#lost solar dust

[baldo-poster]

Concert REVIZORS et LOST SOLAR DUST à la BELLE MAISON

Dimanche 3 mars 2024 concerts de 13h à 17h - DJs vinyls : the bands Restauration 13h

24 rue Malmaison BAGNOLET

[natterghast]

& HEADCANONS ; voices and accents ☄. *. ⋆

● nahinu ; has the thick accent of someone born in east harlem due to her innate mimicking, but nevertheless speaks in soft, airy tones and with the halting nervousness of her social anxieties. her voice is a high register. ● devisee ; most often lacks an inflection, picks his words with perfect enunciation, and overall carries conversation with the awkward pauses of someone well read, but unused to speaking with others. curses in an aberration's tongue when no one else is around to hear. his voice is a low register. ● xianne ; has an inviting, easy-going cadence to match her smile and overfamiliar, teasing jabs. calls it like she sees it, and keeps conversation rolling like her Rs. her voice is a slightly lower register. ● geid ; has an accent thick as tree sap, and speaks ponderously, with verbiage that one really has to chew on; often difficult to understand. his voice is a low register. ● solar ; has no discernable accent to whomever they're speaking to, because they speak with the aid of their psionics, and occasionally may only converse mentally if their vessel can't form speech. their voice varies with possessions. ● jeanot ; slips into falahni inflections when he's angered as a result of the memories lodged in his brain, but otherwise speaks with some amalgamation of northern american accents at a soft pace, unless info dumping. he has a slightly higher registered voice that sometimes cracks. ● benjamin ; speaks with a thick new acadian (louisianan) accent of honeyed words, and a genial lilt to go with a mouthful of lies behind that great big smile of his. his voice is a slightly lower register. ● zelman ; through practice speaks the languages he's fluent in without a hint of his polish roots — except, perhaps, when he's half awake, and typically comes with the devil-may-care attitude of curt phrasing. his voice is a slightly lower register. ● lazare ; doesn't talk, but has a laugh from the chest that's coarse and higher pitched than his register, like he swallowed gravel and breathed in a helium balloon. his voice is a low register.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Robin Sloan’s “Moonbound”

On June 20, I'm keynoting the LOCUS AWARDS in OAKLAND.

Robin Sloan has a well-deserved reputation as a sparkly, fizzy writer, the kind of person who can tell a smart/smartass story infused with fantasy-genre whimsy but grounded in high-tech, contemporary settings (think here of Charlie Jane Anders' gorgeous All the Birds In the Sky):

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/26/charlie-jane-anderss-all-the-birds-in-the-sky-smartass-soulful-novel/

In Moonbound, a new, wildly ambitious solarpunk novel published today by Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, Sloan moves out of his usual, daffy, high-tech/high-weird Bay Area milieu and catapults us 11,000 years into the future, to a world utterly transformed and utterly fascinating:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374610609/moonbound

Moonbound's protagonist is a "chronicler," a symbiotic fungus engineered to nestle in a human's nervous system, where it serves as a kind of recording angel, storing up the memories, experiences and personalities of its host. When we meet the chronicler, it has just made a successful leap from its old host – a 10,000-years-dead warrior who had been preserved in an anaerobic crashpod ever since her ship was shot out of the sky – into the body of Ariel, a 12-year-old boy who had just invaded the long-lost tomb.

This is quite a move. This long-dormant, intelligent fungus originates a thousand years into our own future, long after the climate emergency had been (miraculously, joyously) averted and has arrived in a world ten millennia years even further down the line. It must orient itself from its position inside the nervous system of a 12-year-old, and we have to orient ourselves to having an 11,000-year-distant future explained by an intelligent fungus from 1,000 years into our own future.

This is doing fiction in hard mode, and Sloan nails it. The unraveling strangeness of Ariel's world is counterpointed with the amazing tale of the world the chronicler hails from, even as the chonicler consults with the preserved personalities of the heroes and warriors it had previous resided in and recorded.

And in this curious way, we learn of the history of the chronicler's world, and of the strange world so far into the future that Ariel lives in – and becomes incredible consequential to.

Start with the chronicler's world: on the way to solving the climate emergency, the human race figured out how to cooperate on unimaginably massive projects (for example, addressing the world's runaway carbon problem). This pays huge dividends, ushering in a period of thrilling innovation, as humans and the nonhuman intelligences they have constructed collaborate to explore out planet, our solar system, and – thanks to a faster-than-light breakthrough – our galaxy.

A crew of seven are dispatched to the ends of space with great fanfare – but when they return, they are terrified and full of grim purpose. Something they met out there in the galaxy has convinced them that humanity must never look to the stars again. They blanket the planet in a cloak of dust and establish a garrison on the moon from which they destroy any attempts to leave the Earth.

This triggers a savage war against these seven "dragons" and their moonbase. The chronicler's warrior – the one who was entombed for 10,000 years before being discovered by Ariel – was shot down on a last-ditch attempt to destroy the dragons and their base on the moon.

Flash forward 10,000 years. Ariel lives in a weird, medieval-type village, albeit one in which the peasant-types all wear high-tech performance all-weather gear…and the animals all talk. It's a very strange place – there's a sword in a stone, a wizard in a tower…and an airstrip.

Even as the chronicler is trying to make sense of this anachronistic muddle, Ariel is marching towards his destiny. In short order, he finds himself in fear for his life, and then – for the first time in his life or the life of any other villager – Ariel leaves the village.

This kicks off the road-trip part of the novel, a real bildungsroman that sees Ariel, the chronicler, and a whole Wizard-of-Oz's worth of road pals (including a rusty tin-man type robot who is part of a hive mind of thousands of other robots all over the world; oh and a talking beaver) (oh, and a dead guy) (and there's an elk with a symbiotic beehive in its antlers that dribbles a stead stream of honey down its muzzle).

My editor Patrick Nielsen Hayden once articulated a theory of how science fiction works: you have the world, which is a kind of grand thought experiment, and you have a protagonist, who is a kind of microcosm of that world. Think of the world as this big, heavy gear, and the character as a much-faster-spinning gear that meshes with the world, spinning and spinning, pushing the world inchingly around a full revolution:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/26/aislands/#dead-ringers

The chronicler is a perfect microcosm of this strange world, where dozens of great civilizations have arisen and fallen – the ruins of a great society of hyperintelligent rats turns out to be very useful on one part of Ariel's quest – and where the dragons brood overall, a menace in the sky that the Earth's inhabitants have all but forgotten, but whom the chronicler can't ignore.

Sloan is really having a lot of fun with his talking animals; his transdimensional gods; his space-maddened, murderous lunar AIs. On the way, he's doing all kinds of really cool tricks – like asking us to really sit with the idea of giving moral consideration to the nonhuman world, including "beings" we currently think of as inanimate objects. This is a great riff:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/07/more-than-human/#umwelt

Sloan's debut novel, Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, mixed the tropes and sensibilities of tech culture with a beautiful, escapist fantasy, a "curious little magic shop" tale that was absolutely delightful:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/11/16/mr-penumbras-24-hour-bookstore-the-perfect-nerdish-fantasy/

And with Sourdough, Sloan's second book, he took that same fascination with the numinous (and with nerdy, obsessive hobbies) to the microscopic plane, with a tale of microorganisms and mystery:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/09/05/sourdough-a-delicious-story-about-nerdism-and-the-flesh-by-robin-mr-penumbra-sloan/

Moonbound delivers Sloan's third – and best! – fusion of fantasy and science fiction, delving deep into the meaning of personhood, language and moral agency with a road-trip story that visits a dazzling collection of wildly imaginative settings and societies in an epic quest to slay the dragons on the moon.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/11/penumbraverse/#middle-anth

[callmearcturus]

Glass Animals Tier List, from least best to most best

F-Tier (well they can't all be winners)

Golden Antlers (ZABA extra)

D-Tier (the Skip List unfortunately)

"Melon and the Coconut" (Dreamland)

"Domestic Bliss" (Dreamland)

"Season 2 Episode 3" (HTBAHB)

"Cocoa Hooves II" (ZABA extras)

C-Tier (perfectly fine but I'm never craving them)

Intruxx (ZABA)

"Tangerine" (Dreamland)

"Helium" (Dreamland)

"Hot Sugar" (Dreamland)

"JDNT" (ZABA)

B-Tier (Oops! All Bangers!)

"Wyrd" (ZABA)

"Psylla" (ZABA extras)

"Solar Power" (Spotify Sessions)

"Dust in Your Pocket" (Leaflings)

"[Premade Sandwiches]" (HTBAHB) (yes really)

"Mama's Gun" (HTBAHB)

"Cane Shuga" (HTBAHB)

"Take a Slice" (HTBAHB)

"Youth" (HTBAHB)

"Heart-Shaped Box" (Quarantine Covers)

"Heat Waves" (Dreamland)

"White Roses" (ILYSFM)

"Lost in the Ocean" (ILYSFM)

A-Tier (truly amazing songs, never skipped)

"Black Mambo" (ZABA)

"Walla Walla" (ZABA)

"Hazey" (ZABA)

"Cocoa Hooves" (ZABA)

"Exxus" (ZABA extras)

"Dreamland" (Dreamland)

"Young and Beautiful" (Quarantine Covers)

"Show Pony" (ILYSFM)

"A Tear in Space (Airlock)" (ILYSFM)

"On the Run" (ILYSFM)

"I Can't Make You Fall In Love Again" (ILYSFM)

"How I Learned to Love the Bomb" (ILYSFM)

S-Tier (the pinnacle the peak the greatest nothing but hits no misses)

"Pools" (ZABA)

"Gooey" (ZABA)

"Flip" (ZABA)

"Holiest" (ZABA extras)

"Life Itself" (HTBAHB)

"Space Ghost Coast to Coast" (Dreamland)

"Your Love (Deja Vu)" (Dreamland)

"Waterfalls Coming Out Your Mouth" (Dreamland)

"It's All So Incredibly Loud" (Dreamland)

"Don't Wanna Talk I Just Wanna Dance" (Dreamland extras)

"Creatures in Heaven" (ILYSFM)

"whatthehellishappening?" (ILYSFM)

S+-Tier (masterpieces)

"Pork Soda" (HTBAHB)

"Other Side of Paradise" (HTBAHB)

"Poplar St" (HTBAHB)

"Agnes" (HTBAHB)

"Wonderful Nothing" (ILYSFM)

And the best Glass Animals song is of course

"Tokyo Drifting (feat. Denzel Curry)" (Dreamland)

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,191 Words

Summary: Ruin fails. Furrily?

