#silver monstera

[arctictropical]

House plant wishlist!

Latin name: Ficus elastica 'Abidjan' Swedish name: Fönsterfikus 'Abidjan'/'Burgundy'/'Black prince' English name: Rubber plant 'Abidjan'/'Burgundy'/'Black prince'

Light placement: Sun, indirect light, partial shade Moisture: Dry slightly Moisture meter: Optimum at 4, water at 3 Poisonous to pets and kids Folklore: See Rubber plant

Latin name: Monstera siltepecana Swedish name: Silvermonstera English name: Silver monstera

Light placement: Indirect light, partial shade Moisture: Dry lightly Moisture meter: Optimum at 4, water at 3 Not poisonous but irritating to pets and kids Folklore: See Monstera

Latin name: Philodendron brandtianum Swedish name: Filodendron brandtianum? English name: Philodendron brandtianum?

Light placement: Partial shade, shade Moisture: Moist Moisture meter: Optimum at 4, water at 3 Poisonous to pets and kids Folklore: See Philodendron

Latin name: Epipremnum amplissimum 'Silver stripe' Swedish name: Gullranka 'Silver stripe' English name: Pothos 'Silver stripe'

Light placement: Indirect light, partial shade Moisture: Dry lightly Moisture meter: Optimum at 4, water at 3 Not poisonous but irritating to pets and kids Folklore: See Pothos

[kateammann]

my plant children 🫶🏻

[sarahgrows]

While checking out the new leaf on the PPP, I saw that the last one is bigger than my forearm 🤩 The Thai Constellation is looking beautiful in addition to popping out another leaf. The 3 new leaves in the Amydrium SS have unfurled and completely change the look of this plant. It is so much more full, they grew up so much higher...I have since moved it to a spot closer to the grow light, so I wonder if the next leaves will grow lower instead of climbing up so high 🤔

[girrldrool]

they prosper

[cowboylikemaybelle]

ever since I discovered I could name plants after sonic characters I’ve just been goin bonkers buying them. like I just saw a lil pathos for sale and went “oh hell yeah that’s silver” and bought him. man😭😭

[retro-embellishments]

Crochet fern/monstera jewelry 🌿🪴

[averageanonymous]

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have agreed that they won't buy each other gifts for frivolous human holidays. That certainly isn't going to stop them, though.

i.e. Brief Valentine's Day Fluff 🖤🤍

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Aziraphale could feel it. This was the one. Settled in a corner, surrounded by arrangements that were full of pink hearts and red balloons, it alone was unadorned. It didn't need any embellishment. The plant was gorgeous. A large, well-established Monstera deliciosa, also known by the name “Thai Constellation” Monstera. They were popular, but this particular variation was quite rare. Its enormous fenestrated leaves, spackled with white and yellow variegation, were full of life, lush, and verdant. Aziraphale had only the most basic experience in caring for houseplants, but he could recognize a beautiful specimen when he saw one. And this one was nothing less than perfect. 

He eagerly made his purchase, and then, upon exiting the nursery with it on a cart (to "take to his car," naturally) he surreptitiously miracled it straight to the bookshop, returned the cart, and began the walk back home. 

His mind wandered as he walked. He thought he had some black and silver ribbon in the back of the shop. He might tie a nice bow around the Monstera’s pot. Or perhaps that would be too much. Maybe somewhat too obvious a gesture. Best to keep it simple. A nice surprise (Oh, my dear, I just happened to wander by a nursery, I spied it through the window, it was nothing, really, didn't even have to go out of my way…) to complement a lovely glass of wine at the bookshop (one of his finer vintages, the ones he kept in the cabinet up in his room) after they went out for a splendid dinner (at the Ritz, of course) and had a quiet stroll through the park (nothing like a casual moonlit stroll to settle a full stomach). 

Aziraphale smiled to himself. He felt almost giddy. There was a fluttering in his middle, what he thought humans referred to cleverly as butterflies in the stomach. He wouldn't think that after literally thousands of years that going out for an evening with Crowley could affect him in such a way. Yet here he was. 

He reached the bookshop. A quick change into his evening attire, a check on the certainly-not-a-Valentine’s-gift Monstera, and he'd be off to the Ritz to meet up with Crowley. He took the steps with a skip, opening the door with a joyful flourish. And froze.

The Monstera had made it to the bookshop just fine. It sat, lovely green shining in the late afternoon sunbeams that filtered through the windows. And standing there, staring at it wide-eyed, was Crowley. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried in alarm, “You were- I thought- Well, you- Ahm,��� he trailed off, wringing his hands slightly, and finished weakly, “Weren't we supposed to meet at the restaurant?” 

Crowley gaped at him. Gaped at the plant. Looked between them several times. Then crossed the room in three determined strides and pulled Aziraphale into a crushing embrace. 

“No gifts, angel,” Crowley growled into Aziraphale’s shoulder, arms squeezing him until his lungs began to protest. “That's what we agreed. No. Bloody. Gifts.” 

“Oh, this isn't a gift,” Aziraphale wheezed, “I just…happened…by…” 

Crowley released Aziraphale just enough to let him breathe properly. Aziraphale looked up at him, feeling his face warm under Crowley's bright gaze. “Do you…like it?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly. 

“She's gorgeous,” Crowley said with a shake of his head. He set a hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, and Aziraphale leaned into it, turning just enough to press a kiss to the Demon's palm.

“Incorrigible angel,” Crowley muttered softly, “you just can't help yourself, can you?” 

Aziraphale chuckled, “Old habits, I suppose.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes, pulled Aziraphale back into his arms, and pressed a kiss to his lips that promised more later. 

“Come on, then,” Crowley finally said when they drew apart, both a little flushed and out of breath, “The Ritz won't wait forever.” Then he took the angel's hand in his and dragged him out of the bookshop to the Bentley. 

He opened the door for Aziraphale and Aziraphale was about to thank him when he noticed a black box on the seat. It was a few inches deep and around six inches long. He leaned in and took it, raising an eyebrow at Crowley as he straightened. 

“No gifts, hm?” Aziraphale said coyly. He lifted the lid. The smell of chocolate wafted out.

“It barely counts,” Crowley huffed as Aziraphale lifted the small stack of artisan chocolate bars from the box. Each was wrapped in thick, beautifully designed paper with detailed descriptions of the origin of the ingredients, the flavors that could be detected in each bar, the journey those ingredients took to become the precious ounces of chocolate in his hands. Crowley would have had to search for these chocolate bars. They were practically art themselves. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, “You're far too good to me.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley huffed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Will you please get in so we can go, angel.” 

So Aziraphale did, gently placing the chocolate back in its box, and laying it in the back seat so he was free to reach across and take Crowley's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. The butterflies fluttered pleasantly in his stomach. His heart beat a joyful rhythm in his chest. Aziraphale sighed contentedly. It was going to be a wonderful night. 

-----

Thanks for reading! Happy Valentine's Day!

