#sky kid: solstice (he/him)

[paramodorado]

one eyed mask guy smells like burnt wood

[shedoessoshedoes]

Never Let Me Go

Merry Christmas, @inkedinshadows! I hope you enjoy part one of your gift, and I hope the angst is good for you. Personally, I am OBSESSED with how much comfort we have in this fic, too! So grateful that @acotargiftexchange put all of this together 🥰 You can read chapter one under the cut or on ao3.

wc: ~2500

cw: none!

It was still dark when Elain woke up. She had–an itch, or something like it. She swatted her hand back at her shoulder, and when it made contact with a face, Azriel smiled into her skin. Oh. She rolled over into him, sighing happily when his kisses travelled up her neck and to her lips. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her deeply again. “I love you.” 

Elain giggled, breaking the kiss until it was just their two smiles pressed against each other, laughter slipping out between them. 

“I love you,” he said for a second time, climbing on top of her to press her further into the bed. “Do you know that? That I love you?” 

“No,” Elain whispered, playing into his joke. “Tell me again. Tell me until you are sick of it.” 

“Ah, but there’s your mistake. I could never be sick of it.” Azriel’s legs were straddling Elain’s by then, his wings stretching over them, his hands clasping her face as he kissed her over and over and over, whispering his venerations as he went. Elain’s hands fell over his own, rubbing aimlessly at the band on his ring finger. 

“Don’t you need to leave?” Elain asked, peeking over his wing to see the sky turning the barest shade of grey, dawn just beginning to break. 

Azriel hummed, tilting her chin back towards him to bury her in more kisses. “Not now. Not when you’re here.” 

She shoved him off of her then, and he flopped dramatically onto his back, hand splayed across his forehead like some sort of damsel in distress. One of his wings came to lie on top of her, and Elain revelled in the last bits of his warmth. 

“And this is the treatment I get from my wife?” he complained, eyes squeezing shut. “She refuses to let me waste the day away in bed with her? Forces me away from her? Requires me to work?” 

“Oh, hush,” Elain replied, pushing his wing back at him and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to reach for the tea that they spelled to keep warm all night on the bedside table. “You’ve put this mission off for weeks and now you’re upset you have to go right before Solstice.” 

Azriel lolled his head to the side as he watched Elain make their tea. “Forgive me, Lain, if your company is more exciting than the Illyrian warlords’.” 

“Well then,” she said, handing him a teacup and leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You just must hurry back to me. I have quite a good present for you this year.” 

Azriel pouted for another moment, and then heaved himself up off of the bed. “I suppose one of your gifts could be incentive enough to freeze all week.”

She hummed, moving to her dressing table and leaning back into Azriel when he leaned down to wrap his arms around her. “And just think, it’s not only gifts from me you’re coming back to. We’re making dinner, and everyone will be here, and we can celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and think about that time two years ago when–” 

Azriel cut her off with a snarl. “When I made a complete ass of myself and almost lost you forever? Yes, Elain, I’ll be sure to think of that when I’m cold and lonely and wishing that I was home with you.” 

She patted his cheek. “I’m kidding. Besides, I like your second piece of jewelry even more than the first one.” 

His eyes caught on her wedding ring in the mirror, and Elain watched him pull himself out of his pool of lust and into his role as a Shadowsinger, watched him prepare to leave for a week instead of tumble back into bed with her. “Good,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “That one never had all the shame attached to it, anyways.” 

“Or the big, bad, scary High-Lord-orders,” she joked, and Azriel’s face turned bright red. Elain got up to spin away from him before he could catch her and punish her for her teasing. “Go. Get ready. I’ll be in the kitchen when you want to come eat and say goodbye.” 

She could hear him grumbling all the way down to the kitchen about “Blood-sworn to this court since I was fucking eighteen years old, Elain,” and she smiled as she set about making herself breakfast. Blood-sworn since he was eighteen years old, indeed, and yet her husband had defied all of it for her. 

Two weeks after Nyx had been born, Elain had wandered into the townhouse in search of a respite from Rhysand’s hovering and–she hated to admit it–Nyx’s cries. She’d found Azriel drunk out of his mind, and he wouldn’t stop muttering about mating bonds and necklaces and headache powder and blood duels until she had hauled him to bed. When she woke up the next morning to check on her garden, she opened the door to Azriel, mouth agape and hand raised as though he had been about to knock. He tried to apologize for the night before, but Elain had started arguing with him before he had even had a chance. She’d told him about the falseness of her bond with Lucien, had explained that what she felt for Azriel had come so naturally that when she felt the tugging towards him she went easily. She’d told him that she assumed he felt the same. She’d told him about her awful thought process on Solstice: that she was cursed to find false bonds over and over, to be rejected again and again–to relive her engagement to Graysen again and again–and to never be able to See any of it in advance. He’d fallen to his knees at that, burying his head into her stomach, tears soaking through her dress. He’d explained everything: Rhys’s orders, what he’d done with her necklace, the draw he’d felt towards her since that first day at Archeron manor. The love he’d felt for her since then. 

They’d both cried, then, mourning all the time they had lost, wrapped in each other in the early morning light. Eventually, Azriel pulled his head out of Elain’s shoulder, pressed two kisses to her forehead, and said, in a voice no louder than a whisper, “You’re my mate. I love you.” His words made Elain cry even harder, and she’d not been able to sob out an “I love you,” in return, choosing instead to pull him down for a kiss. He’d come easily, and before they knew it, they were on the floor, so completely tangled up in each other that Elain didn’t know if they’d ever be able to separate themselves again. Later, she’d fed him half of a scone (because he was too impatient to finish the other half), and he’d laughed in exaltation at the feeling of that true bridge between them completing itself. Elain gasped as the string tying her to Lucien fell away, and no one saw Elain or Azriel for a month after that. 

They’d been officially married for six months now, although they’d been calling each other husband and wife since those first weeks together. It had been something that Elain had thought about–secretly–while she pined over him. While their mating bond was powerful, and had perhaps played a part in their initial attraction to each other, she had fallen in love with her husband in spite of it–after all, she had believed she had a different mate for the first few years of her fae life. Azriel enjoyed the titles, too. No one had ever put him first–no one ever chose him–and when Elain called him her husband, the world knew that she had picked him. The Mother hadn’t simply thrown them together because of their equity. They had chosen each other because they knew how well they fit. 

Elain was drawn out of her reverie by one of Azriel’s shadows preceding him to the kitchen, and she smiled as it twirled its way around her ankles like a cat. She turned to face him, pressing a mug of coffee into his hand as she leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He smelled like soap and himself and her, and Elain took another deep breath before stepping away. 

He sat down at the counter and watched as she finished making breakfast, the quiet settling over them. She put his plate down in front of him and he pulled her into his lap while he ate. Elain had learned that Azriel became especially clingy when he had to leave her, and she traced the scars on his hand soothingly while he ate with his other one. 

When he was finished, he washed his dish and put it away, and came over to her again. He pressed kisses to her hair and then to her temple, pulling her along through the house as he gathered what he needed to go. They stood by the door, and Azriel held out his hand expectantly. Elain huffed a smile and dropped a bundle of sage, thyme, and lavender into his hand, collected from her garden and grown with the intention of protecting him. 

“You’ll be just fine.” she told him, reassuring herself as much as she was him. “You’ve done this for nearly six hundred years. You’ll be just fine, and I will see you in a week, and I love you more than you will ever, ever know.” 

He smiled faintly, his jaw working as he turned to look out the front door. “I just hate not being with you.” 

“I know,” she said lightly, twisting her fingers through his own. “I miss you, too.” 

He sighed, then, seeming to resign himself to his fate, nodded once before turning to face her. He dipped down to kiss her once, twice, three times, and then straightened back up. 

“Make the Illyrians very scared of you,” Elain said. “Just because you have a wife doesn’t mean you’re soft. I’m an Archeron too, you know.” 

“They’re terrified of your herbs,” he responded. “They think it’s witchcraft.” 

At this, Elain shrugged, since it was, technically, witchcraft, and he looked down at her intently. 

“They’re also terrified of your reputation, Lady Shadowsinger.” 

Elain shrugged again. She and Azriel had quickly realized that they made a formidable interrogation team, her plants torturing in ways Truthteller could not, and her visions helping to identify the masterminds behind plots and treason. “Then they should know to be afraid of you, too.” 

He laughed faintly, his shadows dancing anxiously around him. Elain pulled him down for one last kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With that, he pulled back, starting for the door. “I’ll be back in a week,” he said, seeming to remind himself as much as her. “And you’ll be here.” 

“And I’ll be here,” she agreed, opening the door for him. He took one last look at her and then was gone, kicking up into the sky. Elain shivered in the winter air and turned to head back inside, steeling herself for the week ahead. 

The days slipped by easily. Elain visited her sisters, tended to her greenhouses, prepared for the Solstice celebrations, and thought about Azriel. When Solstice Eve finally came, she could hardly contain the nervous energy that surrounded her husband’s return. She busied herself in the kitchen of the townhouse, preparing for her family’s arrival and greeting them one by one: Nesta and Cassian, who arrived first in a blur of leathers and banter, and Feyre and Rhys, who had left a sick Nyx at home and seemed content to laze about in the living room. 

Nesta sat in the kitchen with Elain and read while Elain cooked, and they laughed at what they could hear from their family in the living room. Eventually, Rhys made his way into the kitchen too, asking if there was anything he could do to help. Elain scoffed. “As though you could do anything to help with this meal that wouldn’t result in the house on fire.” 

He held his hands up. “I’m also happy to set the table or rearrange decorations or taste test.” 

Elain laughed, whirling around to check the bread, grabbing a towel to protect her hand as she bent over and pulled it out of the oven, dropping it on top of the stove before flitting over to return to work on her cookies, Rhysand watching in amusement. She picked up her frosting and immediately doubled over, vision whiting out as she dropped to her hands and knees. In the distance, she could hear Rhys shouting her name, could hear Feyre running into the kitchen, could feel Nesta dropping to the floor and grasping Elain’s hands with her own. It all faded away as the vision came into view, crowding out all of her other senses. 

Azriel faded into view, soaring over the Illyrian mountains. His wings stretched nearly past what Elain could see, and even through the haze of the vision, Elain felt her breath catch at just how stunning he looked. He adjusted his wings, and she could tell that he was getting ready to pull himself through his shadows to step back into Velaris’s skies. Before he could, Elain saw something flying towards him out of the corner of her eye, and she shrieked as she watched another Illyrian barrel into him and stab at Azriel’s side. His eyes went wide, and Elain watched in horror as the two males fell out of the sky. She reached out to try and reach them, and was snapped out of the vision when her hand twisted into the soft fabric of Nesta’s dress instead of the hard leather of Azriel’s armor. 

She looked up at Nesta in horror, opening her mouth to try to speak. Nothing came out. Feyre knelt down next to the two of them, pulling Elain into her side, Nesta still grasping at her hands. Tears started tracking down Elain’s face, and Feyre tapped incredibly lightly into her mind. 

Can I see? she asked, voice as tender as the one she used with Nyx. 

Elain couldn’t bring herself to speak, and was barely able to relive the memory of her vision while Feyre watched. 

Do you think it’s from today? Feyre asked quietly. As Elain’s powers developed they had learned that she could See the past, present, and future, and that it was sometimes difficult to discern what–and when–her visions were depicting. 

Elain just shook her head. I don’t know. He has his ring on, but he goes to the mountains so frequently that–that I don’t know when this one would be.

When Feyre gently pulled away, Elain’s tears became sobs. She curled into Nesta’s arms as Feyre got up. 

“Where–exactly–did you send Azriel today?” Feyre asked Rhys, slipping into the High Lady version of  herself. 

Cassian cut in before Rhys could. “To check in with some of our informants in the more remote Illyrian camps. Why?”  Elain choked out an answer before Feyre could explain. “Because he’s gone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[azrielhours]

Star Crossed Lovers (Pt. 2)

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Synopsis: Reader and Az are in love but have a falling out bc Az self sabotages. Rhys and Cass play matchmaker. Reader sneaks into his room on solstice; they have a heart to heart and a groin to groin :) 

Warnings: Smut.

(Part 1)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall.

Flipping through your book, you basked in the life found on the pages. These days, you’d made a habit of walking the streets of Velaris when night fell, seeking the cold to contest the numbness inside. A phantom amongst the citizens; the biting wind your companion, the night sky your witness. Today, you found yourself stumbling into the bookstore you frequented with Azriel before your fallout.

You hadn’t seen him since that summer night in the Day Court mansion. A room with less rigid walls than those enclosing your heart. A desk that went from barrier to brace. A hazel-eyed prince amongst males with his head between your thighs—

You shuddered. It haunted you in the most delicious way. Shelving the book, you made your way to the shop exit.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice had you halting, turning. Cassian and Rhys were in the foyer, looking just as surprised to see you.

Before you could offer a greeting, Cassian came bounding over. He enveloped you in a crushing embrace, lifting you. You laughed at his affection, hugging him back just as tightly. “Hi, Cass.”

“Where’ve you been hiding?” he asked, setting you on your feet. He looked down at your figure, brows pinching at your visible weight loss.

“Nowhere, I’ve just been—uh, I’ve been busy, you know, with writing and stuff.” You gave your most convincing smile.

Rhys approached you, opening his arms to you. “How’ve you been?” he hugged you warmly, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ve been good. How’ve you guys been?”

“Everyone’s good, we missed you these past few weeks,” Cassian said.

Rhys looked you over, his concern concealed as poorly as Cassian’s was.

You shifted beneath their assessments. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We bought some books for Nesta for Solstice,” Rhys said.

Cassian silently offered his arm, turning to exit. “So, Y/N,” he drawled.

You laughed, taking his arm. “Yes, Cassian?” you smiled up at him as he led you out of the shop, Rhys following suit.

Cassian smiled lovingly. “Everything going okay, sweetheart?”

You blushed. “Yes, everything is good.”

He hummed, skeptical. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you laughed. “I’m fine.”

He dropped his charming demeanour. “Did you leave Damian? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, we’re still together.” A deep breath. “He, um, he asked me to marry him, actually.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his stride halting. “What?” He faced you. “Did you say yes?”

“I—I said I’d think about it.” The brothers swapped a troubled glance before facing you again. “What?” you asked.

Rhys gave a contemplative look. “Are you…happy with him?”

“Yeah. I’m—I’m happy.” They stared blankly, making you laugh at the blatant disbelief. “I am, guys. Really.”

“Sure you are,” Cassian jested. “You look like a ghost, Y/N. I don’t know if that’s my idea of nuptial bliss.”

“Why does this sound so familiar,” Rhys broke into a sly smile.

Cassian caught onto the insinuation. “You’re right, Rhysie. This is the type of delusion Az was spewing before he left his girl.”

Your jaw dropped, making both brothers grin. “What?”

“Yeah, kid. Az broke up with his girlfriend. Did that jackass really not tell you?” Cassian added.

“When?”

“Before the summer,” Rhys said.

Before the summer.

Before the fucking summer.

That means he’d been single when he saw you in the Day Court when he—

“You good, Y/N?” Cassian’s shit-eating grin brought you back to reality.

You cleared your throat. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Rhys’s smile persisted, the bastard clearly enjoying this.

“Come to think of it, I really need to head home to Nesta. You need to go too, don’t you Rhys?”

“Oh, yes. Look at the time,” Rhys said, making no move to look at the time.

You glared, sensing a conspiracy at hand. “What are you two bats—”

“So,” Cassian cut you off. “You’re coming to Solstice, right?”

“I—yes.”

Cassian squinted, unconvinced.

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be there. But what’s going—”

“You’d better be,” Rhys supplemented.

“Is that a command?” you laughed.

“Now it is,” he smiled devilishly.

Cassian suddenly grinned at something behind you. You sensed who it was.

Azriel was here.

“Hey, Az,” Rhys said casually, hands in his pockets.

“Is everything okay?” Azriel asked. “I winnowed in as fast as I could.”

“Everything’s fine. False alarm.” Rhys winked at you. You glared, then turned to finally face Azriel.

You stared abashedly at him. His assessing gaze swept down your figure and back up, looking for whatever harm Rhys must’ve told him about mind-to-mind. When his eyes met your gaze, you didn’t miss the tension in his jaw.

You knew exactly where his mind went because that’s where yours had been dwelling previously. Where it often wandered. Your face burned.

“Azriel, would you be a dear and walk sweet Y/N home?” Rhys drawled from behind you.

“I—yes, of course,” Azriel answered.

You turned to take in your traitorous High Lord. “Perfect. All settled, then. You two have just a splendid evening.” One final wink before the pair shot to the sky, grinning like fiends.

You turned back to face your companion.

“Azriel,” you breathed.

“Y/N. Are you alright?”

No. “Yes. I—yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what Rhys told you.”

His eyes glinted. “He said you needed me.”

“Oh.” You shifted on your feet like you could squirm away from the truth in those words. Azriel looked healthier than the last you saw him. “How are you?” you tried.

“I’m doing okay.”

You nodded. The tension was stifling.

“What about you?”

“I’m good,” you said.

Another beat of silence. “You look well,” he said.

You laughed genuinely. “I think we’re beyond dishonesty.”

