#i originally wrote this in may

[esaari]

just Creed things

[aquanutart]

[coulsons-left-arm]

I'm not sure if I've ever seen this in any sort of media, but when a father figure meets their future surrogate child as a baby by mishap or odd circumstance, but then never sees them again until they're older is just... The idea of that is so ❗❗❗❗❗ and it makes me want to vomit. *And bonus points if they don't realize it's them until later.

Like, I had a brain worm a while ago where instead of those two SHIELD agents that picked up Daisy when she was a baby, it was Coulson and May (both fresh out of the academy, probably???) and I wrote like a madman who needed to be sedated.

And think about it. You know Coulson would be thinking about that baby every single damn day of his career (and honestly, the same could probably be said for May). The little face with a button nose, absolutely covered in blood, but fast asleep. They would have to give her to whoever at a SHIELD research/containment facility because she's classified as an 084. But that doesn't dissipate the worry for that baby.

Almost 25 years go by, and her little face haunts his nightmares sometimes. He wonders what happened to her, if she's living a life with a loving family, or if she's been six feet under for a while.

And then Coulson recruits Skye, this bright, techy, snarky young adult who was living out of her van. He gives her a chance and a place on his team... And then he finds out what she's really after.

Who is she? Where are her parents? Where is she actually from? She shows him the only document she has.

It's from the mission. All those years ago. And all of a sudden, it feels like the room is a vacuum and he can't breathe.

The baby he pulled from a dead agent's arms is right in front of him.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 1

Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.

Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola

Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot

Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none

Word Count; 4.6 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~

Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.

Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 

“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.

Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.

Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.

What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.

Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  

The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.

“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.

“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.

Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.

“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.

Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.

“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”

He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 

The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.

“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.

After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 

Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.

Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.

You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.

…

…

…

By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.

You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”

Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.

The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.

The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.

“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”

Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.

Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.

The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”

Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.

With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.

“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.

…

...

By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.

Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.

You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.

But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.

… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.

Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.

| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?

And almost immediately, Ace replied.

| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?

Deuce responded shortly after.

| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?

|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?

| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D

| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me

| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?

| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me

| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!

That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.

…

Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.

“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”

Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”

He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 

“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.

Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.

He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 

You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”

Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.

“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”

Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.

Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.

You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.

Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.

You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”

Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 

“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”

You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”

Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”

Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”

You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 

Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!

You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.

“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 

You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.

You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.

But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.

The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.

Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…

Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.

“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.

You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.

You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 

All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.

Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.

When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?

He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.

And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!

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Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.

If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.

[rainintheevening]

The Star Prince

Once upon a time there was a boy called the Prince of the Stars. He was their shepherd, and led them out every night into their places. He made a place for new stars being born, and made sure old stars had a good death. As the Prince of Stars, he carried his very own bright shining silver star, just a little one, set into his breast beside his heart. It always shone, soft and true out of the black cloak the Star Prince wore, and sometimes on a clear night, you could see it twinkling in the heavens as he danced through his beloved night sky.

The Star Prince had a few dear friends in the Man in the Moon, and the Queen of the Clouds. When the Queen would come by, she and the Star Prince and the Moon Man, would have tea together, and sit in the fluffy clouds, and talk all night long. The Man in the Moon made a lot of jokes, and laughed loudly, while the Queen of the Clouds was very lovely, and graceful, and soft. They had both been around a lot longer than the Star Prince, and he learned much from them. They were the closest thing he had to a mother and father. Some nights the Man would be away from the Moon, and then the Prince of the Stars would curl up under the arm of the Cloud Queen, and listen to her sing by the light of the stars.

One night when the Man was out of his Moon and away, the Prince and the Queen had tea together as usual. They sat together, and the Star Prince got very warm and sleepy. “Wake me before sunrise,” he told the Queen of the Clouds, and went straight to sleep.

But she did not wake him. When the prince opened his eyes it was well after sunrise, the stars were in complete disarray, and the King of the Sea was shaking him gently. But worse than all that was the pain in his chest as he sat up, and he put a hand to his heart, only to discover that his own precious star was gone. It had been cut out, but he could not believe it, and he fled from the worried Sea King, off into the starfields, with all his charges skittering after.

He could not think who had taken his own heart-star from him, except for the Queen of the Clouds. But she was his friend, she could not have done such a thing! He wrapped his dark robes tightly about himself, trying to hide the hole and hoping no one would notice. He decided he would ask the Queen of the Clouds about it the next night, when they had tea with the Man in the Moon.

But when they met again, the Queen of the Clouds behaved as if nothing at all was amiss, making jokes with the Moon Man, so that he laughed loudly, and the Star Prince quickly gave up trying to be heard. He was afraid, and confused. He thought the Queen had betrayed him and stolen his light, but she smiled at him the same way she always did, so perhaps he was wrong. He also didn’t like admitting his own star was gone, for how could he be Prince of the Stars and lead all those other lights if he had none of his own?

So in the end, the Prince of the Stars said nothing, and decided he would try to find his heart-star all on his own. Many nights the stars went astray and out of their places in the dance, as he searched through the clouds, and even snuck into the Moon one day. But there the Man caught him, and demanded to know why the boy was sneaking around, why he would try to steal from an old friend. The Star Prince burst into tears. “I am not trying to steal!” he cried. “I only want back what was stolen from me!”

He told the whole story to the Man in the Moon, even showed him the scar that had slowly grown over his chest, and then the Man in the Moon was very quiet for a time. “I am sorry,” he said at last, “that you have lost your light. But the Queen of the Clouds would never do such a thing to you. She loves you like her own child, and I have known her too long. It must have been someone else.”

The Star Prince was quite sure it was the Cloud Queen; he did not know who else it could have been. He had hoped the Man in the Moon would believe him, would trust him, and help him ask the Queen to return his star. But when the Moon Man turned him away, the Star Prince’s grief turned to anger, and he rose up that night, gathering all the stars around him and into his train, and came down to confront the Queen of the Clouds.

He took her by surprise for once, as she talked close with the Man in the Moon, and that was when he saw it. A gleam of silver light between her fingers, and she turned towards him, and hid her hands in her pockets.

At first she showed shock and sadness, reaching tender fingers out to brush his scar, but when he drew back, when he insisted that it had been her, and that she must return his heart-star, she turned stormy, and her mocking laughter was like thunder. “Silly star boy,” the Queen said. “Why would I ever want your star? Who would take a little thing like that? How could you betray our old friendship like this?” And her tears were hailstones, even as the clouds rushed in to smother the Star Prince.

The Prince fought bravely, but he was young and small, no match for the grey Queen. It was the stars’ fire that saved him that night, as they burned hot enough to warm him, to cut through the fog, but still he was buffeted and battered, and finally fell from the sky, half-alive as he drifted down through the dawn air.

It was the King of the Sea who caught him, who lifted the Star Prince in his arms, as gentle as any father. The sea had always rejoiced to see the stars, though they rarely came close enough to speak, and the King was worried about the Star Prince, as nights now brought confusion to the sailors who needed the stars patterns to find their way. He wept his own salt tears as he carried the boy home, grieved by the grey face so still and dull, the blue eyes shuttered, and the limp darkness of the silky cloak that had always flowed around the Star Prince.

The last few stars winked out, as the Sea King laid the Prince of the Stars in his daughter’s arms. “We must heal him,” the King said.

“His light has gone out, and his heart is broken,” whispered the Princess of the Wind. “This will not be easy.”

They did their best for many days, with the help of Mother Earth, but still the Star Prince grew very weak and ill, whispering and weeping in fits, never seeming to know them. He begged them not to take his heart, pleaded with them to leave him alone and not hurt him. From the things he said, the King and his daughter pieced together the story, and understood that the Queen of the Clouds had stolen the Star Prince’s star, taken it from him by force, and so they treated him with more kindness than ever.

At last, as the sea continued to rock him, and the earth continued to warm him, and the breeze continued to tell him he was loved, he grew calmer, and fell into a deep healing sleep. For nigh on a week, while clouds covered the darkened skies, and storms beset many ships, the King of the Sea tenderly carried the Star Prince over the swelling waves, close to his heart. His daughter, the Princess of the Wind, had been deeply angered by the injustice done to the boy from the sky, and she had sworn to go fight the Queen of the Clouds and get back the heart-star.

The Prince of the Stars woke at last one grey evening, and he lay for a time against the shoulder of the Sea King, watching the rain on the waves without speaking.

