#one wants to Reclaim the Solstice

[larathia]

Sometimes the hardest thing about being a pagan is hearing Rural Wisdom from a city pagan whose closest approach to Nature is trying to weed her backyard garden.

Like, I’m not any more Wise, particularly. But if I can listen to your Pagan Lyrics and have the immediate reaction of “...ma’am, do you ...not know how plants work?” something is kind of...you know...wrong.

[memewhore]

(Previous post for context)

I might have found some kind of ceremonial mound. I found a record of one other burial mound in this county and I found it and it's still standing - yay! It's right on the county border. But what the hell is across the road from it?? It's a mound-looking structure with tiers and an elongated flat top. On a farm. But I thought it couldn't be a mound because it's sitting right out in the open. Then I thought, "Ohhh, stupid me, it must be a reclaimed landfill! Duh!" But I did the research and there has never been a landfill there. Huh?? My dad said maybe it was a filled-in strip mine, but I was like, "Way ahead of you! Here's a map of every closed mine in Ohio - it's not there. There's never been a mine there, either."

It doesn't look like anything but a hill from the road, so maybe it's just big enough that people never really saw it. The back part with the lower level isn't visible from the road.

Reasons why this COULD possibly be an ancient mound:

There is a known mound right across the road, and several other smaller mounds and a native cemetery site (no mound) within 1-2 miles to the south across the county line.

It's next to a creek that later Native Americans used as a main travel route.

It's next to one of the main ancient trails in the county (the road now follows it.)

There's a cemetery next to it. No idea why, but SO many settlers and early towns built cemeteries next to or on top of burial mounds. Not always, but so often it's one of the first things I look for if I spot a potential mound.

The flat area on top of the mound is aligned exactly east-west. Ceremonial mounds were often aligned to the solstices or to important stars like Polaris. (The county line is slightly tilted. The mound is accurate, E-W.)

Other ceremonial mounds kinda look like reclaimed landfills. Here's Monks Mound in Illinois:

The oldest topo map I can find shows it there in 1944. The oldest aerial photo shows it in 1958. Being farmed. Btw, modern landfill regulations didn't happen until 1959. They mostly just burned or buried shit and called it a day.

So there's ample reason to investigate more. I just want to know WHAT it is.

And in related news, I'm now talking to the county Historical Society because I want to work with them and start a county "Prehistoric Preservation Society" because I am definitely already finding mounds. Most are small and I've found at least a dozen throughout the county that I'm certain are mounds and 50 or so more that look very likely. But this one and several other sites with big ones are the ones I want to focus on first because they'll be most likely to garner scientific interest.

[acourtofthought]

I don’t really care about ships and not rooting for either side, but I think elucien’s forget the clear indications of something between Lucien and Vassa.

In ACOMAF, Lucien volunteers to go and find Vassa (a rather dangerous quest, as the other characters noted). After Lucien declares this, Feyre observes that she “hadn’t heard Lucien sound so assertive in … a long time.”

Then when Vassa is rescued, we get this scene - where Lucien clearly blushes in reference to Vassa, but then glances at Elain (as if cautious that she could see him).

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain.

Then towards the end of ACOWAR, we see Lucien and Vassa talking, with Lucien clearly relaxed and at ease:

“Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened.”

Then in ACOFAS, we see Lucien still going to visit Vassa:

“But Vassa’s freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago, and still visited her often enough that I knew nothing in that regard had improved.”

Then when Lucien talks about Vassa, there’s a twitch in his lips, and a spark in his eye:

“I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye.”

Then when Lucien talks about how he has built a **home** with Jurian and Vassa, he then says this about staying in the Night Court with Elain: “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes.”

A few chapters later, Lucien’s solstice present for Elain goes completely unacknowledged.

In ACOSF, we witness Lucien look “pained” when discussing Vassa’s impeding return to Koschei.

Then, because of this - Lucien stares out the window, marking Koschei as his target.

“Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.”

Koschei is the likely antagonist of the next ACOTAR book, and Vassa is right at the centre of the story. (Not to mention all the fairytales about Vasillia and the fox)

Then, when Lucien talks about Jurian and Vassa, he does so “sharply,” to which Nesta marks as strange.

“And Jurian and Vassa?” “At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply. She wondered what that was about—and for the life of her couldn’t read it.”

And perhaps the most iconic quote of all - something SJM simply wouldn’t write for no reason;

“A bird of flame … and a lord of fire. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.”

(And for those who suggest Jurian x Vassa has more evidence - where’s their passage like this? Where does it say ‘A bird of flame… and a resurrected general?”)

Beyond that, you talk about Elain needing sunshine (and that’s why she belongs in the Day Court), but no one needs the sunshine more than the girl who is cursed to change into a firebird during the day. She hasn’t lived in daytime in a very long time… and Lucien is heir to the Day Court.

And mythologically speaking, firebirds (or phoenixes) are literally symbols of the sun. Just like the Day Court.

SJM wouldn’t write all of this - reiterating it again in ACOSF - if it was to lead to nothing.

You realize "The phoenix is often invoked along with the firebird, but they are two very different beasts in the world of myth.", right? So your attempt to connect her to Day and the sun is completely wrong. She's a firebird by day and wants NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT 😂

You realize Vassa is a Human Queen right? And that SJM has mentioned both she and Jurian in back to back paragraphs as King and Queen, right? Having the same vision for the humans, right?

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.”

A once-proud queen—still proud, yes, but desperate to reclaim her freedom. Her human body. Her kingdom.

I hadn’t seen them interact, could only imagine what the two of them would be like in the same room together. Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long. No king or queen remained in these lands. No memory of their name, their lineage.

“Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin. Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned. But the methods on how to attain that"

And that SJM described Vassa and Jurian in SF exactly as she described Nessian in an interview?

You realize Lucien:

"given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days"

Right?

You realize that Lucien, after living with Vassa for OVER A YEAR, still looks at Elain like this:

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Right?

And that the twitch of his lips and spark of his eye is most likely a result of his remembering the interactions between she and Jurian?

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye.

And that the reason Lucien ended up going after Vassa most likely had more to do with SJM wanting Lucien to meet Elain's father, the first man she ever truly loved, making him the perfect Mate for Elain even more than he already is. Not only meeting him and knowing him but creating a storyline where he ended up living in the human lands making him more understanding of human ways considering Elain connected with her humanity the most.

“I heard—what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. All of you.”

“He was a good man,” he said. “He loved you all very much.”

Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive.

Mor winnowed Cassian after sundown directly to the manor that had become home and headquarters to Jurian, Vassa, and—apparently—Lucien.

And Lucien hadn't sounded assertive in such a long time because of being beaten down by Tamlin, having been SA'd then ending up in a court where he didn't belong with people cock blocking him from getting to know his mate. It's ridiculous that you don't see it had nothing to do with Vassa herself and everything to do with having a purpose and being useful as well as finally escaping past abuse 🤦

And he blushed because Feyre embrassed him in front of his Mate for simply complimenting a friend.. His mate who HE STILL LOOKS AT WITH LONGING A YEAR LATER. They were preparing for a war for God's sakes, he wasn't getting a hard on for Vassa.

AND FOR THE LAST TIME, LUCIEN ISN'T A LORD OF FIRE! HE'S HELIONS SON WHICH MAKES THE MONIKER LESS VALID THAN HIS DAY COURT HERITAGE.

I'm sorry but you're choosing to ignore extremely important information the author has written about Jurian and Vassa, Lucien in Elain, in favor of trying to prove Lucien and Vassa will happen for what I'm guessing is really an E/riel agenda and I have zero time or patience for this bullshit today. I'm so sick of these "don't have a hat in the ring of any ship" comments when it's blatently obvious that's a lie.

[vulpes-fennec]

Winter Court Solstice Ball (Viviane x Kallias) 🎁

Summary: A series of fluffy/smutty ACOTAR winter one-shots! 12 stories for the 12 days leading up to Solstice (December 21).

A glimpse of what Solstice celebrations look like in the Winter Court, brought to you by our favorite ice couple! Set pre-ACOTAR series.

Read: Masterlist | AO3

Tonight was the Winter Solstice. Tonight, households across the court would sing traditional hymns by their blazing fires, feast on roasted meats and sweet cookies, and exchange presents. 

Tonight would be Viviane’s 55th Solstice Ball, but such celebrations never got old. Garlands of holly and faelight were strung across the banquet hall, the soft tinkling of bells and strumming of harps drifted through the air, spiced wine and delicious treats were offered by finely-suited servants…

“Viv.” She spun around at the familiar voice.

“Kal!” she exclaimed happily. The High Lord’s son—and her closest friend—was adorned in courtly finery: a dark blue, fur-lined coat that stopped just above his knees, embroidered black pants, and fur-lined black boots. 