The knowing glint in his eyes made you blush. “Okay, fine,” he indulged. “You’ve seen better days.”

You laughed again, relaxing. “Don’t enjoy it too much.”

He shook his head. “Never.” He swallowed. “Let me walk you home, yeah?”

Something tugged at your chest. You allowed yourself the small amnesty. “Okay.”

Silence befell as you walked side by side, but the politeness of the encounter was too strange to ignore. You didn’t know how to act, what was too comfortable now that you’ve shared such a vulnerability with him, confessions and intimacy that only he and you knew about. It’d been not only a physical release but also an emotional one from the anger you’d used as shields; a resentment you’ve outgrown.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?”

Baby steps. “How’d you know I was published?”

He smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me.”

He didn’t say anything, making you scoff and roll your eyes. So insufferable.

“You got something you’d like to say?”

Yes. “Nope.”

“Yeah? Because you seem like you’re holding back.”

Always. “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

It should’ve been us. “I’m sure.”

“If you say so,” he still smiled.

A comfortable hush fell. Perhaps honesty was the best approach while you were in this…purgatory with him.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?” he said, endlessly patient with you, relishing his name on your lips like a prayer.

I miss you. You swallowed. “Is this how it’s gonna be between us forever?”

“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully.

You walked in silence for another block before you came up on the Townhouse street.

“You wanna know something?” he asked, halting his stride. You stopped walking, facing him.

“What?”

He gave a soft smile. “I’ve, uh—I’ve been working on myself.”

“How so?”

“I started seeing the counsellor that works with the priestesses.”

A pleasant shock warmed you. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t stop the words that came next. “Wow. I’m proud of you.”

Fondness softened his eyes. “Thank you.”

You offered back the same small smile. You both stared at each other, trying to make the moment last.

“Okay,” you said, taking a step back. “I’ll, uh, see you around, then. Thank you for walking me home.”

“Of course,” he inclined his head, staying where he was on the sidewalk.

Before you turned to walk the final stretch home, you considered your next words. “Az.”

“Yes, angel.”

“I don’t—um, I don’t want it to be weird between us.”

The expectant look widening his eyes squeezed your heart.

“Maybe—maybe we can be friends again,” you said quietly. Maybe we can be okay. Speaking the words reopened the wound in your chest.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think those words before, let alone hope to have him at that capacity again. You didn’t know what you expected him to say, hugging your stomach. Azriel frowned, eyes searching yours. “I don’t know if…I can do that.”

His words stunned you. “You can’t?”

“I mean—I don’t know if it’ll ever be honest,” he said gently. “I don’t know if I can go back.”

You stared wide-eyed, trying to keep the pain contained, lost for words. It’s always rejection with him.

Azriel’s brows pinched at your vulnerability, at your visible pain. “You’re breaking my heart.”

You frowned. Why was every interaction with him a pendulum swing from one extreme emotion to another? Why does it have to be this hard? He watched as tears welled in your eyes, chin trembling.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He finally broke the physical barrier between you two, stepping forward and gently cradling your face in his hands, wiping your tears as they fell. You wanted nothing more than to envelop into his arms, but you couldn’t, so you settled for his wrists. “I’m sorry,” he spoke soothingly. “I’ll be your friend, angel.”

“It’s hard, Az,” you hiccupped. You eyes fell shut, savouring his warmth.

“I know,” he breathed. “We’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You tried schooling your emotions. He didn’t move, letting you take your time until the tears finally abated. No one had such a hold over your emotions as he did, but you gladly surrendered that claim. One final shuddering breath calmed you down. You then gently lowered his hands from your face, regretfully releasing his wrists.

You took him in, getting your fill. Friends again, you reminded yourself. Friends don’t yearn.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

You shook your head. “It’s okay. Maybe I… who knows.”

He squinted, tilting his head. “What does that mean?”

You shrugged, feeling a weight lift off your chest. “I don’t know just yet. We’ll see.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Sounds hopeful.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “I’ll see you around, Azriel.”

He just gave a small smile, inclining his head and winnowing away.

Despite the heaviness of the interaction, you felt clear-headed. Felt the stifled flame of inspiration alight again at the hands of your Illyrian muse.

When you made it inside, you found yourself writing for the first time in months.

iii. Star crossed lovers

Desire in corporeal form walking streets when it should be soaring home to you. You’ve brought my soul knocking, a poltergeist rattling between ribs, stardust in a skeleton. You are mine and I am yours.

Still, I listen. Still, I hurt. Still, I hope.

~

Winter

You lounged on the couch in the House of Wind watching your family interact, satiated as your drink warmed you up inside. Despite asking you to come, everyone had been pleasantly surprised when you arrived. It’d taken a few days to convince yourself to go, but in the new spirit of taking care of yourself, you’d decided to make an appearance.

It’d been both a disappointment and a relief discovering Azriel’s absence. He’s always away these days, Cassian had murmured to you when he saw you silently scouting the room.

Mor smiled at you from where she sat next to you. “I’m really happy you came.”

You smiled back. “I’m happy I came too. I missed you all.”

“You’re glowing,” she said, eyes bright.

“I’ve been… healing,” you blushed sheepishly.

Mor nodded in understanding. “I’m glad I get to have my friend back,” she squeezed your shoulder.

It was late into the night when things quieted down and sleep began overtaking your friends. You relished in the peace after a year of loneliness and self-imposed isolation. As Rhys took Feyre’s hand and began leading her away, Feyre turned to you. “Stay the night, Y/N. Cassian’s too drunk to fly you back to the Townhouse.”

You laughed.

“Your room’s all ready,” Rhys added.

“Okay,” you agreed. Everyone retired one by one, then you finally ventured up to your old room. You took your time, relishing the feeling of being back at the House, how natural it felt to be amongst your loved ones.

When you made it back into your room, you breathed in the woodsy smell, watching the snowfall outside. The longest night of the year; that'd been how the past months of hurting felt like, but now the darkness didn’t seem so hopeless. Baby steps.

You crossed the threshold. True to Rhys’s word, the room was as you’d last seen it. You took in the familiar space—

There was a gift placed on your bed.

You approached it. A package beautifully wrapped in brown paper. Your heart raced, knowing who’d take the time to do something this intimate despite the lack of writing attaching it to a person. You unwrapped it.

Inside was a vintage leather-bound writing journal. The leather was embossed with your name; an artistic print encircled three mountains, a star above each mountain and the Sidra below. Velaris.

Opening it, your heart swelled upon finding the note on the first page.

Beloved beyond measure

In every language. Every lifetime.

I hear the silent words you speak.

Yours truly. Yours always.

You reread the words over and over, letting them warm you inside. Placing the gift on your nightstand, you reached for your own secret package that you’d intended for Azriel. You padded through the corridor to his room, faelight in hand to light the way. At his door, you drew a deep breath. Everything felt new and old at the same time. Before you could turn the doorknob, you paused; though no sound could be heard from within, shadows seeped out from beneath the door, drifting gently around your ankles.

It was too late to turn back when the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Azriel.”

“Y/N.”

“I was just—I was going to leave your gift inside,” you said shyly, breaking his gaze. You shifted on your feet. “Thank you for the gift, by the way. It was—thank you.”

When you looked back up into his eyes, he was smiling fondly. “Would you like to come in?” he asked lowly.

You held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. He stepped aside, allowing you to pass by him and enter his dimly lit room. As he closed the door behind you, memories of the last time you’d been in a room alone flashed before your eyes. Know that I love you, Y/N. Always. Azriel came to stand before you once more. You extended your wrapped gift to him, unsure what words to say.

Azriel unwrapped the gift. He beheld the hardcover book titled Star Crossed. His eyes flashed to yours.

“It’s, um, a limited-edition book I published. For you.”

“For me?”

You nodded. “It’s…the only copy.”

His face softened, brows turning up. The smile that overtook his face was devastating. He opened the cover to find the last of your messages in the dedication.

iv. Star crossed lovers

I surrender to this truth til the stars wink out and the shadows slumber. In the place between dreams and consciousness, I hear the answer. You are mine and I am yours.

To whatever end.

“Read it later,” you said sheepishly, closing it before he got the chance. You weren’t prepared to face the vulnerability that came with seeing him read your confession.

“Okay,” he smiled sweetly in understanding. You were still in your dress from the evening. Az was in a plain black t-shirt and pants.

“You didn’t come to solstice,” you said.

He nodded. “I heard Cass say you might be coming. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You frowned. “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Az.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I wasn’t certain.” His eyes raked down your figure. “You look really healthy.”

You nodded, smiling. “The last time I saw you, you said you began taking better care of yourself.”

He nodded, urging you on.

“I started doing the same,” you finished.

Azriel’s lovely smile deepened. “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

He chuckled. “You copied me.”

“How?” you laughed.

“Trying to leave a gift in my room like I did with yours.”

“Whatever, Az.”

He still smiled. “But I am proud of you.”

Your heart swelled. “Thank you.” A beat of silence underneath his intense gaze. “How’s the counselling going?”

“It’s good.” He cleared his throat. “I receive love in abundance. I deserve fulfilling relationships. Real love starts with me,” he deadpanned.

You stared blankly. “I…sorry, what?”

He grinned. “I’m kidding. But it is good. It’s been really helpful actually. Those are affirmations I’m supposed to believe.”

You returned his smile. “Good. Because they’re all true.”

The loaded look he gave you made you blush. He huffed a laugh. The two of you were still standing near his door. A distinct feeling of juvenility made you bite back a smile, like adolescents navigating new territory. You found Azriel watching you fondly, pink staining his high cheekbones. “Maybe we should sit,” he said nodding to the armchairs.

“Will you also serve me tea?” you trailed his hulking form.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he said, comfortably stretching his long legs before him.

“Good. I’d like the Dead Trove please.”

He laughed richly. “Right. No problem at all.”

“Cass told me you’re away most of the time these days,” you said more seriously.

Azriel nodded. “Being busy prevents ruminating thoughts.”

“Ah, yes.” Though the thought of him needing distractions from being in his head stung.

His throat bobbed. “I heard you’re getting married.”

You recognized his carefully crafted mask of stoicism. You couldn’t help your small smile. “Actually, I, um, I left him.”

Azriel’s face lit up, making your heart swell. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” He broke out into a grin, making you laugh at his unabashed reaction.

Speaking of which—“Az, why didn’t you tell me you’d broken up with your girlfriend?”

His smile faded. “I didn’t want you to think I felt like my breakup obligated you to do the same. I didn’t want you to think I felt…owed anything.” He took a deep breath. “It was also because I felt like I deserved the…feelings I had while you were with someone else for hurting you.”

You frowned. “What feelings.”

He smiled grimly. “Pain. I learned that I had self-sabotaging tendencies and I self inflict punishments on myself. I’m working through all that.”

His honesty was deeply touching as it was painful. “You don’t deserve pain or punishment, Az,” you said quietly.

“I’m learning that now,” he said.

You took a deep breath. “Well. It seems our foursome’s down to two.”

Azriel laughed. “Looks like it’s just you and me, now.”

You smiled. “Just you and me.”

As you took each other in contently, the words he wrote in his gift to you renewed your courage. Beloved beyond measure. You took a deep breath. “What you said to me the last time I saw you…”

“I said a lot of things,” his mouth tipped up cheekily.

You held his gaze, steeling your nerves. “You said you…loved me.” In this life and all the rest, his words echoed.

“What about it?” he still smiled, unphased like he was discussing the weather.

“Do you…do you still feel that way?”

His smile faded, gaze intense. “Yes, Y/N. I do.”

Your throat tightened. “You love me?”

“I love you.” Azriel stood and walked over to where you remained seated, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You tipped your head back to look up at him as tears pooled in your eyes. He cupped your face in his hands, looking down at you with such softness it broke your heart. “I missed you so much, pretty girl.”

You turned your face to place kisses into the palm of his hand, cradling his hands with your own. “I missed you too, Az,” you rasped. He tugged you to stand, and you complied. He didn’t step back, so you were flush with his body, bracing your hands on his chest. His hands bracketed your waist, pulling you even closer to his torso. You stared into his face, savouring the closeness, the openness; you traced your fingers over his brow bone, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his mouth.

He was living art.

You began shaking. “Azriel,” you breathed.

“Yes, angel.”

“I love you too,” you whispered with all your courage.

Relief pulled his brows. His gaze travelled all over your face, breath fanning your cheeks as he leaned in closer. Too slowly. You stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, kissing him. Azriel immediately held your head and kissed you deeper, making your limbs go slack. His soft mouth moved with yours, and your hands roamed through his hair, neck, back, shoulders—unable to get enough of him. He only broke off to gasp for air, but you remained breathless despite the lungful you heaved in. Gone was any trace of his laidback saunter and charisma from before. His eyes were wild, hair tousled from your hands, and he leaned forward like you were oxygen.

He kissed you again, hands now travelling down your form. When they reached your hips, you tugged on his shoulders. He understood your cue, cupping the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. You kept kissing him as he walked over to his bed.

Despite the emotional release, he slowed down, placing you onto his bed with such gentleness it nearly tightened your throat again. You scooted back on his bed, giving him space to move closer. He stopped when you were knee-to-knee. “I know that was…a lot,” he rasped. You knew he was referring to the emotional intimacy rather than the physical. “We don’t have to do anything further if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “Az, I want you.”

He searched your eyes for any hesitation. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled in relief, kissing you again. You tugged on the hem of his shirt; he helped take it off, then reached for your hem, tugging it up. You undressed each other until you both remained in your undergarments. Azriel placed his hands on your hips, tracing them up your form. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands on your body, letting the warmth in your lower belly grow. He tugged you to him, embracing you tightly. His hot skin on yours eddied every thought in your head. You relaxed in his hold, breathing hard as your desire grew and grew. He began kissing your shoulder to your neck, undoing your chest binding til you were bare. He leaned forward, laying you down. He rose, sitting between your legs and looked down at you, marveling at the sight of you on his bed. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice guttural.

“You’re beautiful, Azriel.”

He shook his head, taking off his underwear. You began shaking again, in desire and anticipation. He placed his hands on either side of you and leaned forward, cushioning his hips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his length on your clothed core. He ground himself into you, drawing keens from you into his mouth.

“Please,” you whimpered when he didn’t cease. You matched his movements, needing more. You reached down and tugged your underwear down yourself. He paused his movements, watching you bare yourself to him. He reached down to touch you, but you stopped his hand. “Please,” you breathed again. “I need to feel you.”

He inhaled the scent of your arousal, and you noted a tremor in his arms. “You’re sure?” he rasped. You nodded, releasing his hand. He reached down to guide himself in. As his length teased your entrance, his gaze returned to study your face. You only nodded, encouraging him. He began entering you, inch by aching inch.

The stretch of his size stung.

When he bottomed out, he paused, letting you adjust. He ran his hands over your breasts, teasing your nipples and kissing you until your hips jerked forward. Then he pulled back, staring into your eyes once more. “You are mine,” he rasped, “and I am yours.”

“All yours,” you whimpered. “I’m all yours, Azriel.”

With that, he began withdrawing and thrusting, bit by bit. Every roll of his hips sent pleasure rippling through you, drawing out moans and whimpers. You wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him even deeper access. You stopped breathing, silenced and overwhelmed by the bliss, staring at him in awe.

“Breathe for me,” he commanded. Your sharp inhale was nearly a sob. You were already nearing the edge. He sped up his motion as your breathing grew shallower and shallower, trembling around him. “Let go,” he breathed. “Let go, angel.”

With that you came crashing; wave after wave of ecstasy washed through your body. He didn’t relent, working you through it as you panted. It was pleasure like you’d never known. You were utterly helpless in his arms, but the safest you’d ever felt. As you came down from your high, he slowed his movements, giving you reprieve as you caught your breath.

He was still nestled deep inside you as you pulsated around him. “More,” you rasped. He only kissed you, so you reached a shaking hand behind his head to his wing and began stroking the inner erogenous area. He shuddered, his hips reflexively snapping forward, making you cry out. You continued your ministrations, stroking back and forth until Azriel was the one heaving breaths.

He moved inside you at a punishing pace, his rhythm thrown off by his overwhelming pleasure. His groans reverberated through your torso, flush with his. You neared the edge of release again. He kissed you as you tightened around him. “That’s it,” he breathed shakily into your mouth.

You tried to continue stroking his wing but your arm went slack as release tore through you a second time. He drew cries out of you as you finished but all you could hear was his shaky breathing in your ear and growls of approval. A few final thrusts and you felt him release into you as well, felt him exhale in relief and lower himself and lay his weight upon you.

You took your time collecting yourselves, breathing steadily. When he finally rose and pulled out of you, you shuddered. He cupped your face tenderly and searched your eyes. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, satiated. “Yes. You were perfect.”

He left and returned to clean you up and you let him, basking in his attentive nature and loving care. When he finished, you opened your arms to him, relishing in the sleepy smile that overtook his face as he accepted your invitation. He lay his head onto your chest, the weight of him anchoring you to reality. You could’ve sworn something deep inside snapped as everything fell into place with Azriel. He suddenly flinched but didn’t say anything, only tightening his hold on you as you were lulled slowly to rest. The love you felt for him beat in your chest like a sentient thing, and it echoed beyond.

