#sky kid: solstice (he/him)

[paramodorado]

one eyed mask guy smells like burnt wood

[sweetfwr]

(TEASER!) ROSES & RETRIBUTION ˒˒ sjy

when you are accepted into solstice academy on a scholarship, you seek revenge on the illustrious park family, the very people that took away the life of your best friend. park sunghoon, an attendee of solstice, is sloppy, unaware of his surroundings, and completely out of touch- the perfect target for a clean assassination. the only problem? his irritatingly loyal best friend jake, who happens to be student council president, the son of one of the 7 families pulling strings in the academy, and the man you would later refer to as your greatest love.

pairing) jake sim x f!reader

tags) revenge story, old money themes, enemies to lovers, academy au, angst, love triangle

wc) SOON

now playing) slow down - chase atlantic

fast cars, daddy's rolex, private jets, chauffeurs, and all the damn power they could ever want. the rich kids of solstice really do have it all, emphasis on the fast cars.

it’s after midnight when the crowd of invite-only elites from solstice gather around the edge of the old mountain road, the air thick with cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, and the rumbling of engines ready to burn. students laughed together, leaning on super cars and sipping on champagne flutes like nothing in the world mattered– like they were untouchable. maybe they were.

across the lot, jake is sliding into his matte black lotus, the engine purring like a beast ready to pounce. his eyes flicked up once, right at the jacket covering your skimpy outfit, before his helmet went on. you almost scoff. you haven’t spoken to him since that night in his room, and you don’t intend to.

he had grabbed your wirst a little too tightly, warning you of what it meant to go against the park family. begging, pleading with you to stop with a strain in his voice, as if he knew what you could and couldn’t handle.

a sleek silver porsche rolls up next to jake’s car, undoubtedly belonging to sunoo. he steps out for a brief moment, tossing his keys to an underclassman with a smirk as his eyes scan the crowd for something, or someone.

once those hazel eyes land on you, or more specifically, what you’re wearing, you gulp inwardly.

“you wore it,” sunoo smiles lazily, approaching you confidently, but not without the envious stares of his brainless fans. “my jacket.”

“it’s cold,” you say dryly, but that does nothing to quell the fire you’ve stoked. his ego is sky high, and you can practically taste it in the air.

“is this what the rich do when they’re bored?”

“what, you think we play golf?” he snorts, helmet secured at his side. “stay for a while, doll. i’ll make it worth your time.”

it’s then that he saunters towards his car, and it hits you– he would be racing tonight. against jake. you can practically feel his eyes on you from the black lotus across the venue.

why wouldn’t they be? you were standing on his turf wearing another boy’s jacket like he hadn’t kissed you silly a few nights ago, hot and heavy and in the privacy of his student council dorm. it was driving him crazy, and it was no secret to anyone how much the thought of jake sim lying awake at night, incapable of thinking about anything but you, pleased you.

your lips twitch– just a little.

the crowd stirs when the cars roll up to the starting line, engines revving and headlights blazing through all the heavy smoke. music thumps in your ears, and your heartbeat grows faster with every cheer and rev of an engine. you’re positively thrilled, and you can’t say you don’t love it.

and then you hear it. hushed and low, but unmistakable. “they’re racing for her, aren’t they?”

you know better than to deny it.

lee heeseung steps forward and in between the two cars, a cigarette in one hand and a checkered flag in another. with a raise of his hand, sunoo settles into the driver’s seat like a prince on a throne, and jake adjusts his leather gloves from inside the lotus, shoulders tense. his gaze flicks to you once, then forward again, like a man on a mission.

the flag drops.

and then they’re gone.

metal and absolute madness. sunoo is reckless, silver beauty swerving at every curve as jake matches him turn for turn, not quite ahead of him yet but racing like a shadow that can’t be shaken. the cheering of other solstice students is deafening, but you can’t blame them. it’s not every day you see the golden boys at each other’s throats, especially not at the race tracks.