[acheronist]

big updates for the My Houseplants fans

i weatherstripped the inside of the new ikea greenhouse so it'll be much better at holding in moisture now, which is grand because it's still cold dry winter where i live and i have been FRETTING!!!!!!!!! ABOUT MY TROPICALS!!!!!!!! BEING DEHYDRATED AND COLD!!!!!!!

also found a spare plant light, so that'll introduce some warmth to the mini greenhouse situation + extra light on cloudy days when the sun isn't out. good stuff

also stopped by lowe's to get the weatherstripping tape, and did some minor plant shoplifting (found a mostly healthy raven zz branch on the floor / a pilea schumi red branch fell off the main plant as i picked it up) and i said 👁️👁️ i could probably propagate these. so now i have those two in addition to my teeny pothos propagations

the pilea has been spitting out new baby leaves pretty regularly which has been exciting, but after reading about the monstera preferring a chunkier soil for drainage, i wanted to doublecheck that i was using the right soil in my Other Plants. and i was not lol. so the pilea has been repotted for the first time in about a year and is now in a much better draining + dry soil....... sorry i was making u live in a swamp my dear

and its my blog post about my houseplants i wanna include archival pics so in eight months i can see how much they’ve changed

the monstera deliciosa !! my mom and i decided to name her nessie (the long neck monstera, ha ha ha). i was super impressed with the roots while repotting + here's a glamour shot now that she's all set up

onto the mini greenhouse wheeeeee 🪴

first pic is: the black cardinal philodendron (keeping eyes on that new leaf) + some golden pothos propagations second pic: the pilea after being repotted + the schumi red / raven zz propagation attempts

first pic: silver inch plant second pic: english ivy third pic: white nerve plant, which i suspect will come out of the greenhouse when it's warmer because she's the largest plant in there and is pet friendly so if peppercorn bites the leaves, it won't be disastrous for her health and well being

and then an obligatory glamour shot of the peacock calathea loml

okay 🖤 yay

[capitalist-teahouse]

What They Can Give

A ficlet by Mod Monstera

Cold weather whips around them, threatening to make off with any loose accessories that Lord Pwnatious was wearing. The demon waits impatiently for the return of their Omega graft, who had gone to get their vehicle while they were busy locking up the store. It was taking him longer than they were expecting, and their patience was wearing away rather quickly in this weather. They tuck their hands under their arms in a manner akin to their usual pout as an attempt to preserve heat.  The arrival of a sleek black limo brings them relief as they rip the door open, slipping into the backseat that was already satisfactorily warm. The door is hastily slammed before cold could creep its claws inside. 

"What took you so long?!" Lord Pwnatious demands, turning to Carnage, who is sitting across from them, awkwardly leaning forward to fit into the vehicle that did not accommodate his size.

"I only took a few minutes longer than usual." He responds evenly. "And besides, I was making sure something was ready." 

"Making sure what was ready?" 

"You'll have to wait and see."

The drive back to Lord Pwnatious' home was no more pleasant than usual, with them both suspended in a silence that allowed Carnage to sense the frigid mood that radiated off Pwnatious. It drew to a conclusion with the forward shift of gravity signaling their arrival. 

Carnage moves to get out first, letting their owner out. The biograft defaults to heeling as Pwnatious gets to the front door, stepping inside the dark house. Upon hitting the light switch, they find that their house isn't precisely the way they left it; Holiday cheer infecting their home in the form of tinsel over the doorways, a wreath on the door. There were a hundred little tells that this was a planned affront on their space.

They bite back a sharp remark, ignoring the obnoxious decor and instead stepping into their living room after depositing their coat onto the hanger by the door.

In there, a small Christmas tree takes residence in the corner, no taller than their waist. Little red and green ornaments arranged in a neat manner between rows of silver tinsel. Clearly, it was in an attempt to remain inoffensive while intruding on their space.

"What. Is this." They ask flatly, gesturing more vaguely around at the decorations. 

"Your family never celebrated Christmas, but I figured this year, since you've been busier than usual, it'd be nice to do something different." Carnage explains, coming in from the other room. He folds his arms conspicuously behind his back. 

"What makes you think I want to celebrate some consumer holiday like a plebian?" They ask disapprovingly.

"I figured you probably wouldn't. That's why I kept it to a minimum." 

"Anyways, I got you something." The biograft removes his hands from behind his back, offering them a box in pale golden paper.

"Merry Christmas, Pwnatious." 

Right, it was Christmas Eve, wasn't it. They didn't pay attention to the calendar unless there was something special that they cared about, which didn't include most holidays.

"I'm not a child."

  "Just take the present." 

They scoff, accepting the box and finding a seat on the couch. They feel the pressure of their bodyguard's gaze on their hands as they rip through the paper. Inside the box is a small tin surrounded by red tissue paper. They lift the tin out and read the label, which reads as a special tea blend that comes from a small company based somewhere deep in the Blackrock mountains, if they recall correctly. 

"I noticed you liked this blend when it came in that one gift basket you got from company dealings a few months ago." He explains. 

It was stupid. If they wanted the blend, they could have just ordered it themself under normal circumstances. 

However, there was an inkling of some other feeling; foreign to them and probably far too soft and disgusting and warm to ever put a name to. They quickly shove it away before anything can really sink in.

Begrudgingly, they turn it over in their hands. It did occur to them that Carnage was still keenly watching them; They didn't care to guess if it was out of expectation of something in return, or something else.

"...Thanks, Carnage." They mutter reluctantly.

"You're welcome, Pwnatious."

[sarahgrows]

Photo dump!

My aglaonema (Red zircon I believe) has sprouted a bloom! I'm 99% sure I skipped a week watering her on accident. I'm excited to see her bloom even if it is a sign of stress because she has done so well! My other aglaonema bloomed twice earlier in the year but they never actually opened. I got impatient and snipped them off 😅 I'm hoping to see this one open though!

New leaves growing in my White Princess Philo | Update on my PPP | Some new baby Syngonium Maria leaves coming in | Got my Red Moon Philo leaf unstuck | Moonlight Philo leaf is starting to unfurl + whatever is going on in the middle? Any ideas? | New growths on my Monstera Standleyana Albo | Shot of my beloved Amydrium Silver Spiderman

[augustpoem]

monstera leaf silver ring

[elminx]

2024 Planty Update: Year in Review

Background: Prior to March 2020, my partner and I had a few houseplants: two spider plants, an african violet, lucky bamboo, a coleus, some sort of ivy, and a couple of succulents. We started collecting Sansevieria and two "Corn Plant" Dracaena early in the pandemic. Then, during the summer of 2022, I caught the houseplant bug. HARD. (Yes, it was a Monstera) That same winter, my partner was working full-time and taking classes, so I became the primary plant carer in our household.

As of October 2024, I am caring for 50 "indoor" houseplants. I am putting "indoors" in parentheses because many of my plants live outside for the warm season (about half of my collection). This currently includes a tiny English Lavender plant that was in a pot and too small to be transplanted and survive the winter. It also includes an entire pot of lemon seedlings, which I will need to rehome sometime soon.

My "permanent collection" includes 12 Hoya, 11 Dracaena (Corn Plants, Lucky Bamboo, and Snake Plants), 3 Begonia (two cane and one rex), 3 African violets, 2 Philodendron, 2 Schlumbergera, 2 Scindapsus, 2 pothos, a Spider Plant, an Aloe vera, a Gasteria, a tiny jade plant, a lemon we are trying to bonsai, a Discidia, a cyclamen, a Monstera adensonaii, a fishbone cactus, and a Pepperomia.