“So I take it we’re not just friends anymore,” Azriel murmured into your chest. You laughed, wringing your arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer.

“You’re my love,” you breathed.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispered.

“What happens now?”

A steady stream of comfort and affection crept through you on a tether as you slowly submerged into unconsciousness, but you heard him like you heard all the silent words he spoke. “We’ll figure it all out, angel. We got all the time in the world.”

~

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @punishers-girl @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @quill-and-the-curse @hyacinthoideshispanica

a/n: thank you sm for sticking around for part 2!! Ily guys sm I hope you enjoyed this.

[triscribeaucollection]

/peers at the Eventually post, 50+ notes and counting

/squints at the dozen new followers to come along since it went up

Okay, guys, let's lay this Trade AU out for y'all, because Jason is gonna be a while coming but I've got lots of Big Cousin Thalia and Good Dad Poseidon material in the meantime:

Unintended Trade (In Which Thalia Does Not Become A Tree)

“Thalia Grace,” said the man, the god, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Your father has just killed someone I cared very deeply for. I’m here to make certain he doesn’t do it again." Shit. Before Thalia or Luke or Grover could react, the god reached behind him, and pulled out- -a kid. A little kid, no bigger than Annabeth. A boy with curly blonde hair, and red-rimmed eyes, who stared at the four of them with the sort of dazed expression that belonged on people just rescued from the wreckage of natural disasters.

Offerings (First Day At Camp Is Not Completely Terrible)

Brothers Three (Reason #37419 to Smack Zeus Upside the Head)

Summoned (Meet the Stepmom, Thalia Edition)

Prophesied (In Which Thalia Receives an Unwanted Vacation)

Visitation (The One Where a Horseshoe Crab Melts Your Heart)

There and Gone (Poseidon Buys an Apartment and Almost Commits Murder)

Pending stories include:

-the Sic Fic, alternately titled Camp Half Blood vs. Plague -Solstice, aka Meet the Stepmom, Percy Edition -Irony Incarnate, in which the Son of the Sea enjoys going flying with a pegasus and the Daughter of the Sky would very much like to be back on the ground right now thank you -How to Convince Your Uncle, King of the Gods, You Did Not In Fact Steal His Shit -additional stories based on the books/hopefully soon to come tv series, to be determined -and then Thalia Loses a Cousin but Gets Back a Brother

So we got a ways to go until that Jason story gets fully written and posted, but at least I've got a general roadmap of how we get there

[kushielsmercy]

Happy Thursday folks, we've almost made it. Have a small stand-alone snippit from a fic I started this summer and finally admitted I'm never coming back to. Sorry Joe, you're staying kidnapped.

***

“Enough, enough!” Nile laughingly pounds on Nicky’s back, dizzy. “Put me down!” 

Nicky tightens his grip and spins them around twice more, faster, before giving in to her pleas and depositing her back onto the ground. Nile groans and falls onto her back, the Oregon sky spinning above her. 

“Gotta work on your sea legs, kid,” Andy calls from across the fire, cackling. 

Nicky turns on her, eyes twinkling. “Bella.’ 

“Don’t you dare,” Andy warns, holding her bottle of whiskey up in defense. She’s too late. Nicky swoops in, stooping to grab her thighs and lift her straight up, twirling in a circle. Andy does her best to look dignified, resting the whiskey on top of Nicky's head, waiting him out. He tilts his head back and she breaks, laughing as she pours liquor into his open mouth. 

Joe appears above Nile, blocking out the night’s sky. He grins down at her, glitter raining down from his hair. “You can’t be done already, this is your holiday.” She refuses to sit up just yet, but makes a grabby motion upwards to appease him. He obligingly passes a half-burnt sparkler over and then taps his against hers in a mock toast. 

“I still feel kind of weird celebrating,” she admits as Joe sits down beside her, watching Andy try to kick Nicky’s feet out from under him to steal back her cigarette. 

He hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “You’ll have many years to contemplate. But who knows when you’ll see that again,” he nods to where Nicky and Andy have come to a compromise, Andy riding piggyback while she holds the cigarette to his lips.

Nile snorts, sitting up and motioning for the last sparkler. Nicky had shot off the last real firework hours earlier with childlike glee.

“I guess it is July 16th anyway,” she says, “we could be celebrating anything. Fuck it. I’m celebrating electricity.” 

They’ve spent the last three months infiltrating a cult with known ties to a particularly nasty trafficking ring. Nicky and Andy were on the inside, trying to figure out where the money was coming from, while Joe and Nile had camped out in a shack a few miles away, listening to the others spit some particularly inventive slurs over the comms while they worked out the supply lines. 

Point being, Nile’s not feeling real patriotic. But they passed a run-down stand a few miles back advertising 75% O f all Fire orks!, the f and w lost to time, and Nicky had insisted they stop - the man’s never met an explosive he didn’t like. It’s close enough to the solstice that Andy had her annual itch to get blacked out next to a dangerously high fire, so, here they are. Celebrating something that isn’t quite the Fourth of July, but isn’t exactly not the Fourth of July either, existing in a liminal space between Nile’s waning national allegiances and a desperate homesickness ten years hasn’t been enough to shake. 

Joe, ever good at reading a room, lets the moment pass unremarked. He’s the best at that. Nicky gets caught off-guard by his own introspection, going suddenly quiet for days at a time. Andy doesn’t have much patience for the whole thing, she figures if she doesn’t know herself at this point then it’s all a lost cause anyway. Joe, on the other hand, thinks clearly, deeply, and at his own pace. Meaning he’ll probably have a lot to say on the complexities of celebrating problematic holidays a month from now, but that’s not going to stop him from making heart eyes at Nicky tonight. 

Nicky makes a grab for the last of the whiskey and Andy dodges, yanking all of her weight to the left so that they collapse to the ground together, rolling out of the fall. She springs up and gets a foot on Nicky’s chest, hamming it up as she downs the last of the bottle in victory. 

“My love, avenge me!” Nicky mimes dying, doing an appallingly poor job despite all his experience.

“Ah, but then who would carry on your memory?” Joe laments. 

Nile knocks her shoulder against his. “Looks like we’ve found the limits of your love at last,” she tells Nicky. “It was that gas station coffee.” 

Joe nods solemnly. “I can still feel its poison in my veins.” He lifts a hand shakily. “Even now, I’m too frail to walk.” 

Nicky bats Andy’s leg away, moving to stand up with the single-minded focus of the very drunk. “Good. Then it will be less work for me to get you on your back.” He struggles to get himself upright, which doesn’t bode well for his luck standing up anything else. 

Nile gags out of principle. By this point she’s all but immune to finding the two of them on any surface, at any time of the day, but she tries to remember she’s supposed to be offended at least once a week. 

Nicky collapses onto the ground beside them, rolling over to put his head on Joe’s lap. “I’ve missed you,” he says. 

Joe runs his fingers through Nicky’s hair. “And I, you.” 

These days, Nile knows that if she wakes first up and tastes rain, she should make sure Nicky has lemongrass tea. She knows Joe has never kept a pair of matching socks for more than a week but hates when one gets a hole in its heel, and that Andy loves cosmopolitans more than she will ever admit. She knows these people inside and out, but then occasionally they’ll do the most mundane shit and it’ll sneak up and hit her all again how long nine-hundred years really is. 

“Don’t you ever worry you’ll get tired of each other?” Nile asks absently, mostly joking. 

Nicky squints up at her, blinking through the alcohol. He pokes Joe in the chest. “She’s not making any sense.” 

Joe flicks his ear in admonishment. “Stop teasing her.” 

“No no, I’m serious,” Nile says, realizing as she says it that she is. Also possibly more drunk than she thought. “Like, what happens if you break up one day. How would that even work? I know you guys have the most epic romance in all of history, or whatever, but what happens if that ends? Am I going to have to swap weekends?”

“What’s romance have to do with it?” Nicky asks, propping himself up onto one elbow. 

Joe groans. “See what you’ve done?” 

Nicky hushes him. “I do not - choose - Joe. Choice is irrelevant.” 

Nile looks to Joe, who shrugs. “The last time I tried to remember my wife, some years ago, she ended up having Nicky eyes, his face,” he reaches down playfully, “his cock.” 

Nicky grinds up into his touch, relaxed and unashamed. 

“I am right here.” Nile pretends to shield her eyes.

Nicky makes a dismissive noise. “I would burn the world to the ground for Joe, and it would be an act of self-defense.” 

Joe makes a wounded noise then ducks down, pulling Nicky’s up to meet him halfway. Nile’s seen this show before, too much of this show before, and knows that’s her cue to leave. Or, in this case, wander the twenty feet away to where Andy’s set herself up with ‘smores. 

“They’ll fall asleep soon.” Andy passes her a sharpened stick with a marshmallow already speared. 

Nile shrugs. “It’s sweet, in a very X-rated kind of way.” She watches the marshmallow slowly brown, keeping her eyes carefully on the fire. “I just, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get something like that, you know?” 

“I don’t have a damn clue,” Andy says, reassuring as always. “But the world’s probably safer if you don’t.” 

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - ch 13

Gooood Sunday!!! Here we go with a new chapter which alas, has some angst...

MASTERLIST

The solstice was only a week away and Rowan had been super busy at work. The investigation on the fire at Aelin’s building had gone underway as soon as Nesryn had finished placing together all the proof she had collected. She had discovered some nefarious documents that had framed Hamel with no chance of redemption. OFI had confirmed the fire had been arson and that the lack of maintenance had escalated the situation. Once arson was confirmed the man had been charged for manslaughter by gross negligence. She had also found proof of a lot more illegal activities connected to the building and they were all hoping to see the man in prison for a long time.

The building had been scheduled for demolition after it had been deemed unsafe but the mayor had prohibited the land to be used for commercial reasons once they would start building again. 

The trial would happen in the new year but for now all he cared was that Hamel and his cronies were behind bars.

But now his main problem was to find a present for Maya for the solstice. Aelin had explained him that they always went to her parents and that year was not going to be any different. Evalin and Rhoe had asked for his presence and both grandparents had, according to Aelin, been delighted at the idea of a family solstice.

As another week passed things had started to settle down in his house. That evening he was meant to go home and decorate with them. He had missed the solstice celebrations. Wendlyn followed Yule but it was not as glorious as Terrasen festivities     were.

Mug of coffee in his hand he was taking a break from his pile of documents and was browsing for telescopes for kids. He knew Maya had one at her grandparents and his was far too advanced for her, so he had been researching the best one for toddlers who were just beginning to discover astronomy. He was looking forward to spring when they could use his garden at night and look at the sky. Telling her mythology stories had become their bedtime ritual after she had asked him for a lullaby. The question had floored him and upset him to no end, but he had fixed it by telling her that he knew a lot of stories. Maya had seemed happy and now it was his special moment. Sometimes Aelin would join them and sit on the rocking chair at the side of her bed, with a cup of green tea, and would listen to him. It was all he had imagined in his dreams of a family. But he also could feel how precarious the situation still felt. There was so much he had to learn on how to be a father. He tried to remember all his dad had taught him and at the same time the pain of the loss hit him hard every time. He wanted to be a worthy dad for Maya. And Aelin… he felt that every day was a test. That she was constantly keeping a tally of his actions as if she was getting ready for a verdict. As soon as the fear after the fire had passed, Aelin had gone back to her room and Maya had not visited him at night anymore. He knew she was going to her mum and a very petty part of him was jealous about that. He had loved waking up with his daughter in his arms, her drool on his t-shirt, her cute little snores. He missed that. Rowan had also noticed that Maya’s behaviour towards him was changing too. According to the articles he had read it was just her adjusting to the situation but all he could do was fear that she was already fed up with him. It was killing him.

He had bought her the telescope and was going to collect it after work. He also hoped that the news he had for her might help fix the strange relationship that had formed. Rowan had found a course for hockey for kids’ Maya’s age. One of his colleagues had suggested that to him. He had done his research and apparently it was also endorsed by the THL. On his way back from an inspection in the south of the city he had stopped to the ice arena and had gone to gather some more information. The course seemed perfect. It started with basic lesson to learn to skate. It was a six weeks introduction and it seemed well planned out. His colleague had sworn that his kids loved it and it was also safe. All excited Rowan went ahead and enrolled her in the January intake. It would be a nice birthday present too. He knew that Aelin had been looking too but so far nothing had happened and Maya had been quite vocal about wanting to play hockey so he had gone ahead. Aelin would probably kill him but he had no regrets. 

Now it was six and was finally switching off his computer, ready to go home. 

The snow had stopped falling for a few hours, but up his neck of the woods it seemed that the roads had not been cleared yet. Rowan had begged Aelin to use his car to go to work. It was a pickup with proper 4x4 capabilities. Her car was not suitable for those roads and he was paranoid at the two in the car.

At home he sneakily ran to his room to hide the present he had collected from the shop, changed and went back downstairs where Maya was practicing her letters while Aelin was working away on her laptop.

“Dad!”

Rowan ran to Maya and kissed her “what are you doing?”

“I am writing my solstice letter to the elves.”

He looked at the piece of paper and his heart broke at the words mama, dada no fight.

He and Aelin had a few arguments and although they had tried not to shout too much and alert their daughter, something must have reached her. Something had to change and he had a feeling that his next revelation would cause another fight.

Hockey was the word just below it and no matter how much Aelin would fight him, he had done the right thing.

He looked at Aelin and then back to Maya “I think you can score this off your list.” He pointed at the word.

Maya looked up at him with big green excited eyes.

“I have found classes for you and you start in January.”

It was a second and the little tornado crashed into him and the two fell on the floor, Maya on top of him, hugging him tight “Yes.”

His eyes lifted and saw Aelin glaring at him, her lips tight in a thin line of displeasure.

Maya climbed off him and started running around the living room screaming “I am playing hockey.”

He sat up and stared at the undiluted joy in his daughter.

Aelin stood and nodded to the kitchen door “Maya, baby stay here okay? I need to talk to dad.”

Rowan followed and prepared himself for battle.

“You went behind my back!” She accused him “You signed her up without consulting me first.”

Rowan leaned against the counter “I found a good class, it’s very popular and spaces are limited. Maya wants this.”

“It was my job. I am her mother. I was looking into it.”

He groaned and pushed his frustration down “I am her father.” He bit back “This has been recommended to me by a colleague and it’s endorsed by the THL. It’s the best out there.”

“You had to check with me first,” she roared back.

“Do I have to check everything? Do you need to approve as well the solstice present I bought her? Not all I do needs your stamp of approval, Aelin.”

“I looked after her for five years without your help. I provided for her. You can’t think you can take over after only a few months.” She moved closer “We managed just fine without you.”

Rowan froze and felt sick at those words. He had tried to follow Aelin’s rules but it seemed it was never enough. He understood that Aelin was just being protective but how was he going to really get close to his daughter if she kept placing so many blocks?

He felt like crying. 

Aelin stormed out and he heard her sooth a distressed Maya who had heard their fight. Again. 

He forced his numb body to go in the living room and saw Aelin gathering Maya’s stuff “We are going to my parents for a few days.”

“It’s not safe to go out.”

“I just need space.”

Maya protested and his heart ached “I’ll drive you.”

“No. I can drive, Rowan.”

He just stood and watched Aelin carrying a crying Maya upstairs.

Rowan felt empty. The hopes of a family quickly slipping away from him. And for s split second a terrible thought crossed his mind. He should have never come back. Maybe Maya would have been happier with the lie that he had died an heroic death on the job.

He wanted to be a father so badly that he had messed up everything and now Aelin was taking his daughter away. His hand shook as he watched them climb down the stairs with a duffle bag.

“Aelin, let me drive you, please. The roads are bad outside.”

“We will be fine.”

“Take my pickup at least.” One last effort to see them at least safe. He grabbed the keys from the tray in the hallway and passed them to her “Please.”

Aelin took them “Okay.”

“Call me as soon as you arrive.”

She tried to protest but nodded at his pained expression.

Rowan moved to Maya and kissed her while she sneaked her arms around his neck “I will miss you, baby. Have fun at the grandparents.”

“Love you, dad.”

“I will see you at the solstice.”

“Ok.”

He then stood and stared at Aelin. He could not care. He was going to the solstice. Evalin and Rhoe had invited him and there was no way in hell he’d cancel on them. It was his first solstice with Maya and Aelin was not going to rob him of that moment.

With deep anguish he followed them outside and while Aelin got Maya in the car seat he cleared the windows and the front one until it met his high standards. He knew the car was in top shape as he did regular maintenance and the winter tyres were brand new.

And although he knew his car was safe, he could not shake the fear. He had seen his fair share of car accidents and knew that even if Aelin was careful and his car was well maintained there were another possible hundreds of reasons why a MVA would happen. And the fact that he could almost name them all was not helping at calming his anxiety.

“One last try that you reconsider this?”

Aelin closed the door “I am too mad at you right now. A couple of days at my parents will help.”

He nodded.

“We will still wait for you at the solstice.”

He signed in relief. Maybe not everything was lost.

“Be careful, please. Am I at least allowed to tell you that?”

She gave him a shy smile “Yes, buzzard.”

“Remember what I taught you about winter driving. Easy on the breaks and avoid brisk accelerations.” He added “If you are stuck call me. Any problems you call me right away.”