Kallias blinked his icy blue eyes at her, as if taken aback. “You look…nice tonight,” he replied, albeit awkwardly. 

“Well you look quite dressed up yourself, too,” she grinned, elbowing him. Viviane felt a pang of disappointment at his words. She wasn’t expecting him to call her beautiful, but still…it would have been nice to hear. Especially when she’d put extra care into her appearance tonight for him, dusting her eyelids with a sparkling shadow reminiscent of gleaming snow and blushing her cheeks pink to mimic the chilly outdoors.

“Thank you.” Kallias dipped his head swiftly. “I wanted to ask if you would do me the honors of the first dance.” 

The first dance held significant weight in court—politically or romantically. But Viviane and Kallias had danced together enough that the court merely shrugged them off as the two peas in a pod. Come to think of it, was there ever a time she didn’t share her first Solstice dance with Kallias?

Still, Viviane wished there was something more behind Kallias’s glacial blue eyes when he extended his hand towards her. It was stupid to hope. Kallias would be High Lord of Winter one day, opening the Solstice Ball’s first dance with his Lady of Winter. But until that day came…

“No need to be so formal, Kal,” Viviane chuckled lightly. “If you need someone to fend off those thirsty court ladies, I’m happy to dance with you all night.” 

Kallias smiled back, an extra brightness in his sapphire eyes. “I hope you’re not joking Viv, because those matchmaking mothers are especially bloodthirsty tonight.” 

Tonight, power thrummed through the halls of the Winter Palace, as if the icy land was reclaiming its identity on the longest night of the year. And when Viviane placed her hand into Kallias’s warm one, a similar thrill diffused through her very bones. Like something ancient and powerful was also stirring within her.

She blinked, wondering if Kallias felt the same way too. But his chiseled face remained neutral as music from the Royal Symphony started and swelled. 

Notes from string and woodwind instruments accompanied Kallias as he swept Viviane away in a waltz. Kallias’s heart was full with his friend in his arms. The words “you’re beautiful” had gotten lodged in his throat earlier, leaving him a stuttering, awkward mess. Truth be told, Viviane always looked beautiful to Kallias. But tonight, she was utterly ethereal in her bluish-purple gown of sweeping tulle, adorned by silk viola flowers. 

Hell, everything felt perfect. Viviane’s slender fingers fit his hand like a glove. Her supple waist was warm under his palm, under the layers of soft fabric. Even their footwork was well-matched. Dancing with Viviane was easy, natural. Kallias could dance with her forever and never tire of it. 

“Is that…is that an earring I see?” Viviane peered up, eyes lighting on the silver ring on the lobes of Kallias’s ears. The look of mock aghast she gave him was utterly improper for a ballroom dance floor, but Kallias loved it. 

“I can be adventurous, Viv,” Kallias murmured into her ear as he spun her. Earrings—particularly earrings on males—was the latest craze. At least pierced ears were relatively tame compared to the tattoo-on-the-tongue trend a decade back. 

“When did you get them pierced? I can’t believe I wasn’t there for it!” Viviane craned her neck to gain a better view of Kallias’s piercing. 

Kallias shrugged carelessly. “Just last week.” He selectively omitted the part where he’d gotten them spontaneously after a drunken night out. 

Viviane sighed with relief. “Okay, good. I was worried that I didn’t notice them before, but it turns out it was fairly recent.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do your parents know?”

Kallias chuckled. “No, of course not. My father would throw a fit. I figured he wouldn’t cause a scene tonight, so I dropped the glamour.” 

“Hmph…but you still didn’t tell me. I could have bought you earrings for your present.” Viviane pouted slightly, making her pink lips look all the more delicious.

Kallias smiled wryly. “There are a lot of things I don’t tell you, Viv.” 

Kallias’s teasing expression riled Viviane enough to offer boldly, “I’ll share a secret if you’ll share one of yours.” 

“Deal. I’ll go first.” The waltz was tapering off, but Kallias seemed to hold her even closer. Viviane was trying very hard to discreetly inhale his fresh pine cologne. To not reveal just how much she savored being close to her friend. “Do you like anyone at the moment?” His voice was tight.

Viviane felt like her heart had jumped to her throat. 

“I…I like you,” she said quickly, praying that the copious amounts of blush on her face hid the heat rising to her cheeks. It was a pathetic truth, one that could be passed off as platonic affection. 

Kallias’s brows lifted and his blue eyes flashed with surprise. But he recovered quickly, smoothing the stoic look of a Prince of Winter over his features. “Not helpful,” he scoffed. “I already know you like me…as a friend. Now ask me something.” 

He’d taken the easy route as well, filing her half-confession away with teasing. Squashing any possibility of romance between them. 

The vibrating dominance in Kal’s voice—the budding dominance for the heir of a Court—sent shivers down Viviane’s body as the song ended. 

Viviane regarded her friend carefully. Kallias had turned 70 this year, just as she had. They’d been friends since they were younglings, but…it was only recently that she began to notice things about him. 

Like the way his white hair curled at the nape of his neck in between haircuts. Or how the muscles in his back rippled during training sessions. She’d been dying to know whether Kal had anyone in his heart lately. But she chickened out. 

“Er…what is one Solstice tradition you dislike?” 

Kallias sagged internally with relief. He’d been scrambling to prepare a list of court females he could “claim” to have a crush on, if Viviane turned the question back to him. 

“I hate the whole elk sacrifice ritual,” he admitted.

Before the sun set on the Winter Solstice, the court’s herders presented the High Lord with their finest animal. It was an honor to be chosen, for the animal’s blood would be carefully collected for rituals and the meat would be distributed to families in need. The sacrifice was an important tradition that honored the herders, the circle of life, and the magic of the land but…Kallias hated seeing such a public execution of majestic creatures.

As the next throng of dancers moved onto the dance floor, Kallias and Viviane stepped back into the sidelines. 

“I never knew that, Kal,” Viviane said softly, putting a hand on his arm. “I suppose I don’t like it either, but at least I can skip the event.” 

“Just doing my duty, I guess. Though it doesn’t make me feel any better that I’ll be the one sending the poor elk to its death someday.” A pensive look came across his face. 

“I mean, that’s what happens when we eat meat. The slaughter is just behind closed doors.” Viviane plucked two cranberry tarts from a passing server and offered one to Kallias with nonchalance. “But you could try changing things when you’re High Lord.” 

She took a big bite. The tart was deliciously tangy, with notes of dark chocolate spreading on her tongue. “Mmmm this is so good…what if you did an elk pardon instead?” Viviane suggested around a full mouth.

“Oh, yes,” Kallias chuckled. “And send them to an elk sanctuary where they can live happily to old age.”   

“I’m serious! We can host a Solstice cooking contest and donate the dishes to the charities. And we can switch elk blood with berry juice.” 

“Well…” Kallias paused. “I don’t think the elk blood has any magical properties on its own, but the priestesses want it because the High Lord has touched the elk with his magic.” 

“So? You can use your magic to mash up some berries, right?” Viviane giggled. “Just think…Kal, High Lord of Winter, standing in the kitchen wearing an apron and covered in berry juice—”

“Me? Covered in berry juice?” Kallias said incredulously. “You’re the one with berry tart all over your mouth.” 

Viviane’s chest tightened as her friend took a step closer, sweeping his thumb gently at the corner of her mouth. There were indeed several crumbs and a smear of red on Kallias’s finger. Under normal circumstances, Viviane would have felt embarrassed. But right now, she could only feel the thrum of power and heady heat within her. 

What was going on? “Thanks,” Viviane murmured, grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe off his finger. “Do I have anything else on my face?” 

“No.” His eyes seemed to darken as he stared at her lips. 

Cauldron…she needed to get a grip over herself and stop reading too much into the situation.

“Anyways.” Kallias shook his head. “Let’s do it. When I become High Lord. We should do it together.” 

Viviane caught his silent promise beneath the words: that regardless of what happened in the future, Kallias would keep her close by his side. The next song was starting. “Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Kal?”

[starlitangels]

S’mores and Cocoa

It’s been a bit since I wrote for Morgan. If you celebrate, Merry Christmas Eve. If you don’t, Happy Saturday! Here’s some vaguely-holiday, vaguely-just-wintry vibes! Thank you so much to the Anon who essentially just gave me this whole fic concept! 2.2k words

—

“I’ll admit... I was surprised to get your text,” Morgan said softly as I sat down on the big fluffy rug in front of my fireplace. It was a gas fireplace with pretend logs to make it look like they were the fuel. It didn’t crackle or fizzle. Which was unfortunate. But the heat it gave off was real. And that was enough. I’d rather that than have to actually get firewood constantly.

“Why?” I asked, passing the second mug over to him. He accepted it.

He shrugged and took a careful sip to try not to get the whipped cream on his nose. “I guess I thought you’d rather spend this time with your family,” he said.