For the most part, this was a great growing season, and my plants are doing very well. The spider plant and Philo Basil are being rehabbed for root rot issues, and my Hoya publicalyx is still outside because it's got aphids.

My goals for 2024 were:

Figure out how to get my Philodendron "Painted Lady" to grow well (done)

Learn to trellis Hoya in an attempt to tame them (done)

Grow my Golden Pothos up my wall (failed and rehomed)

Master trimming cane Begonias (eh - I mostly just let them grow)

Flowers on my Hoya (success, sort of, though not the expected one)

Work on coleus care (eh, its just really not an inside plant but my partner insists on keeping it)

"the great repotting" (done)

Over summer my cyclamen successfully (done)

Turn my front porch into an outside growing space (done)

I also wanted to try out different-leaved Hoyas, a Philodendron Brasil, and possibly a Rhypsalis. I ended up with the Philo (see above: that's not going well), a Hoya linearis, and two smaller-leaved Hoyas. Instead of a Rhypasalis, I got a fishbone cactus.

My favorite houseplants for the growing season are as follows (in no particular order:

Hoya carnosa 'Krimson Queen' wins for Biggest Surprise as it grew two nearly white leaves.

Scindapsus pictus 'Exotica' wins for Prettiest Leaves because those silver speckles leaves are outstanding.

Philodendron erubescens "Painted Lady" wins for Best Glow Up because it was on the struggle bus last spring and is now growing leaves out of their own cataphylls (a sign of maturity).

Dracaena trifasciata 'Laurentii' (formerly Sanserveria trifasciata) wins for Best Form because, wow, it looks like the perfect sculpture.

Hylocereus undatus 'Dragon Fruit Cactus' wins for Biggest Weirdo because it so wild.

Honorable mention goes to a two-way tie for Best Plant Pot Combo, with my NOID African Violet in its perfect pink pot and my Hoya 'Mathilde' cascading like a dream out of its mushroom pot.

My favorite genus is Hoya, followed by a tie between Scindapsus and Begonia. As a general grouping of plants, I prefer epiphytes and semi-epiphytes. I'd love to add more jungle cacti and an orchid or two to my collection. But for now, I am completely out of room, and (most) of my houseplants will keep growing!

[orangeboulevard]

The Fruit (Oneshot)

Day three gangsters!! Actual smut (near the end), still ocs. We may have lost the plot kinda? we started ranting about the elite Dynamic: spy x spy, older male x younger male Content: public sex -> hold the moan moment -> hate sex Word Count: 1004

Objective: 'Enter the event. Locate the Person Of Interest. Dispatch the Person Of Interest without drawing attention. Leave event.'

Simple enough, Agent Red thought dismissively, he didn't even have to ponder what was meant by 'dispatch'. 

Red fished out a lighter from the pocket of his rented tuxedo, a vintage style: longer coat-tails, figure framing waistcoat and trousers, the whole nines. He flicked open the top of the silver box, the flame was steady as he held it to the paper, and he watched as it swiftly burnt up. No evidence, a swift trip in and out, and no witnesses to testify, a type of job he'd done plenty of times before, he really should think about retiring soon. 

His pace and strut were casual as he approached the event, an exclusive party, the elite kind. The historical New Orleanian manor was an aged white, it centred acres of rolling planes of grass, meticulously trimmed trees framed the long driveway, and the walkway was lit by olden Victorian street lamps. It was a handsome house, this kind of handsome in New Orleans almost certainly made you wonder if it had once been a plantation, the answer every time is yes.

Enough about architecture, Red chided himself, he should be concerning himself with blending in with the staff, his agency had supplied him with a matching uniform suit; his dark eyes followed a valet entering the building through a side door, too easy. 

The interior design is even more impressive than the high pillars and French windows of the outside: an Art Decó touch, large swooping parlour palm trees and monstera plants drape over the large sofas, with the warm tones and colours of a Tuscan building, the place was lighted by a central chandelier, one with actual candles that cast a golden flickering glow, and other dim lights line the floor. The elite kind of party, indeed.

He is aware of a live performance further within, the main lady's voice is sugar-sweet. The party go-ers are either standing around game tables or draped over the furniture, cigarettes and alcohol in hand as they idly chat with each other. Beneath the glam, there is a smell of rot. It permeates the air in the way these people are blissfully unaware of what's going to happen tonight, what goes on outside their bubbles even, ignorance. Their lives are the stinking fruit of the age, past their ripeness, transformed from what they used to be and what they used to represent. When did we as a people make space for rotten fruit? 

It's almost too perfect when he spots the Person Of Interest excusing himself to go to the restroom. Red should be suspicious, he is. He feels the gaze of another on the back of his neck. Red has learnt to see through his peripherals, you do this job long enough and you will, the watcher isn't aware that he's seen him. Michelangelo. Great. That tricky bastard. 

He's eyeing him from the lower floor, over a flute of champagne, over-indulgent bastard. He places it down and starts to make his way up the grand winding staircase. Red needs to move now. His steps are silent and calculated, he has control over every cell of his body. He has control. He will complete this mission-

Just as Red went to push open the door to the bathroom, skillfully picking the lock, the thunder crack sound of a gun echoes in the manor. Shit. There's silence before the screams start. There's no salvaging this, Red thinks before absconding through a nearby window. His feet just hit the ground when another body collides into him, they tumble down a small hill into the gardens of the house. 

He finds himself on top of Michelangelo, wild roses frame the other, his youthful face is flushed and wide-eyed before a devilish grin paints his lips, and boyish dimples line his face, "Hey there, Red."

"That was you, wasn't it?"

The younger male shrugs coyly. 

"Okay. I want you to listen closely to me when I say this," Red whispers into his ear, "Pull something like that again and I will kill you." The grin on Michelangelo's face falters at that. "I will hand deliver your head to your agency. Don't fuck with me. You're just a little boy playing games you don't understand."

 A deadly glint settles into the other's eyes and that smirk returns to his face, "You'd miss me too much."

"Wanna bet?"

"What was it you said last time I saw you?" Michelangelo's thigh comes to press against Red's crotch, "The best sex you've ever had? Oh, I'm sure you'll miss me." 

Red scoffs, his features contorted in thinly restrained rage.

"You look good in this," Michelangelo purrs, his hands snaking their way up Red's waistcoat. 

It's not long before Red is fucking him, right there in the dirt and flowers, their own garden of Eden, even if just for tonight. His hips snap into Michelangelo, a bruising and furious pace, he's given up growling at the other man to keep quiet- the distant sounds of police are an ever-looming threat- and instead swallows his cries and mewls with biting kisses. Michelangelo's nails run down his back like he's trying to rip him open, he wants Red to hurt. 