She gently touched his arms “I do remember. Thanks.”

Eventually she climbed in the car. He looked at the back and waved at Maya who returned the gesture.

Rowan remained still until the lights of the car disappeared.

He did not move when snow flakes started to fall once more.

Rowan remained on the porch staring at the empty road for who knew how long, then he went back in. He was numb. He was finishing cleaning up when his phone went off.

It was not his personal phone though, it was his work phone.

He grabbed it quickly and answered.

“Chief?”

“Yes, Ilias.”

There was a moment of silence.

“There has been an accident.”

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

[faytelumos]

Into the Black With a Matchstick, pt2

@those-damn-snippets @thepotatoofnopes @robin-parravel @invader-mint-tea

cw: drug use (barely described)

previous

---

It wasn't waking up from cryo that had Doctor Adina Ramirez clutching a sick bag for dear life. The massive headache that came from being a freeze-dried raisin person and the feverish, wholistic hunger were nausea-inducing, of course, but her stomach was stronger than that. It wasn't even the ship's interface blandly informing her that there was an intelligent, non-human body attempting to establish a communications line. Even walking up to the console and seeing that the four biologists (including both astrobiologists) who had failed to wake up before her hadn't quite been enough to bring her to her knees with a sudden cold-sweat.

It was the mission clock.

26,008,372 years, 217 days, 8 hours, 36 minutes

She had checked four times to make sure that was million, and not thousand. Maybe if it was thousand, she wouldn't have needed the bag.

Doctor Johnathan Harrison sat at the table with his hands buried in his hair, leaning forward on his elbows, the rehydration pouch sitting in front of him. He hadn't punctured it yet. Adina had unfortunately almost finished hers.

The agreement had been that if and when space travel technology advanced, a crew would catch up to The Solstice and update everything. Maybe even wake the crew and check up on everyone. But almost fifty times the length of recorded human history had passed between the launch and this wake-up call.

Humanity was dead. Even if the sun was still alive (she thought it should be), there was simply no way that humans still existed on that planet. Just as terrifying, perhaps humanity had completely collapsed back to the stone age and rebuilt from scratch, hitting a second space age and setting off into the sky without any kind of record of The Solstice to recover.

She wretched again.

"You're gonna make me sick," John whispered shakily.

Adina coughed and spat, then wiped her face and pulled the bag away with trembling hands. She closed it off and carefully placed it in the receptacle.

"Okay," Adina breathed, though her voice was scratchy and uneven. "Aliens. We have to talk to the aliens." John laughed, suddenly and unsteadily.

"Welcome back to the land of the living!" he joked, "Your entire planet is probably dead and there's a real alien ship knocking on the door — have a Slurpee!" Adina laughed, too, even though it made her head scream and her guts ache harder than ever.

John got to work setting up the channel. The frequency the aliens were using was unorthodox, but easy to replicate. But Adina felt like the entire ship was spinning like a top, her badly dehydrated and starving body wobbling all around her. God knew how much more time the aliens were going to give them to talk — for all she knew, the initial message was, "You're trespassing, respond immediately or we'll turn you into space dust."

And then the computer had asked for a confirmation, then proceeded to wake up five pods in careful succession, then handed out a lunch pack, and then finally informed Adina that there had been a message.

"I can't do this, I'm gonna pass out," Adina breathed. Holy shit, she felt like human garbage. The word "dizzy" came nowhere near this sensation. John watched Adina with bloodshot eyes and shaking fingers.

"I, I know of something that'll help."

It took ages, but they finally ended up in the medbay, and John pulled a small bottle out of a hiding spot so out-of-the-way there was no way in hell he hadn't been the one to stash it there.

"Doctor Harrison?" Adina said cautiously as John found a syringe. "Did you smuggle drugs onto an international, interstellar spaceship?" John looked at her like he was confused, eyes wide and lips parted as he held his items. He blinked once, and for a moment he looked every bit like a kid caught breaking the rules red-handed.

"It's a performance enhancer."

---

The aliens looked like exactly what would happen if a lion and a hyena had a baby and it came out a dinosaur.

There was no sense of size with the video feed, but she could tell by their eyes that they were huge. Her guess was a meter and a half at the head, which was well bigger than both Earthly carnivores. The scales on their bodies were thick and healthy, with Paxie's being a glimmering maroon and the other's some kind of iridescent purple-green. Both monsters had jaws that were definitely designed to crush sturdy bones, but Paxie was bigger and had longer teeth. The other one's shoulder spikes were thicker, and its head was more aerodynamic.

These drugs were something else. Adina almost couldn't feel her body right now, which was exactly what she needed. Her brain was running on overdrive and she could feel it, but she was keeping pace like a thoroughbred. These aliens were large carnivores with adaptations for high levels of sunlight, dry air, blunt force trauma, fast-moving targets, and strong prey. Something like this and smart enough to have an instant universal translator could do whatever the hell it wanted with The Solstice and still have time for lunch afterwards.

God, Adina was starving.

"Captain Ramirez, Lieutenant Harrison, please excuse us," Paxie choked before turning off the translator. The other one said something in their unfiltered language.

"What do we do?" John whispered.

"They're trying to be friendly," Adina uttered. "Hopefully they mean it."

"Are we betting the last members of humanity on that thing's friendliness?" John said.

Adina watched Paxie. Their appearance set off alarm bells all across Adina's brain. But she couldn't tell how much was basic instinct and how much was logical caution. And if she was being honest with herself, she'd probably never in her life been this mentally compromised. High on some weird stimulant and staring an honest-to-God intelligent alien in the face while the death of her entire species was pounding on the walls, she knew if there was another choice in leadership, she'd have to tap out immediately.

But she was the first biologist lucky enough to wake up, and she'd finished her thesis a year before John.

"We don't have a choice," she breathed shakily, trying to school her expression. She was the leader of the human species right now.

She was not ready for this.

"No matter what happens, we're at these people's mercy," she whispered. "The best we can do is appease them until we get our bearings." John sighed raggedly, and Adina could see from the corner of her eye that his hands were shaking badly again. Hers probably were, too. She couldn't look at them. She just kept watching Paxie, because she was in charge now, and everything she had ever known depended on her getting everyone through this alive.

---

Paxie tried to keep their breathing even as the shuttle hissed and trundled towards the alien ship. Both sides had agreed that there was no need for the ancient ship to adjust its course; the Xoixe vessel could adjust and keep pace with it without any trouble. Paxie thought it a clever enough resolution, since the composition of the ancient ship's fuel was so foreign it wasn't yet clear if anyone could make more.

Paxie wasn't scared. Of course not. These creatures, unnerving as they were, posed no threat. They were small and their machinery, upon closer inspection, was in a bad way. And it was no wonder, with how long they'd been adrift and asleep. But Paxie would be lying outright if they said they weren't intimidated by the task of assimilating these things. Of course it would turn out that when they finally got a chance to make first contact, they got the most unusual creatures in the universe. It was just their luck.

The boarding party was comprised of three individuals. Paxie had flexed their authority to afford themself a seat with only a hint of shame. The second person was another Xoixe, Ensign Kime, a xenomedic. The third individual was the most important of the group.

Sergeant Klte was a Qomo, one of the smaller species in the Xoixe's catalog of allies. Given the delicate and relatively defenseless physiology of the new aliens, Paxie had determined that Klte would be the best received as the face of the alliance. Klte, like all of its kind, stood on four thin legs, each ended with three hooked claws. It rose up on an elegant, slim torso, four thin arms with four claws each sprouting from reedy shoulders. Its head was sleek and mostly featureless, its face consisting only of a thin, lipless line for a mouth and a pair of large, black eyes. The pale skin that looked much softer than it felt completed the look of a spindly, almost harmless individual.

Paxie was quite proud of themself. Klte was downright cute, and the aliens would surely warm up to its lanky and pale appearance. Especially since the two species shared compatible atmospheric needs.

The boarding ship rotated slightly and decelerated, then made a low-pitched rattle. The clamps were secured. A moment later, there was a brief, deep hiss, and the airlock doors unlocked and slid open.

Captain Ramirez and Lieutenant Harrison both stood in the hall, and they had to look up to meet Paxie's eyes. Paxie dipped their nose respectfully before speaking, and the translator repeated their words in a small speaker on the outside of their environment suit.

"May we come aboard?"

Ramirez and Harrison looked at Paxie and Kime with wide eyes. But when Harrison noticed Klte, they… flinched.

And then Ramirez gasped quietly.

Paxie glanced back at Klte, concern worrying at their stomach. Perhaps these weren't fear responses. As a prey species, these newcomers could have mannerisms a Xoixe simply didn't understand.

"Please, follow us," Ramirez said, and both of the small creatures turned and walked into the ship. Paxie was going to lead, but the tunnels in this vessel were… tight. Being a carrier, Paxie was about as big as Xoixes got, and they weren't confident in their ability to move around in such a claustrophobic space, especially with their full environment suit on. They turned to Klte.

"Go ahead; I might have trouble."

"Aye, sir," Klte hissed in its rasping voice. It clicked forward, and Paxie also allowed Kime to pass before finally stepping in and bringing up the rear.

Paxie couldn't see well over Kime's shoulders, but they heard the moment when Klte popped the seal on its helmet. Ramirez gasped again, something struck the metal floor, and Kime halted abruptly.

"What happened?" Paxie barked, perking their ears against the inside of the helmet.

"Nothing, we're all fine," Ramirez replied. Kime tried to look backwards, but there was no room in the tight hall. Paxie shifted, trying to get any kind of view, but their helmet just smacked against the cable routing in the top of the hall. They gritted their teeth.

"Admiral," Kime uttered, and she had turned off her translator. Paxie did the same.

"Yes?"

"I don't have a good understanding of their chemical biology yet, but these creatures are exhibiting signs of extreme stress."

Paxie watched Kime's back as they all clamored through the corridors. "You're my eyes, Ensign."

"Their muscles are tense, eye movement is rapid as far as I can tell, hypersensitivity to sound and visual input, and I may be detecting altered blood-flow."

Paxie held back a self-deprecating sigh. They had truly thought Klte's appearance would be soothing, but there must have been something about it that set off the new aliens. Paxie couldn't help but wonder what possible characteristic a Qomo had that was unsettling.

"We'll see if distance with Sergeant Klte will make a difference," Paxie said. "Hopefully our new friends will be comfortable enough joining us to tell us what's happening here."

---

next

[bokettochild]

Opera house AU, a few festive ideas;

Sun made Legend's baby blanket for his first Yuletide with her, Sky and Twilight. It has a pink bunny and Blupees on it

Flora's coveralls from Grandpa were a Yule gift from him because "Im proud of you" and she broke down crying because her dad never said that. She's joined him and Four's holiday tradition of "BBQ dinner in the bike shop garage with the local bikers" (they're the kind of gang like Bikers Against Child Abuse)

One Solstice, Malon invited Time to the family ranch. In return, he invited her to the Equinox with the Kokiri

When he's finally with Ilia, her and Twilight planned on a festive Ordon roundtrip. Bad weather delayed them a few days, nothing like surviving a blizzard together in a truck snowed-in on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere for romantic ambiance XD

Wind, Wars, Aryll and Linkle always make it to their Grandma's for the holidays. It's a rare time theyre all behaving

Dusk finds out Fable's her daughter and has that reunion in time for the solstice. Her first time with both her children since they were born and she's an emotional wreck (for all the right reasons though). At Legend's insistence, Sky and Sun were there too

Wild goes back to Hebra where he Shield Surfs with Selmie and Tulin

Hyrule volunteers at the soup kitchen he practically grew up in, spends every Yule there with his "Aunties" (the Great Fairies that run the place, they just started calling him their nephew when he was a kid)

Here for this!

The winter holidays are so much fun for the gang and after their traditional performance of A Christmas Carol, they all gathered in the backrooms for a holiday party before splitting off for the rest of the year to enjoy their own holidays.

Dusk and Hyrule are both new to the opera, and have no real family in town, but they got invitations from literally everyone to join them in their holiday festivities. Did this mean both of them took up Twilight's invitation this year? Yes, yes it does.

Flora is quickly falling in love with the gang, and they're quite willing to take her on as their second junior member (Four is the other one). The coveralls were well loved, and her first ever battle-jacket has been obtained as well! She is going to wear it everywhere <3

Sun ad Sky make new gifts every year. That blanket was the first, but there have been several more. My family has a tradition of wearing super long (waist length) stocking caps when we open presents, and Sun totally knit some of those for the holidays. Dusk got one this year too, although Legend knit it for her. She loves it. Sky made everyone new mugs. he's trying pottery out.

Hyrule volunteered around, and then managed to make it back in time for dinner with the Sutherlands (Twi and company). No worries, Ilia, Dusk, and Groose did the cooking, Twilight and the other two didn't do anything more than chop and mix where told. No damage was done and no food reanimated, and after gifts, Hyrule and Ledge fell asleep curled up together on the couch (covered with the blupee blanket).

Holidays in the islands were great, the postcards sent to the crew make everyone a little green. Wars and Wind come home with a ice new tan and Granny was so delighted to have everyone visit her for the holidays at her retirement home. She spent a good amount of time boasting to her new friends there about them. Wind is delighted to see all his cousins, and Aryll made a new friend with pretty red hair! Hogmanay was a little different in a beach community, but Wars and the girls had a lot of fun anyways, and Aryll and Wind had fun learning about their cousin's culture!

Wild has the most fun up in Hebra! He, Tulin and their dad all had the time of their lives. Their Hogmanay was delightful; Rito celebrate by flying from home to home rather than walking, when the weather is decent, and while Wild can paraglide, he also had some fun with shield surfing around with the other non-Rito neighbors in their rounds.

I'm going to say the Fable revelation was.....yeah. New Years in the opera is going to be fun >:)

[sankta-starkova]

THE OUTSIDERS

011 | what does the future hold

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Warnings: allusions to sex

Summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

Wordcount: 2.7k

PERCY, ANNABETH AND GROVER HAD one day. There was only one more day until the summer Solstice and she was getting more and more stressed out by the second.

The whole camp was on edge. She had to stay strong for the younger kids, make sure that everyone knew that it was going to be okay.

She didn't know that. She didnt know if everything was going to be. All she knew was that she would be turning 19 today.

With all of the fighting and the constant arguments, she hadn't been able to relax since the quest was started. She didn't even have time to remember her own birthday.

Luke did.

He had dragged her away from a music lesson with some of the newer kids to come and sit on the Dock.

It was her favourite spot. Nobody ever came to this area and it was where they would hang out - before and after they started dating.

Now it not only acted as their conversation spot, but a make-out spot - and a little more than that.

They sat on the crumbling Dock, legs swinging off of the side. It was peaceful for a second and she didn't even need to worry about all the turmoil going on in the world.

It was quiet. They just sat there and talked for a little while, eating strawberries and having fun.

He told her that he had a present. He turned around and grabbed his bag, pulling a little box out of there and then handing her the box.

She looked a bit suspicious before opening it. She gasped a little when she pulled out a small circle with a hook at the top, like a charm.

The ancient Greek instantly translated in her mind. LC. It was his initials on the necklace.

"It's from that song of that mortal you like, Tara Swift?" He questioned.

She laughed. She never got to listem to much music at camp but back in college, her best friend Holly had gotten her addicted to it, "Taylor. Taylor Swift,"

"I know you wear your camp beads all year round and I thought it kind of matches my one an-" he started to ramble on.

She cut him off with a kiss. She pressed her forehead against his and just allowed herself to get sweeped up in the moment.

"I love you," she muttered, pressing another kiss to his lips.

She could stay there forever in his embrace, just kissing him, holding him.

Then the thunder burst out over the sky and she jumped back, heart speeding up at the sound. This was all getting so real.

"The summer Solstice is tomorrow," She said nervously, pulling away from him.

The moment was over. Now it was back to reality and to the fate of the world which rested in the hands of two twelve year olds and a 24 year old satyr.

Luke placed a hand on her shoulder, "They might be there already," he reassured.

"Does it look like they are?" She snapped at him, hand pointed up at the sky.

Their eyes both looked up at the dark clouds that were spreading over the camp. It was getting worse by the second and she knew that something bad was coming.

She was silent as she looked over at Luke. He seemed shocked at her angry reaction but not shocked at her anger towards the Gods.

"I'm sorry. It's just all I can think about. What if we go to war?" She looked at him again, tears pooling in the waterline.

He shook his head, watching as a tear slipped down her cheeks. He reached up, wiping that tear away with the pad of his thumb.

He let his hand rest there for a second and she leaned into his touch, "You got to stop worrying about that. It will all work out in the end,"

"What do you think about then? If it's not the end of the world?" She asked.

She needed a change of subject, she couldn't keep thinking about the imminent end of the world.

He was silent for a second, thinking about what he could do to cheer her up. He had this plan he had been working on with Chrion and this was the perfect time to tell her.

"Chiron said he could pay me to teach them swordfighting. He suggested I should move out though when I want to," he explained.

She looked up at him, moving away from her previous position so they could have a conversation.

"Move where?" She questioned.

"There's this little house on the edge of camp property that nobody's lived on for years and I want to fix it up. That's where my mum wanted to live," he said with a smile on his face.

She loved all parts of Luke but sometimes he struggled to get out his emotions and what he really wanted.