I inhaled a deep breath through my nose. “Family... can be hard for me,” I said. “I don’t have to tell you why.”

He bounced his eyebrows. “I get that, definitely,” he said.

“I said in my text not to feel obligated. That if you had other people you wanted to spend tonight with, you didn’t have to feel like you needed to come over.”

“I know,” he replied as I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It was still tongue-burning levels of scalding. I set it on the brick hearth in front of me to let it cool off. “But... I don’t have to tell you why I didn’t want to spend tonight with other people either.” He looked toward the fire, copying me in placing the mug down on the hearth.

“Yeah,” I agreed. I glanced over my shoulder out the living room window. Snow had started to fall. “So... how was your solstice?”

“Same as always,” Morgan replied. “My tolerance for it is... okay. I guess. I can still function if I need to but... I’d rather not, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned back on the rug, bracing his back against my loveseat. “I don’t know how you pretended to be an Illusory for all those years,” he said with a good-humored chuckle.

“What do you mean?”

“Illusories are MoonBound. Seers are SunBound.”

“Well, yeah, sure. But, like, if you don’t see anyone—ever—on either solstice, then no one’s gonna know.”

“You spent all those years isolated on the solstices?” Morgan turned his gaze from the flames to me. I tore my own attention off the fire and met his gaze.

I bobbed my head side-to-side. “Yeah. It’s two days a year. Not the end of the world.”

“Two of the most important days for empowered people. Days meant to be spent with people you care about.”

“Yet. Here we both are. On another one of those days when we should maybe possibly be with people we care about.”

Morgan’s ears went a little red and he turned away from me. “Touché,” he muttered.

I tried another tentative sip. Still too hot. I set the mug back down with a cringe on my face. Morgan watched my movements out of the corner of his eye, just like I was watching him out of the corner of mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Morgan went rigid. “What is it?” he asked.

“I just remembered something. Standby.”

“Uh...”

I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the kitchen. I yanked open my pantry and pulled several things out before bumping the pantry closed with one hip and hurrying back into the living room. I plopped back down. “I thought we could have some fun tonight. I have a bunch of board games in the coat closet on the floor too. But I thought we could start with these while the hot chocolate cools down.”

A beaming smile broke out on Morgan’s face. “It’s... God, it’s been years since I made s’mores,” he said.

I grinned. “Well, then let’s reclaim the nostalgia, shall we?” I held out a skewer stick for him. He chuckled and took it from me, along with the marshmallow I passed over.

I tried very hard not to flare up any magic in embarrassment as his fingers brushed mine.

“How do you like yours?” he asked.

“You first.”

“I can’t stand them burned. A little browning when the edges catch is... fine but not great. I like them golden brown, usually,” he said.

I laughed. “I sometimes don’t do any coloring at all,” I said, stabbing my marshmallow with the skewer and sticking it over the flames. “I’ll just let it puff up and stay white. Because the inside melts into this semi-gooey mess but it’s not so gooey that it loses its... cohesion, I guess? It’s less messy because it’s not as melted.”

Morgan nodded in understanding. “Alright,” he said. “Never heard of that one before.”

I shrugged. “A friend showed me how to do it once and this fireplace is a pain to clean if a marshmallow melts off the stick.”

“Ugh. I’d imagine. Maybe you could try mini-s’mores sometime.”

“How does one mini a s’more?” I asked, more than a little sarcasm touching my tone.

“Tea light candles. Mini marshmallows. Chocolate chips. Teddy Grahams instead of graham crackers. Those little corn holder sticks. My mom and I used to make those together. Before...” Morgan cleared his throat. “Before my powers manifested.”

“That sounds fun,” I said.

“It was. Especially on stormy nights or when the power went out for whatever reason.” He nodded.

“Maybe next time. For this time, I figured some wintry spoiling was in order.” I pulled my marshmallow out of the fire and brought it to my graham cracker, revealing the bag of chocolates I’d bought.

“Oh. My God,” Morgan said, jaw hanging open in ecstatic surprise. “Ghirardelli caramel squares?”

I nodded. “You wanna taste the absolute height of decadence?” I joked.

He took his golden brown marshmallow out of the fire, his shoulder brushing mine slightly, and nodded enthusiastically. I prepped one square for each of us on our graham crackers, finagling a bit to get my marshmallow off the skewer.

“Bon appetit,” Morgan said with a grin.

We “toasted” with our s’mores (lightly tapped the graham cracker corners together), and bit in.

The taste exploded in my mouth. It was beyond delicious. Almost too sweet, but decadently rich. Perfectly balanced between crunchy and chewy. I couldn’t stop the “yummy sound” moan that came out of my throat. Morgan chuckled. His chocolate had melted just slightly, leaving a smudge of it on the corner of his mouth.

“Good?” I asked.

He nodded with great enthusiasm. “This is amazing,” he said. “Thank you.” I tried not to stare when his tongue poked out to lick up the chocolate. “The caramel square really makes this next level.”

“Mmhmm. Truth be told, I’ve never made it with them before. I just saw it on a commercial on YouTube and thought it looked really good and figured we could try it.”

“I’m glad you did,” Morgan said.

I chuckled softly.

“What? What’s so funny?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing’s funny. It’s just... I’m glad you’re a little more comfortable around me now. When we first met you were so... professional and trying to be friendly. Now you’re just... friendly. And I’m glad for it.” I shrugged and took another bite of my s’more. Morgan did too.

“I’m glad too,” he replied. “It’s just... it’s... nice. To have someone who feels like a normal friend, again. I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know someone the normal way since my powers manifested. Obscura are already rare as it is. But... having you... knowing you experience your magic most similarly to me... it’s been nice. I mean, we both thought we were alone. We both thought we were the only one of our kind on the planet. And, by rights, we should have been. Two in one lifetime is unfathomably unlikely. It’s a one-in-trillions chance. And yet, here we both are. And it’s just so nice to not be alone anymore.” He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before continuing, “I’m sorry if I seem socially clumsy around you. It’s just been a long time since I got to know someone the normal way.”

I’d taken a couple bites while he talked, and smiled at him around one. “You’re not clumsy around me,” I reassured him. “And, well, if you are, I haven’t noticed because I’m the same way around you. I’m grateful to have you in my life, Morgan. I know I was standoffish when we first met—I didn’t know how to handle coming forward with my real powers after all those years of hiding them, and it made me stiff. Truth be told, I was scared to meet you. I needed the information about our powers that you had and I lacked, but I was scared.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Morgan said, finishing off his s’more and then testing his hot chocolate. It seemed to have cooled enough for him to take a bigger sip. He paused, scrunching his eyebrows. “Is there caramel in this too, or are my taste buds distracted?”

I laughed. “Vanilla caramel coffee creamer,” I said. “It’s a lot cheaper than buying salted caramel-flavored cocoa mix, and tastes just about as good.”

“I’m stealing that idea.”

I laughed even harder. “Go for it. I stole it from a guy I dated while attending the academy. We broke up like three months in but I kept this idea.”

Morgan chuckled. “Fair enough.”

I finished off my s’more and took a long drink from my hot chocolate too. It was pretty good, if I did say so myself.

We sat in quiet for a few minutes while we drank our cocoa, watching the fire in peaceful silence while the snow fell outside. I bit my lower lip, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Morgan?” I asked after a bit, barely loud enough to be heard over the drone of the gas feeding the fire.

He looked over at me, blue eyes open and honest. “Yeah?”

I took a deep breath, met his gaze, and then looked away. “I know we don’t know each other too well, but I’ve really appreciated the opportunities I’ve had to have you stay in my life.”

“Me too.”

I nodded. “I, uh, I hope this isn’t too... weird. Or forward. But...” I leaned back and pulled a box, wrapped in silvery paper, out from under the end table next to my sofa. “I got you something.” I held it out for him.

He just beamed and popped to his feet. With a few quick movements, he’d run back to where he’d hung his coat on my coat rack next to my front door. When he returned, there was a small box in his hands and he was smiling broadly. “I got you something too. Just didn’t know if-or-when I should bring it up tonight.”

We exchanged boxes. I indicated for him to go first, but he just held his free hand out in a gesture for me to go first instead. I tried to insist, but he shook his head. I sighed with a grin. “Okay.”

I tore open the holographic blue paper to reveal a cardboard box inside. Biting my lip in concentration, I pulled the lid off. 

“Oh my goodness! It’s so cute!” I exclaimed.

It was a clockwork desk toy. A little wind-up frog with all the gears exposed. I would it up and set it on the hardwood floor next to the hearth rug. The gears clicked and it hopped. Once. Twice. Three times before I snatched it up to examine it, grinning wide. I looked up and met Morgan’s eyes.

“I love it!”

The tips of his ears turned a little red. “Thanks. I, uh, I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “It’s hard to shop for someone whose future you can’t see. Can’t get them something they’ll need or want.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” I said as I held the frog in my palm and leaned back on my other hand, gesturing for him to open his.