His legs wrap around the older man, tears starting to form at how hard he's fucking him; in a twisted sense, Michelangelo is proud, he's the one who managed to make Red like this, a man considered the epitome of blasé. Red leans back, his hands coming to wrap around Michelangelo's throat, pulling him impossibly further onto his dick. Michelangelo's eyes squeeze shut, the tears spilling down his cheeks, his brows are knitting together, and he's clenching around Red. 

Red leans down and licks the tears up. 

[retro-embellishments]

[ryehouses]

ugh one step forward (the white knight philo I cut to propagate last year has responded by putting out three new leaves) two steps back (dropped and broke half of my monstera acuminata; CANNOT figure out how much water my little silver sword philo needs,)

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 67: Winter Star

THURSDAY - WINTER 25

“Rise and shine, Alexander, it’s Winter Star!” 

Achilles could’ve been banging pots and pans, and the aforementioned Alexander still likely would’ve only rolled over with a snore if the former hadn’t also jabbed him hard in forehead. In between a sputter and a yawn, Alex managed to murmur, “Is it Winter Star already?”

“Mmhm.” Achilles took advantage of Alex’s wide-reaching stretch to duck under his arms and lay himself underneath. “And look, it’s snowing, baby—well, I guess you can’t look, the curtains are closed…”

 Alex yawned again. “Never expected you to get excited over snow…” He gently swatted Voltaire, who had also joined the party, aside and pulled up the bed covers. 

“Oh, I still hate it, but it’s not too bad, and I’ve always wanted a White Winter Star. In Monstera, our Winter Stars are usually dry and… vaguely tannish.” 

“Yup, yup, makes sense…” Another yawn. “Geez, you’re already dressed?” Still bleary-eyed, Alex had pawed at Achilles’ chest only to encounter the soft knit of a wool sweater.

“It’s 9am.”

“Oh heck, seriously? Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“Because it’s Winter Star! It’s your day off, you deserve to sleep in! Don’t worry, I made breakfast!” 

“I’ve never seen you so excited for a festival…” Yet another yawn. Clearly Alex hadn’t slept well—dark dreams, perhaps?—but his assessment was nevertheless fair. Winter Star had always been Achilles’ favorite holiday 

Back in Monstera, his parents had thrown a lavish, annual Winter Star party. It’d always been the talk of the town; there was live music and festive costumes and the most delicious food—roast beef and sweet potatoes and deviled eggs and lamb; the list went on and on. 

And Perry and Apolline had always made sure to order Achilles’ favorite—a chocolate cranberry pavlova. Oh, just thinking about it now made his mouth water… as Alex knew, he wasn’t usually a chocolate person, but the pastry chef for the Robinsons’ go-to caterer could not be beat. The pavlovas from the bakeries in Hyacinthia had never been the same, but Gus had promised him he’d do his best… 

Alex, however, clearly did not seem to share his enthusiasm for the holiday.

The two had been grabbing a drink with Emily and Haley the night before, and when they had left the saloon, Pelican Town was in the midst of its transformation for the festival. Multiple red carpets had been rolled out in the square encircling the massive Tree of the Winter Star. 

It had to have been nearly 50 feet tall, a real hefty pine tree Lewis had made sure to inform them had been sourced “right from our neighboring community in Sunspray!” And they had left the Stardrop just in time to see Willy flick on the lights, tiny silver bulbs illuminating baubles of gold and blue and red. And at the very top—a star that shimmered like a jewel under the moonlight. 

Privately, Achilles thought his parents’ tree was prettier, but even so, he had marveled at the towering sight. To his surprise, however, Alex had only made an uncharacteristic little “Hmph,” and hadn’t stopped to give it more than a second’s glance as they made their way back to Strawberry Farms. 

He could have chalked it up to familiarity—after all, Alex had lived in Stardew for nearly 13 years now, the tree wasn’t anything new to him—but in the carols Willy had begun to bellow, Achilles was reminded of Spirit’s Eve, and the memory to which he had borne witness.  

I think this was the first time I realized my dad wasn’t a good man. 

Even now, there was a heaviness to the way Alex was holding the glass of water Achilles had brought him. But perhaps he could help Alex create some new memories for the holiday.

God, you’re giving yourself too much credit, you narcissist… 

But Winter Star had always been only the most joyous of affairs in the Desrosiers-Robinson household. The parties were fun, but what Achilles had always loved most about Winter Star was the time with loved ones. Cheesy, but true. He had numerous fond memories celebrating with his family— holiday sweaters, the traditional breakfast of gingerbread muffins and peppermint hot chocolate, and then the presents! It was always a full day, packed to the brim with activities, and though there was no party here (perhaps he’d throw one of his own next year), he wasn’t planning on slowing down just because he was in Stardew. 

Achilles scurried up from the bed to draw back the curtains and welcome in the white shaft of sunlight that broke immediately through the blinds. It cut through the room like a knife, illuminating one half of Alex’s face and setting the bit of gold in his emerald eyes aglow. And even with Alex frowning and squinting hard into the glare of the glass in his hand, Achilles couldn’t help but stare. 

With his nose scrunched, Alex tossed Achilles a perturbed look as he scooted himself up against the headboard. “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

“Come on, you should know that anytime I’m looking at you, I’m admiring that overwhelmingly beautiful face of yours, my beautiful, beautiful boy.” 

Alex cleared the phlegm from his throat and rubbed the sand from his eyes. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean just look at that nose. Your favorite part of your face!” 

“That is true, it is my favorite—oh, okay—you’re in a—extra good mood—”

Achilles had hopped gently back onto the bed—he was straddling him now, holding his face in both his hands before leaning forward to kiss the aforementioned nose. He had taken their conversation two nights previously to heart. It had hurt to learn Alex had been anxious, but Achilles was determined to make it up to him now. Alex had been right—Achilles wasn’t naturally a touchy person, but he’d promised himself he’d be more considerate now for Alex’s sake. 

“Do you want to know what my favorite part of your face is?”

Alex drummed his fingers along Achilles’ thighs and fought back another yawn. “Just dying to know.” 

“All of it.” 

“Ha ha, Ash.” Alex rolled his eyes, but the morning’s melancholy seemed to be melting slowly away under Achilles’ touch, for he was now smiling as he slid a hand under the back of Achilles’ sweater. “Real, uh, diplomatic an answer.” 

“See, I’m sure everybody else says your eyes, but since I’m just so incredibly unique and quirky, I decided I’d—” But he cut his rambling joke short after witnessing the wince that had flashed across Alex’s face for just a fraction of a second. “What, you don’t like your eyes?” 

“No, no…” Alex gave his head a little shake, ran a hand though his bed head.“I dunno. I just wish they weren’t my dad’s.” 

Oh. 

“Hmm. Let me get a better look.” Achilles had, of course, committed the whole spectrum of those iris’ shades to memory quite a long while ago, but he took his time as he cupped Alex’s chin and studied him closely with a sideways tilt of his head before concluding his examination with a smart pat on the shoulder. “Hmm. I say, Master Mullner, I’m no artist, but yours are quite different a shade. Much warmer—an earthier tint, if you will. Sure, they’re both green, but you wouldn’t call an avocado peel the same color as a lima bean, now would you? Leah would be outraged.” 