“I am lost,” he said at last.

“Are you?” said Mother Earth from a nearby island. “Or have you simply been found in a place you did not expect?”

“Ah, my wife always speaks in riddles,” the King said, chuckling as he set the boy down gently on a rock. “But take heart, Prince. All is not lost,” and he smiled gently into the tired eyes that looked up at him. “My daughter, the Princess of the Wind, has gone to rescue your star. She alone is strong enough to fight the Queen of the Clouds. Out of her love for you, and her wish to see you shine again, she has gone to war.”

The Star Prince could not believe the Sea King’s words. “Why would she do that? How many sailors have died because of me?”

“None,” said the King of the Sea. “Between myself, my daughter, and my wife the sailors have had had no more casualties than they may in any storm season. None of this is your fault, child.”

The Star Prince sat for a while, listening to the waved on the shore, and he heard them repeating the King’s words over and over, while the rock grew warm under him. He did not smile, and his once blue eyes were as dark as the stormy sky.

That night the Princess of the Wind met the Queen of the Clouds in the court of the sky, and denounced her for her cruelty, demanding she return the star at once. The Queen refused.

“Then I shall fight you and throw you down, or die trying,” said the Princess.

The Star Prince, sheltered in a cove by Mother Earth, while the King of the Sea went out to save whom he might, heard the howl of the hurricane winds, and saw the flashing of the lightnings, and he found he had begun to hope. He wanted the Princess to win and get his heart back. There was so much courage and strength in the roaring air, he began to think she could do it. Still, Mother Earth was glad when he fell asleep, lulled by the storm; he was still weak and had not truly recovered from his ordeals.

When the Prince of the Stars awoke, he saw the Sun rising into a clear blue sky, the air was still and soft, and he could hear seabirds singing. When he sat up, he caught his breath, for lying on the sand next to him was the Princess of the Wind. She slept, her long white hair strewn about her, but in the hand held to her breast, he could see light, slipping between her fingers.

The King of the Sea, weary as he also was from the long night, came quickly to wash the boy’s tears away.

“She has triumphed,” he murmured, looking down at his daughter with love and pride. “The Queen of the Clouds has been thrown down, and your star has been found.”

The Sea King would have woken his daughter, but the Prince caught his arm. “No, let her rest,” and his eyes had a little bit of light in them when he looked back to the King. “I can wait.”

So they sat together, watching the light on the waves, and the Prince hummed softly in his throat, a soft, sad melody that made the Sun beam just a little warmer and brighter. The King of the Sea dozed off too, and the Star Prince smiled to himself as he watched his family rest, grateful for all they had done for him.

When at last, as the Sun sank toward the west, the Princess of the Wind stood before him with her long white hair drifting around her, and held out his little glowing star in her cupped hands, he could not speak, but his eyes shone blue as the sky. And when he took back that gem of living light, laying it next to his heart, fire sprang into the sky, and from the far-distant starfields, sleeping stars woke up, and began to sing.

The Princess of the Wind laughed, the King of the Sea roared, and Mother Earth exclaimed, “Found in a place you did not expect! Not lost! Did I not say so?”

The Prince of the Stars looked into the earth-dark eyes of the Princess of the Wind, and taking her hand, pulled her into a dance, to the song of the seabirds and the setting Sun. And as they danced, the wind caught them up, carrying them up above the waves and the islands, and into the evening sky.

The Star Prince held on tight to the Princess’s hand, even as he felt as if he might burst with joy. He had his light, his star burning next to his heart, shining brighter than ever before, and he was whole again.

That night the stars sprang out to their places all at once, all of them blazing with joy to hear their shepherd call them out again, call them to dance. The Prince of the Stars stood tall, with darkness curling gently round his shoulders, and silver light spilled through the cracks of his scar, fracturing into a thousand rays that dazzled the Princess of the Wind.

That night the Man in the Moon came humbly to beg for the Star Prince’s forgiveness, and the Star Prince granted it so sweetly that the Moon Man went away in tears, and was not seen again for several days. But he became better friends with the Sun Queen in that time, and she was a stronger, more faithful companion then the fickle clouds, and from their places they kept watch over the Prince of the Stars and the Princess of the Wind, and guarded them from all the harm they could.

But that night the breeze sang softly between the stars, and they twinkled with the laughter of a thousand bells, and the heavens rejoiced for the beauty of a broken heart put back together with the love of a family.

Finis

[ruvviks]

let's hear it for night city's most dysfunctional family everyone || [x]

taglist (opt in/out)

@nistarot, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @ncytiri, @calenhads;

@noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca;

@radioactive-synth, @estevnys, @devilbrakers, @aezyrraesh, @carlosoliveiraa;

@adelaidedrubman, @wardenevka, @samuraifics, @royharpered, @viktorgf;

@claudiawolf

[twstyuna]

Scary Night

Characters: Skully J. Graves, Yuu, (brief mentions of the Pomefiores)

Summary: In the depths of Tartarus, a Phantom prepares for Halloween.

Notes: Intrusive thoughts go brr anyway the mystery of Skully being an invisible ghost plagues me to this day. This takes place during the Tartarus Descent. I forgot to post it here after ao3.

Warnings: Well Skully's dead. So that. Also delusions and questionable likely non-canon Phantom Lucidity. I would say this fic is bittersweet but you might say I'm chugging poison

Ao3 Mirror

. . .

. . .cold. . . it's cold. . .

. . .it's dark too. . .

. . .that's not right. . .one must to keep vigil, during times like these. . .keep a lantern lit through the night. . .keep it bright in the midst of darkness. . .

. . .there is noise, beyond the room, beyond the cold, cramped space he is in. Is it not a room? Why is it so-

Sounds, again. Noises, again.

One should be silent, on Halloween night, to let terror and dreads seep into one's bones. 

How bothersome. How disrespectful, to cause a ruckus.

He cannot stand for it.

He stretches, something breaks, and the noise and light pierce his skull-

Terrible. How terrible, horrible, unacceptable-

Isn't it enough? Hasn't there been enough of this? Could he not have a moment of peace? To have just one Halloween for himself, dark and solemn as it once was? Hasn't he done enough? 

The room is red and bright and dark shapes scurry all about, clawing at the walls, and making noise and it is wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong-!

Unruly. Ungrateful. Ugly, inconsiderate hoodlums!

He crushes something beneath his hand, something like pleasure drips into him. It's a little more quiet now. And how lovely! There is black paint here already. He can fix it then. He can-

He cannot change what he has done. He cannot extinguish the flames he has set throughout Wonderland. He cannot ruin all that joy and revelry-

But here-

Oh, here he can have it again, if only for a moment! The Halloween he loved and still loves. . . the one Jack Skellington began. . .his Halloween, simple and solemn, eerie and elegant, the one he-

New traditions have eclipsed the old. Even so, he can enjoy that darkness, that old custom, that old love, even if he must do it himself.

Glass shards bite into his palm, but there is so much to cover and so little time to find a brush. What useful little bugs these are, so full of such lovely, pitch-black paint. They fall apart like bruised fruit, and make themselves useful upon the walls.

It's a lovely thing, his Halloween. Those comforting shadows, that flickering lantern flame through the night. The quiet company, as one remembers what has passed and what is to come. He never stopped loving it, not once. Of course he loved it. He never traded it for the new, the bright, the sweet and dazzling. Is it so difficult, to hold many loves in one's heart? He could love the new and old. He loved that Halloween, the first. He never meant to. . .to. . .

How could he? 

He couldn't have murdered it with own two hands.

How could he?

He couldn't have. He never meant to. He only wanted others to love Halloween. To love a different way, if they had to, so they could delight in it as he had. It didn't mean he ever thought poorly of the first. 

Who could ever despise their first love?

. . .so why? Why would nobody care for it, anymore? Why was only he alone gathering black paint now? He could understand lands and towns beyond preferring the festive they saw first, but even in his own home. . . did no one care anymore?

The noise, the lights-

They were beautiful, but wasn't there beauty in the dark and silence too? In a solitary lantern rather than rows of them all about? In the intimate dark of a room than the open night sky? There is a time and a place for everything. . . that's what he told himself when he began. So why couldn't there be a place for his Halloween too?

Thank you, they said, smiling like ghouls. For what you've done. The old Halloween was-

Dull!

Unfashionable-

Dreary           

Boring!         

Morbid-

But what was wrong with that? 