He smiled gently and popped the tape off one end.

I groaned and rolled my head back. “C’mooon, Morgan,” I complained. “Don’t open it like a professional being formal. Have some fun. Tear it open!”

He laughed and did as I said, his smile growing as he did so. Which made me smile too.

There was a box inside my wrapping job too.

He popped it open.

“Oh my God,” Morgan whispered softly. He pulled out the pocket watch and held it in the air. It was a pocket watch, but the cover had an hourglass embedded into it. Visible from both sides. “Where did you get this?”

“A friend of my family’s is a jeweler. He knew a connection.”

“This is incredible. Thank... thank you.” He met my eyes, and his looked like they were going to start watering.

I looked away quickly. “It’s no big deal. I thought you’d like—Oof!” I was cut off as he slammed me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, careful of the clockwork frog in my hand. “I’m... glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he whispered. “Even more so because it came from you. The only person who knows what magic is like for me.”

I nodded into his shoulder. “I feel the same. Thank you, Morgan.”

“Thank you, too.”

I smiled. “My pleasure.”

—

Tag list: @ryn-halo26

[pargolettasworld]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2i0uKJINXo

One of the things I really like about Chanukah is how many different meanings this holiday carries.  It’s not necessarily one of the most religiously significant holidays in the Jewish year, but it’s probably the most famous one and the one that people have loaded with the most interpretations.  Some of this comes from its proximity to Christmas -- the gift-giving aspect of it was certainly influenced by the unbeatable combination of retail avarice and big-eyed children watching their Christian friends get new toys in December.  And some of it is adjacent to Christmas -- both of these holidays are big in the Northern Hemisphere, both of them use light as a theme, and both of them take place near the winter solstice, and if you don’t think that’s a coincidence, I have a bridge I want to sell you.

This song addresses that sort of ubiquitous theme of light, but it also addresses two more aspects about Chanukah that people like to celebrate.  The first is the idea of miracles -- when people tell the Chanukah story, they focus less on the internal Jewish political conflict and eventual semi-civil war that involved some combination of Greek and Syrian colonialism and religiously fundamentalist resistance to same than on the great miracle of the oil for light lasting until more could be created. 

The second is the celebration of Jewishness itself.  Because of that whole first act of the Chanukah story, one of the holiday topics is the idea of using the time as a moment to reclaim and proclaim one’s Jewishness in the face of a world that is usually some degree of hostile towards the idea.  Carla Berg grew up proudly Jewish in Brazil, singing in youth choirs that used Ladino, but it wasn’t until much later that she heard Ladino being used as an actual spoken language.  She later moved to the US and is an educational psychologist as well as a perfomer.  This is her first song recorded in Ladino.

[deepsharkpastasuitcase]

The Ragnarök Chronicles is a long term roleplay series set in a world of gods, men, and all those in between. Starting with “The Lost Torc”, the series begins with four powerful demigods who embark on a quest to retrieve a stolen ‘necklace’ before Midwinter, an ancient celebration that simultaneously marks the winter solstice, and the first day of Yule.

If they fail in their efforts to reclaim Freyja’s Torc before then, the war that’s been threatened for the past hundreds of years will at last be on their doorstep, and the fragile peace that’s held the realms together will finally shatter.

Now set between a rock and a hard place, these eclectic heroes shall learn what it means to be a champion for the gods and in time will learn the true price of heroism and understand the powers which become them. The Ragnarök Chronicles will show what happens to those who deem to mess with fate and why none of us can escape our destinies— no matter how hard we try.

mentions of dark themes will be brought up throughout this roleplay. if you find yourself sensitive to such subjects, please do not join. (ex. war/war crimes, blood, death/dead bodies/corpses, religious blasphemy, & mild misogyny. )

Rules

i. This is an advanced literate to novella level role-play. If you struggle to hit the word limit continuously, please do not bother applying. This roleplay is intended to be long term, so if you are a rather busy person or are frankly unreliable do not join either.

ii. If roleplaying on discord isn’t to your fancy then this is not the roleplay for you.

iii. Realistic and consistent face claim’s only. No celebrity’s.

iv. WIP’s are accepted, though I will not be accepting wikis without even a semblance of a template nor will I be accepting profile links. All wiki links must come from this amino.

v. No GODMODDING/OP’NESS/MARY-SUES allowed. Only the organizer will be capable of controlling other parties, both npc and oc alike, for purposes of moving the roleplay forward. Please do not control any one else’s characters without the host/other users permission.

vi. Do not wait for an interaction/for someone to interact with your OC. It is not an excuse for you to not write a response.

vii. Do not mini-mod/nor spam the chat.

viii. No 18+ & No discriminatory language.

ix. This roleplay is my interpretation of a Nordic Camp Halfblood, but no further knowledge of PJO or the Magnus Chase series is needed to apply for this roleplay. Having any prior knowledge of Norse mythology (while definitely helpful) is not needed!

x. If you have any lingering questions, please do not be afraid to either comment them down below or pm me. Thank you for reading!

If you find yourself to be interested and want to know more, please submit the following form in my pms through discord at @midsommar #3933

Form:

alias/your name, age & pronouns.

timezone + a writing sample (one that shows your current writing style)

[paradigm-volta]

Samhain Dreams

So much has happened since my last post -- hope, despair, and hope again. I find myself conflicted in terms of T and have had an off and on again relationship with it. Currently using it topically now for a few weeks in succession. There's a balancing act with it so I can't feel entirely comfortable in taking it; I don't want to masculinize too much but it can be hard to know where that line will be. Anyway, I find myself in throes of rampaging libido and constant questioning. Never a dull moment!

I have found another identity I feel comfortable in, which I'd like to be the focus of this post, and that is "witch". I've been drawn to all things pagan since I was young -- demonology, mythologies, spellwork, the occult. My mother, who is a devout (and troubled) Catholic, occasionally confronted me in rage and terror when she'd see what websites or books I was reading. I left it for many years, craving spirituality but never finding the right fit: at one point I wanted to convert to Judaism, at another I was studying Buddhism and going to a retreat on a mountaintop, a few long stints as a bitter agnostic.

Psilocybin is what lead me back to magic. The deep sense of connection and call to nature resonated with me in a way that nothing else did. Magic, for me, is mycelium. I ended up doing research into what I wanted to explore, the practices originating in the homelands of my ancestors (Romuva and Appalachian conjure), how I wanted to go forward with things. This exploration and identity is a living one, not carved in stone, but this is how I'm feeling about things so far:

Currently I would be classified as an "eclectic witch" as I have a mix and match approach to my practice

I am predominantly pagan in mindset -- nature and ancestor worshipping. I think there can be power to find in deities as archetypes and icons but personally do not believe in them literally. I look to those whose stories and imagery speak to me: Žemyna, Gabija, Saulė and Mėnuo, Pan

I have yet to try any kind of spellwork though I'd like to explore protection/guarding spells, candles, herbs, and kitchen witchery

I went to a Reclaiming witch camp and that was incredibly enlightening. Reclaiming is fascinating though I feel no particular allegiance to it in particular (thankfully it seems to welcome and encourage individual practice)

I want to do more for the "high holidays" -- Samhain, the solstices, Romuvan events, etc

For Samhain I plan on meditating with a candle and a photograph of my grandmother, speaking to her memory and singing songs, having a glass of Frangelico with milk (an old favourite of ours), and reflecting on the changing of seasons and of gratitude.

I've felt very lost as of late, adrift, but these small discoveries about myself are like ropes I can hold on to while I catch my breath.

Blessed be ✧

[greysheaven]

Soulstice swim

Soulstice swim how to#

Soulstice swim full#

Soulstice swim free#

Explore a dark world brimming with hidden mysteries, master a diverse combat system, and inhabit the dual forces of two sisters in a coming-of-age fantasy story with fast-paced action, vicious enemies and breathtaking boss fights. Voiced by Stefanie Joosten ( Metal Gear Solid 5), Briar and Lute are sent on a mission to reclaim a city in ruins that has been ravaged by the Wraiths, only to discover that the Order they belong to has a far more complex plan in mind. The transformation has granted Briar superhuman strength and resilience, while Lute, who was sacrificed in order to bind her soul to her sister's, has become a ghost with mystical powers. Briar and Lute are two sisters who have been reborn as a Chimera. The "Chimeras", hybrid warriors born of the union of two souls, are the only ones who can protect humankind. Wraiths corrupt their victims and can even possess their bodies, turning into unstoppable monsters that prey upon the common folk. The balance of the Holy Kingdom of Keidas is compromised when powerful, feral creatures known as "Wraiths" invade from the other side of the Veil, threatening to consume the living. Promo art for Soulstice, courtesy of Modus Games. You can check out an extended look at the game in the latest video down below as the game is currently slated to come out on September 30th, 2022. That last one is filled with several powerful consumables and currency, which you'll be able to equip on Briar and Lute with valuable resources. Those looking to get the latter will be getting a few bonuses including an extensive digital artbook, the digital soundtrack, and the Ashen Blade Item Pack. Skip to search filter criterias Skip to sort by. Home / Sale / Womens Sale / Swim refined by.