Then, he kissed him once atop each eyelid as Alex laughed. Achilles was being silly, that was obvious enough, but even so… 

“Thank you,” Alex murmured, burrowing his head under Achilles’ chin and hugging him close.

They sat like this for a minute or two. Under the sunlight, in the silence. Achilles could feel his breath, warm against his chest, slow and soft—in fact, he wondered whether Alex had fallen back asleep, until his voice rang out, small and slightly muffled against his sweater, 

“What are we, Ash?” 

Oh no. 

“Hmm?” 

Achilles had, of course, heard him the first time, but he was choosing to buy himself a minute or two to formulate his response. 

“I just… I mean, I guess I understand if you feel it’s too early to have this conversation, it’s just that after Tuesday, I guess, I was just wondering… I don’t know. It’s been a few weeks, now. What are we?” 

This is so unfair. 

Achilles leaned back to better facilitate eye contact and almost immediately regretted it; those puppy-dog eyes—it was too much. “Well, what do you want us to be?” 

“I asked you the question first.” 

“You actually asked a different question, technically—”

“Achilles…” 

Your nose is twitching. Your nose is twitching! Drag it out, at least until you can get to the kitchen—

“We’re dating. Do you want more?” 

Alex bit his lip. “Do you want more?” 

“I asked you the question first.” 

“Okay, okay, okay—”

Just kidding, don’t drag it out, can’t you see how stressed he is! Ugh, forget about it. Just do it. 

Achilles sat backwards onto the heels of his feet and pinched his nose. “I had a whole thing planned out, you know. For Saturday. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, a nice speech, a wonderfully romantic walk along the boardwalk. It was going to be a whole thing, but I guess you’ll never see it now.” He sighed and tapped Alex’s forehead. “I want you to be my boyfriend, Alexander Joshua Mullner. How about that? Would you like to be my boyfriend, hmm?”

It was clearly not the response Alex had expected from the rate Achilles’ nose had been twitching—his lips parted in an ‘o,’ and it was several seconds before he managed to say, “Um. Oh. Yeah. I mean, sure. Yeah!” 

“Great.” 

A pause. Then both of them began to speak.

“I’m sorry, this would’ve been significantly less awkward on Saturday—”

“I’m sorry, I really futzed up your plan didn’t I—”

Achilles shrugged, smiling, though Voltaire seemed to give an emphatic “Mew.” 

“Nah, it’s okay, it wasn’t anything particularly fancy. The weather forecast says it’s supposed to be pretty warm, I thought perhaps we could have a picnic on the beach, we spent a lot of time there together this past year… Sit on the boardwalk where I, one could say, once regurgitated the contents of my alcohol-filled stomach with great gusto. You know. Very romantic.” 

“Oh, yeah, real romantic…” Alex chuckled and then looked back up at Achilles. “Well we can still have the picnic, can’t we? Like, do I at least still get the flowers?” 

“Absolutely not, you get nothing.”

“I get you.” 

The quip came quick, and Achilles couldn’t help but blush as Alex crawled forward to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, whispering, “Happy Winter Star to me.” 

Oh hell, in the span of three minutes, he’d nearly forgotten it was Winter Star—there was a schedule to keep! Achilles jumped off the bed and hurled Alex a dark green sweater he’d purchased for him the week before. 

“Get dressed and brush your teeth. I baked some muffins and they taste best fresh.” He had scurried halfway to the kitchen when he remembered his promise and dashed back to give Alex a kiss of his own, only to be accosted with, 

“You baked muffins—?” 

*****

The muffins were good, the peppermint hot chocolate marginally less so (too much peppermint), but they took their vittles to the living room to lounge by the fireplace among the poinsettias and other decorations Achilles had put up in the two hours before Alex had woken. 

He’d someone, somehow, forgotten to purchase a tree—absolutely ridiculous, who even was he? Truly, never mind all the half-eaten takeout, that was the real indication of his mental state earlier this season…—and worse, had only realized it after purchasing a (wildly expensive) set of silver and gold glass ornaments. With no choice but to improvise, he’d hung them from the mantel like stockings and strung the white string lights and ribbon across the beams of the ceiling.

As for the crystal star topper he’d spent two days scouring the web for—he had tied it to the top of the potted plant Elliott had gifted him so many seasons ago and placed it in the center of the coffee table alongside an admirable stack of gift bags and presents, each neatly labeled with the name of their recipient—Elliott, Leah, Emily, Shane, among others. 

One gift bag was already empty, its contents and swathes of wrapping paper strewn across its giftee’s lap—a smart watch (the latest waterproof model, as Achilles had previously promised); a plush, embroidered towel; a pair of sneakers he knew Alex had been eyeing; and a bright blue bandana, a bag of treats, and a thin leather collar. 

“But that’s all for Dusty, not you, just to be clear,” Achilles said, taking a peek into the gift bag Alex had handed him just as Alex experimentally unclasped the collar. “I mean. Unless you want to wear it, I won’t say no, exactly…” 

Like a kid—the true Winter Star spirit—Alex dissolved into a fit of giggles so “disgustingly, overwhelmingly adorable” (as Achilles would say later that evening in a marginally more inebriated state) that Achilles’ cheeks couldn’t help but hurt from smiling so hard. To cap it off, Alex crawled across the couch to tackle him in a tight squeeze of a hug. “Thank you, Ash.” 

For Achilles, Alex had gathered a selection of small goods, each accompanied by a handwritten little note: a mini umbrella (“Because you still haven’t baught one, you punk. Remember that time you left Penny and I in the rain?”); a cat shaped mug, complete with a lid with ears (“Because you always spill tea on yourself”); a nice set of waterproof notebooks (“Because I accidentally totally ruined that one notebook of yours that time we went out on the boat, and especially now that you write around water a bunch”); a sheet of colorful temporary tattoos (‘Because your always doing a good job every day!’), and finally, a framed photograph that Achilles didn’t quite recognize.  

“It’s from my birthday party, when Haley was taking photos—she showed me this one a few weeks ago, and I just thought it was… nice.” Alex shrugged from over Achilles’ shoulder.

Now that he was taking a closer look, he recognized the game of beach volleyball going on in the background. It was a candid shot, for sure—Achilles half sprawled in the sand, laughing, after spiking the ball across the net. Alex grinning, kneeling down to help pull him up under the glow of the sunset. 

Achilles held the frame between his hands and stared resolutely down at the photo, his eyes beginning to burn just the tiniest bit. “Thanks, Al.” 

“Oh, but Voltaire, I’m so sorry, I’m the worst, I didn’t get you anything—”

With a small start, he looked up to witness Alex scooped up the maine coon in one fluid motion and bury his face in his fur. 

*****

“So, which one of those is for the gift exchange?” 

Post-violent cuddling, Voltaire had wriggled himself from Alex’s grasp and found a comfortable spot in Achilles’ lap, while Achilles himself had chosen to stretch across the sofa, his head in Alex’s lap. Alex subsequently had no lap to lie on, but he was now donning a giant green bow that Achilles had managed to violently stick to the top of his head after a couch-side tussle. Stuffed on muffins and hot chocolate, they had only a few minutes to go before they were to head over to Pelican Town for the community celebration. 