by the halfway point, it becomes clear; they’re racing to wound, not win. sunoo’s reckless confidence is almost dazzling, he hugs cliffs like he’s unafraid of death as he pushes his very limits. jake isn’t far behind, cold and calculated, clinical and furious.

when they hit the last bend, sunoo hits the brakes almost too late. it’s a near disaster, his car skids, but he swerves just in time to avoid driving over the cliff.

jake doesn’t hesitate.

he pulls forward, winning the race and making the crowd go wild. but he doesn’t stop to soak up the praise. instead, he’s stepping out of the black lotus, throwing his helmet to the ground, and storming towards you like a man deprived.

you’re somewhere in between wanting to disappear and hold your ground when he confronts you.

“is this fun for you?” jake says coldly, and the crowd begins to murmur and gasp, some even whispering about a fight. “watching us tear each other apart?”

“you did that to yourselves.” you say dryly, and he scoffs.

“because of you.”

“she never asked us to fight.” sunoo shrugs from behind him, having already rolled up on his purring porsche like he didn’t almost skid off the cliff minutes earlier. ”this is about you and your damn savior complex.”

jake turns to him so fast it looks like he might swing.

sunoo’s still leaning against his car, hands in his pockets like this whole situation matters little to him. “you want to save her from solstice. from me. but have you ever considered that she doesn’t want your help?”

jake turns to you. “is that true?”

you don't say anything because you don't know, at least not yet. instead, you’re caught in between two boys and their unwavering egos like you came to this school to play a part in a twisted love triangle and not your revenge.

you suppose revenge was the plan, desire was the collateral. it was never supposed to be about them— until it was.

slowly, you raise your eyes to meet sunoo’s and they’re twinkling dangerously. as if to tell you something.

i told you i’d make it worth your time.

like 4 tag once released?

© SWEETFWR

[yoiisa]

LOOKS LIKE THE REAL THING ⋆˙⟡ SAE ITOSHI

"And if I could be who you wanted, if I could be who you wanted, All the time, all the time" - "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead Tags: TW for suicide, familial arguments where children get involved, mentions of injuries, and mentions of violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms (repression). MAJOR ANGST, lotta hurt and not a lotta comfort, Rin haunts the narrative and Sae cannot deal with it part 2 here!!

a/n: I do not know what cortex in my brain is responsible for the amount of angst I’ve been craving but she’s been active and I cannot stop. Radiohead brings out the worst and best in people after all so whoopsie! Have fun!

Bear in mind that I’m pretty sure those are all the TWs this fic contains, but just in case I missed any please proceed w this utmost caution! Always put yourself and your mental health first!

It wasn’t a problem at first for Sae. When you’d had your first kid, a daughter, she’d been a carbon copy of you. Her sat at your bedside, her swaddled in his arms as he whispered about how pretty she would be since you were her mom.

You two had named her Yuki, since she was born on the winter solstice. Snow. When that pang had shot through Sae, he thought nothing of it.

That changed the minute he saw his second born- his son. Haru still looked more like you than Sae, but his eyes, that teal color that seemed to rewind time itself. It stopped his heart. Those big round eyes, taking in his father for the first time. Sae almost collapsed.

Haru and Yuki got along well enough, and he was glad. Really, he was. Yuki seemed born to be a big sister. When Haru was still a baby, she’d litter kisses along his head while they played and insisted that she’d help feed him. She helped Haru take his first steps, and was the reason Haru laughed for the first time.

All of the adults that knew the pair would say the same exact thing: “Those two will be friends forever.”

Sae would always swallow the lump in his throat, which somehow would work to soothe his rapidly beating heart.