Warnings: Death (mentioned), Near Death (mentioned), Crying, Angst, Shock, Cursing, Trauma, Newborn Kitten Care (aka helping them eat and go to the bathroom), let me know if I should add anything else.

Multiversal Kittening?

"I don't wanna go…" Solar muttered as he felt his body deteriorating, changing, turning into something like dust.

"You don't have to!" Moon insisted, holding onto Solar's arms as they deteriorated and Moon's hands slipped through the air they used to be in as Solar felt darkness fall around him.

Moon stared at where he's slipped through, falling onto his face on the ground as he fell through where Solar had stood and ended him up onto the ground. Moon was hyperventilating still, body shaking as he tried to keep himself together, oil-based tears sliding down his face and staining the blue and silver surface of his faceplate with the clearish-amber tears.

Moon stayed on the ground, not wanting to get up as he heard Sun screaming something, Moon couldn't hear what Sun was saying, everything he heard was ringing, his audio sensors were muffled by something, his processors were buffering, something was wrong. Something was wrong and Moon couldn't move or think or hear.

Moon felt someone touching his shoulder and finally managed to pick his head up to see his twin shaking his arm to get him to respond, shaking Moon out of his shock. Sun was in tears too.

"Moon!" Sun urged his twin back. Moon looked to be in shock on the floor, face down and unmoving. Now that Sun had shaken him, Moon did look like he was recovering a little bit.

"Moon, sit up. Be careful." Sun guided Moon to sit up against the nightstand and Moon gazed at him, tears still not stopping but Sun knew it was better for his brother to just cry than bottle it up.

"Sun…" Moon muttered.

"I'm here. It's okay. Moon, it's okay." Sun told him.

"He's dead." Moon reminded his twin. Nothing was okay. Solar was dead, their brother was dead, Moon's best friend was dead.

"I know." Sun sighed softly. Sun then whipped his head to the side and Moon's head followed, looking at Ruin moving. "Don't you fucking move!" Sun snarled at Ruin.

"I will not. I surrendered." Ruin told them cheerily, sitting on the bed. While Sun was busy glaring at Ruin, Moon felt something against his right leg between his leg and Sun's. Moon looked down at it and saw a tiny little kitten. Did Sun get a new cat?

It looked like a newborn kitten with calico fur with the face half orange on the right and half black on the left with it's body swirled throughout with orange, black, and white fur. Its eyes were still closed, ears still curled and it was wriggling against his leg, bonking his leg softly with its tiny head to get his attention.

The kitten gave a tiny squeak of a meow and rolled on its side as it lost its balance and flopped onto its side on the floor, exposing the black and white belly it had with an Eclipse symbol on its belly. Moon's eyes widened as he saw the symbol. Solar? Was Solar a kitten?

"Moon? Moon!" Sun was looking at Moon again before looking down at the kitten and Sun's eyes widened too. "Solar?" Sun whispered as his hands carefully scooped the tiny kitten into them, cradling him away from the wood floor in his hands. The tiny kitten was so small that he fit into only one of Sun's hands and it squirmed a bit, squeaking and demanding attention and warmth.

"Is that Solar?" Moon asked softly.

"I think so." Sun admitted as he showed the kitten to Moon, whose tears began falling faster again as he looked at the kitten.

"What…?" Ruin muttered, looking over the kitten, who wriggled in Sun's hands as if attempting to get to Moon.

"Moon, he's getting cold and your engine is warmer than mine." Sun told his twin. Moon raised a shaky hand, terrified of hurting him and gently pet Solar's tiny forehead, making the kitten squeak at him with joy. Moon looked at Sun and back to Solar before taking off his hat and gingerly taking Solar out of Sun's hands.

"Good thinking, Moon." Sun told him, helping hold Moon's hat for Moon to safely place Solar in the warm hat. Once Moon had placed him int the hat, Sun wrapped Solar in the hat like a swaddle and gently placed him on Moon's chest so the warmth of Moon's engines would keep Solar warm.

"Be gentle. Not too tight holding him." Sun instructed Moon, placing Moon's hands to hold Solar up against him while Moon sniffled and held Solar as carefully as possible. Solar mewled softly, almost like he was whining.

"He's hungry. Come on. I have some milk for my cats he can have." Sun guided Moon up to his feet and then turned to glare at Ruin. "Don't you dare leave this room!" Sun hissed at him.

"I won't." Ruin agreed and raised his hands. Sun then guided Moon out to the kitchen and got out the kitten milk replacement for Solar and the tiny feeding syringe and nipple he had left over from finding Shadow a couple of months ago now.

Sun cleaned and sanitized the syringe and nipple and mixed together 2.25ml of the milk replacement before he drew the 2.25ml up into the syringe and put the nipple onto it and showed it to Moon.

"Do you want me to show you?" Sun asked.

"Yeah…" Moon admitted.

"Alright, put him on the counter if he feels human temperature." Sun told him. Moon felt over Solar's belly and he did feel warm enough, so moon placed Solar on the counter on a towel that Sun laid out for him.

"You just let him sit on his little butt and you put your thumb and middle fingers under his chin to hold up his head but don't squeeze because you're holding his neck, you're just holding his head up a little bit so he swallows." Sun told Moon as he narrated what he was doing once he unraveled Solar from Moon's hat.

"Then you get the nipple in his mouth and very slowly push down on the plunger. You don't want him aspirating because he's too tiny to cough it back up." Sun told him as he very slowly pushed the plunger and Solar greedily suckled at the nipple on the syringe, making little noises as he did so that Moon thought were adorable.

"I know it's probably going to feel weird, but kittens need help going to the bathroom until they're about a month old, so just use a washcloth and it'll help him go to the bathroom and clean him up." Sun finished feeding Solar and used a clean washcloth to help Solar go to the bathroom, Solar squeaking like a mouse with annoyance the whole time until Sun finished cleaning him off with a warm damp paper towel and a dry one to keep him dry and warm.

Sun rebundled Solar into Moon's hat and settled the kitten back into Moon's arms. Moon cradled him close and Moon watched the wriggling little kitten get comfortable and go to sleep against him, nuzzling against Moon's chest.

[kwyrmagic]

SPACE SNPTS . .

system names: the solar system, the abyssal dwellers, those that rove around on mars, the satellite system, the wormhole weirdos, the milky way, the universe, the supernova collective, the space invaders, the astronauts, team rocket, extraterrestrials, the space crew, the system that was taken by aliens, the collapsing galaxy, the nebula, the alien system, the binary stars, the collapsing stars, the chaotic cosmos, the globular cluster, the rocky orbit, the blustering asteroid, the astronomer collective, the royals of the universe, the dwarf planets, the runaway ship, the intergalactic committee, comet children, solar satellites, the [ number ] planets, the fallen rocket, stargazers, nasa, the remnants of a nebula, the stuck-in-space system, the crashed rocket ship, the shadow of a blackhole, those blinded by the stars, the nasa engineers, the infinite system, those that are lost in the void, the cosmic crusaders, the astral adventurers, the meteor shower, the [ planet ] collective, those on the moon, the rocket scientist system, blasting off, the astro-nots, those in awe of the stars, the aurora borealis, the earthlings, the constellations, the children of the moon, the telescope lurkers, the organisms in space, specs of stardust, drifting through the void, the silence of space

usernames: cryingcosmos, driftingdust, crateronthemoon, nogrxvity, lunarlove, astronomyyy, iamastar, cxsmiccrater, galaxygal, junipiter, kissedbystars, m00ndust, grrnantennae, beepbooop, totalatomizer, thebinarystar, inaufobeam, takenbyaliens, spaceismyplace, astrological, striinights, lostinthevoid, starsrfriends, cxsmicdxath, whereaminow, stuckinspace, lostintheship, 321blastoff, leftbehindinspace, cometchiild, nomorenova, leftoverspacedust, madeofstardust, eyesofstars, princeofthemoon, queenofmars, shootingstxrs, cloudofdust, moonpriints, solareclxpse, milkywaykid, galaxygaze, lostastronaut, astron0t, sweetstarrr, hesmadeofstars, earthtome, downtoearth, www.nasa.com, nasa_nyx, nasadevotee, httpsmooncords, tuneonthemoon, jarofstarrrs, farawaygalaxy, starringmytea, planetsinmytea, starryb0ba, spacekween13, qonstellat1ons, galactea, splinteredstarlight, lunarcloud, plutoprincess, marsr0cks, satellitesweeper, gleepgloorp, theinfinitevoid, worrrmhole, st4rg4zer, blackholebxtch, poppopplanet, fieryblazingsun, br1ghtsunrays, lasergunnn, keypadcodee, solarfl4re, stardustinmyveins, collapsinggalaxy, chaoticcosmos, andromedaaa, orbitingyyou, biiigdipper, liiittledipper, uursamajor, uursaminor, scalyscorpiio, gemeniiiii, totesatauras, capricornnn, slayggitarius, crabbycancer, aaacutius, actuallyaries, litrlyleo, vivaciousvirgooo, mystarchartsays, lusciousleo, princesspisces, mmaybemercury, vvixievenus, eeeeitsearth, eccentricearthling, imanearthling, themoonchild, memoriesofmars, jupiterstupider, joypiter, jupiiiit3r, putaringonit, ssoooossaturn, sillysaturn, ringsringsrings, uuuuranus, neptuning, neptwo, cuteopluto, ubersupernova, atomsplitter, microscopic, studyingstars, actuallyintheabyss, throughthetelescope, astroaroundus, lunarlunatic, solarspotsss, starsinmyheart, swirlsinspace

names: abyss, aloea, altair, andromeda, atlas, archer, arian, aster, asterion, asterix, astra, astraea, astrophel, atom, aurora, aquila, bael, bellatrix, blaze, burst, caelum, carina, celeste, celestia, comet, comette, constellation, cosmos, crater, dai, dawn, dipper, dorian, draco, dusk, dust, elio, eris, eclipse, estelle, estrella, etherea, flare, galaxy, galaxae, gamma, gem, grim, haumea, indus, ixion, janus, kepler, knox, lepus, leo, lucien, luna, lunar, lyra, lynx, merak, meteor, mira, moon, nebula, nebulae, nix, nocturne, noire, nova, orbit, orcus, pandora, pavo, phobos, phoenix, procyon, pulsar, pyxis, quark, quasar, ray, reid, rho, rigel, rinn, sawyer, sedna, sirius, skye, solar, solaria, star, stardust, starla, stella, steren, supernoca, tucana, uni, universe, ursa, void, vela, volans, zade, zaire, zenith, zeta