This new Halloween is so much better.

But it wasn't meant to be better, just different. Just- just another way, not the only way, he never meant to-

He can fix it. Let them have their Halloween.

A room. Just a room. Just himself. He can fix this much. Let him have his own. Just by himself, as before. As he had, before, only his room alone would be dark. Only he would truly be alone, now-

That- he could be alright with that. He could live with that. 

He would love his Halloween, and he would honor its death by mourning it with itself. He had to. He has to, he can't let it die, because of him-

But he needs a room first. A dark room, the walls inked black. He could make a lantern, later on. But first, the paint-

Red light pulses in the chamber. An eyesore. There is plenty of paint to use though. Boxes and boxes and boxes stacked up high. Some vials are so eager they open themselves up! And the silence is so, so lovely, every time he-

. . .he cannot help but pause, at this sound, even though he knows he must hurry and have the room painted black-

"Skully. . .?"

There it is again. A soft noise. A soft voice. That sound. . .it's important, isn't it? He knows that sound, that word, that name-

A vial skitters towards the noise, screeching-

But he is faster, his reach longer. 

There is that satisfying crunch, and he looks at his hand. It looks odd, but no matter. It drips black. Right. He must paint the walls, to have his-

"Skully." 

Oh. That voice, again. That was. . .rude, of him. . .to ignore. . .Skellington was a gentleman, a gentleman should-

"Skully, is that you?"

. . .is that him? Is that his name? There's something delightful about the thought, how his name might sound even a little bit like his idol's.

There is a hand against his face then, and it feels so small. The voice is so small. Should they be this small?

"Oh Skully, what happened to you?"

. . .what happened to him? Did something. . .? 

Oh. Why are they crying? Crying should come later, during the vigil, the reflection. If they cry all those tears now-

"Yuu, get away from-! "

L o u d . 

He turns-

But they- Yuu - they're faster.

They turn and they hiss, they shush, despite wearing the same robes as the others, and something flutters in his chest.

"You're. . .you should be quiet. Halloween's supposed to be quiet right?" Their own voice is quiet, so soft he has to lean closer to hear right. "Is that what you're doing here? Painting the walls black. . . you're preparing for Halloween. . ."

. . .they know. They know-

Oh he wants to embrace them, but his hands are just so messy. He lowers his head instead, to kiss them, to see them better, to keep this one's face in mind, but his head's so much bigger and heavier than he remembers, he can't feel his lips and it's like his thoughts are sloshing about. He has to kneel to get close enough-

Yuu throws their arms around his neck.

"Potato, what are you-"

Yuu turns their head and shushes. It's louder than it should be, but they have the spirit.

"Go," they say.

"Trickster-"

"Yuu, yer -!"

They hiss, and the two fall silent.

"Go," they whisper. "I'll. . .I'll catch up. . ."

"Yuu-"

"Please, Vil."

Vil. . .something about the sound. . .like Yuu, it-

Yuu turns back to him, and smiles. "Do you need help? I'm sure you're capable, but it seems like a lot of trouble to do, by yourself. . .not to mention, you've missed a bunch of spots down here. The problem of being too tall I guess. . ."

They're right. There are small spots left unpainted, lower than his line of sight. 

How clumsy of me, he wants to say, but he can't find the words. His throat is clogged with syrup. Must be from all the sweets.

Yuu pulls at their sleeves and gathers its cords until they hold the tassel of their robes like a brush between their fingers. They swipe at the wall, smearing the spaces he neglected. He makes a pleased hum at the sight, even as the others leave noisily, as one makes a sound and drops something before the door.

"Like this?"

Yes, just like that! He can't quite kiss them still, he can't feel his lips, but he can bend low, and press his head against theirs. He hopes they can feel his gratitude. How lovely to have someone to help-

Yuu makes a sound, soft and sad, despite the laugh of it. Their hand shakes.

"I promised. I promised I'd try it- your Halloween."

He can't form their name, though he wants to call it. He shifts to see their face, and oh dear, those tears again-

"I'm sorry, Skully. I'm so sorry I forgot."

Forget? What did they forget? They're the only other one not to forget.

Yet they cry, and the tears drip into the ink. His useless mouth won't open, only gurgles rise from his throat. He wants to touch them, but there is so much broken glass-

They wipe their eyes. They smile at him.

"Do you remember Grim?"

Grim. . .something small and warm. Fluffy. A mischievous little creature, he vowed-

"You said you'd be his hands and feet, a long time ago. Do you remember?"

. . .something like that, he said something of the sort, yes-

"Could you do that again, please? Paint for him? He hates chores. He ran away, you know. I'm looking for him now. I'm looking for a switch too. It will stop this room from being so red. You'd like that, right?"

. . .yes, yes, the room ought to be black-

"I'll go turn the lights off then. And I'll go get Grim, he can light a lantern, and we'll have a nice, proper Halloween together. How about it?"

That sounds splendid, Yuu, but he must have been so passionate in his painting that the stuff got in his mouth. He can't tell if he beams, but Yuu certainly does.

He feels their arms about him again, their lips against his face-

"I'll be right back, okay Skully? "

He hums. It's a delightful thought- sharing his lovely Halloween with someone lovely enough to appreciate it-

Yuu pulls away too soon.

They head for the door.

So do some fiendish, blabbering things. He crushes them, before the beasts can follow Yuu. They have something important to do. Yuu is going to help darken the room, and they're going to find Grim. 

Such a noisy thing, silencing is. Yuu turns back at the commotion and he feels almost ashamed.

But Yuu only smiles at him, so terribly teary still.

"Thank you, Skully," they say.

They press a card to the door, and the brightness beyond swallows them up.

. . .red light flashes, in this horrid room. There is so much to paint, and so much to silence. So much to do. It is worth it though, as the room turns dark and quiet. . .

The room is perfectly dark now. Perhaps Yuu found a way to do away with the light. Perhaps they found Grim too, and are hurrying back this very second-

Oh, but the lantern! He's forgotten all about it. Will Yuu bring a pumpkin? He can make one, certainly, but he doesn't want to use them for it. 

His hand flies to his head, to tap at his chin, but isn't that strange?

His other hand rises, and he'd laugh if he could. How silly of him, to wear the lantern like this. No wonder he couldn't feel his head.  No wonder Yuu was crying. What a sight he must have been. 

The room is ready, and he's only waiting for Yuu and Grim for a fire. He can light it all on his own, but he'd like to share it with them. It would be rude to start early, but he ought to have the lantern ready as well.

He makes sure he has a good grip on the pumpkin on his shoulders.

He pulls, and pulls, and he must be smiling.

He feels so very light, as he sets it down, as he waits in the dark.

He is so glad, he must be smiling. 

After all, it will be simply wonderful to have a proper Halloween again.  

[greenleaf4stuff]

Handmade

(my other TROP fanfics)

Silverscars (Adar x Celebrimbor), Modern!AU. Very lightly based on my Ask Game Answers drabbles (here or here & here) (prior reading is not required though!), in which I hint at Celebrimbor making an engagement ring for Adar and proposing during the Christmas days. This is how the proposal went. (This can also possibly be connected to a musician!Adar modern AU one-shot I haven’t shared yet.)

Aka, Adar and Celebrimbor celebrate Christmas together – and both are very nervous about their gifts. Unbeknownst to them, they both handmade their presents this year. Both will find themselves with something very special.

This is another entry for Cozy Cuddle(s) Week 2025 by @rivendellwatch. <3 I also used the chance to make use of a prompt from TROP Fluff Week ('I Made This For You') that I didn’t get around to writing during that event, which also overlaps with the 'handmade with love' prompt from @wowstrawberrycow’s amazing Give Him Nice Thing 2025 Adar Valentine’s Bingo prompts. (Also a Thank You to @plotdesigner, who gave me the idea with the Nightmare Before Christmas sweater for Adar through a conversation we had a few months ago.)

For those of you who want to read the fic on AO3, here is the link! <3

(Adar’s POV)

Adar couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been so nervous; usually, very little could phase him, but this was very different.

He and Celebrimbor had celebrated Christmas together before, of course, though never quite like this – they had celebrated Christmas Eve with their friends and family, but with Adar’s youngest child having moved out this summer to start university, and their social circle having gotten a myriad of invitations for various dinners and parties, they had the second Christmas day all to themselves this time around.