That wall seemed to be non existent as he told her about his plans for the future and she loved that side of him.

She reached down, placing a hand on top of his which was on her thigh, "Is that when she wanted to become the oracle?"

"Yeah," there was a sombre tone to his voice at the thought of his mother.

She knew he had always struggled with what his father had done to her. He blamed it all on the Gods, all the bad things that happened in the world.

There was hesitation in his voice, almost like he was scared to say the next sentence, "I thought we could live there. Together," he suggested.

Silence fell over the two of them and all they could hear was the waves of the lake lapping at their feet.

She looked at him with wide eyes and Luke was starting to regret everything. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up, maybe it was too much too soon. Maybe she hated the idea of living with him..

He started to backtrack in panic, "We don't have to. It's a fourty minute train journey from NYU so you can move in when I'm finished. It'll take me a while to renovate an-"

She cut him off, her hands going to each side of his face as she kissed him passionately.

He instantly kissed her back instantly. A weight was lifted off of his chest, one that he had been carrying around for months. She would go with him wherever.

"That's all I've ever wanted. Yes," she smiled at him before pressing another chaste kiss to his lips, "But I agree. I should finish school first,"

Luke had never felt so free. To know that they had the same ideas for the future made everything worth it. This plan was going to work out, they would stay together.

"It's big, three bedroom, I don't have to renovate them all yet, but if we want a family then it would be fine," he explained.

She blinked a couple of times, almost in shock. She didn't know that he had been thinking this far into the future, to kids, a family.

"If you don't want kids then you can say," Luke started to panic again, heart speeding up, "And if this is too much and I'm crazy then say,"

"Two kids," she stated and he physixally relaxed, "A boy and a girl, in that order"

"You've thought about it too?" He asked, the widest grin on his face.

"Just a little bit," she said almost teasingly. She had thought about it a lot, "One day we'll have it all Luke. The wedding, the house, the kids. We'll stay here forever,"

His stomach sank a little bit at the idea. If his plan didn't work out than it could be a long time before any of that would happen. It may never happen.

"What if the world changes before that? What if this war between the Gods gets worse?" He asked, a hand coming up to caress her cheek.

"We have each other. This war won't tear us apart. Plus, if Percy finishes this mission there won't be a war," she stated.

"The world still might not be the same afterwards. Are you prepared for that?" He asked, smile dropping from his face. He was serious now.

"Why so ominous Luke? Is there something you're not telling me?" She suggested, her smile faltering a little bit.

There was a beat of silence and then she shook her head, a smile on her face.  She trusted him with her life, he wouldn't hurt her on purpose.

"I dont know why I'd even suggest that," she said, looking into his eyes, "I know you wouldn't lie to me,"

"You love me right?" Luke asked, breaking the silence.

"Of course," she responded. It was an easy question.

"And I love you. I wouldn't lie about something unless it's to protect you, never. You're it for me," he promised.

Daisy felt a weight get lifted off of her chest. He wasn't going to hurt her, there was nothing wrong between them.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. It started off slow but then he pulled her into his lap.

When they broke apart from their kiss, he could see the faint blush on her cheeks. He fell more and more in love with her every minute.

"This house. This family. We will have it all and there will be nothing that will stop me from getting it," he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, hand resting on her cheek, "I'd start a war for you baby,"

She laughed at the idea. She didn't need any of that. Daisy pressed a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away but leaving her hand on the nape of his neck, playing with the little hairs there.

"I don't want a war. I just want you," she promised, "I'm scared of losing you,"

"Is that what that nightmare was about?" He asked. They still hadnt talked about it and it had happened three days ago, "Was it him? The man?"

She nodded, almost scared to say it out loud, like something would punish her for it, "Yes Luke. But it was mostly about our quest. I don't know why it came back," she stated.

There was silence. She could tell something was wrong but assumed that it had something to do with the traumatic memories of the quest.

"Yeah, neither do I," he said, lying through his teeth.

There was silence. She lay her head against his chest and he kept his arms wrapped around her, holding him tight against her.

"Lets just enjoy this moment, before it all falls apart," he muttered into her hair

As she looked up at him, she knew that this was her soulmate.

The world was falling apart around them. There was going to be some sort of war and it wasn't looking good, the kids only had one more day. 

It didn't matter as long as she and Luke had one another. They could brave any storm together and they both knew that.

He tightened his arms around her, holding her close as the two enjoyed the silence. Soon, there wouldn't be any more peace and in all honesty, Luke was starting to doubt everything.

AFTER A WHILE, THEY MADE THEIR way back to camp. She looked over at Luke, smiling at his kiss bitten lips as she remembered what they had gotten up to in the seclusion of the woods.

He was having the same thoughts, glad she enjoyed her second birthday gift and it was clear from the slightly glossy look of her eyes - and the hickeys that were blooming under her shirt.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard her name get called and April started running up.

Daisy picked the girl up with ease, feeling the little kid tighten her arms around her. Luke smiled at her, a hand brushing over April's hair. She was unclaimed and he always made sure the unclaimed kids were doing alright, especially if they were 6 like April.

"Why is the thunder so loud?" She asked, nuzzling her head into Daisy's shoulder.

She looked over her head to look at Luke. They shared a look and then looked around camp.

All of the younger campers seemed nervous and as she sat down on the bench, a couple of the other ones sat down around them.

They ranged from 8 to about 13, all of them scared and worried about what was going to be happening to them.

"Well, the lightning says something to the thunder and the thunder says something back," she said, sitting April down on her lap. Luke sat down on the bench next to her.

"It doesn't sound nice," she said.

"Don't worry about it sweetheart," She promised before looking out at some of the other children, "none of you should be worried, Percy, Annabeth and Grover will make this all go away,"

She believed in, in her heart that they would solve it. She had all her faith in them, she just knew that maybe something might happen.

"Why don't we do something fun?" Luke suggested and some of the kids nodded enthusiastically.

"Volleyball!" One called out and then all the suggestions came flooding in, "Read us some stories," "Sword Fighting,"

Luke held his hand up, chuckling, "hands up if you want to do Volleyball," he asked.

The majority of them put their hands up and Luke stood up, telling them to get ready for the greatest volleyball tournament. Then the rain started.

Most of these kids had never experienced rain at camp. It was a rare occurrence and Daisy could only think of one other time it had happened.

"Come on then, story time it is. Everyone scramble into the Hermes cabin," she said, standing up with April still on her hip.

The kids covered their heads with their hands, running into the nearest cabin.

Luke and Daisy stood there for a second. He looked at her, noticing the worried crease between her eyebrows.

This was bad news.

"We'll be fine," he leaned over and kissed his girlfriend. When he pulled away, he saw a sad little April and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Lets go entertain them,"

Daisy watched as he ran off and she stood there for a second under the shelter, looking at the little girl.

"I don't like the rain," she said and Daisy sat her down on the bench.

She shrugged her own jacket off and wrapped it around the girl, pulling it over her head, "There. Now the rain won't get you," she said as she picked the girl up again.

She nuzzled into her shoulder again, "I love you Daisy,"

Her heart melted as she looked at the little girl who had never had anyone to love her.

"I love you more April," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She looked over at Luke as he stood in the doorway, ushering the other kids over, "We're going to look after you here. You'll never have to worry about anything ever again,"

She pressed her finger against the girls nose and she giggled. She laughed even more as Daisy ran across the grass, reaching the inside.

She put her down and April instantly rushed over to her bed.

"What story can you read us?" Nathan, a 10 year old son of Aphrodite asked.

She hummed, sitting down in the one chair in the room. Luke sat down on the floor next to her, looking up at her.

"How about the tale of Eros and Psyche?" She suggested before she began to explain the tale.

Luke looked up at her, love in his eyes. He loved to see her interacting with the kids, being so caring. It made him smile as he pictured their future.

He could imagine her now. A little boy who had his dark curly hair and her smile. In her arms would be a little girl who would look up at him with his eyes.

There was a pit in his stomach as he wondered if it would never happen and he would ever get to have a future with her.

For now, he just ignored that sinking feeling. This would all work out and he would be able to sit in that little cabin with her one day, a ring on both of their fingers.

He got lost in her story, him and all of the kids listening to her as the thunder rumbled behind him. It was all going to work out as planned.

Taglist:

@b3bybunny @inejghafawifesblog

[cowboyemeritus]

Ghouls' Night Out (Ghoulettes/Reader)

“I’ve never done it with another girl before,” you admit, almost shy. It drives the three hellbeasts mad, and they exchange glances. They look like lionesses out on a hunt and the buzzing arousal inside of you only grows at the sight.

Or, the ghoulettes become your three weed-smoking girlfriends. (18+)

Read on AO3

It started off as a joke.

“Where the fuck are you guys going?” Dew had asked. He’d caught them on their way out of the common room. “It’s, like…” He glances towards the clock on the wall and squints. “It’s 11:30 on a Thursday.”

Cirrus scoffs. “Since when did you have a bedtime, grandpa?” Having been called topside first, the fire ghoul is technically their elder. And despite his attitude on stage, Dewdrop is also one of Papa’s most trusted. Still, he rolls his eyes at the insult and jeers. They lock eyes for a moment before they both chuckle, breaking the tension in the room.

“Obviously,” Sunshine pipes up, “we’re gonna go have an orgy with one of the Sisters.” She gestures to the bottle of wine in Cumulus’ hand, then to the bowl and grinder in hers. “Because we’re such good little servants of the Dark Lord.” The girls giggle and almost immediately, Dew is quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, now seriously intrigued. Because of course.

“We were kidding,” Cumulus interjects, before this tomfoolery can go any further. “But seriously, it’s Girls’ Night. No boys allowed.” She shoos him off with a wave of her hand and Dew scowls.

“Whatever. It’s not my fault if you’re all dogshit at practice tomorrow.” The small ghoul turns and saunters off down the hall, likely to go sulk in his room. A few minutes later, the ghoulettes are knocking on your door.

After a glass of wine and a few good hits, it’s not a joke anymore. Cumulus’ lips are deliciously soft against yours, and you can’t help but moan as Sunshine impatiently drags your shirt up, the fabric catching on your firm nipples. You’re parted from the air ghoulette for only a moment as the garment is pulled over your head, but the sensation of pressing your mouths together again makes you shiver. When you feel Cirrus working to open the clasp of your bra, you have to pull away, gasping for air.

“I’ve never done it with another girl before,” you admit, almost shy. It drives the three hellbeasts mad, and they exchange glances. They look like lionesses out on a hunt and the buzzing arousal inside of you only grows at the sight, amplified by the high.

“Sure you wanna keep going?” The keytarist asks, just barely scraping some restraint together. You nod fervently.

“I do. I really, really want to. I can’t promise I’ll be any good, but-“ You’re cut off by Cirrus leaning in and claiming your mouth, her forehead  smacking against yours.

Despite the odd placement in the week, the four of you could not have picked a better night for this. It’s late June, just past the solstice, and the sky is crystal clear. You’ve trekked out a ways into the orchard, the distance from the lights of the Abbey giving you a better view of the stars. Although the nights here are not as sweltering as the ones back home, the warmth of the three women wraps around you like a blanket, heating you to your very core. It may be the weed talking, but you don’t think you’ve ever felt so blissed out in your whole life.

Sunshine’s fingers every so slightly tickle as she finishes the job unclasping your bra. You’re just barely able to shrug it off your shoulders before all three are groping at your breasts, their touch like lightning coursing through you. A particularly skillful thumb swipes across one of your nipples and you moan into Cirrus’ mouth, your lips parting ever so slightly. Seizing the opportunity, she bullies her forked tongue into yours, her fangs clacking against your duller canines.

Feeling brave, you turn your body as best as you can to fondle Cirrus’ chest. Her breasts are surprisingly soft through the cotton of her t-shirt and you can’t help but give them a squeeze. Her pleasured groan makes you shudder. 

Fuck, you’ve wanted to do that for so long.

Tentatively, experimentally, you run the tips of your fingers over her pierced nipples. At the same time, you feel Sunshine’s bare chest press against your back as she locks lips with Cumulus. Fingers circle and then pinch your nipples and you moan, grinding your crotch into the picnic blanket beneath you. Cirrus retreats slowly and you follow after her, letting the other two ghoulettes converge fully.

“C’mere,” she coos. You oblige immediately and she lays you down, straddling your waist. She kisses you once, full of sensuality and want, before she peels her shirt off and flings it into the grass. You’re worshipping her breasts as soon as they spring free, propping yourself up on your forearms and craning your neck to take a nipple into your mouth. The feeling of the hard bud on your tongue, the piercing tasting ever so slightly of metal, makes your cunt clench around nothing. Something primal awakens in you and you stop thinking entirely. Reflexes that have been dormant for years suddenly reawaken and you start sucking, reaching up to work her other nipple between two fingers. Cirrus groans and grinds her pussy into yours.

“Mmm, you’re a natural, sister.” The praise goes straight to your core.

A moan suddenly cuts through the haze of sex and drugs. You glance over to find Sunshine already completely nude, in the process of pulling Cumulus’ lacy black panties down her legs. The air ghoul’s soft figure has you salivating in spite of the dry feeling in your mouth. All three catch you staring.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Sunshine asks, giving you a mischievous look. She parts Cumulus’ legs and a line of actual drool dribbles out the corner of your mouth. She’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever fucking seen. You swallow hard and nod, Cirrus’ nipple still between your lips.

“I know,” she purrs, trailing off into a moan. “Makes you wanna just…” Suddenly, she drops down and buries her face in Cumulus’ pussy, lapping greedily. Cumulus moans and immediately, her hands are tangling in the multi-ghoulette’s russet curls. You whine and grind your hips up against Cirrus.

“You wanna get a taste?” She asks, glancing at the others before locking eyes with you. The only response you can give is to place your lands on her slender waist and ever so slightly slide her sleep shorts down. Cirrus chuckles. Her slivery eyes glimmer in the starlight and you swear for a moment you’re seeing the visage of Lilith herself.

“Please,” you beg. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. With a small groan, Cirrus lifts off of you and comes to kneel by your side.

“Guys, get over here,” she says while shimmying out of her shorts and panties. Sunshine looks up from Cumulus’ cunt just in time to watch her pull your bottoms off, exposing your dripping heat to the night air. She smiles, fangs glinting, before pulling off of the air ghoulette and crawling over to the opposite side of the blanket, presumably to pack another bowl. You sit up and are immediately met by Cirrus and Cumulus, three of you melting into a puddle of sloppy, confused kisses where no one can quite tell who’s who. The entire time you’re pawing at their chests, craving the delicious weight of a breast in each hand.

“Let me in, sluts,” Sunny teases, working herself in between the other two ghoulettes. She lights up and Cirrus pulls away, leaving you and Cumulus tangled in each other’s arms. The multi-ghoulette takes a long drag, holding it in with an expectant look. Cirrus leans in and presses her open mouth to Sunshine’s lips, eyes closing blissfully as she inhales the smoke from her partner’s lungs. You’re so distracted by the display that the feeling of Cumulus’ hand coming to cup your pussy is almost a shock. The sensation pulls out an airy moan from deep in your chest, and she uses the opportunity to slide her wet tongue past your lips and halfway down your throat. The heel of her hand presses into you ever so slightly and you keen, moaning around the intrusion in your mouth.

Cirrus shotguns a few more hits before Sunshine offers the bowl to you. Ever so graciously, Cumulus lets you go so that you can take a long pull, the earthy aroma of the smoke flooding your senses. Soon, you’re feeling light as air and know that someone needs to take the pipe away before you overdo it. You shut your eyes and lean back against Cirrus’ naked chest, holding out the piece of glass until someone — you’re not sure who — takes it.

“One more,” you hear Cumulus’ melodic voice beg. “I wanna give you one more.” Against your better judgement, you nod in assent, and the pipe crackles nearby.

Right as her parted lips press against yours, a finger slides through your folds and sinks into your cunt. You gasp, inhaling all the smoke at once. It registers in your brain that your lungs are burning, but you can’t quite feel it, and are able to slowly exhale out your nose. If you were any more sober, you’d no doubt be hacking and wheezing. You let out a pathetic moan as she pumps into your pussy, already so soaked it squelches with each thrust.

“God damn,” Sunshine says, barely a whisper. For a long moment, all three ghoulettes are silent. You don’t need to see to know they’re watching your cunt drool all over Cumulus’ hand. You taste metal for a split second, then a hot mouth, presumably Sunny’s, is latching onto your breast. Fangs ever so slightly digging into your skin, she sucks hard, clearly in order to leave a mark, and you find yourself hurtling towards an unexpectedly fast climax. Sensing your imminent end, Cumulus slides a second, and then suddenly a third finger inside your cunt. The stretch is absolutely decadent and you jerk violently, cumming with a moan so loud it startles the birds out of the surrounding apple trees. Colors flash behind your shut eyes as you writhe, trapped between the three ghoulettes, your orgasm longer and harder than anything you’ve experienced before. It could be the weed, but then again, Cumulus could be that skilled with her fingers. She is a pianist, after all.