Everyone used to say the same thing about him and Rin after all when they were his kids’ age. Rin wasn’t around anymore though. He’d been in a car accident. He’d been crossing the street when a semi ran him over, killing him almost instantly. Sae could see his brother’s body still, lying pale and still as stone in his coffin. Those teal eyes would never open again, never stare at him as if he’d single handedly hung the stars in the sky. People would mutter than it was on purpose for years to come, but that couldn’t be true. Sae knew, it was an accident.

And he’d never gotten the chance to apologize for the fight he didn’t even know was happening.

When Haru first started acting like Rin, you had recognized the signs but Sae instantly got put on edge. It started from as young as Haru being six months old. He had been focusing so hard on rolling over onto his stomach. You, Yuki, and Sae had been sitting in the living room, you and your daughter cheering on as Haru struggled. Sae was smiling down at his son, his heart softening, before it gave a tight squeeze. Sae's eyes widened as he saw Haru's tongue peeking out from his lips. The tiny pink thing was pushed off to the side when Haru finally managed to successfully flip onto his stomach. It hung out a little bit as Haru smiled and you laughed at how cute your son was. You used your finger to poke it back in, and Sae felt like he was going to throw up.

Two years later, Yuki had been watching a TV show while Haru played with blocks next to her. She’d gotten up to use the bathroom, but as she did, her show ended and another program started to play. It was a nature documentary about dinosaurs, and it had a particularly gruesome display of a T-Rex taking a chunk out of another animal. Haru was mesmerized, before Sae and you rushed to turn the TV off. Yuki got an earful from you, but Haru instantly began bawling. Sae did his best to comfort his son, but Haru was adamantly crying for the next ten minutes, pointing at the TV that never got turned back on.

A few days later, Sae noticed Haru miming his stuffie dinosaur eating Yuki’s Barbie. Sae just told him to stop playing so violently, and ignored the way his mind was reeling.

When Haru was four, there was one day he and Yuki were eating ice creams in the kitchen during a particularly hot summer day.

“Did you win?” Yuki asked. Her face brightened into a smile as she cheered, “Yes! Got it!”

Haru narrows his eyes as he checks. He pouts and mumbles, “I lost.”

You giggled and petted your son’s head as he complained that I always lose! It’s not fair! Sae made a mental note to never buy that brand of ice cream again.

As you stood at the sink and washed the dishes, Sae walked up beside you and said sourly, “I thought they didn’t do that with the popsicle sticks anymore.”

You just shrugged, unbeknownst to the turmoil he had raging in his chest.

Everything eventually reached a head when Haru was old enough to know what soccer was. He'd been fascinated by his father's games since birth, and one day at the park, he'd raced up to a few older boys and asked if he could play. Initially, he'd just been brushed off, but his nagging got insistent enough that the older kids let him join.

Sae had been pushing Yuki on the swings when he heard the commotion from their group. He'd looked up and saw it then. Haru was shoving one of the boys away from the ball, the older kid shouting about how rough Haru was being. The young boy was ignorant though and played with the same brutality Rin had grown to cultivate though.

He was ruthless to himself. By the time Sae collected Haru to head home, he was covered in dirt stains and was bleeding from scratches all over his arm from the mulch. He had a nasty bruise forming on his shin, and when Yuki panicked, Haru brushed it off.

"Oh, this? One of the older kids accidentally kicked me too hard. But daddy! Did you see that amazing cap trick I scored?! It was just like in your last game!" he squealed.

Those teal eyes. His eyes. Rin's eyes. Haru watched Sae's face with enthusiasm, as if his life and death would be determined by whatever Sae was about to say. They were bright and glowed with the sun making them burn like fire.

Sae could only clear his throat and take Haru's hand in his. "It's called a hat trick. Don't play so rough. Let's go."

But Haru didn't listen. He never would. He pushed himself harder and harder, seeking out anyone who would play soccer with him every time they went to the park. Sae warded Haru off of the sport as best he could, but his son's hunger was insatiable. Haru would join games of middle schoolers some times, despite being barely five years old. Yuki wasn't even ten!