Soulstice swim free#

Todays top Soulstice Swim promotion: Save Up to 25 on Soulstice Swim products + Free P&P. Developed by Reply Game Studios, the game has officially gone up for pre-order as players can choose between a standard edition as well as a Deluxe Edition. Soulstice Seaside Getaway Pop Surf Inspiration The Sustainable Shop. 50 Soulstice Swim Promo Codes & Coupons now on HotDeals. “I was blown away! The location, the swag bags, the awesome people I met, all the friendships I made.Modus Games revealed this week they'll be releasing their upcoming action-adventure title Soulstice this fall onto PC, Xbox, and PlayStation. “One of the most amazing weekends of my life! I can’t wait to come back next year.” Wondering what a Soulstice experience looks like? Here’s what past participants have said: Registration for Soulstice 2022 is open now! Whether you want to try some new things, meet some new people, or just come relax with someone you love, Soulstice has just what you need. Soulstice is all about giving your mind, body, and soul a well-deserved refresh. Inspirational speakers that are some of our favorite humans Single or double occupancy rooms at the gorgeous Snowpine LodgeĪll meals and snacks provided by an award-winning chefĪrtistic workshops to stretch your creativity

Soulstice swim full#

We are so excited to bring Soulstice “home” to the Albion Basin-it is the inspiration behind our name, after all! August 8-11 at Snowpine Lodge will be full of all the things we love best. A chance to make some new connections, renew friendships, and just relax while we shared things we loved. We wanted to spend a few days in a beautiful place with inspiring speakers, activities, and plenty of good food. Years ago, we came up with the idea of hosting a retreat.

Soulstice swim how to#

The band is comprised of experienced professional musicians that know how to make a. The fifth annual Winter Solstice Nude Charity Swim has seen a record 245. The band includes keyboards, saxaphone, drums, percussion, guitars, bass, harmonica, and amazing vocal harmonies. 2021 Summer Solstice Swim & BBQ - Tuesday 21st Dec 2021 Summer Solstice Swim at. You deserve to be supported in every crazy thing you do-and we aren’t just talking about swimsuits and yoga pants! Soooul Good Soulstice, a new live-music band based in Bel Air, Maryland, performing the classic songs of soul, r&b, motown, rock, pop and more. We promise to have an option for everyone. This year we have a perfect range of tops from minimalistic to sporty. For all of the girls who don’t want to change their suits to get things done. We want to keep everything in place, without being restricting. We are so amazed by all of the things that you’re doing! Solstice Canyon: trail description, photos, GPS map, and hike directions to the ruins of a burned down ranch and a small waterfall in Los Angeles County. These tops are meant to stay on regardless of your cup size. We are constantly looking for ways to help you look, feel, and do amazing things. Our Albion community is so important to us. Have we mentioned that we really adore you?

[blairsanne]

21: Wrapping Paper

Drabbles for December based on this prompt list.

The Hobbit - Kili x Reader, Ori 1359 words

Kili knocked on the door to Ori’s chambers, but was disappointed when no reply came. He slowly pushed open the door, then called out, but still nothing.

Not one to be dissuaded, he let himself in and strode over to Ori’s desk to retrieve what he’d been there to request; brown parchment to wrap the small gift he’d created.

In his rush, he didn’t notice the writing in the corner of the page, folding the paper over as he safely secured his bundle.

He tied the whole production with a bit of twine and rushed back out of Ori’s chambers, somewhat relieved not to have been caught. He’d have to thank Ori later, whenever he saw him next.

---

When you came back to your room after a long day at the market, you set down your wares and hung your thick cloak on the hook by the door. Winter was well and truly upon Erebor, and you only had a few solstice gifts left to deliver to your dear ones. You brought your satchel over to your desk and pulled out the satchet of pipe-weed you’d bought for Kili. What you truly wanted to give him was something more forward, like a courting gift, but you weren’t sure he felt the same.

You’d been close with Kili and his brother back in Ered Luin, but he’d been gone so long before Erebor was reclaimed, and he was often busy now with his higher station. You saw each other less, and at times you felt the distance of not having been there with him during the difficult journey; not truly understanding what he’d been through, sheltered as you were.

Still, some nights he found you in the mountain and would smoke his pipe while you two drank and caught up. This gift was an invitation for more such nights.

As you reached for your quill and parchment to create a tag for his gift, your eyes fell upon a foreign object on your desk. A little parcel wrapped in brown parchment and twine. It was addressed to you, from Kili.

You looked around your room in alarm, but sure enough, you were alone. Some time while you’d been out, he must have come by to see you and left it there. You felt an ache in your chest, wondering if the gift being left behind meant that you’d not see him until well after the solstice. You chewed your bottom lip, suddenly morose at the prospect. You silently admonished yourself for not having been there when he’d come by; not knowing he’d done so on purpose, too nervous to watch you open it in person.

You fingered the bow. Should you open it? Well, he’d left it for you, so surely that was the intention, no?

You carefully pulled open the twine and unfolded the paper. Your breath caught as before you a set of beautiful silver ear cuffs caught the lantern light. You picked one up and traced the intricate design with your fingers, noting Kili’s artist mark on the smooth inner curve of the cuff. He’d made these himself. And given them to you.

After slipping the first one onto your ear, you reached for the second, only now noticing some ink in the folded page. You placed the second one on your other ear, then carefully unfolded the paper, revealing a written passage in one corner of the parchment.

A love poem.

---

Kili was pacing the halls, feeling more nervous than would likely be considered rational. All he’d done was deliver a gift. A simple gift, something he didn’t even buy! Just a friendly, normal, totally meaningless gift for a friend! You were his friend, after all. And friends exchanged gifts. Yes, yes, there was no reason to worry about how you might - however correctly - interpret his gift as a sign of affection beyond simple friendship. Obviously that would be irrational.

Ori shuffled down the same hall, a stack of three large tomes in his arms. “Oh, evening Kili,” he greeted the prince warmly. “You have supper yet?” “Not yet, but- I will.” He turned to walk alongside Ori for a moment instead of pacing idly. “Actually Ori, I meant to tell you. I stopped by your chambers earlier to borrow some parchment. I hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all, but that does explain why my writings went missing. In the future, if you could take only those pages I’ve not yet used-” “What writings?” “Er… Surely you saw?” Kili’s stomach fell through the floor. “No, I didn’t see anything written there. I wrapped a gift in it.” “Oh. Oh my.” “Ori, what writings!?”

---

Kili burst through your chamber door without knocking, looking just as shocked and unprepared to find you there as you did staring back at him. You felt your heart in your throat, cheeks flushed after having read the passionate poetry hidden inside your gift wrap.

“Kili…” He blinked and shook his head, his brain slowly coming back online as he shut the door behind him. “D-did you open your gift?” You lifted the parchment, still gripped in your hand, as evidence. “I did.” “And you read-” His eyes locked onto the scrawling on the page. “That?” “Yes.”

“I’m sorry!” Kili blurted out suddenly. “I took that sheet by mistake, and I-I didn’t know that was on there, when I wrapped it. It was just in Ori’s pile of papers and-” “You didn’t write this?” Kili shook his head. “So it… it wasn’t meant for me?” “I… don’t even know what it says.” He forced an awkward laugh.

“Oh.” You looked down at the poem, whose tender words had perfectly captured how you felt about him. Of course it had been foolish to think he felt such things for you. He was a prince of Erebor. He could have any dwarf in the mountain. Someone braver, maybe, or smarter. Someone beautiful and of high station. Someone better.

“No, no- Please don’t cry!” You blinked and put a hand up to wipe your wet cheeks, surprised at your own tears. He pursed his lips, feeling awful. In his recklessness, he’d upset you. Of course you didn’t want him leaving you stupid poems and jewelry when you weren’t around. Of course you’d be bothered by him wanting you to see him like that. You were longtime friends, and now you probably felt uncomfortable around him.

“I’m so sorry!”

He cupped your face and searched your eyes, trying to find words to say to soothe you, when his gaze was caught by something else. The ear cuffs he’d made looked perfect on your ears. A hopeful grin stretched across his face. “You’re wearing them! Then, you like them?” “Of course I like them.” The pain in your strained voice caught him off-guard and he had a new thought; maybe you weren’t upset that he’d given you a poem. Maybe you were upset that he hadn’t?

“And… me? Do you, maybe, like me too?” He winced, looking down at you with a hopeful but doubtful expression. “What?” “I didn’t know about the poem, but… It was probably much more romantic than anything I could think to say. I just… I was hoping maybe you might come to think of me as… more than a friend?”