pronouns: space/spaces, planet/planets, universe/universes, nebula/nebulas, star/stars, shine/shines, shimmer/shimmers, sun/suns, gas/gas', heat/heats, burn/burns, void/voids, cosmo/cosmos, explode/explodes, float/floats, drift/drifts, dust/dusts, comet/comets, asteroid/asteroids, moon/moons, eclipse/eclipses, orbit/orbits, galaxy/galaxys, andromeda/andromedas, solar/solars, lunar/lunars, shootingstar/shootingstars, constellation/constellations, planet/planets, mercury/mercurys, venus/venus’, earth/earths, mars/mars', jupiter/jupiters, saturn/saturns, uranus/uranus', neptune/neptunes, pluto/plutos, supernova/supernovas, quasar/quasars, ufo/ufos, alien/aliens, rocket/rockets, fuse/fuses, spacedust/spacedusts, abyss/abyss’, nova/novas, lune/lunes, astro/astros, scope/scopes, void/voids, ray/rays, pulse/pulses, neutron/neutrons, atom/atoms, glow/glows, vortex/vortexs, wormhole/wormholes, celestial/celestials, telescope/telescopes, see/sees, vision/visions, swirl/swirls, beam/beams, infinite/infinites, eternal/eternals, silent/silents, forever/forevers, vast/vasts, gravity/gravitys, interstellar/interstellars, sunspot/sunspots

titles: the infinite, prn who shines in the night, prn of stars, whats left of a supernova, the big dipper, the little dipper, prn who walks on stardust, the comet, drowning in stardust, prn who made the prints on the moon, the astronomer, prns stardust, the lunar eclipse, the cosmos, bathed in the glow, dancing through saturn’s rings, the ursa major, the ursa minor, mesmerized by mars, the ship’s brightest laser, the shooting star, prn who is made of stars, the alien on the ship, drifting through space, the creator of constellations, the astronaut, prn who floats through space, a blazing sun, prn who explores the galaxy, the thing in the galaxy, prn that created stars, the one who made the milky way, the aurora borealis, the one in space, the endless, prn who floats, the big bang, prn who waits in the wormhole, prn who walks amongst stars, the dimmest star, the curious, the beautiful stars, prn who fixes the ship, a new star, prn who encounters an alien, the atomsplitter, the one who found a new planet, the stargazer, the one who landed on the moon, lack of gravity, a meteor shower, prn who searches in the stars, prn who looks through the telescope, the admirer of stars, a new constellation, the glow of a star, the exploration of space, the explosion of nebulae, the spark of stars, prn made of matter, the burning sun, a fiery meteor, the moons reflection, a planet orbiting, the cosmic collision, the light in the sky, the flash of a ufo, prn who gets captured by the beam, prn who meets the aliens, the brightest star in the sky, the center of the universe, the interstellar traveler, prn that studies the stars

[screamsofanoutlawbrain]

Hehehe, the brain juices are working..

Anyways, another AU has been marinating in my mind, I like to call this one "Reborn Ancients", it gets the point across.

Basically, before the ancient cookies could get corrupted, their souljams self destructed. Causing the ancients to die with their souljams,

They quickly grew as tall as the beasts and started to fall and fade into nothing, leaving behind silhouettes of their giant forms in the land they fell on (like Golden Cheese leaving behind an oasis in the shape of her in the dessert, for example), the souljams dying with them.

Anyways, death doesn't stay permanent for beings like them, lol. So, for various reasons, they get thrown back into new lives. Here's a summary of the reborn ancients + their new names.

Whipped Vanilla Cookie: A very many winged shepherd who knows everything that has been and will be. He doesn't let that stop him from venturing the world with his bestie (Witch's Lily) and being a rambunctious happy little guy. (He believes that every sight looks better in person, and that applies to what he sees in his mind too)

Holly Bush Cookie: One tough plant lady, literally. She's just visiting between the dragons valley and the Hollyberry Kingdom, happy with the environment and enjoying the people within. She's also hunting down Pitaya Dragon Cookie because she wants to fight them. So she's thriving over all.

Cacao Dust Cookie: A very surprisingly sweet guy who just so happens to have four arms and kinda a spirit despite not being dead. He lives as a guide to people lost in the storms in the Dark Cacao Kingdom and as a swordfighting teacher. A group of spirits saw him guiding someone through a snow storm, thought he was some spirit king, and were attached to the guy by the time he told them that he was infact, just some guy with an odd appearance (unknowing liar).

Solar Cheese Cookie: Phoenix girlie was born from a lake in an oasis next to the Golden Cheese Kingdom's pyramids, eventually meeting the cheese birds and the cookies of the Golden Cheese Kingdom, and quickly swearing to protect their Kingdom and mines from the outside with a very sudden undying loyalty. Solar Cheese thrives in the oasis outside, flying about and fighting any force that dares to attack what she protects, and staring up at the blazing sun with determination. (She's gonna fight it.)

Witch's Lily Cookie: The Faerie Kingdom decided to handle the world's latest new being of darkness and chaos with a little more nurturing kindness and care, resulting in Witch's Lily not wanting to destroy the entire world, infact, she just wants to explore with her many, many dogs! And so she does, meeting Whipped Vanilla along the way and sticking with the guy (her dogs help heard his sheep, and he heals her when in danger, alongside being each other's friends). In all truth, she's a chaotic girlie who hates DE with a burning passion, loves her friend, and wants to have fun and see the wonders of life instead of being told them.

I have SO much more to say about these guys, so if anyone wants to ask about them, please do, I beg of you.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Drifting Through Space

Pairing: Ezra x gn!reader

Words: 793

Rating: G (just a cute little drabble)

Summary: Just spending some time with Ezra on his ship.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: I haven't written for our sweet wordy spaceman in awhile and thought a cute little drabble would fit the mood.

The gentle hum of the spaceship pulled you out of concentration with the task at hand. Ezra had asked you to tally up your bounty since you had the time before you arrived. The next stop was an aurelac trading post past the outer rings and the two of you were about to hit it big.

One day you were stumbling around the Green hoping to find a hint of aurelac, and you found more than a hint. The Queen’s Lair was real and untouched. That was until you and Ezra stumbled upon it one faithful day on the Green. The two of you celebrated for days as you cleared the mining surplus. With your findings you could live out your days in bliss. The only problem was finding a way off of this Kevva forsaken moon. That was soon answered when you were lucky enough to find some fellow prospectors who generously traded their spare ship for a part of the findings. 

You were more than happy to oblige, which was how you were where you were now. The stars lazily drifted past as the autopilot ship glided into the hazy mist of space dust. The dark hull lit up briefly as the rocket passed nearby giant suns from neighboring solar systems. Space was calm in many ways, and having your partner beside you was a wonderful way to pass the time as the ship flew closer to your future. Though you had been so excited that you stayed up for most of your sleep cycle imaging the next few years together. 

“Gem, how numerous is our bounty? Will we be able to retire to that sun-kissed beach like we’ve always dreamed?” Ezra asked over his shoulder from the cockpit. 

Your tired brain didn’t register that Ezra was speaking to you as you counted the same pile of aurelac for the third time. It took the sound of heavy boots pulling you from your weary counting. 

“Birdie, did you heed my question?” He asked and only then did your head peak up from the table. Your partner took in your tired face and his face softened. “Keeva did you give yourself any shut eye last night?” Ezra asked softly cupping his palm, rough from years of mining. 

“M’ no I was too excited about the bounty,” You admitted with a slightly tired slur to your words. 

Ezra chuckled and kissed your forehead. “I understand the allure of having a wonderful life, but you can’t go on and abandon the needs of your current life. Here follow me.” He took his hand in yours and gently led you to the pilot’s seat. Ezra sat down first and patted his lap for you to join him. 

Carefully you sat yourself down on one of his thighs and leaned against his chest. Ezra draped an arm around your waist. “Now can you identify those planets over there?” 

You gazed in the direction he was pointing. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen those before.” 

“Those are the Twin Flames. Their gravitational pull keeps them spinning in an orbit all of their own. Almost like a lover’s embrace.” 

You smiled and kissed his blonde streak. “Those planets could be us.” 

“Birdie I think we’re already there,” He chuckled and pecked your lips. 

You giggled and gazed back into the vast expanse of space. “What about that?” You pointed to a particularly bright speck in the sky. 

“Oh that's the Seven Ice Giants. Said to have lost a war and as punishment was left to become planets.” 

You yawned and leaned your head on his shoulder. “That seems like a rather harsh punishment.” 

Ezra smiled kindly and kissed your forehead. “Just some long ago tales my gem,” He reassured you gently caressing your cheek. 

“Tell me another one,” You asked sleepily. 

“Well over there is the Blanket of Flowers. Legend states that the flowers are so abundant there that structures are often taken over by the verdant floods.” 

“That…sounds beautiful,” You yawned as your eyes began to droop. 

“It’s very different from The Green. Here the flora don’t want to suffocate you. They want to supply you with beauty and color. 

“Lo…vely,” You yawned as your eyes drifted shut, sending you into a much needed rest. 

“And that’s how the Blanket of Flowers’ sky is pink,” Ezra finished his story as he stared out into the darkness of space. “What did you think…gem?” He asked, looking down at you. A smile graced his lips as he saw you fast asleep on his shoulder. 

Gently he planted a kiss on your head. “Rest my gem. We have our whole future ahead of us,” He softly promised as the spaceship softly propelled itself into the vastness of the universe. 

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thanks to the lovely @djarrex for the dividers

[heliopauseentertainments]

Choice Location

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 4: Role Reversal/Peace

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron & Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron, Optimus Prime

Warnings: Quintuple Drabble, Vignette

Summary: In which Megatron waits on a quiet moon for Optimus to arrive.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

It was quiet, Megatron thought.

The void of space usually was but the silence on a barren rock, little more than a desolate asteroid named only by an automatically generated number and tucked away in a scarcely visited solar system, was different. Here there was a weight to silence, pressing down on his body rather than in space where the nothingness tried to pull his frame outward.

The small planetoid was just large enough to hold its bulk in a spherical shape, to have a small horizon…. Just large enough to have the gravity necessary to keep Megatron from floating off into space as he reclined against its rough silicate surface, waiting.

It wasn’t quite sizable enough, however, to hold onto any detectable atmosphere, which meant being functionally deaf and mute without any gaseous molecules to transit the pressure waves of sound.

When Optimus touched down on the opposite side of the planetoid, as planned, Megatron was alerted by the combined subtle tremors in the rock and the buzz of a familiar voice through his internal commlink.

“I’ve made it.”

The synthetic voice, simulated by their internal systems to mimic what was mechanically produced by a vocalizer, wasn’t quite the same. A near perfect imitation, but there was always something off. The imperfections in audio quality added to the surreality of a clandestine meeting on a nowhere “world.”