Which meant that Adar finally had the chance to gift his partner a present he had been working on for quite a while, and which he’d wanted to give to Celebrimbor without any other people being around, due to its sentimental nature.

Celebrimbor himself had been in his little workshop for most of the day, after stating that he’d been hit with inspiration and the need to sketch out some new pieces. Adar had readily let him go. Celebrimbor’s occupation as a jewelsmith meant the other often worked odd hours, and sometimes, inspiration would hit him in the most random of moments; while washing the dishes, in the middle of the night, or as had just happened, after kissing Adar below some mistletoe.

The dark-haired man only shrugged and fondly shook his head. He knew what it was like, being a creative, and didn’t begrudge Celebrimbor his passion for his craft in the least. He knew he could go and drag the other out of his workshop anytime he wished with nary a complaint, after all. His partner had done similarly with him in the past as well, whenever Adar got too occupied with writing new lyrics or composing his music.

Also, Celebrimbor being in one place and away from their living room meant Adar didn’t have to sneakily tiptoe around him and make up some contrived excuse as to why the jewelsmith shouldn’t enter the area. Instead, he could prepare for the evening at his leisure, with zero chance of being discovered early.

After some brief deliberation, he decided to go all out – he cleaned the fireplace and set it up nicely, with new logs and after making sure all decorations were far enough away not to catch fire. He also pushed back the furniture a bit just in case. He rearranged the Christmas decor, and then prepared for the gift exchange later on:

He was torn between using the couch or having himself and Celebrimbor sit on the floor. The latter seemed far more romantic to him, but considering that both of them weren’t in their 20s anymore, and that they’d hopefully spend quite a while sitting together and enjoying some hot beverage, as well as Adar’s present, it ultimately made more sense to convert their couch into a soft, cozy nest.

Bummer, the floor would have meant they might have even laid down to sleep in the living room, perhaps. But if he played his cards right, maybe they could also do that on the sofa. It was one of those big ones, with extra sectional pieces to place one’s feet on, after all.

An hour or so later, he was rather satisfied with his work; the couch was covered in throw blankets and the covers from their bed, and probably ever single pillow in the house, including the spare ones they usually kept for guests. He’d even gone and pulled out the seasonal pillows he’d made for autumn last year, lovely soft crochet pieces in orange and black, made with a yarn that looked and felt like velvet.

He and Celebrimbor had very different ideas about personal style, which had become the most glaring when it came to Christmas; while Adar preferred his usual, darker style for all things, Celebrimbor adored the kitschy aesthetics of the festive season. Green and gold were his favorite colors, and there were glitter and velvet and metallics everywhere in the house.

The compromise had been a mix of both; black velvets, Christmas tree baubles adorned with skulls, the Top 50 kitschiest Christmas songs but as rock and metal interpretations, cookies baked to both resemble Santa Clause and the Grinch.

Staring at the couch now further reminded Adar of that fact. It was a lovely, eclectic mix of both their personal styles and preferences, combined into something that was so decidedly them that it made his heart swell. Even if some part of him still balked at the overly cheery depictions of reindeer, snowmen and Christmas elves on some of the pillowcases.

Satisfied that the couch was now a nest worthy of a cozy evening together, he went and brought over a tray, and began to set up what would be their 'drinks station' for the evening; a thermos filled with the hot chocolate he’d prepared on the stove, two large Christmas cups – one red, green and white, one black – and little bowls filled with marshmallows, whipped cream and a bigger one with cookies, as well as two or three small bottles of flavored syrup.

For music, he did select a mix of classical songs; Adar, at least, was already at the point where any more seasonal music might just cause him to run around with ear plugs at all times, so he hoped it would be alright with Celebrimbor if he chose something a little more neutral. They both did love classical music, after all, and it was a mix of nice, quiet songs, fitting the occassion.

There were a few other things to take care of, with the final steps being to take a shower – especially after he’d cleaned the fireplace and made sure the chimney wasn’t blocked by anything as well – and changing into something both comfortable but fitting for the night ahead.

Which soon after had him stand in the door to Celebrimbor’s workshop, while wearing black sweatpants, a Nightmare Before Christmas inspired sweater, and thick, knitted, black socks on his feet. The latter of which he’d made himself.

To his surprise, Celebbrimbor hadn’t been slouched over his desk, skribbling away as he tried to perfect some new design of his, but had instead been pacing his workshop while muttering to himself, something clutched in his hands.

He startled, rather badly, when Adar gently announced himself with a knock, and quickly hid his hands behind his back with a very shocked expression. Adar took a step inside the workshop in worry, in case he’d accidentally frightened the other somehow.

"Sorry, I tried not to startle you – are you alright?"

The other blinked, as if he’d seen Adar for the first time, before he quickly nodded. He still firmly kept his hands behind his back. "Uh, yes I- no need to apologize, I was just lost in thought, is all. You were very considerate, as always," he reassured Adar.

Perhaps he was working on something that didn’t come along very well, and he was still in the stage that he didn’t want Adar to see. It happened. The dark-haired man mentally shrugged, and decided to trust his partner’s word. "Glad to hear it. I have actually come to retrieve you – the hour is getting late, and I had hoped to spend the evening with you," he said, and then smiled secretively. "I actually prepared something for the two of us. Since we got the house all to ourselves."

Celebrimbor stilled, and then raised his eyebrows. "Oh- you are right. We are on our own today, aren’t we?" He briefly looked as if he wanted to apologize as well, for having spent all day in the workshop, when they could have spent it together. Adar gave him a stern look; they’d been over this, after all. The jewelsmith took the hint, and the dark-haired man could see the other’s shoulders lower as they untensed.

His partner still sometimes became incredibly sorry if he got too involved in his work. Adar knew this to be something that had been held against him in the past, and he also knew very well as to who exactly had done so. From his own experiences, he knew only time and patience could help the other heal – and that he already had, in some ways. But healing was always a process.

Celebrimbor swallowed, and finally lifted one hand to his front again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed his palm over his face. And then, he moved his gaze to Adar again, looking more centered. "That sounds like a very good idea. Give me a moment to get ready, yes? I feel a little-," he looked down on his clothes, which were a ratty shirt and a pair of pants he’d specifically chosen as his work clothes, streaked with all manner of soot both from his forge and his time working on his gold and silver pieces. At least he’d already stripped out of his protective gear. "Underdressed."

Adar smirked in humor as their gazes met, and saw a smile break out on Celebrimbor’s face as well. "That you are. I already prepared the shower for you, and took the liberty of putting out some clothes for you," he winked, and then turned back from the workshop, aware that Celebrimbor was still hiding something behind his back and wanting to give him some privacy. "Come to the living room, once you are done."

"That is- very thoughtful of you. Thank you Adar," Celebrimbor replied, and Adar turned over his shoulder to see the other throw him a grateful look. He wasn’t sure who was looking at the other with more fondness in that moment.

"Anytime. Now go, I will complete some last preparations and then wait for you to join me."

Adar found himself glad that he had something to busy his hands with, during the time that Celebrimbor showered and changed. His earlier preparations had helped dispel some of his nervousness, but it had steadily risen again as he waited for his partner to come to the living room.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d prepared everything for a cozy time between the two of them, no, his gift was the thing that made him fidget and pace the room. He knew Celebrimbor liked the things he made by hand, but this was...different. His present had taken a long time to make, and as was usual with things that took time, doubt had sown itself in Adar’s mind whether or not the other would even like it.

Was it too much? Was the idea itself silly? Would Celebrimbor be flustered about it? Would the other truly like the piece, or only the fact that Adar had made it?

He was likely being ridiculous, he knew as much, at least in the back of his mind. But that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. He glanced at the large present by the couch, hidden under wrapping paper and a bow, itching to put it away and dash to grab the store-bought emergency gift he’d prepared, in case he might chicken out.

Just before he felt his resolve give, however, he heard steps coming from the first floor, down the stairs, and then quickly moving towards the living room.

Adar swallowed and straightened himself as Celebrimbor walked in through the open door.

He looked lovely. Hair fluffy from the shower and an attempt at towel-drying it, with his natural curls falling in his face and making him look at least 10 years younger, dressed in his favorite Christmas pyjamas – a horrible, gaudy thing, but even Adar couldn’t deny how soft they were. Forest green, made out of velvet of course, patterened with depictions Celebrimbor’s favorite plants – holly.