You stared up at him, at a loss for words. Somehow in only a few minutes you’d gone from pining for him, to believing he returned your affections, to believing he absolutely did not return them, and now being told outright that he did. “That’s why I made you those cuffs. Because you’re, well- that is- I think of you as much more than a friend, amralime.”

“Me too,” you managed finally, tipping up to kiss him. He returned the kiss readily and held you close. When you pulled apart, gazing at each other with a mix of relief and surprise, you suddenly raised your brows. “You’re going to need to give me a few days to get you a better solstice gift.” He laughed and pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re the only gift I want.”

---

December Drabbles Masterlist

[fiction-is-happier]

The Stars That Answer

Here’s a little Gwynriel scene I couldn’t get out of my head! Set just after Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. 

Gwyn stepped out onto into the moonlit garden hoping to get some fresh air. It wasn’t exactly crowded in the river mansion and there hadn’t been many guests at the ceremony, but Gwyn still found her heart pounding a beat too fast in the bustle. She just needed some space to gather herself and aimed for the large patio doors off the foyer.

“Oh,” Gwyn said, surprised. Azriel sat at the small iron table, his wings resting behind him. He turned shocked as if she had somehow snuck up on him.

Azriel smiled slightly, “Did I steal your spot?”

“I just needed some fresh air.”

Azriel nodded and he stood, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No,” she blurted, “please, you were here first. There are two seats.”

He paused before nodding his head slightly and reclaiming his seat. Gwyn rounded the small table and perched at the edge of the chair.

He didn’t speak as he looked out at the river and she saw his curious shadows dancing around his shoulders. Gwyn took a deep breath and tilted her head back, bathing her face in moonlight. She couldn’t help but think of the last time they had met like this, just the two of them and the stars. It was Winter Solstice, long before the Blood Rite.

The Blood Rite. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that she had done it, fought and climbed and survived.

“Are you staying here?” Azriel asked gently.

Gwyn opened her eyes, “Feyre offered me a room but I’m not sure if I can…” She trailed off uncertainly.

“I took them up on the offer,” Azriel said dryly, “I won’t get much sleep at the House of Wind.”

Gwyn laughed. Nesta and Cassian left their own mating reception almost as soon as the ribbon was tied.

They lapsed into silence. Gwyn was used to the silence with her sisters at the library. But this one was different, comfortable. Her mind slowed as she breathed deep, practicing her Mind Stilling. They were silent for so long Gwyn was confused as to who was breaking it until she recognised her own voice. “Tonight was a test I think.”

Azriel didn’t say anything but she knew all of his attention was on her as she spoke.

She swallowed, “I-I’m not sure what I’m doing. When I first came here to Velaris, the library was where I needed to be. Safe and surrounded by my sisters. But after the Blood Rite, I’m not so sure. I hadn’t left the library for so long and then the first time I did; I climbed a violent, dangerous mountain all the way to the top.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she looked up at the stars.

“I wanted to test myself today to see if I could leave the library without my life being in peril. I didn’t consider the battle with Mor for the last slice of cake though.”

Az chuckled. “So what’s the result of your test?”

Gwyn shrugged, “Who knows, I’m just as confused as ever.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” he said softly, “you can take it a day at a time until you’re ready.”

Gwyn nodded, pushing out her breath. “What are you doing out here moping anyway?”

“I’m not moping I’m hiding.”

Gwyn raised her eyebrows at him, “From the party?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up even as he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“More complicated than contemplating my whole future after being one of the first female’s ever to win the most brutal warrior challenge?”

He huffed a laugh as he looked her in the eye and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Well it’s going to sound insignificant compared to that.”

“True,” she grinned, “but I can still hear it.”

He shot her an amused glance before taking a deep breath. “Both of my brothers are mated and settled. Cassian and Nesta happy after all the pining and dancing around each other...” He trailed off.

“You’re jealous.” Gwyn stated, without any mirth or mocking.

Azriel shifted in his seat, his elbow coming to rest on the table, confirming her suspicions.

“Is there” she started, “do you have anyone who-“

“I thought I did, for the longest time and now I,” he broke off with a shudder. He swallowed as he said softly, “I just don’t know why it’s so hard for me.”

Gwyn’s heart bled at the look on his face, the hopelessness and sadness she saw in his deep eyes. Before she even realised she was moving she reached across the table and grasped his scarred hand, gently squeezing. Azriel’s head whipped to their joined hands in shock. He made to pull away but she squeezed tighter, keeping him in place.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words left her. Generic sentiments like ‘there will be someone for you’ or ‘they’re all foolish for not seeing how wonderful you are’ all seemed so inconsequential compared to the waves of sadness she felt coming from him, from his shadows. All she could do was stare into those deep eyes, and let her thumb lightly brush his cold fingers. His shadows etched closer and closer. She swore his eyes fluttered with every swipe of her skin on his.

Finally when the silence became too taut she started “I-“

“Azriel?” A gentle voice said from behind them. Azriel whipped his head around and pulled his hand free from Gwyn’s embrace, his shadows retreating behind his shoulder.

“Feyre is looking for you.” Elain told him, smiling tightly at Gwyn.

Azriel nodded and turned to Gwyn. “Find me if you want to return to the library, I will be happy to take you.” He bowed his head slightly as he turned and followed Elain into the house, his powerful wings flexing behind him.

Gwyn took a deep breath and looked to the stars, the feel of his hand in hers like a phantom touch.

[therivergirl]

Sabrewing headcanons

I just want to ramble about this family because I'm bord and I have a ton I came up with

-Violet chose her name partially to spite her grandparents-that is Ty's parents-and, even as she didn't have the words for it back then, she in a way reclaimed the family tradition for herself at the age of 7

-I also HC that Lena's middle name is Wisteria. The rest of the family has shades of purple for names and she wanted it to be a symbol of her becoming a part of it, reclaiming it the way Vi did. She wanted it to be a surprise, so she, Vi and Webby came out with this whole elaborate plan that may or may not have involved breaking into a social worker's office, altering documents and magic ink. It was only after everything was signed that Lena's adoption papers suddenly said "Lena Wisteria Saberewing". The social worker was very confused but decided to just go with it. She just wanted to get Ty and Indy out of the office before they use up all of her paper tissues.

-I'm still coming up with names for Indy's and Ty's family

-Ty has four siblings and, even as there is some bad blood in the past, the five of them, all anmed after shades of purple, are very close now as adults and will usually all gather around holidays

-none of them is on good terms with their parents but those two just won't leave their lives and will suddenly appear at their doorsteps and proceed to enter the houses/apartments

-Indy's parent's are complete opposites to Ty's, very open-minded and non-judgmental. Did Indy even have issues with coming out? No, because his dad is also bi!

-Indy's dad is Jewish-american, his mum is Mexican

-the only rift between Indy's family and the girls is Indy's mum's mild apprehension with the occult. Which puts her at odds with both Lena and Violet. She does love her granddaughters very much, though.

-Indy's dad absolutely ADORES Ty, the two got along from minute one. He also adores his granddaughters and is the definition of the cool grandpa.

-You should never, ever, under any circumstances, leave Ty's and Indy's fathers in the same room, alone.

-It is unwise to misgender Vi anywhere near Indy's parents the offending party will be called some choice Spanish and Hebrew words.

-Indy celebrates both Christmas and Hannukah, Ty and Lena celebrate too more for his sake than holidays themselves, while Violet celebrates WITH him, while her an Lena also celebrate winter solstice

-other than Ty and Indy, nobody in family is fully aware of Lena's origin or abilities.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 2 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: One Last Adventure

Summary: Bilbo goes back home to the Shire unable to forget the terrible battle that took the sons of Durin from him. However, when a new group of dwarves appear on his doorstep for his services at the suggestion of their king, Bilbo hopes against hope that means Thorin is out there waiting for him. This journey is nothing like his first one, and it will take his entire company to save him. Even if the ones that may no longer be part of the physical world.

Bilbo may be back in the Shire, but he was far from feeling at home. He would NEVER interact with dwarves again. What did this adventure get him anyways? Back pain that continued to flare up, a tighter belt, an unfortunate wariness of the outside world, and a heartache that seemed to cut deeper and bruise wider than when his own parents died. Because Bilbo would overlook everything, the complaints, the harsh elements, the danger, if the sons of Durin had lived. But they hadn’t. Bilbo would have to go forward in this world knowing that every timeless rescue mattered to nothing in the end. Thorin does not get to walk the mountain halls he fought to reclaim as king. Fili and Kili do not get to carry their unbridled enthusiasm into future adventures of their own. It wasn’t fair. Yet, somehow life went on.