Megatron slowly pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the coating of moon dust that clung to his armor through static attraction. Standing up too quickly in such low gravity could have sent him careening into the void.

“You kept me waiting.”

“My apologies; you know how traffic can be.”

Megatron tried to scoff, but with no air for the pressure to travel, all that happened was a soundless, dull clunking sensation in his throat.

“Yes.”

His own synthesized voice was a low buzz in his signal feedback, flat and crisp around the edges. It lost so much, but it didn’t feel like it would blow away the smooth dust coating the planetoid.

“I’m sure you had to battle armies of commuters on the way to this popular vacation destination.”

The shuttle that Megatron had brought with him was only tenuously parked on the unstable regolith. Optimus’s was likely in a similarly precarious position on the other side of the rock.

It was almost as though the physicality of the meeting place itself was enforcing a peaceful interaction. Any violence, rough movements, or recoil from gunfire could send them flying away, unable to reach their respective vessels. No wonder Optimus chose this location for their meeting.

Unfortunately, Megatron would have to give credit where credit was due.

An almost poetic tactic given what they had hoped to achieve here—peace at long last— far away from the belligerent eyes of their officers and soldiers.

Cresting what barely constituted a low rise, Megatron saw Optimus, a bright, vivid bloom in the dust, waiting on the other side.

“Tell me, Prime, where shall we start?”

[kinnie-coins]

can you make some names and pronouns related to darkiplier cus our darkiplier fictive is looking by for a name to use but cant find one that it really likes, it really like space, dark academy and the colors red,blue and purple so if you can find some names/pronouns themed around that that would be great - Solaris

Darkiplier inspired sets -

Names:

Damien / Damian, Celine / Selene

Dusk, Dorian, Damon, Dahlia / Dahliah, Dmitri / D'mitri, Draven, Danika, Dionisia, Destin, Destiny, Solanine, Solar, Solace, Solstice, Scarlett, Salem, Sienna, Serenity, Celia, Celeste, Calista, Calliope, Ciel, Crimson, Carmine, Cordelia, Comet, Calypso, Damilene / Damiline

Pronouns -

Words:

aura/auras, star/stars, void/voids, nova/novas, soul/souls, vast/vasts, grave/graves, lune/lunes, haunt/haunts, key/keys, home/homes, lost/losts, sol/sols, dust/dusts, space/spaces, light/lights

Symbols:

&/+/♤/☆/?/!

Emojis:

🩵/💙/💜/❤️/🖤/🩶/🤍

🌓/🌗/🌒/🌘/🌌/🌙/🪐/⭐️

🕯/✒️/🗝/🪦/🎼/📖/📜/🏹

💀/☠️/🫀/👥️/❓️/❔️/⚠️/🚫/🔚

🔵/🔴/🟣/🟥/🟦/🟪

[julcia404]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

(feel free to ignore it though :))

Heya, my fabulous one ♡

Alright, five scenes...let's see how many I can actually find that I'm willing to share 🤭 please keep in mind that they all still need different amounts of (heavy) editing and probably rearrangements, and that I don’t know if or when I'll ever find the courage to actually finish and post them...yadda yadda...here goes nothing 😅

Those first two are from the same WIP that originally was an idea I had for a Duskwood-fanfic (and initially inspired by songs - many of my ideas are 🤭), but I was thinking about turning it into something original...maybe...in 500 years...

Sister Sun Brother Moon / You Only Want Me 'Cause You Want My Sister - Part 1

She is the sun, the center of our little solar system. Everything revolves around her, everyone here builds their lives around her. Like planets, dwarf planets, asteroids, meteoroids, comets, dust clouds...they all orbit the sun. But when she's there, nothing else can be seen anymore: everyone looks at her and she leaves them blind for other things. People hurt themselves for the sun, to be able to get a ray of her all-encompassing light and to feel a little warmth. But it’s a hazardous, harsh warmth - and her blinding and glaring light, it outshines everything else.

They're not able to grasp that though - we humans really are a dumb race. Like Icarus, they burn their wings while trying to get close to her. They feel drawn to her like a moth to the light and once they reach their goal, they realize that it isn’t as great as suspected. But it’s too late then.

She outshines everything and everyone, leaving no room for anyone else's light, and burning them alive. When the sun comes up, the planets and stars fade away and she's the only visible thing...

She has to go.

I don’t want to be a distant star anymore.

Sister Sun Brother Moon / You Only Want Me 'Cause You Want My Sister - Part 2

However, I was never one of them. I was an outsider, an outcast, someone who watched but never took part. Lilly the observer, the cute little wallflower, hiding in the shadows of others. Oh, if only they knew what worlds exist in my mind! It’s time for me to finally get involved, it's time for some chaos. I don’t want to be invisible anymore - I want to be seen. Noticed. Acknowledged. Accepted and valued even, if I'm lucky. But being seen and respected would be enough, even if it means that I have to throw their worlds into chaos.

Whether they like it or not - they will notice me. I'll make sure they do.

This one is a Duskwood-fanfic, and it’s...angsty and depressing 🙈 it’s a looong scene, so let's count it as two, alright? or maybe as a one-shot that never got finished?

Imposter

The moon painted beautiful shadows on the wall as I watched you silently sleeping on my bed. My tears started falling, and my heart was breaking. Again. This is not how I imagined love. This is not what I imagined for me and the man that I have deeply fallen in love with. I know that you feel the same, but I don't have the courage to talk with you about it. How can I ever tell you how much it hurts without collapsing right in front of you? Without dragging you down with me? Every day, I pretend that everything is alright. That I am alright. That you are alright. That we are alright, goddammit! That everything is going to be fine in the end. But it's killing me every time I see you, especially when you say how much you love me and that you would do anything for me. It shatters me into pieces every single damn time you touch me. I don't know how long I can bear this anymore, but I wish you knew how much I'm willing to go with you. To just be with you. And how much it hurts me that I'm not able to do so.

I try to suck you in, to burn your picture into my soul, in a desperate attempt to not forget what we shared. What we felt. What we admitted to each other, in silent whispers and giggles. The love that we gave to each other.

So I'm sitting here in the middle of the night, not able to sleep, fearing the first light of the sun...because you'll be gone in the morning. You're always gone in the morning. And I'll still be here, alone and isolated, mourning the loss of your presence once again. Again...again and again. When will we see each other again? Will you be back tomorrow? Next week? Next month?

...never?

Will we see each other again? I'm tired of the constant grief, but it is how it is. If that’s the price I have to pay to be with you, I'll gladly go broke.

I know you feel the same, I saw it in your eyes every time we had to say goodbye. I know, that’s why you prefer to leave while I'm still asleep now. It breaks your heart just as much as it breaks mine. Will it ever end? How long will we manage to go on like this before our hearts finally break for the last time? How much will be left of us then? Will you ever be free, truly free? Free from me? Or is this our life now:

You on the run - I'm not able to run. Because my body is broken and I'm a burden for everyone to be around. Why do you love me? Why are you still here with me, why are you doing this to yourself? You could do so much better without me...I wish you would just leave me and try to find happiness somewhere else, far away from my burdening love and your twisted sense of duty that’s holding you captive. Because I'm not enough, that’s for certain.

But I don’t want you to go. If I could, I would keep you for the rest of my life in this little room. It's not a long life anyway, so maybe, just a few years from now, you'll be free. Free from me. Free from that nuisance, from my miserable existence. I feel guilty that you love me. I don’t deserve it. I can’t stop thinking that I somehow manipulated you into this whole thing, that you love a picture of me I created for the outside, for the world to see. But deep inside, I'm miserable and empty and barely holding on. My ugly and broken shards are all over the place and here, in my little room, I can’t hide them. I'm deathly afraid that you'll one day wake up and finally see the truth, the ugly and monstruous reality of my pointless life, and then you'll run - finally run away from me - I'm sure of that.

And I dread that day just as much as I want it to finally come.

Alright, let's end with something lighter...this is the beginning of a possible short story that demanded to be put into words, and started as random rambling in my most favorite discord-server 🤭💙

Spunky

It was late at night when I heard a distant 'meow'. Weird, considering that I live in a building where no pets are allowed...but yet here I was, listening to these feline sounds. Where did it come from, and most importantly - how? How was that possible? I live on the fifth floor and a cat in the hallway would've been noticed by my neighbors. Especially Mr. Wilkinson, who was always on the lookout for possible rule breakers to report them to the landlord.

I groaned and decided that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep now anyway, so I got up and searched for the source of these unusual sounds in my apartment.

But when I entered the kitchen, something changed: it was quiet - absolutely quiet. I wasn’t able to hear anything, not even my own movements, and that was quite an unpleasant feeling. I'm not a person that's easy to impress, or scare, but this situation made me feel a bit…uncomfortable. The wind at my windows, the noise of the city, the creaking old walls of this house, the snores of the kind lady next door, my other neighbor's TV, the buzzing of my fridge, my breath, my heartbeat, any sign of the world - gone. As if everything stopped existing altogether. As if I was living in a thick, deafening vacuum with no way out. Ironically, I was holding my breath while I tried to find out which otherworldly thing caused this unsettling situation, when suddenly…‘meow’.

I jumped higher than humanly possible, frightened and with a high-pitched shriek. What the fuck was happening here? What did I walk into? I should have listened to my mother when she told me not to live alone…or at least not in this apartment, where the previous tenant passed away and wasn’t found for almost two weeks. Mr. Wilkinson, that nosy neighbor with no sense of privacy, felt the need to tell me everything about my predecessor on my first day in my new home, and that she definitely had a pet, against every rule, but always denied it. Well, a pet was never found, the suspected pet owner on the other hand…what a warm welcome.

‘Meooooow…’ Again! Where did that come from? I turned around, trying to locate the direction of those laments, but it was quiet again.

That's it for now 🤭 I hope you liked some of them...

thank you for the ask ♡

[natterghast]

& HEADCANONS ;  on weather  .⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

● zelman ;  thinks weather is weather, he doesn’t pay it much mind; that’s what central air was invented for anyway. though, he likes a nice clear night where he can see the stars and the moon ● jeanot ;  gets cold easily and likes to look at snow more than be in it, but doesn’t mind most weather ● devisee ;  definitely has a preference for mild and cold weather; and doesn’t mind rain or snow. it’s why he lives where he does ● nahinu ;  does fine in both hot and cold weather, and likes spring the most, but doesn’t do well in dry climates. her skin needs the moisture from humidity ● benjamin ;  is a warm weather kind of guy. he’s most happy with eighty to ninety degree weather, especially if he can be beachside ● xianne ;  appreciates most weather. she likes drier climates less, particularly if they never get snow, but she likes every season and the weather that comes with ● summer ;  hates rain, is okay with snow; doesn’t feel temperature in the same way ● geid ;  is in tune with nature and smiles about most weather, but thunderstorms can put them on edge ● solar ;  loves all weather. this is solar, they've hurdled themselves into a tornado before for  fun

[winterwakesthewolf]

Wolves They Both Must Be

Jon Snow x Sansa Stark

Summary: “Did you bend the knee to save the North, or because you love her?”