One day, the doorbell to his house had rang. When you and Sae went to the door to check who it was, your heart broke as you saw Haru on one of the boys' backs. Another stood in front and said, "I think he twisted his ankle. He started crying really badly while trying to steal the ball from Ken, and he couldn't walk."

Sae felt a bolt of white hot rage towards his son echo through his body. This is why he kept warning Haru. The game was dangerous especially when playing with people who had you out numbered and outmatched! Why couldn't his son have just gotten that.

Sae was silent on the drive to the doctor's. Yuki sat in the backseat comforting her brother while you kept giving his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel an odd look. On the drive home, Sae couldn't contain himself anymore.

"I told you this would happen, didn't I?" he growled. Yuki goes silent beside her brother and you freeze. Sae presses on. "Haru! Answer me!"

Haru's bottom lip trembles as he croaks, "Yes-"

"Then why wouldn't you listen to me, huh?! How could you be so . . . so . . . stupid!" Sae roars.

When the four of you get home, you scoop Haru into your arms and Sae all but yanks Yuki from the car. You guys walk inside, and Sae fixes a stern glare at his son. He practically hisses, "If I ever see you go near a soccer ball again, you'll pay hell, do you understand?"

Haru could only nod, terrified of his father's iciness. His teal eyes wet with tears that are now freely running down his face. Whereas his eyes used to be wide with awe before, they're now wide with horror and fear. Haru trembles and clutches his dinosaur plushie close to his chest.

When Sae looks up, he almost flinches at how horrifying angry your expression is.

"Yuki, take Haru upstairs. Your father and I need to talk."

Sae doesn't bother to check if his kids actually leave. He hears their footsteps on the stairs and that's enough for the two of you to start going at it like lions. Father of your kids or not, no one speaks to your son or daughter that way.

"What the fuck was that Sae?" you ask incredulously. "How fucking dare you call him stupid!"

"He was," Sae's voice is low and menacing. "He was being stupid and callous with his health and look at where it got him! You saw how swollen that ankle of his was!"

"And you saw how heartbroken you made your son, didn't you?" you shout brushing past Sae and into the kitchen. "He looks up to you you idiot. You're his dream. You should know that by now!"

"If he really did, he would've listened the first time I told him to give up! His dream isn't worth getting hurt over, not like I did-"

"Sae shut up!" you scream. "He's not Rin!"

Sae freezes. "The fuck did you just say?!"

"You heard me loud and clear! He's. Not. Rin."

"How fucking dare you-"

"You think I haven't noticed it too?! I knew Rin too!"

"NOT LIKE ME!" Sae roars, his voice cracking. "NOT LIKE HOW I DID!"

He crowds your space, and you stumble back against the counter. "You knew this whole time," Sae growls, "and you've just been letting me suffer in my loathing all alone?!"

"You have never been alone with me, and you know that," you retort, just as venomously. "If you never came to me with your sorrow, then how the hell was I supposed to help?"

"Shut up!" he shouts. You've never seen Sae this unhinged before. He's unraveling at the seams. "Shut up!"

His baby brother. The truck. It's all he can think of whenever he sees Haru. He's had so many nightmares of Haru's body lying in that coffin or on that street, his limbs bent every which way, his teal eyes-

His eyes. The eyes that would flutter closed as Sae would read him a bedtime story, or would light up whenever Sae made an assist for a goal in a game, or would collect tears when Yuki said no to playing together.

Those same eyes stare back at Sae in the mirror with loathing etched into every crease of his iris. Sae feels his self-hatred in every fraction of his body. His heart is full of it and his brain echoes it across his entire nervous system. He's alight with pain all the time, and he's tired.

He can't stand to stare into his eyes a second longer. Rin's eyes. Haru's eyes.

Haru's eyes are staring up at him now.

"Haru get back here!" Yuki shouts yanking on her little brother's arm.