He also looked quite stunned, as he let his eyes move around the living room, took in the lit fireplace, the couch, the way Adar stood in the middle of the space and shifted from foot to foot. Which the dark-haired man stopped doing as soon as he became aware of it; he wasn’t usually one to fidget. And he didn’t want Celebrimbor to think that something was wrong.

Nothing was. It was all just in Adar’s head.

Bad thing being that Adar was in there, too.

The other still held something clutched in his hands, but it had been wrapped in cloth, and Adar couldn’t hope to guess what it might be, or why Celebrimbor had brought it. His attention quickly slipped away, more focused on the other’s reaction to the setup.

"This is- wow," Celebrimbor breathed, and looked at Adar in awe. "This must have taken hours."

"It did – good thing you were occupied in your workshop, that way I didn’t have to do it in secret," Adar winked, and was glad that the other wasn’t saying anything about how he could have helped. Adar was glad whenever the other offered, but in this instance, he’d wanted to do this on his own. He’d have likely not been able to work up the courage to go through with this in the first place, otherwise. "I wanted this to be something nice, just for the two of us. It’s...part of my Christmas present to you."

If possible, the other looked even more stunned, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline and his mouth briefly hanging open as he stared at Adar. "C-Christmas present?" He stammered, "Adar, you know you didn’t have to-"

"I do. But I really wanted to," the dark-haired man explained, and just barely kept from picking at his fingernails as he looked at Celebrimbor. He took a steadying breath and explained, "I figured, since this is the first time we can enjoy a Christmas day on our own in a while, that we should make the most of it, and have it be special. And I also- the gift I have for you isn’t something I wanted to give you with many people around. It’s...special, too."

"O-oh," the other replied, and Adar could see him clutch whatever he held in his hands tighter. "In that case – I am- this is- Adar, this is wonderful," he finally managed, obviously a little overwhelmed, and smiled at the dark-haired man.

"I hoped you’d like it. Now come, sit. I have something to give you," Adar said.

This was it. No backing out now.

Celebrimbor nodded, and moved over to the couch, "This is already such a wonderful present, getting to spend the evening with you. All the time you put into this- and then you have something to give me as well?" There was a bit of humor in the other’s voice. "You spoil me."

"Indeed. And gladly so," Adar replied, and saw his hands shake as he picked up his present. But Celebrimbor’s words were already putting him at ease; he had a way of doing that. It was clear he already considered this as something precious, the way Adar had prepared everything for them. He was certain that if he hadn’t mentioned the present, the other would already cherish the evening as it was.

One more reason why Adar wanted to give him this gift so badly. He overcame his own apprehension, those doubts that still lingered, and walked over to hand over the wrapped package.

"Here. I hope you’ll like it," he said.

"I have no doubt I will," Celebrimbor replied, devastatingly, disarmingly nonchalant in his certainty that whatever Adar might have chosen for him, he would enjoy and appreciate it. He took the gift as if it was precious, or fragile, despite how soft it was even through the thin wrapping paper.

As sappy as it sounded, it almost felt as if he was holding Adar’s heart in his hands in that moment. Adar knew he would handle it with care.

The other was slow and methodical to unwrap the present, gently opening the bow and pulling apart the paper without a rush, as if cautious not to rip or damage anything accidentally.

Soon, a large stack of fabric was uncovered, a myriad shapes and materials and colors, and as Celebrimbor stood and unwrapped it, it became a large, square shape, longer and wider than Celebrimbor himself was. Even when he stood on the couch itself, it was almost too long to reach the floor.

"That is-," he looked at the large piece, eyes moving over each part slowly as he tried to find words. "This is a patchwork blanket, isn’t it?"

Adar felt pride swell in his chest and nodded. "You are correct. It is," he smiled. His heart felt full, seeing the way Celebrimbor already beheld the quilt as if was something exceptional, something significant.

"You handmade this, didn’t you?" the other asked, and held the upper edge of the blanket to his chest with one hand, while using the other to spread out different parts, behold them, stroke a careful palm over certain pieces or trace the stitchings and shapes on others. "That must have taken...more than hours. Days. Weeks!"

Of course the other had an inkling as to how long it had taken. Celebrimbor, too, made things by hand. He’d seen Adar knit and crochet in the past, sometimes even sew. "I think 'weeks' is the pretty close. If I added all the hours together, certainly," Adar confirmed, with a gentle smile and a nod.

Celebrimbor’s eyes were wide, his expression so awed it seemed almost overwhelmed. "You must have put so much time and work into this...for me?" He blinked again, but this time, his eyes shone. "Adar that is...I don’t even know what to say."

"Perhaps I should give you a bit more context for this piece. But first, please, sit again," the dark-haired man gently advised, and helped Celebrimbor by offering him a steadying hand as the other sat down on the couch again, still looking at the quilt.

Adar reached out a hand, and touched it to a green square at the top, close to Celebrimbor’s chest. "Do you recognize this?" he asked, voice soft. Seeing that particular patch again brought back memories.

The other looked at it for a while, before he frowned and tilted his head, as if raking his brain. Adar could see the moment when he grasped at what his partner was saying. "Wait- is that-?"

"Part of the sweater you wore when we first met each other, yes," Adar finished, and found his own eyes getting a little misty as Celebrimbor’s lifted from the blanket, their gazes locking. They both still remembered that day. Celebrimbor had been working in a different profession, back then, and they’d been at one of Adar’s concerts. "Remember how I told you I’d take care of it, when it ripped and you wanted to throw it away?"

Celebrimbor stared at Adar, eyes still wide. "...you have worked on this since back then?"

Adar nodded, "I’ve had the idea ever since we met. I knew- I think I knew I wanted to be serious about you right away. I didn’t start until a year ago, but I’ve collected pieces to add to this probably since the beginning," he admitted.

He pointed to another square. This one was a crochet pattern, in green and black. "This I made on our first vacation together, when you went out to take a hike and I stayed in the cabin for a few hours. You almost caught me when you came back," he smiled, the memory a fond one.

Celebrimbor stared at him incredulously, then chuckled as he seemed to remember. "Oh you! I knew you were up to something – I remember how you claimed you’d read Rúmil. You held the book upside down when I came in, by the way."

It was Adar’s turn to look surprised. "I did?" He tilted his head. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Celebrimbor shrugged and smirked lopsidedly. "I figured you’d fallen asleep and were embarrassed, or something to that effect. You had claimed you would cook us some dinner before I returned, after all."

The two of them laughed at the memory for a bit, then turned their attention back to the blanket. The mood became sentimental, and reverent, as they went over more of the squares; it was a trip down memory lane, but told through pieces of fabric, just as Adar had intended.

A piece of a table cloth, not the exact same one from their first, official date, but Adar had gone back to the restaurant and gotten to buy one they would have thrown out soon as a substitute. He’d decorated it with a depiction of the meal they’d had, using embroidery thread – and enduring many pinpricks to his fingers, none of which had left any traces on the fabric, thankfully.

A pillowcase, from the first time they slept in their shared bed in this house after they’d moved in together, the date and address stitched into the corner.

A knitted piece, depicting sage, both blossoms and leaves – Adar’s favorite flower –, which he’d made during a tour with his band, and finished on the last evening of it, before Celebrimbor had come to the last concert of the tour and surprised him with a home-cooked meal and a booked hotelroom, so Adar could get some good, proper sleep before driving home the next day.

It continued this way for the whole blanket. Scraps and pieces refashioned into a bigger one that showed their relationship, their shared history of the last few years, and most importantly – their love for each other.

It must have taken at least an hour, more likely two or three, going over almost every single square, talking and reminiscing together, before Celebrimbor looked up at Adar and said, "I love you. You have no idea how much. Seeing this, it’s a reminder of that, and all the reasons why I do."

"That was the intention," Adar grinned, before he sobered, and reached out to hold the other’s hands in his own. "I love you too. Collecting these pieces, each proved to me that what we have is something extraordinary, and profound, and something I wouldn’t miss for the world. As corny as it might sound, this quilt feels like our relationship, since it is made up out of so many moments we spent together, just like our relationship is. I think it’s...it shows how far we’ve come."

"I don’t think it’s corny at all," Celebrimbor breathed, and smiled brightly. His eyes were impossibly soft. "I think it’s the most romantic thing that I’ve ever received. I don’t think anything could ever possibly compare, with all the time and care you have put into this."