Jon snaps his head up at Sansa’s question. Her eyes are brimming and hot and he can suddenly see this is not the argument he thought they were having. This is something else. Something deeper and much more intimate.

OR

The missing scene we deserved in 8x01

Author's Note: Part Two! I wrote this second part a few years ago and I really think I've grown as a writer since then. Since this part has never been published, I had the opportunity to edit it, but I read through it and honestly I'm too tired to do that so if there are any glaring issues, please let me know.

I first published the first part of this as a one shot on AO3 in 2019 and then a few years later I wrote a sequel that just sat in my google docs collecting digital dust. This is that second part. I may turn it into a series if there's enough interest so please let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging if you want more.

Disclaimer: 18+, smut, (I'm serious, if you're not over 18 then scram), cousin incest, presumed half-sibling incest. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2K

part one - part two

Sansa wakes in his arms, bare skin against skin. It is still night. Or perhaps early morning. The fire has nearly extinguished, leaving them mostly in the dark but for a faint flickering of illumination that casts the room in a soft, warm glow. She glances up at him, sound asleep and looking more peaceful than she has ever seen him look. His arm strewn lazily across her back. And his heart, that he had said was only hers, steadily beating beneath her ear. 

She lifts her head to peek at the scar there and she runs her fingers along the ridges of the severed flesh - a long, vertical line, curved at the top and still red in the center. Similarly to the scars that marr his abdomen, they look to not be fully healed. Sansa wonders if they may never be. Her heart aches at the thought that his own had once stopped beating.

Gazing at his resting face in awe and bewilderment at the magic it took to bring him back to life, and to her, she sheds a tear for all that could have been lost, and all that will.

His raven curls, unbound and tangled, lay atop her pillow. Her belly coils with heat at the memory of her hands pulling at the leather strap that tied them back, at the image she conjures of him raised above her, glowing from the light of the roaring fire, and the look in his eyes as he buried himself inside of her, their flesh fusing in forbidden, long-awaited bliss. Her cheeks bloom with both shame and pleasure at the thought of their union. At her insistence that he spill inside of her and stay there long after both of their pleasures were drawn out, knowing in the morning she would brew a cup of moon tea that she had hidden away from the time before. 

The gods had been cruel to make her love her half-brother. They had been kind enough to make him love her back. 

In her solar he had confessed that he loved her, and only her. And how loathed he was to leave her for Dragonstone. That when he declared, in the presence of their bannermen, that the North was a part of him and that he’d never stop fighting for it, what he had meant in his heart was that she was his North. He admitted that every moment they were apart, she never once left his thoughts. And that everything he had done in the effort to return home truly was to save the North. To save her. His whispered words had sent shivers through her. Both the declaration of his love, and the thought of what kinds of things he had to do to return home to her.

She doesn’t want to think of what all that had entailed. Or what had transpired in the dark between him and the dragon to make her believe he truly bent the knee, and that he loved her. But Sansa wants to trust him and believe the words he told her in the quiet of her bed as he entwined his hand in hers. As he gently stroked his calloused fingers over her bare skin, leaving gooseprickles in their wake.

“I had to make her believe in the ruse, Sansa. I’m not proud of it,” he had rasped, eyes averted from Sansa’s gaze until she reached for him, turning his face so that she could look upon him. He released a shaky breath and croaked, “I’d beg for your forgiveness if you’re willing to give it. But I understand if it’s too much to ask. I wouldn’t blame ye. But I must confess, I thought of you. Every second.”

Jon had fought battles for Sansa, had fought Ramsey knowing the odds were against him. He fought the Others, and survived to come back to her. He had lied, manipulated, and kept the secret hidden away so convincingly, so deep, that even Sansa had not seen it. 

(Her feelings for Jon surely clouded her judgment, causing her to doubt his loyalty).

She doesn’t want to think of what he may have to continue to do to keep up the ruse, or what they both may need to sacrifice. But Sansa knows that whatever it may be, she will do whatever she can to protect him, as he has done for her.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she whispered. And she had meant it. 

Lying in the dark beside him she knows she will always mean it, no matter how much the thought of it stings. No matter the ache that blooms at the unbidden image of Jon with her. He had not truly been Sansa’s to lose then, but now… what were they to each other now? Now that they had crossed the point of no return.

Their love could never be known to any other. This secret they will always have to hide. If they were discovered it could lead to ruin and damnation. Northerners do not accept a union between siblings, no matter that they don’t share a mother. They were no Lannisters, nor Targaryens, and yet their illicit love seemed to prove otherwise. After all that she had learned, had worked so hard to not become, had she turned into Cersei after all? The thought makes her shiver and recoil. 

Perhaps she need not fret over any of it, for the Others are marching upon them. The threat looming, heavier with each passing moment. They may very well take this secret to a grave that lies just beyond the horizon. Lost to each other forever. And yet the thought of that terrifies her more than any possibility of their secret love being sussed out.

Jon stirs beneath her and flutters his eyes open, blinking to adjust to the dim light, and then he lowers his chin toward Sansa. His eyes soften as they land on her and he gives her a smile, sweet and tender, reaching his hand to gently tuck her tangled hair behind her ear.

“We fell asleep,” he says with a voice gruff and tender as he absentmindedly traces patterns on the small of her back.

“We did.”

“I’d better sneak off to my chambers before anyone realizes where I am.”

Sansa didn’t want this night to end. What had been their first union could very well be their last. 

As he moves to get up, Sansa gently pushes him back down to press her body and her lips as close to his as possible. The kiss, at first soft and slow, builds with passion, and desperation to stop time. Before long Jon has rolled Sansa onto her back and hovers over her just as before, looking down on her in wonderment and adoration. The look behind his eyes like an arrow of fire in her belly, and a need coils itself deep inside, begging to be met.

“Jon,” she pleads wantonly, reaching up to grasp his face in her hands, digging her fingers into his beard, weaving them in his hair. A frantic, desperate plea. He obliges, first by trailing kisses down her neck and to her breasts, spending time filling his mouth with them and driving that coil deeper and hotter inside of her, making her ache with need. And then he abruptly stops, pushes the furs farther off of the bed, until he is sitting at her feet, smiling with hooded eyes. The look she gives him of confused anticipation makes him chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?” Sansa sounds a bit wounded, but smiles all the same. 

“I’m not laughin’ at ye, Sansa. I swear,” he raises his palms as if in surrender. “But I want to try something if you let me.” Jon tenderly places his hands upon her knees, “Do you trust me?”

Sansa nods apprehensively, curiously, and watches as he spreads her legs apart and lowers his head, all while keeping his eyes locked onto hers. Kissing her knees and thighs in turn, he slowly travels higher and higher until his hands are gripping the flesh of her hips and his mouth is on her, licking the wetness between her thighs. It takes everything in Sansa not to cry out. Her heavy sighs alone are nearly loud enough for anyone outside of her door to hear. Jon’s tongue swirls and flicks at the most sensitive part and she has never felt a pleasure so intense. It rivals the pleasure she felt just hours ago when he touched her there as he spent inside of her. This was different and new and thrilling. She climbs higher and higher as his tongue works its magic, pushing her to the brink. And just as she is about to fall off the edge, Jon reaches up to take her breast in hand, his thumb grazing and teasing until she plunges off of the precipice and buries her face in the furs to muffle her cries. 

When the throbbing and the panting subsides, she glances at Jon, a very smug look upon his face, “Did ye like that?” 

Sansa smiles and nods lazily, still catching her breath, and she reaches for him with arms outstretched. He climbs up and kisses her deep and long, the taste of her still on his lips, and she can feel his need for her lined up at the spot his tongue had just deliciously ravaged. And suddenly she can feel the need inside her return in earnest. Those glorious flutters assault her belly as she wraps her legs around his waist and backside, pulling him close, inviting him in again. 

When he buries himself inside her once more, he keeps his eyes focused on hers, whispers a thousand I love yous that she returns in earnest, savoring the feeling of him so close to her as they find a slow and deliberate rhythm. 

Both of them know this might be their last and neither of them are quick to chase the pleasure out, but are intent on committing these precious few moments to memory. Tears stream down Sansa’s temples, sprung from somewhere deep and buried. Jon gently kisses them away.

“I am yours, Sansa. Only yours.” He touches his forehead to hers, “And you are mine.” It is half a question, half a command.

“Always,” she whispers and repeats again and again as she falls from the edge and he spills inside of her once more. 

The dawn arrives, creeping in through the window, as Jon dresses as quietly as he can. And once he has pulled his boots on he crosses back to the bed where Sansa is sitting, holding her knees and the furs close. She is cold without his warmth. He must sense it because he leans over to pull her close, bringing the furs with her, to the edge of the bed. He gently takes her face in his hands as she memorizes the look in his eyes. Kissing her sweetly, with such care and reverence, then envelops her in his arms for a long embrace. 

Sansa buries her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, heavy with leather and steel and woodsmoke. She curls herself into his chest. And as she listens to the beating of his heart beneath her ear once again, she doesn’t even attempt to hold back the tears anymore. Releasing the ache of the joy, and the tragedy, of it all. 

“Never forget, Sansa. Whatever happens, know that I love you,” he whispers in her ear, holding her close, running his fingers through her copper waves.

And before dawn can unearth their secret, he moves to kiss her forehead with a desperation and reverence that burns long after he reluctantly pulls away. He stalks toward the door, and then looks back at her with a smile full of hope and fear before slipping into the cover of darkness. 

Alone and cold without him, Sansa weeps upon the furs that warmed them through the winter night. Tears that she has denied for so long finally tumble free and flow without ceasing. They pour out uncontrollably, as though Jon had unlocked a deeply buried chest within her, filled to the brim with love she had for so long confined to the darkest parts of her, and fear of losing what has only briefly been hers. 

She finds that once unlocked she may never again find the key.

~

Taglist: @thaisthedreamer @bluedaffodil21 @ilargizuri

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Freckles

Harry loved vacation.