But Haru doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, twisted ankle and all. He stands in front of you protectively, his little 3 feet a solid wall from his father's rage.

"Don't yell at her!" he sobs, his cheeks covered in tears.

"Go upstairs Haru," Sae says lowly.

Haru shakes his head, even as you repeat Sae's sentiment. "No! Not if you're going to yell!

"Haru-!"

"Why do you hate me so much?!" Haru asks hysterically, his voice high pitched and squeaky. "What did I do?! I don't know what I did!"

Sae steps back as if he got punched. Haru's entire body is shaking with tremors as he continues to cry. He shakes his head and sobs, "You look at me different than you do Yuki or Mama! You look like you want me to run away and never ever come back! You look at me like you want me to do nothing forever, and be nothing! Sometimes I wish I was never born!"

"Haru!" you shout in horror. You kneel down and try to take your son into your arms, to provide him with some comfort, but Haru shoves away from you and takes a step towards Sae, who's recoiling from his son in horror.

"What did I do, daddy?!" he asks desperately. "Why do you hate me?!"

A deafening silence fills the kitchen. You and Yuki watch helplessly as Haru cries himself stupid. His tears stain the tiles on the floor and wet his shirt. Snot runs from his nose as he watches Sae with those same haunting eyes.

Eventually, Yuki whispers, "Haru, let's go upstairs, please. Daddy doesn't hate you, let's please just go upstairs."

Haru turns just a little, ready to follow his sister, but suddenly Sae falls to his knees. You and your kids flinch at his anguished expression, the one that has seen a lifetime of pain despite just barely being halfway through his life. Sae is sobbing uncontrollably, a sight you've never seen. Not when you got married, not when you had Yuki or Haru, not even when Rin died. Although now, it seems that pain is finally rearing its ugly head.

"I . . . I don't- fuck. Haru, no," Sae moans, grieved. He crawls across the floor and immediately takes his son into his arms, crushing him against his chest. "I'd never hate you. I'll never hate you. I'll love you forever and ever and ever. I'm so sorry. Daddy's so sorry. Forgive me please. You can play soccer. You can watch TV and fight with your dinosaurs and do everything you ever want, but please Haru never think that Daddy hates you because he doesn't. He doesn't. I don't. My boy. My sweet baby boy."

Sae's breath is coming in short intervals now, on the verge of hyperventilating. He squeezes his son tighter against his shirt and sobs into Haru's hair. "Never. Never ever. I'll never hate you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me. Daddy loves you. I love you. I love you, forever and ever. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

His breath hitches as you tilt Sae's head up to look at you. You're not smiling down at him, but your eyes hold a softness they were void of just moments before. Sae's own eyes are wild and messy, muddy with his tears. Haru is curled up in his father's arms, crying into his dad's chest.

You put your hand on Haru's shoulder and begin prying your son from his dad, but Sae holds fast, desperate to not let go of his boy. His only boy. His sweet baby boy.

God, what has he done?

Eventually, Sae lets go of Haru, and you give your son to your daughter. "Both of you, upstairs. I'll come tuck you in soon, okay?"

They nod, and Yuki hurries upstairs, carrying Haru in her arms. You turn back to your husband and cup his cheek in your hand.

"Relax for a moment. Then come upstairs. I'll be in our bedroom. We need to talk."

"I'm sorry," he blurts, grabbing your wrist. "I'm-"

You kiss his forehead and he falls silent. "Shh, we'll talk later. Just . . . we both need to cool down first, okay?" When Sae nods, you smile the tiniest of smiles, and head upstairs as well.

He sits in the silence for an hour, a day, a week, who knows really? Eventually, Sae heads upstairs. He walks down the hallway to your bedroom, but pauses when he sees the light on in Haru's bedroom. Haru's scared of the dark after all, and falls asleep with the lights on, for you or Sae to come later and turn them off.