Resuming his life in the Shire didn’t happen overnight. To start with, Bilbo had to hunt down, barter, bribe, and in some cases, threaten to get all of his possessions returned to Bag End. It was nearly a month before everything was back in its place from before the adventure. And he made sure of that. He couldn’t take a single reminder of that awful battle. He squirreled away the chest, the shield, the chainmail, the coat, his sword, all into his mother’s glory box. Only his ring which sat snugly in his waistcoat pocket was allowed to remain in his life.

Yet, the memories still flooded him. Haunted his dreams, oozed out of his dining room table, his front door, his fireplace. Sleepless nights became a dear friend, and nightmares his well-acquainted nemesis. Gandalf said he wouldn’t be the same when he came back, but he had hoped for...something more. He was starting to become unsociable, and quite frankly, he didn’t care. The nearly hostile indifference of missing parties and tea invitations was probably what his fellow hobbits were most put-out about. That and the fact that he disappeared so suddenly and was still unmarried.

No, it was another three months before Bilbo could find solstice in gardening again. He sobbed the entire time he planted that damn acorn, and it was another week before he felt brave enough to tend to it. His books and his armchair, on the other hand, he threw himself into with great abandon. Let him be carried off to places where the heroes didn’t die. Where the adventure led to love and happiness. It soothed his mind, but it wrecked his heart. 

Bilbo’s birthday came and passed without any fanfare much to his neighbors’ and relatives’ ruffled feathers. Weeks later, he got his first letter from Bofur in congratulations. Bilbo became immediately familiar with his father’s vintage. He didn’t dare write back.

Durin’s Day, a dwarvish date he will now never forget, came about a month later along with more letters from Balin and Ori. He nearly broke then, but a reminder of what happens when you let dwarves into your life convinced him to leave that chapter of his life closed. 

Bilbo could not remember a more miserable Yule, but at least Bombur’s children and Gimli seemed to enjoy it if the letters he received were any indicator.

It took a year. An entire year of existing in Bag End watching the little sapling out front grow for Bilbo to finally return correspondence. Dori made it relatively easy for him asking about the tea blends he had noticed when they pilfered his pantry. After that, easing back into his friends’ lives just seemed to be the next logical step. Especially when unwritten ground rules were firmly established: no mentions of the quest, no mentions of Dain’s rule over Erebor, no mentions of who they lost. Yet, he needed some form of closure. Something to allow him to move on. So after returning letters to the remaining ten members of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company (and wasn’t that a surprise to receive Dwalin’s letter), he decided he needed to write three more. Three letters that would never reach their intended audience. 

Fili and Kili’s letters were...relatively smooth. It was like playing a game of pretend. Asking after their adventures, wondering how they were taking to court life, asking Kili about that elf guard. Yes, it hurt. It hurt terribly, but it was also somehow therapeutic to his soul. Then, he pulled over that third parchment and his hand shook leaving a rather large drop of ink on the page. There was a gasping, wounded animal somewhere outside distracting him, and it took far longer than he was proud of to release it was coming from him. He let the quill clatter on the desk as he put his head in his hands. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pretend that Thorin was alive and well in Erebor, and he wasn’t there with him!

A shaky, rather hystic laugh bubbled out. He never admitted that to himself before. Bag End was always the endgame, but somewhere along the way, it had changed to Thorin. Perhaps that’s why he still struggled with the concept of home. His was gone forever. It was with that unpleasant thought that Bilbo retired to bed, twelve complete letters and one not started. Perhaps never to be written. 

Yet, fate seemed it was not quite through with Bilbo. Looking back, Bilbo deemed it a rather ironic twist. Upon the next day, Bilbo received a knock on his door and opened it to reveal three unfamiliar dwarves.

“Good morning.” He greeted with narrowed eyes.

The three exchanged glances and turned towards the blue sky before nodding in agreement.

“So it is.” The larger one on the left huffed. “Are you, by chance, Mr. Bilbo Baggins? The one who helped reclaim Erebor?”

Bilbo almost wanted to laugh. Almost. Instead, he balled his hands at his hips as he raised himself as tall as his three foot ten frame would allow.

“No. My answer is no.”

“Master Baggins?” The dwarf in the middle gasped. “I don’t think we…”

“You are here to invite me on some whirlwind adventure. That’s all any dwarves that appear at my door want, and I’ll not have it! I had my adventure, and it’s left me none the better. I dare not imagine what another would do to me, so go and bother some other hobbit!”

Bilbo moved to slam his door shut when the last dwarf stopped it with his foot. The hobbit glared at his audacity. Yet, the red-haired dwarf pushed his luck.

“Please Master Baggins. We’ve traveled far, and the King of Erebor told us you’re the only one who can help us.”

“Dain sent you?” Bilbo scoffed.

“No, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bilbo felt his limbs go limp and the air disappeared from the room. Everything seemed to fall away except for the fast pace his heart set in his chest. 

“That’s impossible.” He finally croaked, his voice sounding dead and flat to his own ears. “Thorin Oakenshield is dead. I saw him die with my own eyes.”

“No, Master Baggins.” The first dwarf stepped in at this point. “He lives...though he couldn’t return to Erebor. We can take you to him...if you agree to help with our plight.”

“THORIN OAKENSHIELD IS DEAD!” Bilbo wailed. 

He was certain all of Hobbiton could hear him at this point, but impropriety was the furthest thing from his mind. Tears spilled from his eyes blurring the faces of the unknown dwarves. Three faces he was already learning to hate. How dare they say something so cruel. How dare they deliver news that, if true, belonged to his Company to divulge. How dare they allow hope to root in his battered heart. He squeezed his eyes shut pleading that when they opened these awful dwarves would be gone.

“Master Baggins,” the middle one sighed. “We know our words will not reach past your grief, no matter how true they are. So we bring this. Thorin told us it would convince you.”

Something small, round, and smooth was pressed into his hand. He knew the texture immediately and nearly fell over from the shock that rocked him to his core. When he looked back up at the dwarves, they were watching him with knowing smug looks.

“We’ve made camp at the bridge just east of town. If you decide to hear us out, you can find us there.”

Finally, finally, the dwarves took their leave like the thieves they were. They robbed Bilbo of his morning, nicked at his sanity, and now they’ve stolen the truth with them. For in his sweating palm was the one object that would sway Bilbo to the idea Thorin may still live, and left him with more questions than ever. Slowly, he dared to look down at the acorn in his palm.

“It’s a poor prize to take back to the Shire.”

“Plant your trees and watch them grow.”

Thorin was the only one who had seen his acorn, and both conversations had been private between the two of them. It could be a trick. A supremely lucky guess. After all, he was “Oakenshield”. However, if Thorin actually did live, was it not plausible he would use such a sign? Bilbo clenched his fist and shook his head. He couldn’t allow such thoughts to fester. Thorin was dead. Thorin was dead. Thorin was dead...but what if he wasn’t?

Bilbo paced back and forth with his pipe for the next three hours, but ultimately, he knew he had to speak to those dwarves again if he wanted answers. He took the mail and his sword because he didn’t trust them completely. He stuffed a pack because there was the possibility of not making it back to Bag End before dark, and he may have to make camp. If he overpacked like he was going on a journey, it was simply to be overly prepared. Before he stepped out his round door once more though, he had one last piece of business to take care of. He returned to his writing desk where his unfinished letter sat blank and ink stained. He dipped his quill in the well and wrote three simple sentences.

One last adventure, Master Oakenshield. Pray you’re at the end of it to receive me. It will be all I can take before I finally break and wither away.

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Being a Good Brother

Being A Good Brother (And Finding Safety, Family, Home) by Otaku6337

Izuku doesn't think he had much of a childhood. He didn't have friends, or a Dad, or a Quirk, and somewhere within that mix he lost the films and sleepovers and bug-catching, the holidays and pets and birthday parties.

Izuku doesn't have to think to know that he loves Eri very, very much. And with that, he knows that he wants to make sure she reclaims every tiny piece of childhood she might have missed, or could in the future.

She deserves the happiness that he didn't get. Even if he has to do things that scare him to ensure this, he'll do it. He's her Deku-nii after all. ~~~ Aizawa knows that a lot of his kids haven't had ideal childhoods. The general countenance of his Problem Child suggests that he might be one of them. But it's not until he starts interacting with him in non-school settings that such things become far more obvious. And, well, maybe there's something he can do about it. ~~~ (A fic for my server's Summer Solstice fic exchange - this is for the lovely Riley!!)

Words: 7204, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 70 of Ota's One-Shot Wonders, Part 69 of Ota's BNHA Ficlets

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Eri & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Eri, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty

Additional Tags: Cute Eri, Cute Midoriya Izuku, Soft Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku is a Good Big Brother, Midoriya Izuku is a Problem Child, Midoriya Izuku is a Ray of Sunshine, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Eri, Family Fluff, Family Bonding, Protective U.A. Faculty, Everyone Loves Midoriya Izuku, Giving Eri The Childhood She Deserves, Eri is a Ray of Sunshine

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31972633

[ao3feed-dadzawa]

Being a Good Brother

Being A Good Brother (And Finding Safety, Family, Home) by Otaku6337

Izuku doesn't think he had much of a childhood. He didn't have friends, or a Dad, or a Quirk, and somewhere within that mix he lost the films and sleepovers and bug-catching, the holidays and pets and birthday parties.