When you finally come down, your legs are shaking and there are tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Slowly cracking them open, you take in the sight of the women around you. Cirrus and Sunshine are watching you intently, tongues connected by a string of saliva. You make eye contact with the multi-ghouletteand she lets out a small laugh at the fucked out expression on your face. The sound is rich and bright, warming you to your very center. Cumulus pumps into you a final few times before withdrawing from your cunt. She raises her fingers to her mouth and her forked tongue darts across them. With a satisfied groan, she extends her hand to the other two, who lap up your juices greedily. You watch, mouth agape and totally transfixed. Never in your life have you seen such beautiful creatures. The fire in your belly explodes back to life and you, too, take Cumulus’ fingers into your mouth. Cirrus chuckles.

“Ready for more already, babe?” She asks, reaching around to cup your breasts. The whine you let out when she pinches your nipple is indication enough, and all three descend on you like starving wolves. With a sigh, you melt into their embrace, preparing yourself to be completely and utterly devoured.

There really is nothing like a Girls’ Night.

[raven-reads87]

@pjo-equinox-solstice-exchange

@kaijuusandkryptids

Here is the fic I wrote for @kaijuusandkryptids for the @pjo-equinox-solstice-exchange ! I haven’t come up with a good title yet, do let me know if you have an idea. I also had a request from a friend to continue this one, so if people like it I’ll post on AO3 and keep going :)

Untitled

Will had come to the library at this time for the fourth day this week. He normally studied in the morning; he felt most awake when the sun was strong, beaming down onto his golden head as he walked to the library from his dorm in campus. But this week, he hadn’t had the time during the day to study, busy with his clinical placement at the university hospital, so he’d been here after dark. You should sleep, said the logical part of his brain. Shut up, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, he told it, and took another sip of his shaken iced espresso with six ristretto shots. Really, he could have gone home and slept. He didn’t particularly need to study this much for this particular class; it was a mandatory elective, a Classics class on Ancient Greek mythology. He’d grown up with tales of the Olympians and their exploits told to him by his father - whenever he bothered to stop by long enough to tell stories, that was. But he was drawn back to this corner of the library night after night, not by the need to study, but rather by the dark-haired, alabaster-skinned young man who had been there every night at the same time, seemingly browsing the Classics stacks.

Seemingly.

Not that Will was watching all that closely, but the glances he kept stealing at the boy showed that he just stared at the same spot on the shelf, occasionally taking down the same volume to stare at it.

Not that Will was paying attention.

Much.

Okay, who was he kidding. He was so, so far gone for this boy.

He’d been trying to work up the nerve to go speak to him for the past 3 nights. Will had noticed him the first night - been ensnared by him, really. He’d been attempting to write his paper on homosexuality in Ancient Greek epic poetry - not ground breaking, but he enjoyed researching it - when movement in the corner of his vision had caught his attention. He’d glanced idly up and done an actual, honest-to-gods double take.

The man was thin - too thin, really - a fact accentuated by his black skinny jeans and oversized aviator jacket. His hair was raven black, mussed as if with sleep, but in an artful kind of way, brushing down his forehead and framing a thin face with endless brown eyes and thick lashes. He was cute, no doubt about that - but what really drew Will in was the seemingly bottomless melancholy in his eyes.

Tonight was the night, he told himself. He would talk to him tonight. Normally, Will had no problem approaching cute guys. He was confident in himself, and he knew he wasn’t bad looking, and he had never had a shortage of partners; but there was something about this guy…

Will was pretending to work on his paper - in reality, he’d written about two sentences in the last hour, glancing up every two minutes to see if the boy had arrived yet - when he finally did. Will watched as the boy prowled towards the same shelf he always visited and tried not to look like he was watching.

After waiting what he thought was a respectable amount of time (17 minutes, he thought, was good. 7 was a good number, but too few. So 17 it was), he rose from his seat and stretched his arms, letting out an involuntary yawn that, nonetheless, accomplished what he had been attempting to do - it caught the attention of the stranger. Depthless brown eyes met sky blue ones - and locked. Will attempted a suave smile, but from the way the boy’s lips quirked up slightly on one side, it was more like a grimace. Well, you’re in it now, William Andrew Solace, said a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like his mother’s. Now what are you going to do?

Will did the only thing possible at this point - he approached. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. “Hey,” he said as smoothly as possible, given the situation. “I’m Will.”

The stranger stared at him, looking at once bewildered and yet slightly amused. “Hey. I’m Nico.”

*******

Nico stuck out his hand to Will, who shook it firmly. “I’ve seen you around here the last couple of nights,” Will said. Nico’s stomach tied itself into a complicated knot at Will’s gentle Southern accent. “What are you studying?”

“Philosophy,” Nico replied, which was not strictly incorrect. “You?”

“Medicine,” Will replied. Impressive.

Nico often haunted this section of the library. It had very little to do with what he was studying, although it was not completely unrelated. He always came in the middle of the night, when the nightmares were most likely to strike. The last few nights, though, he’d come back to this spot to see the frazzled blonde boy sitting in the corner, puzzling over a copy of the Iliad and guzzling enough espresso to give a horse a heart attack. Now that Nico knew Will was studying medicine, the espresso made a lot more sense.

After the first night, Nico had known the blonde - Will - had been watching him. At first it kind of creeped him out, but after a little while he found he didn’t particularly mind being watched. Normally he avoided contact with living beings, but something about Will made him feel…comfortable. It was a strange sensation; he hadn’t felt comfortable around anyone since his sister had died 4 years ago. He had been contemplating what he should do; he had three options. Option A was to leave as fast as possible and never see or think about this boy again; Nico immediately discarded this thought. Though flight was tempting, something in Nico’s gut told him his mind would not as easily walk away from this situation. Option B: he could approach and try to talk to the boy. Absolutely out of the question. Or, finally, C: he could keep coming back and hope that something would happen. So he kept coming back; and tonight, whatever gods were listening had answered.

Nico hadn’t realized he’d been staring in silence until Will smiled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “So…come here often?”

This was so unexpected from someone who looked so put together that Nico barked out a laugh. Will turned red and covered his face. “That - that was so cheesy. I’m so sorry! Let me try again.” Will took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and seemed to collect himself. “Soooooooo…” His shoulders slumped again as he shook his head.

Nico burst out laughing. He couldn’t remember laughing since before Bianca’s death. He laughed and laughed and laughed. And though Will initially looked absolutely mortified, as Nico cackled (honest to gods cackled), Will’s face slowly cracked into a grin and he began laughing as well.

“Well,” said Will, wiping away tears of mirth, “I think that’s the first time I’ve embarrassed myself quite that quickly when introducing myself to a cute guy.”

Now it was Nico’s turn to blush. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his aviator jacket. “Umm…thanks?”

Will smiled, truly smiled, and it shone as bright as the sun. “So. What are you looking for in here anyway?”

******

Three hours later, Will and Nico emerged from the classics stacks looking considerably worse for wear. A flushed and (even more) disheveled Nico was clutching several volumes of epic Greek poetry to his chest, while Will lugged his shoulder bag with his laptop stuffed into it, along with his notes for his very much not completed Classics paper. Nico placed his books on the checkout desk in front of the reedy, pale librarian who was always here late at night.

Hello, Nico signed. Through four years of his undergrad and now three years into his Master’s, Nico had developed a friendly relation with Hearthstone, the University’s night librarian. He had learned sign language as a way to occupy his time after Bianca’s death, and it seemed easier to speak to someone with gestures rather than to summon words.

Hearth smiled in that small way of his. Hello, Nico, he signed. Who is your new friend?

Will looked on in seeming amazement as Nico signed back, This is Will. He is a medical student here.

As Nico was showing Will how to sign Hello and the letters of his name, Hearthstone’s tiny husband, Blitzen, marched out from behind the counter.

“Di Angelo!” he practically bellowed, adjusting his cream silk cravat. Nico nearly winced at the loud sound after spending so much time in the quiet library and in company of Hearthstone. “It’s nearly three in the morning! Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Nico smiled down at Blitzen. “Hi, Blitz. You know me. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Blitz looked back at him with something like concern, then shrugged and turned to look at the titles Nico was checking out. “The Odyssey, the Iliad, Orpheus and Eurydice, Collected Works of Pindar…what are you working on now, kid?”

“Oh, this and that,” Nico hedged. He wasn’t about to explain his researches into the Underworld to an undersized male fashionista at three in the morning, especially when he had plans for Will.

Hearth handed back the books to Nico. As Nico took them, Hearth signed, Good night, Nico. Try to get some sleep. Hearth eyed Will. Eventually.

Will took the books from Nico and tucked them under his arm. He wrapped his other arm around Nico’s waist and tugged him toward the door. “Come on, my friend. We have some research to do.”

[thelanternsglow]

Let’s talk about Santa, the bells, the elves, the reindeer and sleigh, not forgetting the good ole mince pies.

Yeah, they’re all pagan too.

From Shamans to Sleigh Bells: The Magical Origins of Santa and His Traditions

Imagine a winter’s night lit by the soft glow of candles, where the air is crisp with frost and ancient spirits stir beneath the snow. In this world, a figure dressed in fur and red robes rides through the night sky, pulled by magical reindeer, guided by the sound of jingling bells. The traditions of Christmas—elves, reindeer, mince pies—are all steeped in something older than the modern holiday we know. They’re rooted in the deep, ancient practices of pre-Christian festivals, folklore, and rituals that celebrate the winter solstice, the return of the sun, and the magic of the season.

Christmas as we know it may feel like a modern, festive affair, but its heart beats with the ancient rhythms of pagan celebrations and winter rites. From the shamanic origins of Santa to the sacred symbols woven into every tradition, Christmas is a tapestry of forgotten stories and deep, seasonal magic. So, let’s unwrap these ancient customs and explore the pagan roots behind Santa, his elves, the reindeer, and all those other festive wonders.

When Santa Was a Shaman

These days, Father Christmas is all about the presents, mince pies, and a slightly questionable Coca-Cola advert from the ’30s. But if you dig a little deeper into his story, you’ll find he’s not just the jolly bloke in red we see today. Once upon a time, Father Christmas—or Santa—was something much more magical. Beneath the layers of Victorian cheer and commercial sparkle lies a figure rooted in ancient shamanic traditions, Pagan rituals, and the deep mysteries of winter.

Let’s take a journey back to when Santa was a shaman, shall we?

Odin, the Shaman of Winter

Long before the red suit and reindeer, there was Odin, the Norse All-Father. If you’re wondering what Odin has to do with Santa, the answer is quite a lot! Odin was the original mystical wanderer: a bearded old man who travelled the worlds, bringing wisdom and blessings to those who needed it. Sound familiar?

1. The Wild Hunt:

During Yule, the Norse midwinter festival, Odin led the Wild Hunt, a ghostly procession of spirits racing through the skies. People would leave offerings to Odin and his spectral entourage, hoping for protection and good fortune. This tradition of leaving gifts for a winter visitor feels a lot like putting out mince pies for Santa, doesn’t it?

2. The Flying Horse:

Instead of reindeer, Odin rode Sleipnir, his eight-legged horse, across the heavens. Kids would leave hay and treats for Sleipnir, just like we do for Rudolph and his gang.

3. Wisdom and Gifts:

Odin didn’t drop toys down chimneys, but he gave something even better—knowledge, poetry, and magical runes. He was a bringer of light in the darkest time of year, much like Father Christmas bringing joy in winter’s chill.

Odin’s role as a traveller between worlds, a guide through the dark, and a bringer of gifts ties him firmly to the shamanic tradition. Shamans were the bridge between the earthly and the spiritual, just like Odin, and just like Santa in his more mystical moments.

The Siberian Shaman Theory

Now, here’s where things get even more magical. Some people reckon our modern image of Santa—red suit, flying reindeer, the whole shebang—has roots in Siberian shamanism.

1. The Red and White Mushrooms:

In Siberia, shamans used Amanita muscaria mushrooms (the red ones with white spots) in their winter rituals. These mushrooms were thought to connect them to the spirit world. The idea is that Santa’s iconic red and white outfit mirrors the colours of this sacred fungus.

2. Flying Reindeer:

Reindeer in Siberia were sacred and central to shamanic practices. They were said to eat the same mushrooms, becoming “intoxicated” and leaping around. From there, it’s not too big a leap (pun intended) to flying reindeer pulling a sleigh.

3. Chimney Entrances:

With snow piled high, Siberian shamans would sometimes enter homes through the smokehole or chimney to perform rituals and bring blessings. Remind you of anyone?

The shamanic Santa isn’t about consumerism or even just merrymaking—he’s a symbol of transformation, guiding us through winter’s challenges and reminding us of the gifts hidden in the dark.

The Magic of Holly, Mistletoe, and Robins

Winter’s full of these little seasonal touches—holly on the mantle, mistletoe in the doorway, robins on Christmas cards. They’re not just decorations, though; they carry a lot of symbolic weight, tied to both shamanic and Pagan traditions.

1. Holly:

Holly is evergreen, defying the cold and standing strong through the darkest months. Its bright red berries represent life and vitality, while its prickly leaves were thought to ward off evil spirits. The Druids saw holly as sacred, a plant of protection and resilience. Maybe that’s why early depictions of Father Christmas often showed him crowned with a holly wreath.

2. Mistletoe:

Mistletoe was another sacred plant for the Druids, seen as a gift from the gods. It grows high in the branches of trees, almost like a bridge between heaven and earth—a very shamanic idea. Kissing under the mistletoe is a later addition, but the plant’s role as a symbol of connection and blessing is ancient.

3. Robins:

The cheery robin, with its bright red breast, is a symbol of hope and endurance in winter. Some stories say the red comes from a flame it fanned to keep baby Jesus warm, but its deeper roots tie it to the life force—the spark of energy that keeps going even in the coldest times.

When Santa Was More Than Just a Gift-Giver

Back in the day, Santa—or his many predecessors—wasn’t just about dropping presents down chimneys. He was a figure of mystery and magic, tied to the cycles of nature and the deep wisdom of winter.

• Gift-Giving: Like Odin or the Holly King, he brought blessings rather than toys—a reminder of abundance even in scarcity.

• Journeying Through the Dark: Whether it’s Odin on his Wild Hunt or the Siberian shaman entering homes, Santa’s roots lie in guiding us through the toughest time of year.

• Symbols of Light and Life: From holly’s evergreen strength to the robin’s bright flash of hope, his imagery is all about finding life in the midst of winter’s chill.

So next time you see Father Christmas in his sleigh or hang up some mistletoe, remember this: you’re not just celebrating a jolly old man in a red suit. You’re tapping into something ancient, magical, and deeply human—a connection to the past, to the earth, and to the mysteries of the season.

What do you reckon? Still fancy a mince pie, or are you craving some mushrooms now?

Ah, Santa’s elves! Those cheeky little helpers working away in the North Pole are a fascinating addition to the Father Christmas story. But like much of his legend, the elves have roots that reach deep into older, more magical traditions. Let’s explore where these merry little beings might have come from, shall we?

Elves in Myth and Folklore

The idea of elves didn’t start with Santa’s workshop. Far from it! Elves have been part of European folklore for centuries, and they were anything but the cheerful toy-makers we imagine today.

1. Norse Álfar:

In Norse mythology, the álfar (elves) were powerful, otherworldly beings tied to nature and magic. They were said to inhabit Álfheim, a mystical realm, and were often associated with light, fertility, and protection. But they could be tricky too—helpful one moment and mischievous the next, depending on how they were treated.

2. Fairies and Household Spirits:

In Celtic and Germanic traditions, elves overlap with fairies and other household spirits like brownies or kobolds. These little beings were known to assist with chores—if you kept on their good side. Leave them offerings like milk or bread, and they’d help around the house. Forget their due or offend them, and you’d regret it!

3. The Wild and the Weird:

Some elves and fair folk had darker reputations. They could lead travellers astray, cause illness, or play tricks on humans. While Santa’s elves are all about joy and creativity, they carry an echo of this wilder, more unpredictable energy.

Elves and Santa: The Connection

So how did these mystical beings end up in Santa’s workshop? It’s not entirely clear, but there are a few theories:

1. Yuletide Spirits:

In Scandinavian folklore, the nisse or tomte were little household spirits who became closely associated with Christmas. These small, bearded figures wore red caps and were known for protecting farms and homes. Like elves, they were industrious, magical, and fond of good cheer—definitely a vibe you can see in Santa’s helpers.

2. Victorian Reinvention:

Elves were officially recruited into Santa’s story in the 19th century, thanks to Victorian writers and illustrators. They wanted to give Santa a whimsical, magical workforce, and elves—already tied to Christmas through Nordic traditions—fit the bill perfectly.

3. Workshop Magic:

The image of elves toiling away to make toys for children might also draw on the idea of dwarves from Norse myths. These master craftsmen forged powerful objects like Thor’s hammer. Combine that craftsmanship with a bit of fairy mischief, and you’ve got Santa’s modern elves.

Shamanic Links to Santa’s Elves

If we’re sticking with the “Santa as shaman” theme, the elves might represent spirits or guides. In many shamanic traditions, shamans work with helper spirits—beings from the otherworld who assist them in their journeys and tasks.

1. Magical Helpers:

Just as Siberian shamans had reindeer and spirit allies, Santa’s elves could be seen as his otherworldly helpers. They take on the work of manifesting magic in the material world—making toys, preparing gifts, and keeping the seasonal energy alive.