When Sae cracks open the door, Haru is asleep in his race car bed, his dinosaur tucked under his chin. Sae's heart almost gives out as he walks into his son's room. You left the light on on purpose, for Sae to do this now. He flicks the switch to the lamp off and kisses Haru's head, petting his hair with his hand.

His son. His only son. He's fucked things up so badly hasn't he? Just like with Rin.

Sae sobs again and shakes his head. He stays there, kneeling next to Haru for another horrible minute, before standing and making his way to your bedroom. You're sitting with your back to the headboard, your knees drawn up to your chest, staring down at your hands. You look up as he walks in, and Sae closes the door behind him, shutting the rest of the world out to the two of you.

a/n: ill prob write a part two at some point which delves more into Sae and Rins relationship . . .

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Midnight meetings

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 31

Prompt: Midnight

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Fae!Eddie; Knight!Steve; Contracts; Bargains; Mind control

Notes: Continued from day 8

There's three things Steve knows about the fae.

First, their power is greatest on the night of the winter solstice, just around midnight.

Which is why he's not surprised when he is awakened by the rattle of armor, the clang of swords and the screams of his father’s men. He doesn’t need to ask what’s going on. The chill in the air, unnaturally cold even for a winter’s night, and the tingle in his blood tell him all he needs to know.

He tumbles from his bed, throwing on his boots and chainmail. He’s been keeping them within reach, even in his sleep, ever since the day he let the fae boy escape. Grabbing his sword from its place by the wall, he yanks open his door and flies into the corridor.

It’s mayhem.

The castle’s knights are no match for the attackers, not on this night. Steve doesn’t bother joining them. He holds no love for these men, and neither do they for him. Instead, he takes off running, jumping over dead and injured soldiers and weaving between those still standing.

He’s prepared to be attacked on his way to his destination, but nobody so much as looks at him as he hurries down the winding staircases. The air is abuzz with magic. It whirrs past his head, singing the tips of his hair and making his ears ring, but by the time he stumbles into the kitchens, there's not a single scratch marking his skin.

Maybe this should've given him pause, he thinks later.

Except he doesn’t have any time to pause, because the moment he barges into the room, his worst fears are confirmed.

He sees the castle kids, huddled into a corner of the room, sees the fae warriors advancing on them, graceful and unbearably beautiful even in their silvery battle armor.

And then he doesn't see anything, he just acts.

“Run,” he barks at the kids, throwing himself between them and their attackers. “Take the secret passage, you know the one.”

He waits just long enough to make sure they’ve taken off running before he whirls on the fae again, brandishing his sword.

“Leave them alone. They haven’t done anything to you.”

They take a step back and lower their weapons. Maybe that's the second thing that should've given him thought.

For a few moments, the only sounds in Steve’s ears are the rush of his own blood and the faint screams of the men being slaughtered upstairs. Then, one of the attackers - a tall, blond one with cold blue eyes - scoffs.

“Nobody in this castle is to be spared. Step aside, boy.”

Steve grips his sword harder. “You'll have to kill me first if you wanna go after them.”

The warrior's eyes light up with glee.

“With pleasure,” he says, and raises his rapier. Steve plants his feet.

“Enough.”

It’s only one. Still, it slices through the air like a blade of ice. The fae sheath their weapons and bow.

“My lord,” says the one at the front. “You commanded us to-”

“Kill every single soul in this wretched place,” confirms the man who has appeared at the center of the room. “Except for one. Do not try to play me for a fool.”

“It's you!” Steve blurts, and eyes as dark as the midnight sky flick over to meet his.

“Leave us,” commands the man, striding past his soldiers without so much as a side glance. “Make yourselves useful elsewhere.”

The warriors hesitate for a moment, but then they bow and duck out of the room.

“What are you doing, sweet thing?” sighs the man, almost mournfully. He's even more magnificent than the last time Steve saw him. Robes the color of the night, speckled in stars. Dark curls crowned in a wreath of dead branches and frost-covered winter berries. “Is this how you honor my gift?”