Izuku doesn't have to think to know that he loves Eri very, very much. And with that, he knows that he wants to make sure she reclaims every tiny piece of childhood she might have missed, or could in the future.

She deserves the happiness that he didn't get. Even if he has to do things that scare him to ensure this, he'll do it. He's her Deku-nii after all. ~~~ Aizawa knows that a lot of his kids haven't had ideal childhoods. The general countenance of his Problem Child suggests that he might be one of them. But it's not until he starts interacting with him in non-school settings that such things become far more obvious. And, well, maybe there's something he can do about it. ~~~ (A fic for my server's Summer Solstice fic exchange - this is for the lovely Riley!!)

Words: 7204, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 70 of Ota's One-Shot Wonders, Part 69 of Ota's BNHA Ficlets

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Eri & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Eri, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty

Additional Tags: Cute Eri, Cute Midoriya Izuku, Soft Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku is a Good Big Brother, Midoriya Izuku is a Problem Child, Midoriya Izuku is a Ray of Sunshine, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Eri, Family Fluff, Family Bonding, Protective U.A. Faculty, Everyone Loves Midoriya Izuku, Giving Eri The Childhood She Deserves, Eri is a Ray of Sunshine

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31972633

[pcttrailsidereader]

July 9, 2010 . . . A (Trail)Magical Evening at Drakesbad

By Rees Hughes

There are certain magical days on the Pacific Crest Trail that stand tall; days that rise above that broad forest of glorious days.   These are the days that your memory immediately races to when you reflect on your life on the trail.  There was the day we guessed our way around snow-covered Mt. Adams ending on a ridge with a commanding view of Mt. Rainier and a solstice sunset; the day we swam our way down Falls Creek marveling at the granite walls above Grace Meadows only to while away an afternoon in the soft, lush grass basking in the warm sun near Wilmer Lake; or the day we walked south from Cook and Green Pass past Kangaroo Springs to Lower Devils Peak with its ringside seat to the conflagration raging across the Klamath River Valley.  Every hiker has their transcendent days.

Such days do not always represent a confluence of everything wonderful.  It is their enchanted quality, what English writer Nan Fairbrother calls “exquisite moments,” that sets them apart.  Besides, time seems to blur the difficult and brighten the best experiences of these stellar days.  Such was the case this particular day.

The day dawned with vestiges of the tumultuous evening resting on the peaks above Lower Twin Lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park.  We tried to shake off as much moisture as possible but there was no alternative but to pack the tents wet again.  Dr. Howard tended to Don and Eli’s ailing feet.  Wet boots and long days had chaffed their feet raw with blisters compounding their discomfort.  There were unspoken thoughts of an early exit from the trail as it is no fun when each step hurts.  Perhaps a short day will improve spirits.

Speed bumps of late season snow gave way to long stretches of snow sheltered by the dense tree canopy.  I always find these situations wearing if not exhausting.  Climbing up and down the steep edges of the snow banks; picking your path around downed trees; add in a couple of postholes.   We carefully crossed several creeks swollen by the melt water and preceding night’s rainfall. About midday we reached the crest of a line of basalt cliffs that comprise Flatiron Ridge high above the Warner Valley and, more importantly, Drakesbad.

Drakesbad, initially established clear back in 1900 as a guest ranch, remains a rustic refuge accessible via a corrugated unpaved road seventeen miles in from Chester (which is pretty remote itself) or on foot.  There are only nineteen units at Drakesbad some of which still rely on kerosene lamps.  However, the price for a night rivals the cost of a month on the PCT.  Yet, during much of the summer, accommodations have been reserved for years.  It really is a Northern California Shangri-la.

As we made the long traverse down, we could see the steam rising from the hot spring pool set out in a broad meadow.  The siren song of happy voices pulled us forward.  Our own chatter focused on the possibility of reserving a space for dinner.

We set up our tents in the Park Service’s Warner Valley Campground, hung a line and did our best to give the high mountain sun a chance to dry out our saturated gear.  Howard and I were nominated to walk the half mile to Drakesbad to ask about a table for four in the well ventilated section.  We donned clean tee-shirts and tried to sponge away the most offensive trail musk.

As we stepped into the closed space of the dining room, even our deadened noses became aware of the aroma that accompanied us.  The colorful tablecloths festooned the light wood of the dining room.  The room was set for dinner.  Salad forks.  Second spoons.  Wine glasses.  The ambiance was simple but elegant.   The realization that we didn’t fit here made us yearn for the opportunity that much more.

A tall woman brusquely emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen.  She had the air of a person with a long list of urgent tasks and little time for hiker trash.  Our first efforts to turn on the charm bounced off her and fell impotently to the floor.

We continued, “Any chance, any chance at all, that there might be a way to handle four more this evening?”  We weren’t above inserting a hint of desperation in our request.

“The Ranch is full and we usually only have enough food for our paying guests,” she replied without a hint of sympathy.  There was a pause as she saw our crestfallen faces.  “I will check with the chef and see if there is likely to be extra food.”   Perhaps it was her Germanic accent that underscored the futility of our quest.   Perhaps it was that she didn’t seem to be heading off to ask anyone anything.

We turned to go, tails between our legs.  Don and Eli will be so disappointed.  We had hoped this would be an antidote for their blistered feet and bruised morale.

With one foot out the door, Howard asked if it might be possible to use the phone for a quick call home as our cell phones had not been working along this stretch of the PCT.

It was if Howard had uttered a magic incantation that had propelled us into a parallel universe.  We were Dorothy trying to get into Oz.  “Why didn’t you say you were on the Crest Trail,” Billie Fiebiger exclaimed.  “We always have enough food for PCT hikers.”  In fact, Billie gave us the key to the city.  “Use the showers (please) and the pool.  Make yourselves at home.  Come back at 7 p.m. although you may not be seated until later.”  Still shaking our heads at our good fortune and this rather mysterious turn of events, we hurried back to tell Don and Eli the news before the spell was broken.

As the four of us returned the dark clouds that had dogged us the past several days were building quickly.  But, the warm showers and the hydrothermal pool kept us occupied until the rumble of thunder became more aggressive. Within minutes the remaining blue patches of sky vanished.  Lightning forced us reluctantly to vacate the pool.  The hail drove us for cover under the eaves of the bathhouse.   The gusting winds pushed tentacles of rain toward even the most protected corners.

Valiant employees raced down the trail to the pool in an electric cart to rescue the castaways three per trip.  The meadow had been transformed into a Sargasso Sea and the pyrotechnics kept us all jumpy.  Eventually we were deposited in the Lodge where we were to wait until dinner.

The photo albums and memorabilia in the Lodge deepened our appreciation for just what a special place Drakesbad is.  For two generations the Sifford family had built and tended this Guest Ranch.  For over 60 years they reclaimed the facility after each harsh winter for its four months of annual operation.  It had to be a labor of love.  The facility was incorporated into the National Park in 1958.  For the past 19 years, Ed and Billie Fiebiger have served as the hosts, caretakers, and stewards of Drakesbad.

Ed, in his chef’s apron, called us for dinner.  We crossed to the dining hall and were promptly seated.  There were several choices of entrees.  Or, Ed suggested, “Try them all!”  Heaping plates were brought to each of us.  The folks at the adjacent table took a special interest in our story.  One of their group had come annually for nearly fifty years.  Another from their table was sent back to their cabin and instructed to return with some of their wine stash to be shared with us.  “White or red?”  “No”, she instructed her husband, “bring one of each.”  We were peppered with questions and asked quite a few of our own.  We soaked up the attention that comes with being minor celebrities.

Ed pulled up a chair.  He had a bigger than life quality and exuded a warmth that permeated the hospitality of this magical place.

My cynical side wanted to peer around to make sure that we were not being fattened up by some wicked witch.  But, Drakesbad is a place that replenishes your faith in the generosity of the human spirit.  Distrust, doubt, and skepticism have no place here.

And, there was desert too.  In fact, there were three kinds.  “Try them all!”

It was tempting to linger much longer than we did.  I confess that it was all I could to restrain myself from asking if they served breakfast too.

Eventually we said reluctant goodbyes and enthusiastic thank yous.  The rain had stopped by the time we walked back toward our campsite.  If we weren’t walking down the road with our arms around each other, singing and talking loudly, then it felt like there was that sense of conviviality. 

The storm had spread our clothes across our campsite and sent cascades of water around our tents.   But there was nothing capable of dampening our spirits on this magical day.