He especially loved beach vacations. He loved the ocean, loved the sand, loved the sunshine. He loved the sound of waves crashing and cresting, the way the air felt thick and sweet around him, the way just being at the beach opened something in his chest and let him breathe easier.

But the thing he loved most about this beach vacation was that he hadn’t gone alone. Draco’d come with him, covering his skin in sun protectant spells, wearing his tiny, tight swim trunks, and spending the day lounging in a beach chair.

Like a siren’s call, Harry found himself drawn up from the ocean time and again to talk to him, to kiss him and tease him, to drip water over his body that shone with a faint sheen of sweat.

This time when he came back up the beach Draco was laying on his stomach, broad, muscular shoulders flowing into a tapered waist and narrow hips, tight black swim bottoms riding up to reveal the hint of his glorious arse cheeks. He collapsed into the sand next to him and Draco let out a sleepy hum.

Smiling, he looked down at his back and saw what he hadn’t been able to see before he’d gotten closer, Draco’s back was covered in a fine dusting of freckles. He blinked, he’d had no idea that Draco freckled in the sun, his skin was always the perfect, flawless, creamy white; and Harry was obsessed with the smattering of freckles across his back. Leaning over he trailed kisses between the freckles, connecting them like constellations in his mind.

Draco sighed and rolled over, shielding his eyes as he gazed up at Harry.

"Hi," Harry said, the warmth of a thousand suns radiating through his solar plexus.

"Hi," he replied, smiling up at him.

Harry was about to extol his freckles when Draco continued.

"I'm getting kind of hot," he said.

Harry chuckled and leaned down to kiss and lick his neck, licking the ocean-salty taste of the light sheen of sweat.

Draco let out a little gasp and wiggled away from his mouth, "hey," he murmured with a giggle.

"Hey," Harry said, voice soft and so full of affection that he was sure Draco was all but drowning in it. He nosed at the sensitive skin just behind his ear, laying kisses there.

Draco sighed, a lovely contented thing that Harry absolutely adored, and carded his fingers through Harry's curls. "Do you want to go back and get ready for dinner?"

He nodded, still not removing his face from Draco's neck.

"I want to shower first," he added.

Harry hummed, "what a coincidence, so do I."

"Mmm," Draco hummed, turning his head and catching Harry's lips in his, "Maybe we should shower together," he suggested.

"Yeah," he agreed, nibbling Draco's bottom lip and making him gasp, "save some time."

Draco nodded, "Save water."

"Definitely," he said, "Very ecologically responsible."

"That's us," Draco agreed, sitting up and pulling Harry up with him, dragging him up the beach and back to their little villa, and straight into the shower.

--------------

The rest of the day passed in the same easy affection, Harry was filled to the brim with Draco's sweetness, his love. And later, after dinner, and making out in the ocean under the moon. After finding their way back inside, tripping and laughing and kissing, into their bed where Draco took Harry apart and put him back together.

They laid sprawled out across the bed, Draco on his stomach, and Harry started mapping his freckles again, kissing lines between them.

Draco huffed a little laugh and turned his head to look at Harry, "What is it with you and my shoulders today?" he asked lightly, "Not that I'm complaining, but you don't usually-"

"Your freckles!" he protested.

Draco sat up so fast that Harry lost his balance and fell out of bed. "Freckles!" he hissed, going to the mirror and twisting to see them. "Circe's fucking tits." He held out a palm and summoned his wand, "I can't believe I missed that spell on my back. I-"

"Hey!" Harry said, standing up and knocking Draco's wand out of his hand, "Leave them."

"They're hideous," he insisted. "Imperfections-"

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and pressed kisses along his shoulders, "They're perfect."

"What?"

He hummed and trailed his nose over Draco's petal soft skin, kissing lightly. "I love them. I love your freckles."

"You... love my freckles?" he asked, like Harry had said something ludicrous.

Nodding, he caught Draco's eyes in the mirror, "I love your freckles."

His body went loose-limbed and soft in Harry's arms as he leaned back against him. "Really?" he whispered.

Harry nodded again, lips skimming over Draco's shoulder, "I love your freckles. Do you get them everywhere if you don't do the right charm?"

Draco nodded.

"On your chest?" he asked, trailing his fingers over Draco's pecs and clavicles.

He nodded, biting his lower lip as he watched Harry trace his skin in the mirror.

"Stomach?" he asked, fingers mapping his lightly-muscled abdomen.

Draco nodded again.

He kissed his neck, "On your cheeks and nose?"

"Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"I love that," he sighed.

"Harry," he whispered, sounding small and a little broken.

"Hey," he murmured, turning Draco around and wrapping him in his arms, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. "You're so lovely."

"You spoil me," he replied.

"I love you," he said, shrugging.

Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's, pressing their bodies together, "How can you love all of my imperfections?"

He thought about that for a moment, thought about the way that Draco presented himself to the outside world; cold, calculating, brilliant. And he thought about the Draco that he got to see; still passionate and clever, but also soft and warm, silly, tender. "I love all of the things that make you you," he confessed. "All of the things that I get to see that no one else does. You're so-" he shook his head, searching, "human. So beautiful and flawed, and I love all of you, but especially the bits that are only mine."

Draco kissed him, soft and tender, unbearably sweet and Harry lost himself in his lover's embrace, in their shared kiss. "Take me back to bed," he murmured.

So Harry did, paying more unrepentant attention to all of the freckles on the other man's shoulders as he made love to him again.

And if Draco left off the charm to keep his skin from freckling the next day, no one would get to know but Harry.

-------------

No one prompted this, but I just got the idea in my head and here we are.

[rebelsandtherest]

Home for Christmas

Words: 4,049

Summary: Matthew falls ill just before the family Christmas bash, and thinks he's missed the entire thing. However, once he hears that his baby brother is sick, Alfred concocts a bit of a holiday surprise. —— this fic is a little late, but Merry Christmas, everyone, and here's to many more!

Warnings: langauge, talk of family during holidays, nothing else that I can think of.

Author’s note: a belated gift to a dear friend, @draw-a-circle-thats-the-compass

------------------

For however many hundreds of winters Matthew Williams had endured in his home, be it in the warmth of an electric-heated home, or warding off frostbite in the untamed wilderness, he would never truly get used to the speed with which the solar night crept down from the pole. It was the dark especially that always sent spikes of dread into his bones, stealing away his warmth and setting pallor in his hands and feet, spreading chill upwards to his whole body.

This year, when he felt the frigid fingers of depression reaching through his chest with the 4:30 sunset, he mustered his willpower and on a spiteful whim bought tickets to Calgary. He had a seldom-used mountain cabin tucked away within the confines of Banff, and while he wasn’t sure the new park rangers still received the memo about him and his cabin during orientation, he was willing to invoke the Minister’s ire if it meant he could dust off his best skis and escape his mind on the slopes.

The cabin was just as he’d left it, and the radiators crackled their way to warm almost as soon as he turned them on. His wool blankets had a few new holes in them, but the quilts were warm and the fireplace clean, and he didn’t even have to replace any lightbulbs, not even in the groaning old icebox. His great snowy-white dog, Buddy, quickly found his favorite bear-fur rug and curled up by the fire, ready to dive into the snow alongside his human the next day.

It was only Matt’s luck that he woke up with a sore throat. He lived in denial for a whole day, basking in the perfect weather and flying down every slope he could get his skis on. But as the too-early sunset crept below the mountains, he began to realize he was swaying on his feet, and moreover, that he’d stopped sweating.

“Shit,” He huffed into his scarf. By the time he was back at his cabin, he could taste the fever on his breath.

Matt wasn’t sure what he’d managed to pick up on his journey westward, but whatever it was, be it cold or flu or covid or tuberculosis, within a few days it had him in a death grip and refused to let go. As he lie in bed, fever-dreaming his vacation away, the darkness grew and grew, and soon Matt felt himself falling into the well of despondency that refilled every winter.

Buddy kept him company, and he’d mustered the energy to call his Dutch beau, Jan, once or twice, but the fever had stolen his ability to tell time, and both times he’d spent about half of the call apologizing for waking him at two in the morning, and the other half repeating himself when Jan got lost in his feverish amalgamation of English and French. He had some anxiety-inducing number of unread text messages waiting for him in the corner of his phone, but reading was a doomed endeavor with his puffy, aching eyes. He watched whatever public tv stations still reached his ancient bunny-eared set, but ended up falling asleep nearly as soon as he sat down.

After some untold number of days, his fever broke, and while he was rationing the NyQuil he still had in his cupboards, he’d taken a full dose the first few nights after his fever and had been mostly comatose since. He’d been sound asleep on the couch one afternoon when his phone began to ring, buzzing loudly against the window sill just above him, until it vibrated its way fully off the sill and directly onto Matt’s head.

“Fucking putain,” he groaned and was shocked at how gravelly his voice came out. The offending device had fallen into his lap, buried somewhere in the folds of his blanket, still buzzing away. He fished it out and stabbed at the screen with squinted eyes, looking for the ‘ignore call’ button, but ended up hitting the ‘answer’ button instead. Only then did he see the caller’s name.

“...Mattie? You there?” asked Alfred from the other line. Matt sighed and sank back into bed, rubbing at the spot where his phone had hit, knowing it would be a lump by the end of the hour.

“Yeah?” he answered, trying to rein in his annoyance at being woken up.

“Holy shit bro, you sound terrible. Are you okay?”

“Sick,” Matt told him.

“Sick? I thought you were going skiing!” Matt closed his eyes, which made his head feel like he was spinning.

“I did. Skied. Got sick. Et voilà. ”

“Aww jeez Mattie. Do you think you’ll be good for our flight on Thursday?” Matt blinked.

“What flight?”

“...To London? Dad’s annual fussy Christmas bash, you know the drill.”

“That’s not until the 22nd.”

“...Matt, it’s December 20th.”

“What?” Matt’s voice cracked with his incredulity. “No, it’s… I got here on the 10th, it’s only been a couple of days, the 22nd isn’t until… I mean I don’t know when but it’s more than three days away.”

“Wait you think it’s only been—Mattie, how many days did you ski before you got sick?” Matt hesitated, embarrassed of the answer.

“One.”

“Oh my god,” Alfred sounded genuinely surprised, and it took him a moment to say, “ Matt, you’ve been sick for a week? And you still sound like this? You don’t still have a fever, do you?”

“No, it went away… I can’t remember.” Matt rubbed his face, and every inch ached. “Listen, it’s not December 19th, I swear, if you’re fucking with me–”

“Look at your phone.”

“What?”

“Look at the date on your phone.”

Matt did.

“Fuck,” he said, staring at the giant calendar date as though it would change if he stared long enough.