Steve grits his teeth against the onslaught of guilt that wells up inside of him.

“You can’t kill them all,” he mutters. “There’s innocents in this castle, they didn’t all-”

“They all serve your father, don’t they?” the man says. “For that, they need to die.”

Steve feels the color drain from his face.

“But I saved you,” he says. “And you can’t even grant me this small favor?”

The man shakes his head.

“You saved me and I am sparing you. We are even. Unless …”

The second thing Steve knows about the fae is that you don’t bargain with them.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Just say it, and-”

A cold hand cups his face, long fingers tracing the outline of his chin and jaw, pressing down on his lips.

“Life can only be repaid for with life,” the man says. “You humans are frail and short-lived creatures, but to make up for this many? You’d have to pledge yourself to me for centuries.”

Steve swallows. The man’s eyes are two black holes, sucking him in.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says.

The man’s lips twitch into a smile, eerily alike to the one when Steve freed him from the cage.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?”

The third thing Steve knows about the fae is that names hold power for them. Which is why you should never, under any circumstances, tell them yours.

“Steve. Of House Harrington.”

“Very well then, Steve of House Harrington,” says the man, and kisses him again. The touch zaps from Steve’s lips all the way into his blood, clouding his mind and making his insides buzz like the finest wine laced with the deadliest of poisons. “You’ll make a splendid thrall, I think. Come now, I’ll take you home.”

Steve has taken the offered hand before it even occurs to him to resist.

More holiday drabbles

Part 3

[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.”

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

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[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Five: I Know

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four - Chapter Twenty-Six ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You have a run in with an odious adversary, reminding you that your problems may not end at graduation.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warning: this chapter has some more bullying and some sexual comments, but it's pretty on par with what’s been shown so far. Just thought I’d give you guys a heads up!

“How did last night go?” James asked, walking alongside you as you went to meet the others in the courtyard to study. 

He and Sirius were just dropping you off, heading off to quidditch practice themselves. The latter’s face was ill-tempered, none too happy to be privy to your conversation. 

“Good,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Thanks again for the weed, Sirius.”

“Your beau threatened me.”

You tried to fight off your laughter, mostly successful, though a few giggles slipped through as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “I figured.”

A few students passed you as you pranced down the narrow stairwell, your conversation stopping until their voice faded out into the corridor above you. Already you could smell the perfume of spring seeping into the castle as you neared the open walkway, becoming you towards the blue sky. 

“After I get back, we’ll go to the RoR,” James said, leaning in to speak near your ear.

Sirius made a hacking noise, his face screwed in abhorrence as he brushed a lock of hair back from his eyes. “Please, if you’d keep your canoodling plans to yourselves, I’d fucking appreciate it.”

James shoved his shoulder with a scoff. “It’s just to practice dueling.”

“If that's what the kids are calling it these days,” Sirius mumbled. 

You rolled your eyes, heading out into the courtyard where you spotted the others lounging beneath the old oak tree, their schoolwork strewn out in front of them. There was a scattering of other students on the benches or in the grass, some doing nothing more than savoring the mild weather, free from cloud cover or rain. The grass glimmered in the sun, climbing higher in the sky as you passed early May. You were now farther from the spring equinox than you were the summer solstice, the days growing longer and warmer as you neared the end of term. 

“C’mon Meadowes, times to hustle,” James said, his smile impish as he stared down at her. He still wasn’t letting her live down all the practices she missed during the Easter holiday, though Dorcas had given him no reason to believe his tougher attitude did anything other than thicken her skin. 

“But she’s helping me with Herbology,” Marlene whined, motioning helplessly towards her textbook. 

“You’ll never use it anyway,” James said with a dismissive wave of his hand, turning back to Dorcas. “I’ve got a new play I wanna run through.”

