familiar mess of blonde curls appeared over the edge of the roof.

“You know,” Hayley said as she climbed the rest of the way up, “it’s a real pain in the ass to get up here without any shapeshifting powers. Scoot over.”

“That’s kinda the point,” Izzy retorted, but she made room for Hayley before wrapping her arms around her knees again. “How’d you know I was up here anyways?”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Hayley said, carefully settling herself next to Izzy. “And that usually means you’re up here sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Izzy defended herself.

“Pout pout.” Hayley poked Izzy’s cheek.

Izzy jerked her head away. “Quit it.”

Hayley quit the poking, but she apparently wasn’t done badgering Izzy. “I stopped by your place earlier to make sure you weren’t just grounded or something.”

“Okay.” Izzy hugged her knees tighter.

“You up here cause of Fletcher?”

Izzy scowled, but no matter how much she wanted to say no, the word seemed to be stuck in her throat.

“The way you talked about him, I thought you would be excited he’s visiting,” Hayley said, her voice softening. “So why are you up here instead of hanging out with him?”

“It’s not that simple,” Izzy muttered.

“Yeah?” Hayley leaned against Izzy, her warmth a welcome balm against the chilling air.

“Family drama stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hayley asked.

No whispered the part of Izzy that told her to suck it up and put on a smile and let the snide remarks just wash over her. Yes screamed the part that just wanted somebody to acknowledge her for who she was, not who her brother was.

Izzy sighed and ran her hands over her face. “It’s… dumb, so feel free to tell me to shut up if you get sick of my shit.”

“I’m not gonna tell you to shut up.” Hayley nudged Izzy’s shoulder with her own.

Izzy made a face, but she knew better than to try and argue the point. Instead, she focused her gaze back on the horizon as she tried to figure out how to order her thoughts so they’d make sense and also not take five years to ramble on about shit.

“I want to be a hero so bad,” she finally said. “So yeah, I like hearing him talk about stuff he’s done as a hero. But it’s like…” Izzy huffed in frustration, her bangs fluttering in front of her eyes with the movement. “For as long as I can remember, he’s always been the one people thought would be a hero. I mean, he has the useful, flashy power, and just, whatever it is that makes people like him. Meanwhile I’m just… me.”

“I like you,” Hayley said quietly.

Izzy couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Seems like you’re the only one some days, and I’m still not sure you didn’t hit your head too hard the day we met.”

Hayley bapped Izzy on the head. “No being mean to yourself!” she scolded.

“That’s not—whatever.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “The point is, Fletcher says he wants to be a hero and everybody practically falls over themselves to encourage him and make it happen. I say I wanna be a hero, and everybody pats me on the head like I’m an idiot for even thinking it might happen. I just got sick of all the condescending bullshit I was getting at home, so…” She gestured out over the horizon. “Here we are.”

[hccn-overseer]

Issue 26, 10/12/2023 - The Overseer

Issue Masterpost About the Overseer

Weekly Weather Report

By Lydia

Temperatures are represented using Celsius. Sorry, Americans!

Wednesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 11 degrees and a low of -2 degrees. Skies will be sunny throughout the day with patches of pink and orange hues tinting all areas during the late morning.

Thursday: Temperatures will reach a high of 6 degrees with a low of -4 degrees. Skies will be mostly cloudy throughout the day with hints of mysterious haze.

Friday: Temperatures will reach a high of 8 degrees and a low of 0 degrees. Skies will be clear throughout the morning with showers throughout the afternoon and evening.

Saturday: Temperatures will reach a high of 12 degrees and a low of 2 degrees. Skies will be partly sunny and windy throughout the day with wind speeds up to 31 miles per hour.

Sunday: Temperatures will reach a high of 3 degrees and a low of -9 degrees. Skies will be mostly cloudy throughout the day.

Monday: Temperatures will reach a high of 13 degrees and a low of 5 degrees. Skies will be mostly clear throughout the day with occasional flashes of spider web clouds.

Tuesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 15 degrees and a low of 2 degrees. Skies will be rainy throughout the entire day with constant downpours.

Wednesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 10 degrees and a low of -4 degrees. Skies will be partly sunny throughout the day with high winds up to 27 miles per hour.

Now onto other news below the cut!

Lost and Found

By Lydia

All of the following items have been brought to The Overseer staff’s office for safekeeping until they are claimed. If you recognize one of these items as yours, please visit us to receive your items, or contact us at lostandfound@thehermitnews.org. Lost items will be sent to Twinkly Trash if not picked up after two weeks. Thank you! *Not a real email address.

Item 1: A collection of Modigliani paintings These long-faced paintings, reproduced for commercialism in the Shopping District, were found scattered throughout Scarland. They depict various men and women in sitting poses with relatively uninterested expressions and exaggeratedly long necks.

Item 2: A beard shaving kit This kit was found in Etho’s ruins and includes a double edge safety razor, pre-shaving oil, after-shave balm, a badger brush, and a beard trimmer. This kit was taken out of a shulker box and left near Impulse’s Dwarven Keep.

Item 3: Three hotel luggage carts These luggage carts were found with several empty unused trash bags piled on them near Hypno’s base. It is unknown what the intended purpose was for these luggage carts, and they are on the brink of falling apart.

Item 4: A book about keeping iguanas This reptile pet-care book was found in Pearl’s tree house and was published in 2022. There are illustrations on each page and the book appears to have been very well-loved over the past year. The illustrations are fully colored and appear to be as detailed as humanly possible.

Item 5: A headband with three skulls This headband has three plastic skulls attached to them and is covered in glitter. The headband itself is black and the skulls are bright orange, purple, and green.

Item 6: A group of miniature pumpkin stress balls These stress balls in the shape of miniature pumpkins were found near xBCrafted’s base and have been painted with various geometric patterns using a rainbow color palette. They glow in the dark and appear to have been ordered from a very old magazine catalog.

Item 7: A cursed box This box, fused shut with an intricate golden vine pattern on the lid loop around the front, has launched its finder into a wall upon them attempting to open it. The finder suggests burying it if opening it is not possible.

Fun and Games

This week's fun and games are once again brought to you by Lydia!

And that's all for this week folks! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

[wishlisted]

“Creamy cocoa” cocoa butter lip balm from Badger