2. Connection to Nature:

Elves are often tied to nature and the unseen world. As Santa’s helpers, they could represent a link between the human world and the magic of the natural and spiritual realms, working behind the scenes to bring joy and abundance.

The Symbolism of Elves

Santa’s elves aren’t just about making toys; they carry deeper meanings tied to ancient traditions:

• Creativity and Craftsmanship: Like the dwarves of Norse lore, they remind us of the importance of skill and hard work—turning raw materials into something extraordinary.

• Magic and Mystery: As beings of the unseen world, elves embody the wonder and enchantment of the season. They remind us that there’s more to life than meets the eye.

• Teamwork and Harmony: Santa may be the star, but it’s the elves who keep everything running. They represent the power of collaboration and community.

From Mischief to Magic

So, while Santa’s elves have been sanitized into cheerful toy-makers, their roots are far more magical—and a bit mischievous. Whether they’re inspired by Norse álfar, Celtic fairies, or the household nisse, they carry an echo of the wild, ancient forces that make midwinter such a special time.

Next time you picture them hammering away in the North Pole, imagine them with a wink and a nod to their untamed past—creatures of magic, mystery, and a dash of mischief. What’s a bit of Christmas without a little chaos, after all?

Reindeer and Sleigh: A Ride Through History

Picture this: a snowy winter’s night, the jingling of bells, and the whoosh of a sleigh gliding through the sky, pulled by a team of flying reindeer. It’s classic Christmas, right? But have you ever wondered why it’s reindeer? Or where the flying sleigh came from? Spoiler: it didn’t just pop out of a Coca-Cola advert. Like much of Santa’s story, it’s steeped in ancient myths, magical traditions, and a bit of winter folklore.

Why Reindeer?

First off, let’s talk about reindeer. They’re not just randomly plucked from the Arctic tundra for festive vibes—they’ve got a rich history tied to survival, magic, and midwinter celebrations.

1. The Arctic Connection:

Reindeer are the animal of the far north. For the Sámi people of Scandinavia and northern Siberia, reindeer are life—food, transport, warmth, everything. It’s no surprise they feature in so many legends and rituals. These weren’t just animals; they were seen as sacred, with spiritual ties to the natural and unseen worlds.

2. Shamanic Symbolism:

Now, here’s where it gets magical. In Siberian shamanic traditions, reindeer were thought to be messengers between realms. Shamans—often dressed in fur-trimmed outfits that sound a lot like Santa’s—would travel in reindeer-drawn sledges or enter trances to journey into the spirit world. Some legends even say shamans “rode” reindeer on these spiritual flights. Sound familiar?

3. Flying Reindeer:

The idea of reindeer flying might also come from the reindeer’s connection to Amanita muscaria mushrooms—the red-and-white ones shamans used in rituals. Reindeer eat these mushrooms and are said to act a bit… well, let’s say trippy. People watching them might have thought they were flying! Add that to stories of shamans soaring through the skies, and you’ve got the makings of Rudolph and his crew.

And the Sleigh?

Santa’s sleigh is another part of the story that has deep roots, both practical and mythical.

1. Winter Transport:

In the snowy northern climates, sleighs weren’t just handy—they were essential. They were the only way to move people and goods across the frozen landscape. So it makes sense that Santa, delivering gifts in the dead of winter, would need a sleigh to do the job.

2. Mythical Rides:

Sleighs aren’t just practical—they’ve got a magical side, too. Think of Odin riding through the skies on Sleipnir, his eight-legged horse. Sleipnir wasn’t your average steed—he could gallop between worlds. Swap the horse for a sleigh, add some reindeer, and you’ve got a supernatural vehicle fit for a Yuletide legend.

3. The Spirit of the Wild Hunt:

Speaking of Odin, his Wild Hunt is another big clue. This ghostly procession of gods, spirits, and animals tearing across the winter skies might be where the whole idea of Santa’s airborne sleigh comes from. The Wild Hunt wasn’t just a spooky tale—it symbolized the passage of winter, the gathering of spirits, and the mysteries of the dark season. Santa’s sleigh, with its gift-giving magic, feels like a kinder, gentler echo of this ancient ride.

The Team of Eight (and Rudolph)

So, what about Santa’s famous reindeer? Their names—Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and so on—came from Clement Clarke Moore’s 1823 poem A Visit from St. Nicholas (better known as ’Twas the Night Before Christmas). But even before that, reindeer pulling sleighs had been tied to Christmas and winter lore.

1. Eight Reindeer = Eight Legs?

Some folks think the number eight might be a nod to Odin’s eight-legged horse, Sleipnir. It’s a nice link between Norse mythology and Santa’s reindeer team, don’t you think?

2. Rudolph, the Latecomer:

And then there’s Rudolph, who showed up in the 20th century as a bit of a marketing stunt. But even he’s got ties to older traditions. His glowing red nose? It feels like a symbol of light guiding us through winter’s darkness—just like a shaman or a lantern in the night.

Reindeer, Sleighs, and the Magic of Winter

At its heart, Santa’s sleigh and his flying reindeer are all about connection—between the earthly and the divine, the practical and the magical. They remind us of:

• Survival in Winter: Reindeer and sleighs were tools for getting through the harshest months, and they carry that sense of resilience and endurance.

• The Wonder of Flight: Whether it’s Odin’s Wild Hunt, Siberian shamans journeying through spirit realms, or Santa delivering presents, the idea of flying through winter skies is pure magic.

• The Bridge Between Worlds: Like the reindeer of shamanic lore, Santa’s team are a link between the mundane and the mystical, carrying us into the heart of the season’s mysteries.

So next time you see a reindeer decoration or hear those sleigh bells jingling, remember this: they’re not just symbols of Christmas cheer. They’re echoes of ancient journeys, magical flights, and the enduring wonder of winter.

Makes you wonder if Rudolph’s ancestors were tripping on mushrooms, doesn’t it?

Ah, the sleigh bells! That distinctive jingle is as much a part of Christmas as the smell of pine or the taste of mulled wine. But where did the idea of bells on Santa’s sleigh come from? Spoiler alert: like everything else in this story, sleigh bells have ancient and magical origins that go way beyond festive carols.

The Practical Side of Sleigh Bells

First things first, sleigh bells were originally a very practical invention.

1. Safety First:

In snowy regions where sleighs glided silently over the ground, bells were used to alert others to an oncoming sleigh. Think of it like an old-school car horn, but much prettier sounding. The jingling also helped the driver know the horses were still moving properly through the snowdrifts.

2. Identification:

Bells were sometimes a sign of status or identity. Wealthy folks would deck out their sleighs with elaborate bells, both to show off and to help people recognize who was coming. Imagine Santa’s bells clinking, announcing the arrival of the man of the season—proper VIP vibes!

The Magical Side of Bells

But sleigh bells aren’t just practical. They’ve long been tied to magic, protection, and the spirit world.

1. Warding Off Evil:

Bells were traditionally thought to scare away malevolent spirits. In many cultures, the sound of ringing bells was believed to break curses, banish bad energy, and keep mischievous entities at bay. When Santa’s sleigh is dashing through the night, those bells might not just be for show—they could be keeping him safe from all the unseen spooks lurking in the winter darkness.

2. Calling the Spirits:

On the flip side, bells were also used to summon friendly spirits or deities. In shamanic practices, the sound of bells was said to mimic the jingling of the spirit world, helping shamans communicate with other realms. Santa, with his sleigh bells jingling, could be channeling some of that energy as he zips between the earthly and magical worlds.

3. Celebration and Ritual:

Bells were often rung during midwinter festivals to mark the turning of the year and to celebrate the return of the light. Their bright, clear sound cuts through the cold and dark, symbolizing hope and renewal—perfect for a sleigh carrying gifts of joy and warmth.

Sleigh Bells and Santa

So how do we get from ancient bell-ringing to Santa’s iconic sleigh jingles?

1. Yuletide Traditions:

In old winter customs, bells were often rung during the darkest nights to drive away the gloom and bring in festive cheer. Santa’s sleigh, jingling across the skies, fits perfectly into this tradition—spreading joy and light as he goes.

2. Victorian Christmas Charm:

The Victorian era, which shaped so much of our modern Christmas, adored the sound of sleigh bells. They became a symbol of snowy landscapes, cozy celebrations, and nostalgia. Writers like Clement Clarke Moore added sleigh bells to Santa’s legend, and the rest is history.

3. A Magical Signal:

In the context of Santa’s story, the sleigh bells have become something more—a signal of his arrival. That faint jingle on the roof? It’s not just practical or decorative; it’s the sound of magic, the promise of wonder, and a reminder to believe.

What Sleigh Bells Symbolize

When you hear those sleigh bells, they carry layers of meaning, from the mundane to the mystical:

• Protection: They guard Santa and his reindeer as they travel through the winter night.

• Magic: They’re a link to the spirit world, echoing ancient rituals and summoning joy.

• Celebration: Their cheerful sound cuts through the stillness, reminding us of warmth, community, and the return of light.

So next time you hear a sleigh bell, think of it not just as a bit of Christmas decoration, but as an echo of something ancient and magical. It’s a tiny chime that connects the modern world to long-lost traditions—keeping the magic of midwinter alive, one jingle at a time.

And who knows? Maybe Santa’s sleigh bells are also his way of saying, “Don’t forget to leave out the mince pies!”

Ah, mince pies—little pockets of festive joy that have graced British Christmas tables for centuries. But these aren’t just tasty treats; they’re loaded with history, symbolism, and a touch of the magical. Let’s unwrap the story behind these Christmassy delights and see how they went from ancient offerings to Santa’s favourite snack.

Where Did Mince Pies Come From?

To really get to the bottom of mince pies, we have to travel back to the Middle Ages. Back then, they weren’t the sweet little parcels we know today. Oh no, these pies were savoury and packed with a mix of meat, fruits, and spices—basically medieval comfort food.

1. Spiced and Sacred:

The spices in the pies—like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves—weren’t just for flavour. They symbolised the exotic gifts brought by the Wise Men to baby Jesus, so these pies were seen as a holy nod to the Nativity story.

2. Crusader Influence:

Spiced meat pies became popular in England thanks to returning Crusaders, who brought back a taste for Middle Eastern flavours. Over time, this mix of sweet and savoury turned into a festive staple, particularly during the 12 days of Christmas.

Why Are They Associated with Christmas?

Mince pies were deeply tied to the season’s spiritual and social traditions:

1. Midwinter Feasting:

In the darkest days of winter, mince pies were a real treat—filled with preserved fruits and spices that brought a little warmth and sweetness to the season. Sharing them was a way to spread joy during feasts and gatherings.

2. Lucky Offerings:

There’s an old belief that eating a mince pie every day of the 12 days of Christmas would bring good luck for the year ahead. And who doesn’t want a bit of festive fortune?

3. Symbol of Generosity:

Giving mince pies to guests became a symbol of hospitality and abundance, fitting for the spirit of Christmas. It’s easy to see how this tradition evolved into leaving one out for Santa, a magical visitor bringing gifts of his own.

Mince Pies and Santa

So, how did mince pies become Santa’s go-to snack? It’s all about the age-old tradition of offering food and drink to winter visitors—whether they were human, divine, or something in between.

1. Pagan Roots:

Long before Santa, people left offerings for household spirits, ancestors, and even the gods during midwinter. These gifts were meant to ensure protection, prosperity, and good harvests. Mince pies—rich, spiced, and full of care—fit right into this custom.

2. The Saint Nicholas Connection:

By the time Saint Nicholas morphed into the modern Santa Claus, leaving out treats for him had become a common tradition in Britain. Mince pies were a natural choice, being both festive and easy to share with the reindeer (Santa’s not selfish, you know).

3. A Taste of History:

Over time, mince pies became less about meat and more about sweet. By the Victorian era, they were the buttery, fruity pastries we love today. And while Santa might have swapped his mulled wine for milk in some parts of the world, mince pies have remained his snack of choice in the UK.

Symbolism of Mince Pies

These little pies aren’t just a tasty treat—they carry layers of meaning:

• Generosity and Sharing: Offering mince pies is a way of spreading warmth and goodwill, especially during the cold, dark months of winter.

• Spiritual Connection: With their roots in sacred spices and offerings, mince pies remind us of the season’s deeper meanings.

• Luck and Prosperity: Eating them during Christmas is thought to bring blessings for the year ahead.

The Shape of Magic

Ever noticed how mince pies are usually round? There’s a bit of symbolism there too. The round shape is said to represent the manger where baby Jesus was laid—or, if you go even further back, the cycles of life, the sun, and the turning of the year.

In earlier times, they were sometimes shaped like little cribs or coffins, tying them even more closely to the Nativity story. Over time, practicality won out (round pies are easier to make), but the symbolism still lingers.

Mince Pies Today

Now, mince pies are a quintessential part of a British Christmas, whether you make them from scratch or grab a box from the shop. Leaving one out for Santa, alongside a glass of sherry and a carrot for the reindeer, is a lovely nod to old traditions—and maybe a little bribe to make sure he leaves the best presents.

And let’s be honest: they’re not just for Santa. Mince pies are for us—a little bit of festive magic we can taste, reminding us of all the warmth, wonder, and shared joy that makes this season so special.

So, when you’re munching on a mince pie this year, remember: you’re taking part in a tradition that’s older and richer than you might think. And if you’re lucky, maybe Santa will leave an extra present under the tree for your good taste!

WHY LEAVE THEM FOR SANTA

Right, let’s talk mince pies and why we leave one out for Santa. It’s one of those traditions we all just do without questioning, isn’t it? But like most things about Christmas, it’s not just random—it’s tied to ancient customs, a bit of superstition, and good old-fashioned hospitality. So, grab a brew, and let’s dig in.

The Old Days: Feeding the Spirits

Back in the day, before Santa was even a twinkle in the festive eye, people believed in all sorts of magical visitors turning up during midwinter. Gods, spirits, ancestors—you name it, they’d be dropping by. And the way to keep them happy? Food.

• Pagan Offerings:

In Yule celebrations (proper old-school Christmas), people would leave out food and drink for the gods or household spirits. The idea was that these offerings would keep the spirits sweet and bring a bit of good fortune your way. Sound familiar? Santa and his mince pie fit right into that tradition.

• A Warm Welcome:

Winters were long, dark, and cold, so sharing food with any visitor—human or otherwise—was a sign of hospitality. Leaving a little something for Santa is just a modern version of that, isn’t it? A sort of, “Cheers for stopping by, mate. Have a bite on us!”

Why Mince Pies?

So, why not a sausage roll or a packet of crisps? Why did mince pies become the go-to snack for the man in red? Well, that’s all down to history.

1. Medieval Feasts:

Back in medieval times, mince pies weren’t sweet. They were filled with meat, fruit, and spices—a proper hearty winter dish. The spices, like cinnamon and nutmeg, were a nod to the three wise men’s gifts, so they had a bit of religious symbolism too.

2. The Christmas Treat:

Fast forward a few centuries, and mince pies evolved into the sweet, fruity, buttery goodness we love today. By Victorian times, they were already a Christmas staple, so when people started leaving treats for Santa, mince pies made perfect sense.

Santa the Guest of Honour

Now, Santa’s not just any visitor, is he? Whether you think of him as Saint Nicholas, the Norse god Odin, or just a jolly bloke in a red suit, he’s got this air of mystery and magic about him. In the old days, people left offerings for gods and spirits during midwinter. These days, we give Santa a mince pie instead—it’s a nod to those ancient customs.

And, let’s be honest, if you want someone to leave you the best presents, you butter them up, don’t you? A mince pie and a cheeky glass of sherry never hurt your chances of staying on the Nice List!

The Spirit of the Season

At the end of the day, leaving a mince pie for Santa is all about generosity. Christmas is the season for sharing and spreading joy, and that little pie is our way of giving something back. Sure, it’s symbolic—Santa doesn’t actually need snacks to fuel his sleigh ride—but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

So next time you’re putting out a mince pie, remember: you’re carrying on a tradition that goes back centuries. It’s part superstition, part thank-you, and part bribe. And, let’s be honest, Santa probably sits there every Christmas Eve thinking, “You can keep the milk, but these mince pies—absolute winners!”

As we settle into the warmth of modern Christmas traditions, it’s easy to forget the deep, ancient roots that stretch back to pagan times. From the shamanic origins of Santa and the mystical power of the winter solstice to the symbols of elves, reindeer, and sleigh bells, the holiday season carries with it echoes of centuries-old customs that celebrate the turning of the wheel, the return of the light, and the magic of winter.

Christmas, in its essence, is a blend of celebration, reverence, and connection to the natural world. The gifts, the feasts, and the joy we share with loved ones are all part of an ongoing tradition that links us to our ancestors, their myths, and their ways of welcoming the return of hope and warmth. So, as you enjoy the festivities this year, remember: you’re not just celebrating the present—you’re honouring an ancient legacy of magic, mystery, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

Follow the Lanter’s

Glow

[xxlordalexanderxx]

"Christmas in Xandora?"

I didn't mean to make this so long but I've been working on super charging my lore in the background when not active here. So uh yeah here we go:

❄️ .: Crystal Solstice :. ❄️

The Crystal Solstice festivities take place in the village of Drakehaven, the castle town closest to Castle Xandoria.