“Hmm?” Achilles glanced back over at the presents surrounding the Potted Shrub of the Winter Star. “What gift exchange?”

“The one for the festival?”

“Fuck. What one for the festival?”

“The one—well it’s why the town shows up an hour early—Lewis didn’t tell you? I told him you never check your—”

“Fucking hell—”

“Oh, Achilles, when will you learn—”

Achilles bolted from the couch, sending Voltaire sprawling with an indigent “Meow!” to the ground, and sprinted out the door to the mailbox. With a huff, he wrenched the little flap open and scooped the entire contents to the snowy ground. 

“Put a jacket on, put a jacket on—sheesh, man, you’re gonna get pneumonia again—” Alex, hopping bowlegged among the snow drifts, caught up a moment later, throwing a coat over Achilles’ huddled figure. 

Advertisements, bills (that he paid online), and letters, so many letters—seriously, who was sending him mail these days? He hurriedly dug through the stacks of paper fluttering about on the ground, keeping an eye out for the pale green envelopes he knew Lewis was apt to use. 

“‘Starting tomorrow, a traveling merchant fleet…’ No...” 

Alex was helping now, too, squatting next to him, squinting at a cream sheet of cardstock in his hands. “‘Dear Ah—Ah—’ Geez Louise, is that really how your name is spelled or is my dumb bunny brain just kicking into overdrive? ‘One… week from today…’ Man, this is from last season, Ash—”

“Gift exchange? Like a Secret Santa-esque event? Fuck, I didn’t even opt into this, does Lewis just assume everyone wants to participate?” Achilles flung a belated invitation to Spirit’s Eve into the “discard” pile. 

“Yeah, it’s kinda tradition…” Alex studied another sheet of cardstock carefully before adding it to the growing pile. “But heyyo, maybe you’ll have like Leah or Elliott, someone you already bought something for—”

“Oh, it’s going to be someone like… Demetrius. Or Caroline. Fuck, this is going to be so embarrassing—wait, oh my god.” 

“What?” 

“‘This is embarrassing… “

“It’ll be fine, we’ll figure something out—”

“No, no,I’m reading aloud—listen to this—

‘Achilles, this is embarrassing. I lost my lucky purple shorts. I’m telling you because I think I can trust you. If you find them, bring them back to me DISCREETLY. I’ll pay well. Th-th-thanks. M—Mayor—’” Achilles, whose voice had been remarkably increasing in pitch into teakettle territory as he read the note, began to succumb to his fit of laughter, barely choking out the final words. “‘Mayor Lewis.’ Pay well? Pay well? Does he realize who he’s trying to bribe?” He passed the note to Alex. “I can’t…”  

“Holy moly—”

“I can’t. I wish I had found this earlier—”

“Yoba, why the heck does he think he can trust you, you literally just moved here this year—”

“God, and the thing is, now that I think about it, I have seen a pair of purple shorts—”

“Oh, Ash, we have five minutes before we need to go—”

“—but what did he expect me to do—”

“Ash—”

“—just waltz into her bedroom and grab ‘em from the floor—”

“Achilles—are you listening to me, we have five minutes—”

“All right, all right, all right….” 

They continued to search, until finally, a little “Bingo!” indicated Achilles had found what they’d been looking for. He waved the envelope under Alex’s nose in celebration before unfolding the rest of the note.  

“Read it aloud!”

“Why? You got the same damn lett—okay, okay, fine… 

“’Dear Ashe Achilles…’” 

He glanced up. “How is it that the bastard still can’t spell my name?”

“Maybe if you opened a letter once in a while you could’ve corrected him earlier.” 

“Sassy. Ok—

“‘I would like to give you some information about an upcoming event: the Feast of the Winter Star. It’s a time for the community to come together and think back on all the good fortune we’ve had this year. A favorite tradition is the ‘secret gift exchange,’ where everyone in town is randomly assigned to someone else. On the day of the festival, everyone brings a gift for their secret friend—‘ Secret friend? Who says that? That sounds like something you’d call an affair partner—” 

“Keep reading you punk!”

“’And surprise them with something special! This year, your secret friend is—” Achilles flipped over the letter. “Please don’t be Clint, please don’t be Clint, I haven’t spoken to him in— Oh. A thing like that.” 

“Who is it?” In his anticipation, Alex nearly lost his balance from leaning so far over, but Achilles gave him a light shove. 

“Well you know,” he folded the letter and gave it an aggravatingly pompous little tap as he inserted it back into the envelope. “Lewis says I’m not supposed to tell anyone…”

“I’m trying to help, man—”

“You. My ‘secret friend’ is you. Well.” Achilles stood, both arms full of mail that he fully intended to use as kindling that evening. “That makes it easy. Come on, let’s just put something back in the box, I’ll rewrap it and bring it to Pelican Town. Can’t show up empty-handed, don’t need Lewis telling me I’m a disgrace to the community or something…” 

He padded back to the porch before turning back to Alex. “Damn, I’m sorry, Al. Could’ve surprised you with one more gift had I been a normal person and checked my mail…” 

“It’s okay!” Alex opened the door and gestured for him to go in first. “You’re my surprise gift. Although if I can be honest…”

From behind, Alex embraced Achilles as they reentered the farmhouse, and, lifting him slightly off the ground, gave him a little spin—god, he would never in a million years get used to the feeling of being wrapped in those arms—“I think ya boy may have low key been calling you my boyfriend in my head since like our first date.” 

“Oh yeah? You want to make Winter 13 our anniversary date instead? I’ve always felt sharing with a holiday halves the fun of both the holiday and the anniversary, so while you do get the same amount of fun overall, everything somehow feels… less… hmm. Saturated.” 

“I’ll take your word for it, you of all people would know.” Alex sighed at the pile of mail Achilles had dumped unceremoniously onto the living room floor before unclasping his new watch from his wrist. “Let’s rewrap this one, let me flex my rich boyfriend on all those other Zuzu townies…” 

*****

Crisis averted. Achilles had rewrapped the shoes (he had persuaded Alex that a gift as expensive and pseudo-flashy as the watch wouldn’t be in good taste for a public gift exchange, even though “Everyone knows you’re rich, Ash,” “I don’t even know how everyone knows, it’s not like I go around talking about it, that’s tacky as hell,” “Achilles, both your parents and you have Wikipedia pages and you singlehandedly fixed the town’s mining cart system.”) in a jiffy, and before they knew it, they were bidding farewell to Voltaire and making their way east to Pelican Town. 

“Achilles, this is where we first met!” 

Alex had given Achilles’ arm an eager little tug. He glanced at the approaching bus stop bench that Alex was gleefully pointing out. A year ago, they’d both dove under the stoop to hide from the Spring rain, but today the benches were soaked with melted snow that’d been blown under by this Winter’s temperamental winds. 

“Oh. Sure, I suppose.” He craned his neck for a better look—why was Alex pointing this out?“We walk by this almost every day, Al.” 

“Titanic?” 

“Pardon? Now you’ve really lost me.” 

“I was quoting Titanic. Remember? You quoted Titanic?” 

“No, when did I quote Titanic?”