“Yeah,” Alfred’s voice was tinny away from his ear. Matt finally blinked and sank further under his blankets, and eventually brought the phone back to his face.

“You’re going to have to apologize to dad for me,” Matt said, “I thought it was… Jesus, I missed my flight back to Ottawa, shit.”

“Wait, you're still in Calgary?”

“Banff.”

“You didn’t leave the dog at home, did you?”

“No, he’s with me,” Matt could feel his voice getting more hoarse.

“Well that’s something. Man, you picked a helluva time to get sick, huh.”

“Apparently,” Matt wished he were comatose for all of this.

“Listen, slam some water—or gatorade, if you have it—and get some rest, okay? I know you’re feeding Buddy, but feed yourself too, alright?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Matt.”

“...I’ll try.”

“Good. Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Don’t die.”

“I’m not going to die.”

“Glad to hear it. Gotta go. Love you, kiddo, feel better.”

Matt began to respond, but before he could finish, Alfred hung up. Matt watched his brother’s smiling icon disappear from the screen, leaving only the giant, damning calendar. Matt stared at it and sighed, heart sinking down through his bed and the cabin itself and into the frozen ground below. There was no way he’d be in shape to fly to Ottawa in the next three days, to say nothing of flying to Ottawa and then across the Atlantic to London.

Buddy, though far too large to be a lapdog, leapt up onto the couch draped himself across Matt’s body, crawling on his belly until he was able to nose the man’s chin, giving it a lick.

“Yeah I know,” Matt sighed, petting the dog’s soft ears and wishing it could make him feel better. “I guess I should tell dad.” The thought made his heart sink even further. “Uncle Alisdair was going to bring his homemade whiskey and everything. Even Aunt Bridgid agreed to go this year. But I guess it’s just,” Matt craned his neck to look over into his small kitchen. There was an old, half-empty bottle of whiskey and a small bag of miniatures he’d picked up while waiting on his flight. “…that, you, me, and whatever the fuck is left in the fridge. Merry fucking Christmas, eh?” Buddy whined, and licked Matt’s face again. He sighed.

“Yeah, me neither.”

-----------------------------------

December 22nd came and went, and by the 23rd, Matthew was less sick than he had been, but still far from healthy. “I imagine Uncle Rhys has already played referee to five fights by now, what d’you think?” He asked his dog. Buddy sneezed. “You’re right, maybe only four.” Matt tried to imagine it; Alfred and Dad, probably, Brighid and dad, certainly. If they were drunk enough, Zee and Uncle Alistair would fight about who was the better skier. Jack wouldn’t hurt a fly so long as he had a beer or cider in hand, though Alfred was certain to seek out arguments for sport—Matt really wished he could get his brother to understand that most people didn’t view arguments as fun.

In past years, he’d spent weeks complaining to Jan about the chaos that accompanied his family’s holiday’s reunions. Now, left alone in a cabin with nothing but his dog, whiskey, and his own thoughts, he realized that he missed it dearly, in the strangest way.

“I’m going to sleep,” he told his dog, who was practically asleep himself. “Hopefully until the New Year.”

It was an ironic cruelty that it was more difficult to sleep while sick than while healthy. It was as if his body was in a civil war over whether it needed to be asleep and miserable or awake and miserable. So, when Matt finally fell into a deep sleep, the half of his body that preferred to be asleep and miserable fought tooth and nail to keep him that way. Unfortunately, someone was trying to break into his house.

It was actually Buddy who finally roused him. Though the banging on the door was difficult to ignore, Buddy’s frantic barking was even harder to ignore. Head pounding, Matt rolled himself bodily out of bed, taking half of the quilt with him. He dragged it behind him, half draped over him, as he trudged to the door. Behind the old white curtain hanging over the door’s window, there was an imposing, human-shaped shadow.

“Fucking park rangers,” Matt groused, and glared down at Buddy. “I thought I told you to remind me to turn the lights off last night.” Buddy barked at him, and Matt sighed. “Listen,” he unlocked the door and pulled on the handle, “I’m allowed to be here, call your superintendent, I’m sure they’ll—Alfred?!”

“Finally!” beamed his brother, clad in a designer parka and what looked like a home-made toque, “I was beginning to think you were dead, which you promised you wouldn’t be. Can I come in? Fucking freezing out here.”

Matt stared for a prolonged number of seconds before he blurted, voice cracking: “Shouldn’t you be in London?” Alfred looked affronted.

“While my baby brother is on his deathbed in the bumfuck nowhere, Alberta? No way!”

“Banff isn’t bumfuck nowhere, and I’m not dying.”

“Banff isn’t, but this cabin sure is, and I’m glad you’re not dying, now can I please come inside? I’m freezing my nuts off out here.” Matt stood aside, still processing the sight of his brother in the flesh. Buddy’s tail was wagging wildly as Alfred came inside, jumping at the chance to sniff the newcomer, dancing happily around the American in a way he did for no one else.

“You should be in London,” Matt said again, head aching.

“I wasn’t about to leave you here, you dumb fuck, jeez, it’s freezing in here, too.” Alfred cast a look down at Buddy. “You let him live like this?” a singular, insistent bark. “Ah, that tracks. Never was good at looking after himself.” He looked up back to Matt, shedding his mittens and shoving them into his coat pockets. “Alright, kiddo, let’s get you packed.”

“Packed?” Matt’s voice squeaked, and he realized even the small amount of talking he’d done with Alfred was killing his voice completely, “Alfred, I can’t go to London, we talked about this–”

“Who keeps talking about London? Not me—we’re going to my place. Idaho!”

“Idaho?” Matt’s brain took a while to buffer. “Wait, at your—”

“At my ranch? Yup!”

Ranch was not the word Matt would have used; Alfred was as rugged a rancher as any rancher alive or dead, but he also had what Matt could only refer to as a Kardashian sense of luxury, and enough money to blend the two lifestyles together. Matt realized all at once the expense Alfred must have spent to abandon the family Christmas, travel north, and prepare his Idaho mansion for his company. “Alfred, you don’t have to, really—”

“Dude, cut the apologies, I’ve broken like, at least four international laws to park my cessna out back, so get your shit and let’s go. No arguing!”

“You what?!”

“C’mon, we’re wastin’ daylight!”

-----------------------------------

If Alfred weren’t already breaking laws north of the border for skipping customs, the FAA south of the border surely would’ve surely had complaints about the alterations he’d made to the rear seat of his plane. Where once there had been two passenger seats with requisite seatbelts and safety features, there was now a cozy, cot-sized bed with enough pillows and blankets for two king-sized beds. By the time Alfred had convinced Matt to “just get in the goddamn plane”, Buddy had already found the fluffiest pillow of the bunch and fallen asleep.

“Here, take this.” While the engines warmed up, Alfred leaned back to hand Matt a handful of gummies from the pilot’s seat.

“What is it?” Matt squinted at the candy.

“Delta 8 and melatonin,” Alfred said, replacing his specs with aviators and pulling on his headset. “Now make like your dog and sleep , kay? You look like you need it.”

Matt scoffed. “Thanks,” he said, and chewed the candy together. It was the last thing he remembered doing before Alfred shook him awake and gently informed him that they’d arrived in Bumfuck Nowhere—and it was actually bumfuck nowhere—Idaho.

-----------------------------------

Matt had visited Alfred’s Idaho Ranch-Mansion plenty of times since it’d been finished sometime in the late 90s, and the mountain drive from the airport to the wide-windowed lodge was an unexpected source of nostalgia of birthdays, holidays, and drunken benders past. Matt hauled himself to the window once the familiar hand-hewn wooden fences appeared, squinting against the blinding snowy paddocks until the first blanketed horses came into view. Matt couldn’t help but smile, maybe the first smile he’d entertained since falling ill. Alfred’s horse herd was made up of innumerable bloodlines, nowadays, but at the center of their pedigree was the blood of some sturdy old Morgans Matt had gifted to him during his civil war. Alfred kept a book that traced their sires all the way back to their Canadian forefathers, and seeing the newest generations never failed to swell Matt’s heart. As if sensing what his brother was looking at, Alfred said,

“Bonfire foaled twins this year—really late, too, October. I can’t remember if I told you that.”

“Really?” “Yeah, both little stubborn shits too, probably why they both lived. I’ve got them up at the barn to keep warm.”

“What’d you name them?” Matt asked. Alfred grinned, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Pumpkin and Sweet Potato.”

“Alfred, you have to stop naming them after food.”

“What?! It was October! They’re cute.”

As they pulled up the house, Alfred was still defending his food-inspired horse name choices when Matt spotted something strange in the driveway.

“Who’s car is that?” He asked, eyeing the plain white SUV parked to one side of the massive driveway.

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Alfred bent down to peer at the car. “They didn’t all fit in the Bronco, so I had to rent a car for ‘em.”

“For who?”

“I’ll explain later,” Alfred said, shifting the car into park. Matt didn’t miss the small smirk his brother tried to hide. Immediately, a knot of dread formed in his stomach. “Let’s just get you inside and situated, yeah?”

Alfred didn’t have to explain, because the moment he unlocked the front door, the familiar sounds of pointless arguments flooded his ears.

“-bloody fucking ridiculous,” said the very drunk, very Dad voice somewhere deeper into the house. On the doorstep, Matt froze halfway out of his shoes and shot a look at Alfred, who responded by smiling a bit wider, all-american dimples peaking through

“Well how about I conquer you for a century or ten and then I can tell you you’re ridiculous, you bloated fucken Gobshite! Oi, Jackie, back me up on this!”

“Is that aunt Brighid?” Matt asked, eyeing Alfred again. The American busied himself with physically helping Matt out of his boots.

“I have some slippers for you just inside—watch your step.”

“Oh shite, I think I hear someone at the door,” said a much closer, much more Australian voice, “I’ll be just a minute there, one second!”

“ Alfred how the fuck did you—” The door swung open in a rush.

“Save me,” begged a younger, freckled, brunette version of their father. The white puff at the end of his Santa Claus hat jumped when he did a double take at Matthew. His green eyes lit up like Christmas itself.

“Matt!” He greeted, smile spreading wide as the sun. “You look like shite, it’s so good to see you! Oi! You angry cunts!” he shouted over his shoulder, “Matt’s here!”

“What?”

“Oh, thank Christ. Matthew, come tell this woman—”

“You’ll not drag him into this! The bairn’s ill,”

“Are they,” Matt looked over at Alfred, who was still smiling like a smug bastard. “How did you—you’re—” He looked over at Jack, “I thought you were in London?”

“What?” Jack seemed honestly confused, glancing between Matt and Alfred. “Did the Yank seriously not tell you—” he gave Alfred a look, and upon seeing his smug expression, scoffed. “London was a wash this year,” he laughed, “Happy Christmas, mate, come on in.”