His words were sincere, his look fond. It took Adar’s breath away. His first instinct was to deflect, to reach up to rub the back of his neck, look to the side, make a quip about how Celebrimbor liked kitsch and therefore wasn’t impartial. But he swallowed all of that down.

"I am...very glad you think that way. And that you like the present. It makes me very happy," he replied instead, and squeezed Celebrimbor’s hands.

"I love it," Celebrimbor confirmed, and then reached up to cup Adar’s cheeks, before he leant over and kissed him. Adar gladly accepted the kiss, and soon returned it. The both of them were a little emotional, rightfully so, as they crowded close and pressed kisses to each other’s mouths, held onto each other and then finally, embraced as Celebrimbor peppered little kisses to Adar’s jaw and cheeks, and Adar buried his nose into the other’s hair.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Celebrimbor whispered, breathless and awed, into Adar’s ear, who held tighter onto Celebrimbor and placed a gentle kiss to his temple, then another to his locks.

"Of course," he replied, voice low, his heart so full it felt ready to burst. He felt oddly light, and safe, and so very cherished. Glad that Celebrimbor liked the present, and with the reminder of all they shared, he was just so utterly grateful.

To his surprise, Celebrimbor soon drew back, holding onto Adar’s shoulders as he pushed back from their embrace. There was an oddly determined look in his eyes, which had Adar blink at him.

"I think- no, I actually have something for you as well," the other said, and reached for the little piece of fabric on his lap. Adar had almost forgotten about it.

(Celebrimbor’s POV)

Celebrimbor was fairly certain he’d never been so nervous in his life. Not when he’d publically disowned his father and the rest of his family. Not when he’d decided to end things with his ex. Not when he’d quit his previous job. Not even when he’d presented his first collection as a jewelsmith to the public, his friends, and his boyfriend.

Not even when he’d decided to take a risk and accept Adar asking him out for the first time, or when the two of them had decided to be serious about each other and a possible relationship just a few days after their initial meeting.

A few days ago, when he’d first gotten the idea for Adar’s present, he’d been so self-assured of his idea. It had just seemed right, as they both stood under that mistletoe and kissed, Adar looking so incredibly attractive with that one strand of hair hanging in his face, the way he’d smiled softly at Celebrimbor and then immediately gone to fetch the two of them a drink right after, always looking out for them both.

He’d spent the time when Adar had fallen asleep that night frantically sketching, trying his best to be quiet and utterly relieved he hadn’t accidentally woken up his boyfriend with his antics; the ideas has simply flown out of him, too fast to contain.

He’d also spent every free minute in his workshop, being truthful insofar as that he told Adar that he’d gotten inspired, but not quite telling him in what way. The other was ever-patient, reminding him to come out and eat, but willing to let him get his ideas out of his system in the times between.

Celebrimbor remembered Halloween had been very similar, with Adar having spent a lot of time composing new music in the times when the two of them hadn’t decorated the house or the frontyard. The jewelsmith was glad that they both were creatives, and understood one another’s need to be creative, even if it came at inopportune or unexpected times.

So Celebrimbor had worked, time flying by as he fashioned the piece he had in mind. He felt as if he was floating on inspiration, and the drive to create – the drive to make this little piece in time before Christmas was over.

Only when it looked like he might actually succeed with his plan, did second thoughts begin to creep in.

Was this too much? Would he ruin Christmas, making something like this and presenting it to Adar? Would he pressure the other if he did this? What if the other felt inadequate for not having a similarly impactful present?

What if he refused Celebrimbor’s gift, and everything that came with it?

It had been that last thought that had made Celebrimbor stop pacing his workshop, his finished piece in hand, and shake his head at himself. Of course he would never presume to know Adar’s heart in its entirety, but- they both had already taken so many risks with their relationship. Would never have gotten this far if they didn’t.

This wasn’t any different; trust and confidence had gotten them to this point, and if Celebrimbor stopped trusting himself and Adar – their relationship – now, it would be a disservice to their previous struggles and accomplishments alike.

So, when Adar came to retrieve him for their evening together, looking cozy in that unique way of his, wearing an eager yet anxious expression of his own, Celebrimbor had swallowed his own insecurities and decided to take yet another risk.

He couldn’t have known that Adar had taken a risk of his own. Perhaps he should have been able to guess it; the two of them fit each other so well, after all, despite how different they were at first glance:

Celebrimbor, who had decided to turn his life around in the middle of it to take up the family occupation, and become a smith who worked only for himself. Who loved the Christmas spirit in all its facets and shapes and felt no shame standing in the living room, humming along to generic popsongs on the radio as he cleaned. And Adar, who had an exclusively all-black wardrobe, loved Halloween and had been making music with other people for all of his life, despite all the curveballs that same life had thrown at him, who wouldn’t be caught dead listening to pop music – except if Celebrimbor asked him to.

But they also had so much in common, too. Both of them creatives, both of them with a chip on their shoulder, both of them a little odd in their own ways.

In a way, Celebrimbor felt it was confirmation of his own plans and intentions, when Adar ended up presenting him with the quilt he’d made. And what a beautiful thing it was, a labor of love, with so much thought and work put into it, which had taken Adar weeks to assemble, but years to aquire and prepare all the pieces.

Nevermind that he’d taken the time and effort to turn their living room into a very nice, beautiful space for them to spend the evening together, just the two of them, some hot chocolate – and a new, warm, soft quilt to huddle underneath and appreciate.

It made Celebrimbor’s own nervousness fall away. He wouldn’t get a better moment than this, a moment where he’d feel this confident, this certain that he was making the right choice. This moment felt perfect.

If not now, when?

He reached down and lifted the bundle of fabric up in his hands; it didn’t look like much, due to the fact that he had completely forgotten to prepare anything more fancy to wrap the piece in, and so he’d merely taken a rag from his workshop.

At least the piece itself was hidden in a little box, which he slowly pulled out of the fabric while keeping his eyes on Adar as he did. The other had looked quite relieved at Celebrimbor’s reaction to his quilt, and now seemed mostly curious, head slightly tilted as he watched Celebrimbor fumble with his own present.

He blinked as the little box came into sight. Then his eyes seemed to widen, if only slightly – it was obvious that he had an idea as to what this particular piece could be. Celebrimbor beamed, even as his hands shook a little bit.

When their eyes met, Adar looked openly confused. He did his best to hide it, but Celebrimbor had learned to read him well over the years. And, truth be told, the jewelsmith was quite certain he hadn’t been subtle with the packaging he’d chosen.

It was a little velvet box, in black. The shape was familiar to both of them; Celebrimbor had used a similar one for his last collection of rings, which had also been inspired by Adar, and his band’s music.

He took a shuddering breath, and held Adar’s gaze as he began to speak.

"Do you remember, a few days ago, when we stood under that mistletoe at the party?" he asked, trying to ease both of them into what he was about to do. He saw Adar still, and then slowly nod at him, eyes moving between Celebrimbor’s face and the little box that he held clutched in his hands like a lifeline.

"When we did, I looked at you, and couldn’t help but think how lucky I am to have you in my life. You looked...lovely, as you always do, that night. But somehow, that moment was- special. When you went to get us some drinks afterwards, I looked up and at the mistletoe, and thought of our favorite plants. And I suddenly had an idea."

He grew a little sheepish, and scratched his cheekbone with two fingers, "Which is why I got holed up in my workshop for so long. I had the urge to make this piece, and I really wanted to get it finished before Christmas ended."

He held out the little velvet box, one hand beneath the bottom, one ready to open the top, the side that would open turned towards Adar.

Realization was beginning to dawn on his boyfriend’s face now. He looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights, and his hands were clutching the quilt before him, before they lifted and gripped Celebrimbor’s upper arms, as if he had to steady himself.

Celebrimbor took another breath, and slowly eased the case open.

The sheer look of surprised awe on Adar’s face would be forever imprinted on the back of the jewelsmith’s eyelids. He smiled brightly, and looked down at the piece as well.

It was a ring. Made from silver and gold, the former because it was Adar’s favorite metal, the latter because Celebrimbor favored it. Beset with small gemstones in violet, red and green, as well as some clear ones, the metal formed the shapes of entwined plants:

Holly, and sage, and mistletoe.

The center of which was a beautiful, clear gemstone, perfectly cut and without any imperfections.

Even to the untrained eye, it was obvious that this was meant to be an engagement ring.