“Here, at the bus stop! Oh, wait no, my bad, actually, I take that back, you quoted Titanic that night on the boardwalk…” 

“Oh, no wonder I don’t remember—” 

“You called yourself a poor little rich girl.” Alex chuckled at the memory. “I hadn’t watched it at the time, but I rented it with Haley a couple weeks after...”  

They were now parallel with the bus stop, and both stopped, standing side by side, to take a look.

“If it hadn’t rained that night, do you think we’d still be friends?” 

“Oh, for sure, we would’ve met each other sooner or later…” Achilles shrugged. “Small town. Even smaller number of people who could pronounce my name correctly, appreciate mediocre children’s literature, and enjoy House of the Phoenix.” 

“Yeah, that’s true…” Alex gave the bus stop a little tilt of his head before leading them onwards. “But even in a big town I like to think we would’ve found each other.” 

They entered Pelican Town walking in step, and as their shoes hit well-shoveled cobblestone and the sounds of carols filled their ears, Achilles slipped his fingers through Alex’s, prompting a little “Ope!” to escape his lips. 

“I thought you didn’t like holding hands?” 

“Mmm. But you do.”  

*****

Pelican Town was awash in pastel fairy lights twinkling like cotton candy stars across the snow. Massive candy canes, taller than Alex, rose from the ground alongside newly erected pine trees— smaller than the one in the center of the square, but ornamented with the same colorful cheer. 

The fences had been wrapped in garlands of green and red and wreaths hung from ever home. There were no actual carolers, but the music was blasting merrily from speakers hidden deftly within massive, faux gift boxes scattered among the town. 

Between the obvious festive cheer and the man standing next to him, Achilles’ heart couldn’t be set more aglow; he was holding onto Alex with both hands now, pulling him close as they laughed at nothing under the bright Winter sun. Yoba, even the temperature was perfect. Not a hint of wind now, and the snow was quickly fading to flurries… He hadn’t felt so carefree in years.  

“Oh my! Aren’t you cold, dear? It’s freezing!” Evelyn, herself in a bright pink puffer jacket, greeted them with a hug each. “That coat looks much too thin, Achilles… perhaps you can grab one of Alex’s before Lewis arrives…”

The Festival didn’t open to the public until 1pm; the hour before was reserved for the townsfolk to celebrate, and they were all currently waiting for Lewis to kick off the gift exchange. 

Achilles laughed—he was doing a lot of that lately—and waved aside her concerns. “I’m fine, but thank you, Evelyn.” 

 He was happy to see George greet his grandson, though the old man offered him only a stiff nod. Achilles wasn’t surprised; he was quite mindful of those beady eyes watching him grip Alex’s arm. But even so, it was an improvement over the silent treatment they’d both been receiving before. 

But as Evelyn ruffled his hair, he felt something slap his thigh and he looked down to see George force a single, still-steaming snickerdoodle cookie into his hands.

“Oh. Thank you… for this, George, these are my favorite.” 

George grunted. 

Soon, Mayor Lewis arrived, and after gathering the townsfolk in front of the tree in the center of the square, gave a lofty speech espousing the usual values of community and friendship and holiday cheer before finally kicking off the gift exchange. 

Achilles was given a tub of clay from Jas, which he accepted with a significant degree of feigned enthusiasm. Perhaps Leah would appreciate it. Shane’s god-daughter however, also handed him a second box that was revealed to contain a multipack of typewriter ribbon. He strongly suspected Shane must’ve intervened, a theory all but confirmed by the stout man’s intense stare as Achilles thanked the girl for the gifts. 

They could hear the crowds beginning to form—the Feast of the Winter Star was allegedly the third most popular festival for the Valley (behind, of course, Zuzu Time’s #1 Ranked Spirit’s Eve Celebration 10 years in a row and the County Fair), though Achilles wasn’t exactly sure why, given the lack of activities. Truly, outside of Haley’s photo booth, the Feast was, as its name suggested, mostly just a feast. 

It was free to attend, but donations were welcome. Achilles himself had donated five hundred dollars the preceding week, though apparently that hadn’t been enough for Lewis, who had cornered him halfway during the gift exchange, waving a metal tin under his nose and shouting something about “esteemed representatives of the community.” 

But all things come to an end—including Lewis’ nagging, and when 1pm hit, Lewis had no choice but to leave Achilles alone and open the gates for the public. The Feast had officially begun! 

*****

They had managed to snag a table before the majority of the newcomers streamed in, but the moment Gus declared the meals ready, Alex quickly leapt to his feet. “I can get us food—no, don’t get up! I’ll grab it, you stay here, don’t worry.”

He skipped over to wait in the already egregiously long line, leaving Achilles to fend for himself when Haley slipped into the seat next to him. She set her camera between them and folded her arms primly atop the table, giving a curt little nod in Alex’s general direction.

“Look at him,” she sniffed, not waiting for Achilles to follow her gaze. “It’s a strange thing to see, after knowing him all these years… Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been nice to all his girlfriends, you’re not special there. Keeping chivalry alive singlehandedly.” 

Someone—a stranger, likely from Zuzu—approached them to take an open seat, but Haley shot the man the most disparaging look down the bridge of her nose, and he scampered away. She continued as if nothing happened, tracing a line down the tablecloth with a perfectly manicured finger. 

“It was… different then, though. I always thought there was something… not inauthentic, per se, but you could tell the boy’s heart wasn’t really ever into it… Can’t believe I never called it, who even am I. Gay and asexual. Gaysexual? Who’d have thought, really, given the way that man allegedly fucked his way across campus sophomore year, though perhaps the ‘allegedly’ was really carrying all the weight this whole time—”

“Such a lovely way with words, you always have—”

“Anyway, all that to say, he still seems quite different with you. I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. Hmm… With you… Well.” Haley took a sip from her cider and slowly curled her fingers around Achilles’ gloved wrist. “He just worships the ground you walk on, doesn’t he?” 

Achilles watched Alex chat with Stardew’s favorite troublemaking trio in line. He was easy to pick out from the masses; the bomber jacket he’d pretty much stolen from Achilles at this point; the way he stood, perfect posture with his heels slightly off the ground, like a bird ready to take flight; the precise angle at which he tossed his head back when he laughed. 

Achilles smiled and turned back to Haley. “And I the air he breathes.” 

“Quoting something? That sounds like a quote.” 

“Mmm. Elliott’s novel, actually.” 

She tittered. “What were the chances you think, of him actually choosing you?”  

“I choose not to dwell on such inane, trivial matters.” Achilles took in her single raised eyebrow and rolled his eyes. “I don’t think about it. Why, you don’t approve?” 

“Oh, please.” It was Haley’s turn to roll her eyes. “Do not ever ask me again if I don’t approve.” 

And with a sharp flick of his nose, she stood and flounced away. 

*****

Sebastian, Abigail, and Sam joined Achilles and Alex at their table, plates heaping with food rivaling that of even his parents’ party. Roasted carrots popping against slices of honey glazed ham, gravy-laden goose next to crispy green bean casserole, cranberry sauce dripping into steaming corn bread—Alex had made sure to grab him a slice of chocolate cranberry pavlova as well (“You gotta get the desserts right away, otherwise they’re all gone”). 