“How’d you get here?” Matt reiterated.

“Like I said,” Alfred piped up, pushing Matt towards the doorway. Looking down, Matt realized that, in his shock, Alfred had been the one to actually remove his shoes for him, “they didn’t all fit in the Bronco, so most of them got here by the last Grand Cherokee Avis had to offer. Go on, we’re letting the cold in.” Before Matt could step fully into the threshold, Buddy had bolted in between his legs, tail alert and wagging, eager to see the rest of the family.

“Buddy!” A feminine voice cried, “C’mere you big baby, say hello to auntie Zee,” a series of happy yelps followed, accompanied by drunken laughter.

“Well the dog is here,” Uncle Alisdair said in his loud brogue, “where’s the rest of the circus?”

“We’re here too,” Alfred said, walking behind Matt into the main living area.

“Och, there they are!” “Matthew, so good to see you,” Father looked genuinely happy to see him, soft smile creasing his eyes in the way that reminded Matt of the happiest parts of his childhood. “Come here, let me look at you.”

“Matt! Croeso ! What’s your poison? Mulled wine? Whiskey? Cider?”

“The bairn is sick, Rhys—”

“Alcohol never hurt anyone on Christmas,”

“Mary and all the saints, how have you lived this long—”

“Come over here and give us a hug, you muppets!” cried Zee, spreading her arms wide, a nearly-empty bottle of wine in one fist.

Matt was frozen in place, still coming off his melatonin and wondering if he was feverish again. He was dimly aware that his jaw was hanging open as he took in the gaggle of family packed into Alfred’s living room—dad, both uncles, Jack, Zee, even aunt Brighid. There were twinkling lights hung all around the vaulted ceilings and reflecting on the tall windows, a fresh-cut Christmas tree lit in the corner with a haphazard collection of presents and duty-free bags piled below, punch and whiskey and wine and beer stacked in disorganized bunches along the nearby bar counter.

“—sure he’s alright?” Zee was asking, when his ears decided to work again.

“He’s fine,” he heard Alfred say, and a warm hand rested on his shoulder. “He’s just a bit surprised.”

“You’re,” Matt said, looking around at them all, and everyone went quiet to listen to him. “You’re not. You’re meant to be in London,” Matt insisted.

“Nonsense!” Alisdair spoke up first. “We go to London every year, it was old enough a century ago, time for a change of pace.” He ignored it when Arthur glared at him. “‘Sides, you brother Money Bags over here promised he would take care of everything, else your dad wouldn’t have ever let TSA so much as look at his Christmas pudding—”

“ Alisdair,” Arthur hissed.

“You didn’t think we’d leave you alone, did you? On Christmas?” Jack was completely earnest when he said it. Seeing his baby brother’s face, and the faces of his ridiculous, loud, chaotic family, Matt suddenly found himself with watery eyes threatening to spill over.

“The kid’s on a few drugs right now, give him a little bit to recover,” laughed Alfred, arm around Matt’s shoulders. “He needs some rest. Come on, kiddo, let’s go get you set up in your—” Alfred paused and looked at their little brother.

“Jack, did you get your stuff—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved dismissively. “I moved rooms.”

“Awesome. Come on, kiddo, let’s get you in bed before you fall over.”

“We’ll be here when you wake up!” Rhys called.

“Unless we all have hangovers,” Zee amended, and she and Rhys laughed together. Alfred shook his head and led Matt to his usual room, the only bedroom in the house that had a heated bed.

“Upsy-daisy,” Alfred said, helping Matt up onto the cushioned mattress, pulling out the duvet before Matt sat on it and pulling it immediately over the younger man’s body up to his neck, cozy and warm.

“Hey, hey,” Matt hadn’t realized he’d let tears fall until Alfred was sitting on the bed beside him, brushing hair behind his ear and speaking to him softly in the way that had meant safe since he was a baby. “I wanted to surprise you, not incapacitate you, are you alright?”

Matt wiped his eyes, remembering his lonely cabin and the escape he’d been too sick to enjoy. Alfred’s house was warm and safe, and smelt of Christmas spices that harkened back to his earliest years. “Thank you,” Matt managed, gripping Alfred’s sleeve. “I don’t know how you—I didn’t think—” He sighed, feeling exactly how tired he was. “Thanks, Al.”

Al responded by wrapping him in a hug, warm and tight and safe and everything Matt needed to finally let himself rest. Over Alfred’s shoulder, he could see his dog sneak into the room, hopping up onto the foot of the bed.

“Get some good rest, okay? And don’t worry about anything,” Alfred said into his ear, bending down until Matt was lying back in bed. “We’ll all be here in the morning.”

“The fuck I did! It was your goddamned idea in the first place!” Alisdair’s bellow echoed down the hall and their brotherly moment broke so they could both whip their heads to the door to listen.

“My idea?!” countered their father, in the self-righteous tone that said he’d been at the rum punch a little too much that night, “The entire stupid thing was your doing, beginning to end!”

“You know,” came a third voice, “ I’m fairly sure that—” “Shut up, Rhys!” Shouted Alisdair and Father at once.

Alfred sighed. “Well, we’ll all probably be here in the morning. I’ll tell them to keep it down.”

“No,” Matt said, letting out a tired laugh. The bickering of his father and uncles blurred together in a familiar, lulling haze as sleep beckoned. “No, it’s okay. Merry Christmas, Alfred.” Matt was almost asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, mind’s eye filled with twinkling lights and familiar smiles, morphing into pleasant dreams of holidays past. He was still just awake enough to feel it when Alfred bent to kiss his forehead and brush a hand over his hair.

“Merry Christmas, Mattie. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

[mystic-blue]

// i saw one (1) post about starchild!casey and decided to never be normal again <3 hope y'all enjoy because i wrote this in one go and it has not been edited! as always, for @ashwii and their celestial au

It took a long time for stars to form - Leo knew from painful, first-hand experience.

Each new burst of starlight was accompanied by searing, on-going pain until the cosmic reaction settled into something recognizable. As much as it all hurt, Leo loved knowing that his stars were out there, alive and bright and beautiful. Sometimes his brothers would find him floating through the void, tracing made up patterns between the stars decorating his limbs. It helped him calm down whenever he lost another star in a particularly painful manner, but he never told them that.

Whenever a new star was born, Leo had a rough idea of where it was in the universe. A distant link, a far off call of acknowledgement that they were present and knew he was, too. Most of the newer stars took the place of dying ones, or came to life at the edges of the ever expanding universe. It was rare for a new one to be born close to the system Leo and his brothers inhabited.

The closest stars were only a few minutes away (well...a few minutes for celestial beings was lifetimes for humans). It was there that Leo felt something call out. It sang through his veins with a rush exponentially greater than anything Leo had felt in the last few millennia. It stole his breath for a moment, stunning Leo in place before he regained enough presence of mind to react.

The call came from the direction of the Proxima Trio, who still had a few billion years left in them if Leo remembered correctly. He wondered if he had mistaken the feeling of a dying star for that of one being created because of their proximity. It was a startling occurrence, to say the least.

Until he realized it truly wasn't a swan song.

Even more perplexed than before, Leo sped along out of his brother's solar system toward the Trio. He would never claim to have favorites, but they were the ones he could see most often due to proximity. So his worry was a visible flickering of stars at his fingertips as Leo approached, reaching out without words to make sure they were all still present and well.

His query was met with elation and a hasty explanation.

The Trio had apparently orbited each other in a rare pattern - one that put them all at their closet proximity to each other. It happened rarely with the way their gravity affected one another, and they had brought with them cosmic dust they had been collecting for a while. On a whim, they had shoved the cosmic dust together along with a few other elements, just to see what would happen, and the result had been unexpected.

Floating at the center point between the Trio was a child. Their hair was the same color as the void of space between stars, shimmering with faint hints of starlight between the strands. Their skin was a swirling, ever turbulent pattern of colorful cosmic dust, and they were wrapped in a celestial cloud.

Stunned into silence alongside the Trio, Leo moved closer and ever so carefully scooped the child into the cradle of his arms. In response, the little one made a quiet noise of acknowledgment before blinking open their eyes to peer up at the newcomer. Leo's nonexistent breath caught in his throat as he gazed down at the little child in his arms.

Their eyes were filled with starlight, as bright as a sun. The child grinned toothily up at Leo and reached their tiny, cosmic dust colored hands up to his face. Excited babbling accompanied the gesture and Leo couldn't help but smile in return.

The Trio pressed their gentle concern toward Leo, and he realized abruptly that he was crying. Each tear sparkled with shed starlight, and he wiped them away quickly, still smiling. He promised the Trio they were happy tears, that there was nothing to worry about.

It had been so long - billions of years - since Leo had been able to witness a new star. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed it until this moment.

"Hello, starchild," Leo said, voice trembling with excitement. "Welcome to the universe."

As starchild babbled in response, Leo bid farewell to the Trio, promising them to look after the little one. They were content to part with little starchild, knowing Leo would make good on that promise. He rushed back to Raph's system, beaming and bursting with excitement. He found his brothers almost exactly where he had left them and presented starchild instantly.

"Where did you get them?" Mikey asked, pausing between his adoring coos.

"The Trio made them - I assume by accident. But I promised them I would look after starchild."

Raph had that look on his face that he always got when presented with something adorable. Leo would have offered to let Raph hold starchild, but the mere thought of letting them go was abhorrent. Instead, Leo allowed Mikey and Raph to fawn over starchild as he continued to cradle them in his arms.

Donnie hung back at Leo's shoulder, peering down at starchild curiously. Leo thought about suggesting Donnie not think too hard, lest he hurt himself. But that sort of comment usually ended with Donnie whacking Leo, and he couldn't risk it with starchild in his arms.

"What's on your mind, Dee?" Leo settled for, instead.

"You called them 'starchild'," Donnie said slowly. "Is that their name?"

Leo looked down at starchild, smiling as they reached a little hand up to bat curiously at Mikey's outstretched fingers. He didn't know how he knew, but starchild was an entity like them, a physical manifestation of newborn stars. A connection had formed between Leo and starchild, a tether of cosmic material that couldn't be broken. Starchild was a lovely name, but it wasn't a proper name.

"No," Leo said, shifting the hold of his cradle so he could extend his own fingers into starchild's curious reach. Tiny digits wrapped around Leo's sparkling finger as their delighted laughter echoed through the cosmos. Eyes full of starlight looked up at Leo, joyful and trusting. Maybe Leo could play favorites after all.

"Their name is Casey."