The jewelsmith could hear Adar suck in a breath as his grip on Celebrimbor’s upper arms tightened, and their eyes found each other again. Celebrimbor expected to see yet more surprise, or perhaps overwhelm, in his boyfriend’s eyes.

What he saw instead was hope, and an inkling of joy that was steadily growing as Adar continued to look at him.

With his smile stretching across his own face and growing confidence in his heart, Celebrimbor carefully picked the ring out of the box and held it up, then discarded the box itself to put his free hand onto the back of Adar’s, stroking the skin there with his thumb.

"I feared this might be too much, but- your gift showed me that this was the right call to make. Seeing our relationship laid out like this, in pieces of fabric, in all these beautiful memories, I think there is no way for me not to do this," he explained, voice almost a whisper between them.

"I cherish every single moment we have spent together thus far, and I’d like to spend so many more moments with you in the future as well. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together, and to make more such beautiful memories. Enough to make another quilt out of, and more."

His smile turned watery, and he felt himself getting misty eyed. Adar wasn’t faring much better, however – his eyes darted between Celebrimbor’s own as he swallowed, lip faintly trembling, breath uneven. Subtle signs that this was emotionally affecting him, much more than one might grasp by looking at him with a cursory glance.

"Adar, I love you. Would you consider making more of these wonderful memories with me? Will you marry me?"

He had barely finished his sentence, when Adar began to crowd close, hands at Celebrimbor’s cheeks and their noses soon pressed together, frantically nodding as he gasped out, "Yes, yes – of course-, I will, I will-," and then he pressed their lips together, desperate and sudden.

Celebrimbor barely managed to take a gasping breath, and then they were kissing. He almost lost the ring as they moved, and only managed to hold onto it by some strange miracle. His arms wrapped around Adar’s shoulders and his hands grasped the back of the other’s head as if by themselves, as Adar’s words repeated in his mind.

I will, I will, I will-

Only slowly did it register, what he’d just asked, what the other had just said, that he’d agreed-

With a noise of happiness, Celebrimbor pressed back against his boyfriend and kissed him back just as frantically as the other did.

Adar was quick to react, and shifted his hands behind Celebrimbor’s back, before he pulled him forward and onto his lap, both of them grasping at each other to get even closer, wound so tight that nothing could have possibly separated them.

In their eagerness, they lost their balance, and tipped to the side, right into the soft mound of blankets and pillows Adar had prepared for them. Celebrimbor found himself even more grateful for Adar’s preparations as they did, before his attention was pulled back to what they were doing.

They gasped, and would have laughed if not for their lips still being locked together. Celebrimbor simply wrapped his legs around Adar and clung to him like a human octopus, not that Adar minded in the least.

They only broke their kiss when they felt the need to breathe, both gasping as they peppered kisses to each other’s lips, cheeks, eyelids, temples, any part of the other’s face they could reach. Adar was rubbing their noses together, and Celebrimbor had grasped Adar’s hair with one hand, the other curled around the ring but sparing two fingers to claw into Adar’s Christmas sweater in an attempt to hold on.

Only after another few minutes did they finally manage to lean back a bit and look at each other, both of them breathless. Celebrimbor laughed in joy, and at the position they now found themselves in. Adar similarly chuckled, and brushed Celebrimbor’s curls back from his forehead, touch gentle.

The jewelsmith smiled at the other, eyes fond, before he reached out and pulled one of Adar’s hands free. Both of them were fixated on their hands as he took the ring, and gently eased it onto Adar’s finger – it fit perfectly, as Celebrimbor had known it would. Having measured Adar’s fingers for a previous collection had really come in handy in more ways than one.

The piece looked beautiful on Adar’s hand. The two of them stared at it for a long time, watching it glint and sparkle in the firelight.

"It’s very beautiful," Adar breathed, and turned towards Celebrimbor. "Especially since you were so fast. You must have spent every single second in your workshop on this."

"I did," the jewelsmith confirmed, and kissed the tip of Adar’s nose. "Only the best for you. And, well, the fastest, in this case."

Adar snorted, and then grinned. "Well, it’s quite fitting. I spent the last couple of days frantically finishing the quilt as well. I didn’t quite anticipate that Gil-Galad would bully us into helping him decorate, or account for Glug realizing he hadn’t gotten you a present last minute."

It was Celebrimbor’s turn to snort, and then brush back some loose strands of hair from Adar’s face. "Well. It seems to have worked out for the best, at least," he joked.

"That it did," Adar replied. This time when they kissed, it was a gentle press of lips.

"Speaking of which," Celebrimbor said, and turned his attention to the blanket again. "Shall we make use of your present, and tuck ourselves in? Also that hot chocolate tray you prepared looked quite-"

Celebrimbor didn’t get to finish his sentence. With wide eyes and a gasp, Adar drew back. Celebrimbor likewise began to sit up, and they both looked over to where Adar had left the tray earlier; they both feared that their earlier tumble might have upended the tray itself – and its contents.

Thankfully, that did not seem to be the case. Some of the cookies had spilled out of the bowl, and the whipped cream didn’t quite look picture-perfect anymore, but nothing worse had happened. They heaved a sigh of relief; cleaning the couch or the blankets would not have made for a perfect ending to their Christmas.

As it was, they chuckled, and then carefully untangled themselves. The moments after were decidedly ordinary, despite the fact that everything about the situation was out of the ordinary; they went and righted the tray, put the wrapping paper and ring box away, and finally spread out Adar’s blanket before they crawled under it.

Soon, Adar had slung his arm behind Celebrimbor’s back and drawn him into his side, where the jewelsmith readily cuddled up, their legs tangled as they eased back into the pillows, as Adar pulled over the tray with the thermos of hot chocolate.

It was Celebrimbor who took it upon himself to distribute the hot chocolate between them, his with whipped cream and marshmallows and a bit of caramel syrup, Adar choosing only a cookie to dip into his.

They spent several moments afterwards by just looking at the ring and the blanket, linking their fingers and turning their faces towards each other, to kiss, to brush their noses together, to smile lovingly at each other as they settled.

"This Christmas truly is perfect," Celebrimbor ended up saying, some time later. Adar smirked and nodded in agreement.

"Indeed it is," he confirmed, and then fell quiet for a second, before he chuckled and shook his head. At Celebrimbor’s questioning gaze, he explained, "I just realized we get to call each other fiancé now. I – like it."

Celebrimbor smiled and felt his eyes light up. "You’re right!" His grin grew sheepish. "I must admit, calling you my boyfriend always felt a little odd, considering that we are. Well. Not teenagers anymore. Fiancé has a nice ring to it though. Pun intended."

Adar rolled his eyes, though it was clearly a fond gesture, before he replied, "Agreed. Boyfriend never felt quite right. Partner felt much better-"

"Ugh, no, that makes it sound like we work together," Celebrimbor argued, and then twitched and made a noise of protest when Adar playfully jabbed his side. "It’s too formal!"

"Good thing we took care of that, then," Adar replied.

"Indeed. I realize now the proposal was practically self-defense in that regard," Celebrimbor joked, trying to look grouchy but missing the mark by a mile; he just couldn’t stop smiling. "And you do realize that we’ll have to tell the others, don’t you?"

Adar stopped, and looked vaguely apprehensive for the first time since he’d presented Celebrimbor with his own present. "...are you implying that we should tell them? Right away?"

"Uh-huh," Celebrimbor confirmed, and chuckled at Adar’s responding groan. "I am afraid there’s no way to avoid it. I am also afraid they’ll insist on a party, some time after New Year’s."

"Well. I suppose we can handle that. As long as it’s not Christmas themed," Adar said, and found himself jabbed in the side this time, soon followed by more laughter.

They did end up falling asleep on the couch, some hours later. Though not before Celebrimbor had taken out his phone and snapped a few pictures to share with their friends – with Adar’s permission, of course.

Perhaps he should have suspected that he and Adar would wake up to their phones getting blown up with messages and questions from friends, family and acquaintances when he did end up referring to Adar as his fiancé in the captions. Or perhaps he and Adar had both decided it was way easier to just post about it and then tell the others the details later, instead of making a big, official announcement.

Aside from the two of them, nobody would ever know for certain.

[1v6]

Eggs from Another Basket 1/2 [G/T]

[Word count 848] Part 2/2

There is a story behind every individual, even gods. Perhaps one that involves eggs.

Dialogue focused. I tend to put little dialogue in my works, so I figured some practice would help. Enjoy.