As to be expected, Elliott and Leah soon followed, along with Penny and Maru. It was turning into quite the little Stardew Valley party over at their table; unfortunately Emily was stuck helping Gus with the catering, and Haley had returned to her photo booth. 

“Oh darn it, I forgot the drinks—I’m going to get some hot chocolate, I think. Do you want one? No, no, you stay here, I’ll grab you one!” Alex bounded from his chair for the drinks station. 

“Hi!” 

A girl seemed to have popped out of thin air—early 20s, if Achilles were to venture a guess, with gold ringlets and rather blinding white teeth. Instinctively, Achilles found himself stifling a groan.

“The guy who just stood up—are you guys friends with him?”

It was Leah who responded, in her usual sardonic tone, hands perched primly under her chin. “Well, seeing as we’re all eating and talking together, I would venture to say… yes.”  

The girl admirably remained unruffled and gave a little nod to another woman at the neighboring table. “My friend over there was just wondering if he was single, she was hoping to give him her number if so.” 

Elliott let out a hearty guffaw, and, with Leah, naturally looked at Achilles. 

This always happens, why does this always happen… He turned to look at the girl. “Ah. He’s my… partner.” 

But she only furrowed her brow. “Partner? Like… business partner…?” 

This time, it was Leah who snorted into her mashed potatoes, though Abigail and Sam’s eyes had both turned as wide as saucers at Achilles’ reveal. 

A reveal it seemed he’d have to further clarify. “No… like, a boyfriend sort of partner. He’s my… boyfriend.” 

It took everything in him to keep a straight face as Abigail and Sam flopped dramatically in their chairs and began beating the dining table with their fists. 

“Oh—oh.” The girl turned red and took a step back. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing—of, course, I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot—I’ll tell my friend, but you two—you two make a gorgeous couple— like, gorgeous, so cute—okay, bye! Sorry for disturbing you, have a happy Winter Star!”

“Is this my life for the next… I don’t know, for the rest of my life?” Achilles asked just as Alex returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. 

“Is what your life? Who was that woman you were talking to?” 

“Jealous?” That was Abigail, jabbing her fork towards his general direction for emphasis. 

“What?” Alex’s brows knitted in his confusion. “No—why would I be—”

“What else do women ever want went they approach us?” Achilles patted Alex’s hand as he took a swig from the mug. “You.”

Sam continued the bombardment, adding with a mock groan, “We get it, Alex, you’re hot. God, leave some for the rest of us, will ya—” 

“—now doncha worry, Achilles told her you’re his partner—” 

“Partner?” Alex turned from Abigail back to Achilles, who gave a little shrug. “Like… business partner?” 

Oh, Alex… 

But before he could explain, Maru jumped in. “A rapidly growing number of people around the country are using the word ‘partner’ these days in lieu of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ when referring to their significant other. It’s a much more inclusive term, I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before—” 

Achilles quickly cut in. “I’ve personally just never particularly loved using the word ‘boyfriend.’ But I don’t mind if you do, you can use whatever you’d like.” He placed a hand atop Alex’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze.

“Partner…” Alex seemed to roll the word around in his mouth, savoring the feel of those two syllables. “It sounds very adult. I can see why you like it, seems on brand.” 

*****

After the feast came a performance from the Meteor Elementary children’s choir. Familiar faces, Achilles saw, peeking above red and white turtlenecks. He cheered alongside Penny, standing to applaud as the students took their bows.   

Near the tail end of the Festival, as the sun began to set and the holiday lights began to flicker on, Lewis and his crew began to clean up the food-laden tables to clear some space in the square. The jolly carols that had been playing slowly transitioned to a more crooning series of tunes, as those who remained headed for the dance floor.  

Neither Alex nor Achilles were particularly inclined to join, both rather full on one too many servings of ham; the former was deep in conversation with Megan and none other than Tanya from Orange Grove, while the latter was jotting down a sudden idea into a notebook propped against the edge of the table. But when his favorite Winter Star ballad came on, Achilles stood and offered his hand. 

“Sorry, I don’t know how to do this right,” Alex shyly mumbled as Achilles led him to the floor and slid his free hand around his waist. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands—never done this with… well, you know…” 

“Your boyfriend?”

“My partner?” 

“In crime or business?” 

Alex laughed and followed his partner’s lead, placing his hand on his back and leaning into his body, his cheek against Achilles’, with a small, satisfied sigh. 

*****

“Well. Now comes the painful hour where I must release you to your forebears…”

Achilles, slightly tipsy now from a handful of unsuspectingly strong hot toddies, gave Alex a low bow before accidentally tripping forward. 

“I’m not drunk,” he insisted, though he allowed Alex to scoop him up and then subsequently buried himself in his sweater, breathing in the lingering scents of garlic mashed potatoes and gingerbread, enveloping himself in his comforting warmth. “I just… lost my balance.” 

“You don’t need to defend yourself. Need me to walk you home?” 

“I don’t need it, but I mean… it is dark… who knows, I could get lost in the woods…” He walked his fingers up Alex’s chest as Alex chuckled softly and ruffled Achilles’ what had been meticulously styled hair. 

“Woods my butt, the only thing between your house and town is the bus stop. But come on. Let’s get you back.” 

The Festival had ended, the crowds had dispersed. The tree would stay up until the end of the season, but the rest of the decor was already being packed away by Lewis, Marnie, and the rest of the usual team. 

Having lain claim to Alex that morning, Achilles now had to bid the man farewell, for Alex was to spend the evening with his grandparents. They walked back to Strawberry Farms, Achilles with his two-handed grip around Alex’s arm (“This is not for stability, because, again, I’m not drunk. I actually just really like you, believe it or not.”), with only the sound of snow crunching underfoot. 

But he broke the silence as they passed the “Strawberry Farms,” sign Leah had carved for him, the paint looking just as fresh as it had when she’d given it to him that Summer, and half-tittered the chorus of a carol before asking, “Did you have a good Winter Star, baby?” 

“The best.” Alex gently pulled himself out of Achilles’ grip to wrap his own arms around his waist as they walked. “This morning was my favorite part, though, I think.” 

God, he was absolutely intoxicating—more so than any drink Achilles had had that night. Every part of him—his touch, his smell, even his voice, like whiskey burning through every one of Achilles’ veins. 

“I love you, Alex,” he murmured. He could see Alex smile under the faint glow of the approaching porch light. Achilles stepped forward, kissed him softly, and whispered again, into his lips, “I love you so much.” 

Alex responded by giving his nose a pinch (“Ow, what are you doing, it’s not even twitching.”). “Hey, you drink lots of water before you go to bed, you hear me?” 

Achilles waved him off. “Yes, mother—I told you, I’m not drunk.”

“Sure, sure.”

“No I’m not, I had maybe two drinks… as if I’d dare over indulge in public like that. And in front of Lewis, no less… but don’t you worry, Voltaire and I are going to make a very strong cup of tea tonight with our new mug.” 

“Good.” Alex kissed his cheek. “I love you.” And then, just before stepping off the bottom step into the dark, he turned and added, “Thank you.”