The bazaars are busier than usual and Alexander always doubles up on merchant approval to bring business to the kingdom. While he personally doesn't like winter he doesn't deprive his people of enjoying it and supplies them with whatever they need to partake in the activates. As well as keeping good favor with the kingdom in the mountains or the ice kingdom known as Auroravia. There are no religious aspects of this holiday but it does celebrate warmth and being with family and as always a good feast. Not really Christmas but adjacent—more winter like but gifts that can be exchanged.

.:Ice Sculpture Garden and Decor:

Artisans from the sky kingdom of Zephyros are commissioned to come down and create an ice garden for all to visit and admire, adding to the decorations of the village. Many decorations include string lights and lanterns and hanging baskets filled with frostbloom flowers.

Crystal Solstice Lanterns: Symbolizing hope and warmth during the cold winter nights.

Crystal Snowflakes: Representing the unique beauty of the season.

Aurora Ribbons: Colorful ribbons hung around the village to mimic northern lights.

Enchanted Ice Sculptures: Glowing ice sculptures that light up the pathways and create a magical ambiance.

.:Aurora Night Dance:.

Frost druids from Auroravia are sent down to put on a sky show, painting the sky with auroras, while live music is played. Participants can take part in wall flowering or dancing. And even though it is winter the temperature is always controlled in the village so that it isn't too cold to be out, but still one should bundle up.

.:Frost Feast:.

Everyone can have one in their own respective homes but a lavish and public feast is held in Drakehaven where residents from Auroravia come to share some of their dishes and delicates with the lower kindgom as these dishes are typically not common. A lot of sea food and wild game are served, some warm and cold, and fan favorites such as frost berry tarts, honeyed bread and spiced cider.

.:Gift of winter:.

Is a tradition set up for children mostly, inspired by easter, it's a scavenger hunt for little enchanted gifts hidden in the snow. The gifts in question can range from small blown glass trinkets, or magical snowflakes made of eternal ice that never melt, or sugar-ice a winter time specialty candy/confection.

.:Snowlight Market:.

A bustling market where vendors from Auroravia sell handmade crafts, enchanted trinkets, and winter treats and a verity of fresh caught fish and other delicacies from the northern sea. Visitors can enjoy hot combuschestnut choclate or without if you have a nut allergy. ( Chestnuts that explode and self roast when being harvested can also be bought without the risk by the pound)

.:Tales by the Hearth:.

Elders gather children around the great hearth to tell ancient tales of bravery, magic, and the origins of the Crystal Solstice. These stories are accompanied by shadow puppet performances. Alexander banned any stories told about him because got tired of them scaring the kids. Those are saved for the older teens or adults who can stomach that story.

.:Wishing Tree:.

The beast folk, despite still having some reservations about humans did like the idea of having a decorated tree, but instead of chopping one down all the time there is a huge tree a good 90-100 ft tall in the middle of the village that is decorated with lights and ornaments each year that Cromwell grew to replace the statue of the old king that once ruled there. Villagers write their wishes on parchment and hang them on the tree and sometimes generous or the wealthy lords and ladies might grant them, sometimes Alexander himself.

The Crystal Solstice is a time of joy, togetherness, and enchantment, where the harshness of winter is softened by the warmth of community and the magic of the season. One that Alexander is slowly warming up too.

[gravesung-moving]

soft muse drop: orion aisa

A PAINTER, A FORGER, AND A BIT OF A RECLUSE. identical (trans man) twin to persephone aisa (@/huntershowl), orion works for THE UNSEEN as the inner-circle replicator, identity crafter, you know the drill. don't get on his bad side or your next undercover name is gonna be dumb as shit!

though he's always been a softer sort than his twin sibling, he shares her snark and rebellious tendencies, and his sense of humor outmatches theirs. the twins were born under a dark sky on the winter solstice, when the veil was thin, and on the day of their birth, something unknowable marked them. where persephone's void-trait is smoky hair, orion's sclera are pitch black, glittering — as the darkest parts of seph's hair do — with faint smatterings of stars. his irises, in contrast, are rings of glowing white.

iris, that is. his right eye is gone, covered by an eyepatch made of soft black satin. orion favors soft cotton and silky textures in clothing; he hates feeling restricted, so flowy blouses and wide-leg pants are the go-to. (a canvas apron loosely fitted over them, of course.) you'll never find him with hands free of ink or paint stains. too much to do, never enough time to let them fade. and naturally, there is always a pen and a tiny notebook somewhere on his person.

it's rare orion goes anywhere other than his apartment and the coworking space he shares with the unseen's inner circle. when he does go outside, it's not for very long. incredibly nervous about getting social interactions wrong, he has simply decided it's best not to risk it. but when he does make a friend? he is steadfast and loyal. a real one. (and a bit of a scamp.)

bio below!

being neurodivergent in a space that barely has words — let alone infrastructure — for the care he needs, orion struggled during his early days in the unseen. he was called stupid in more ways than he could count. children were to be molded and shaped by their handlers into efficient tools. he learned quickly to stay quiet and out of the way. they taught him to fight, but he was never very good, often uncoordinated and too in his head to react quickly enough. between the two of them, it was seph that excelled at violence. but after gaining some respect and renown among their peers and handlers, she stopped following orders without the condition that orion be left alone — and after several failed attempts to get her in line, they reluctantly agreed.

it was a good thing they did. it was dropping the leash that led to their realization that orion was an excellent life artist, able to copy down visual details near-perfectly. they enrolled him in the non-physical track with other scrawny and brainy kids: they would train as engineers, spies, dog trainers, fences. as his forging skills skyrocketed, orion quickly caught up to seph's level of renown.

he lost his eye during the twins' failed escape attempt as teenagers. it was seph's idea; the higher they climbed, the more they realized it would become their futures if they weren't careful. crime was only supposed to be a way to make a quick buck and get a little tougher on the streets while they searched for better work. orion was ready to resign himself to his fate; persephone, ever the hothead and the architect of their first escape from their parents as children, refused to give up.

of course, they were caught. by the tower themself, no less: the leader of the entire organization turning their wrath on them was the worst possible outcome, and now it stared them in the face. persephone took responsibility for the mistake. of course they did; it had been their idea, and they would have let fletch kill them right there if it lessened the suffering their brother had to feel. orion's tongue was bound up in his mouth, fear tangling up the words in his throat.

the punishment was harsh and traumatizing, but afterwards the twins sought refuge in the freedom and anonymity of the tower's inner circle. they allowed him to live as he needed to live and grow his skills in a way that worked for him. so long as he produced results, that was all that mattered. and he and persephone could finally live together.

which they did, in relative peace and with relative ease. after walking through the fire, they now had the freedom to work as they pleased, do what they wanted with their spare time, and spend more money than they would ever know what to do with. sometimes persephone cooked for him, like they had when they were kids — nowadays they could only really make donburi and ketchup rice, though, so they went out to eat or ordered in more often than not. things were good. they were happy.

and then his sister vanished for two years.

in the beginning, fletch reassured orion that they had gone deep undercover for a job and would return when it was finished. when a year passed with no word, the inner circle's murmurings became constant gossip; his coworkers walked on eggshells around him, and he became quieter than he had ever been.

another year passed — still no word. the tower, amari fletch, did not seem worried, despite the fact that they were running business without a right hand; if they were reacting to her disappearance in any way, they kept it quiet. orion occasionally caught them beginning to turn to ask her something, then stop. but he never confronted them, because any time he considered it he remembered how it felt to listen to his sibling's screams as fletch tore their arms from their sockets. how it felt to lose his eye. he didn't dare, and he hated himself for it.

persephone returned to him in a medical coma. her throat had been cut, and a third-degree burn stretched up the right side of her body. the riots that day — the exile riots, people getting up in arms about a politician's disappearance — had caused explosions and fires all over the city, but who could have gotten to her? orion had never seen persephone taken off guard. and he would never find out. after she woke up, they barely lasted two weeks living together before they had an explosive argument and persephone stormed out.

she never spoke to him again. it has been three years.

they live in the same tiny, tight-knit social circle, but persephone ghosts him every chance they get, only interacting when it is absolutely necessary for work. he lost himself in grief and anger for some time; that first year was... really rough for both of the twins & the rest of the inner circle. vibes were rancid. everyone was on edge all the time. but ... eventually, things evened out; orion went from desperation to anger to resignation. he poured himself into his work to an unhealthy degree.

life goes on, after all.

VERSES

BNHA — along with his sister persephone, orion still works for the unseen as one of their high-level lieutenants ( the inner circle, known as the sanctum ). though everyone in the sanctum doubles as a hitman, orion is by far the worst fighter. even when he and seph were spies in UA's hero course, he worked as a support student and avoided fighting whenever possible.

quirk: iterate! he can perfectly replicate anything he sees from memory as long as he has the right amount of matter on hand. the more complicated the object, the more difficult it is for him to do so. additionally, he can add or change details while forming the new duplicate object. this is what allows him to perfectly replicate IDs, even when they have special embedded anti-forgery materials within them. he's also used this to quickly turn chunks of metal into iterations on support weapon designs, but he doesn't do this much anymore.

quick notes: orion and seph were pulled out of the hero course just before graduation ( or in current-gen verse, right when the war starts to get serious ). he remains in the united states until the present day, in his mid to late twenties, following hellhound from the US to japan (the whole sanctum does, actually — they're helping the unseen get a foothold here, now that the shie-hassaikai has been neutered.)

though his sister is still ghosting him, he stubbornly keeps tabs on her.

[ok-boomerang]

Hello, I hope you're doing well.

What are some of your wingman Aang headcanons? How do you think he would show his support for Zutara?

Hi to an excellent curator of zk content! ❤️

I think my biggest Wingman Aang headcanon is just that Aang grows as a character, lol. This looks like him actually embracing the themes of the show. E.g., I read a fic in which Aang was hurt when he found out about ZK but still immediately defended them against critics, saying something like, “Katara’s mother was killed because of Zuko’s family, but Zuko turned his back on glory to help save the world. If she can forgive him and they can find love together, then that gives me so much hope for the future of the world." How beautiful is that?!

A character like Aang coming onto the scene in 2005 was BIG. IS big. A kind, sweet, vegetarian kid—Aang was a boy hero who exhibited a lot of feminine traits, and hoo boy that just doesn’t happen in Misogyny World (read: the world). Unfortunately his character arc ended in the pointy rock and toxic masculinity, but it didn’t have to be that way.

But I digress: to my headcanons!

- Aang lets go of his unhealthy attachment to Katara in s3 (which is what helps him access the avatar state lol, not the pointy rock).

- Sometime after the war, Aang notices that ZK seem like they like each other and would be a good couple. He’s a little hurt at first, but is ultimately happy that Katara is happy. He realizes that Katara’s happiness is more important than a silly crush.

- SO Aang joins Toph and Suki in their Zany Schemes (TM) to get ZK together.

- (Their intentions are good, and they try, but they do NOT actually help anyone)

- For example, Suki locks ZK in a room together hoping they’ll sort out their feelings. This happens just before ZK are meant to present together at a Four Nations Summit. Suki and Aang had forgotten about this. Toph had not forgotten, but thinks speeches are boring. Instead of talking about their feelings, Zuko and Katara break through a wall to make the speech in time, causing very expensive fire and water damage to a foreign building.

- Suki and Aang write fake letters to Zuko and Katara from each other confessing their feelings (à la Sokka and Aang in "The Runaway"). Toph sends them and accidentally mixes them up, so Zuko gets the letter intended for Katara supposedly written by him, and Katara gets the letter to Zuko supposedly written by Katara.

- Turns out ZK had been dating all this time but were waiting to tell their friends

- When Aang finds out about ZK becoming official, he gets choked up about his “two best friends” and "two favorite people" falling in love. Toph and Sokka begin protesting behind him but Aang is too overwhelmed to hear them

- Aang is perfectly content being a third wheel, which is really nice for ZK at first because they still want to hang out with their friends. But it takes Aang some time to understand that they don’t want to hang out with him ALL the time 😂 I can see Katara asking Zuko if he’d like to grab dinner at a fancy restaurant and Aang being like “oh yeah I’m free, is it that noodle place?” Or like when Toph asks what ZK are doing for the solstice Aang looks at ZK and is like “Idk guys, what are we doing?” (He just loves hanging out with them so much!)

- Aang, of course, officiates the ZK wedding. I can’t see anyone else doing it because Aang will say all the flowery stuff about balance and love that I think a wedding needs

- And Aang, as is a popular steambaby headcanon, is a doting uncle and loves to yeet the steam babies into the sky. 🥰

- Bonus Aang Alone headcanon unrelated to ZK: Bc our lil dude needs to repopulate the Air Nomads, he’s like should I just sleep around? Aang struggles with this bc he wants true love and a family. Then he falls in love with someone (idk, pick ur fave) and they’re like “I don’t mind if you sleep around just to repopulate the Air Nomads. But…what if you just started a sperm bank?” Which is how Aang founds the Republic City First National (Sperm) Bank and fathers more than 100 children. (Sorry, I just thought of this crack I'm treating seriously and needed to share)

This was fun (and oops got very long)! Thanks for the ask!!

[smaller-comfort]

27. Share a piece of lore you made up for the Outshine the Sun early years wip and/or Consort roleplay wip?

I think the only lore that really goes with the concubine roleplay wip is general snecrontyr stuff that I've already covered elsewhere. That story is really just an excuse for Zahndrekh to dress Obyron up in sexy lingerie and make him beg to get fucked while Zahndrekh fingers him with his gloves on. At least, thats the plan, but we'll see how out of hand that one gets once I start working on it more.

For OtS- I've made up a fair amount about the Solstice religious order! It's a powerful institution with a lot of political power within the empire, although the Temple tends to be at odds with the Imperial Court on a lot of issues. Children born on the solstices don't get taken; parents can choose to dedicate their children or not, as they please. Officially dedicating a child to the temple does entitle parents to certain privileges and tithes in exchange, though, plus it means your kid gets an education and a pretty decent life. It's more like sending your kid off to be apprenticed; most children do keep in touch with their families, and they have the option to leave once they reach the age of majority.

There are, of course, children who are abandoned as newborns; Solstice orphans aren't uncommon, so there are children of all ages living in the temple cloisters.

The following is full of spoilers for the basic premise of OtS. I think it's pretty, though.

He laughed. “Absolutely not. The Elders said I had no potential, anyway. You'd have no use for me.”

-----

She touched his shoulder. “You have no desire to be a Solstice Priest now, do you?”

“You were a child; there was no way to truly know what potential you might grow into.” She stood, and now she was no longer Sister Anais, who had been so kind to the children in the cloister; she was Solena incarnate, with the light of the sun shining from her eyes. “You have the right to that particular truth. Come.”

He took her hand, and she led him to the center of the courtyard. The midmorning sun was harsh above them. “We are the children of the sun. But after the longest day, the light begins to die. Never forget what our birth signifies.”

She raised one arm, fingers outstretched towards the sky, and time stopped. The sun wheeled backwards in the sky, casting the courtyard in darkness; the moon rose, set, rose again, and the unforgiving light of the solstice flooded the courtyard.

And between the outstretched fingers of her hand, he saw the cosmos: the orbits of the moons and the planet's axial tilt, leaning towards the sun at the height of the solstice; the stately revolution of the planet around the sun, and the entire cohort of the solar system, with its concentric circles of planetary orbits and asteroid rings.

And beyond: stars, of which their sun was but one of a multitude, each spinning around the black hole at the center of the galaxy, and the galaxy itself moving in its slow and ponderous way outwards from the center of the universe, where all things began, and ended, and began again.

She closed her hand into a fist, and time resumed. Her eyes were the blackness of an eclipse, outlined in a corona of solar fire. The sun set; the moon rose, and set, and rose again; the sun rolled back into position where it belonged.

He reached for her, feeling the force of gravity and its counterforce, the dizzying centripetal motion of the universe. He held the sun in his hands, and through it he could see- the pane of glass in his mind was not a barrier at all. It was a prism, refracting the light.

Resh'an blinked. A globe of white hot fire spun in the palm of his hand like a tiny star. He flexed his fingers, and it dissipated with a curl of smoke. It made sense now. He called the fire back, feeling the way the prism in his mind brought forth the spectrum of light and magic; the movement of the universe in space and time, repeated over and over again across the Sea of Stars.

The globe of fire sputtered out, suddenly, and he staggered. Solena caught him as he fell, and her touch flooded him with sunlight- not the white hot starfire, but the gentle warmth of a sunrise. “Have a care not to burn too brightly- this is why we need Luana, for balance, to keep ourselves from burning out.”

“I was never going to have that.” He thought of Aephorul, and the sister he never knew; he was sure he would have loved her, too. The thought was nearly enough to stagger him again, with the weight of that loss finally realized. "You knew from the start- it was why you sent me away."

-----

(The premise: Resh'an is a Solstice orphan, who was taken from the temple before he finished his training. Aephorul has a dead twin sister, and never developed anything more than a rudimentary grasp of Lunar magic. Immortality ultimately corrupts their souls to the point where their own innate Solstice magic becomes poisonous.)

(Aephorul's sister has actually already made an appearance in the fic I've posted! She gets another cameo in Save Scumming, too.)