-----

The larger being looming before him picked at his dinner with his fork, idly stabbing at the various meats offered to him, not paying attention to the much tinier man sitting before him. The smaller man lightly shuddered, trying to ignore the scene. The god had the power to do this to him and his people if he wanted. If this is the strength displayed if he was not focused, imagine the power he could wield if he were malicious.

Yet, the god was not.

Instead, he invited him to dine together. He looked at his meal, delicately cut from the god’s own portions. He took a bite. Meat was a rare delicacy for the common people, not especially expensive, but would be costly to eat daily.

Somehow, his life changed. Now, chicken, beef, pork, and mutton made regular appearances on his plate every day. He was like a toad getting to feast on a swan.

He did not deserve this kindness.

He was just doing his duty, as the god’s servant.

Today, the god himself looked distracted. He always was, though at least he would still attempt to make conversation every dinner. He did not like it at first, the looming presence always made him feel a primal terror deep inside him.

He never realised how silent it was when the god stopped talking.

It seems that it was finally his time to make conversation, whether he enjoyed it or not.

“You look upset,” his small voice piped up.

Upon hearing his words, the god gently set down his cutlery without making a sound, and his gaze turned towards him. Waiting for him to continue.

“Do gods feel sadness too?”

“I told you already, I’m not a god,” the god sighed. 

“You are one to me.”

How could he not be one, with all the might he possessed within his powerful body?

“You’re just a bit smaller than me, we’re not all that different.”

Nonsense. He was barely the height of his finger. The difference is very substantial. How could he use this excuse over and over again, every time he pointed it out? His hand alone could crush buildings, that is very much a feat a person like him could not perform no matter how hard they tried.

When he at last learnt to speak to the god while reining in his fear, one of the very first questions he asked him was the name of the god’s race, when he insisted he was not a god.

A human, he had answered then, and he learnt that gods were as mortal as he was, only with much more power to shape the world to their liking.

Which could be considered a god’s power.

“Technically, you’re the one much larger than us,” he stated. Yes, size is relative. The truth is also what the majority believes too, though. That would mean he is the larger one, as there is only one of him believing they are smaller, and many of them believing he is larger.

Nevertheless it was a topic he no longer wanted to continue, as it would eventually lead nowhere.

They both knew this. It was time to change the topic.

The smaller person stood up from his smaller table and gave a deep, mocking bow. “So, my Lord Almighty Human, what brings such melancholy to an existence such as you?” He flashed a grin, and sat down again to continue eating his meal.

The god smiled wistfully, stars in his eyes. “Nothing. I simply miss home.”

It took a second for him to register what he said. It did not even occur to him that the god once had another life before he simply appeared to his people one day. How did he live then, before being thrown into this new life?

What was his story?

“A…home?”

The god nodded.

“...What was your home like?”

The god frowned a little, puzzled by his question, perhaps? “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I lived with my family, and we talked, ate, spent time together, things like that.”

He looked at both of their dinner plates. “What do you usually eat back home, then?”

There was a pause. He seemed to consider his answer, before replying, “I guess eggs were a common dish. My family weren’t the best at cooking, but eggs were easy enough to prepare, so we had eggs quite often.”

“Eggs?” He questioned.

“Eggs, round things from a—”

“—No, I know what eggs are, thank you very much.”

The god chuckled a little, then reached out to him with a finger as tall as he was, gently ruffling his hair. “Why did you ask then?”

“It was an unexpected answer,” he retorted back, pushing his finger away. Two hands lost to a finger. “Besides, who knew you eat eggs?”

“What’s surprising about me eating eggs?”

“... Nothing.”

He finished his meal, and requested to leave, saying his duties require him elsewhere for tonight.

Much to the god’s disappointment.

He knew, but no attempt was made to stop him.

He simply wished him goodnight.

[cheaploafs]

woe wips i forgot about be upon ye

[luckyartdrawer]

Goobies, I drew the moon idea that was stuck in my head, just to get it out, ended up with a completely different drawing, and now I'm staring at a dastardly evil Moon man in a sun hat and trench coat looking so sly HELP

This was supposed to make the brain worms go away so I can focus on work/not lose the idea and sleep in peace, not to slowly convince myself to invest in a long ass drawing session >:O

I mean I'm still gonna sleep so I can grind out my final this next week, but oml I think I made things harder for myself.

Challenge to not give this man the most dramatic lighting immediately-

[glitteredbubbles]

I wrote a poem!! It’s my first time sharing one on this website so hopefully it’s decent :)

“I’m the Fool”

Maybe I’m the fool

An unstruck phosphorus match

But I’m burning anyway

Provoked by the light of day

Maybe you’re too cruel

A unicycling juggler with an act

Throwing knives up that’ll never come down

A target in vain bracing the ground

I always thought you knew

That my devotion was a fact

But maybe I just scared you away

Devotion looks like desperation in the day

[reds-skull]

I'm researching Scottish mythology for the Cyberknights AU, and I was skimming through the wiki entry for the Glenmasan manuscript (I'd tell you what it is, but I haven't actually finished reading yet), when I read this sentence

Like what are the fucking chances

[daddyplasmius]

Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.

Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.

Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.

Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.

It is quite literally just Danny.

Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.

And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.

Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?

Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.

[ckret2]

Are you perhaps going to add Bill's evident medical trauma into the story?

Bill's been getting called insane for seeing the third dimension by his mom since chapter 15 and I've mentioned his vision is tied to a medical condition he was born with. We were already going there.

Only difference is now he's going to an optometrist in addition to an orthopedic doctor.

[coulsons-left-arm]

Philindaisy when they're tired (bc I'm tired 🫠)

Coulson: I'd imagine it doesn't take much to get mans to rest. He squeezes his eyes shut and punches the bridge of his nose as he's elbow deep in boring paperwork. He considers leaving what he has for tomorrow to rest... Sometimes he does, other times... May will find him still at his desk in the wee hours of the morning, gives him one encouraging look (it's more a glare than anything 🤭), and he heads to his bunk, immediately falling asleep and sawing logs in true dad fashion.

May: May is like a superhero herself. She's never tired. Always prepared, and always has a backup plan for either extra green tea, extra stretches, or small cat naps she knows she can get away with.... But on the very extremely rare occasion she is tired, she fights it like the badass that she is. She starts nodding off, but jolts awake, almost snarling at herself for even thinking about caving to the want. If situationally possible, she'll get up and move around a bit to get her blood flowing and heart rate up. Coulson comes by, notices the very rare signs that her body is screaming for rest and has to plead with her. "May, come on. Go to bed." It doesn't work, and only earns him a nasty look (he isn't too hurt. She gets a little moody when she's like this). He closes the distance, his hand grabbing her hand. "Melinda. Please." He gives her the biggest, saddest, blue-est puppy dog eyes he can muster, knowing her stubbornness will faulter... And it eventually works, but only because he looks, "pathetic. You need to stop." He chuckles and pulls her to her feet, pulling her towards her bunk where he opens her door, gently nudges her inside, and quips, "Not a chance," with a wink and shuts her door, forcing her to cave to what her body so desperately needs.

Daisy: She's an amalgamation of her parents Coulson and May. Sometimes they find her face down on the table, laptop/paperwork in front of her abandoned as she's drooling dangerously close to it. If it's Coulson, he gently nudges her and gathers her form in his arms, carrying her to the nearest couch so she doesn't mess up her neck and back any more than she needs to, and pilfers a blanket from somewhere for her. If May finds her, she gently wakes her and helps guide her (at a sleepy head's pace) to her bunk for some proper sleep. But! If Daisy is being stubborn, too caught up in work and feeling like she's on a deadline, she jolts awake just like her mom May, snapping to attention, bleary-eyed, but awake and ready to try and work. Coulson simply does the same thing because mother like daughter, gently begging this kid to go to bed. Daisy will huff about it (and sometimes get a little teary eyed if it's something that's very pressing), but a tug on her arm will get her to go to bed... But not before glancing back at her workspace, wondering if she's doing the right thing going to bed. "You're no use if you're tired because you can't think straight. Just get some shut eye for a bit." On the other hand, Daisy's stubbornness NEVER stands a chance when May comes in. One look is all it takes, and Daisy completely deflates. Once her student is on her way to bed, she eases up on her, gives her some sort of praise/encouragement for something she's done lately. It helps Daisy's posture come back a little bit.