You sat between Lily and Remus as you watched Dorcas stand with an enthusiastic groan, all to upset James. You all knew quite well that Dorcas was just as eager to get on her broom as James was, though she’d never let him see it when he was still hounding her. 

“Sure you ladies don’t want to watch us practice?” Sirius asked, his voice smooth as silk. 

Lily snorted at his overly flirtatious smirk, too bold to be sincere. 

Peter cleared his throat, glowering at the implication. “And gentlemen.”

Sirius’s smile widened, more devilish than before. “I know what I said.”

Sirius yelped when Peter took out his wand, sending the stinging hex hurtling towards the seat of his pants. Sirius lept in the air upon impact, scurrying away in a moment of shock. You burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, all watching as Sirius took out his own wand, Peter bolting faster than you’ve ever seen him before behind the tree. 

“Wormtail! Get over here you twat!” 

Sirius ran around the tree after him, though Peter did the same, weaving between your group and their papers as he attempted to escape Sirius’s growing fury. Marlene nearly joined the scuffle when Peter’s foot landed directly on her Herbology textbook, crinkling the pages. 

“Watch it, Pettigrew!”

James was doubled over, roaring as Sirius finally caught him, sending an nonverbal spell his way. Suddenly, Peter’s wand was dropped to the ground as he began to sneeze, sardines violently flying from his nose. 

You all jumped up in disgust, scattering away from the scene. 

Marlene grimaced as another fish splattered onto the ground, turning to Sirius, who was crackling in triumph. “Please make this stop before I’m sick.”

A few sardines landed on the grass before Remus shook his head, performing the counter hex as Sirius continued to bark. 

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, wiping his twitching nose on his sleeves. “You’re such an arse, Padfoot.”

James slapped him on the shoulder, shaking him a few times for good measure. “You’ll get ‘em next time, Wormtail.” He turned to Sirius and Dorcas, waving them on. “Enough with the squabbles, we’ve really gotta go. Daniel’s probably doing laps already.”

“It’s not my fault he’s a kiss-ass,” Dorcas snickered.

James grumbled, his mouth pulled to the side, “At least somebody is.” 

You were still under the oak tree, taking a break from your studies to read a muggle book Lily had loaned you. The sun was beating down upon your legs, your face shielded by the shade of the boughs hanging heavy above you. It was just the kind of peace you craved, though you should have known it wouldn’t last for long. 

His laughter was unmistakable, only slightly less infuriating than Peeves’. You dropped your book away from your face, your eyes darting to the edge of the courtyard. Coming through the archway was Mulciber, Zephyr lurking not far behind like an inescapable shadow. They were staring straight at you, your eyes meeting Mulciber’s in a moment of vicious challenge. It was a dare on his part; what are you going to do about it? 

After you recovered from an involuntary bolt of anxiety you turned to Remus, unsure what you even expected him to do. His expression was unusually firm, his focus fixed straight ahead as Mulciber sauntered down the path that weaved through the lawn, his countenance unperturbed. He neared your little group, staring down at you as if he weren’t outnumbered by three and standing in front of the Head Girl and a Prefect. Behind him, Zephyr’s lip was curled into a sinister smirk, his confidence seemingly having fully recovered from his humiliation at the hands of James and Sirius in the common room. It probably helped that they were absent.

Half of the students in the courtyard were watching you, whispering to one another as Mulciber lingered a few yards away, his wand already in his hand. 

Remus stood, grabbing his wand that was lying beside him on the ground, his height towering over the two. He didn’t say a word, only squaring his thin, unimposing shoulders. 

“Where’s your boyfriend, L/N?” Mulciber asked, his voice dripping with a sort of teasing far different than Sirius and James ever exhibited, at least to you. It did not take a genius to tell he was trying to frighten you, and a few months ago it would have worked very well. However, you knew one thing he didn’t, that said boyfriend had been teaching you how to duel. You probably were still worse than him, though at least you could give him a run for his money. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend, you glob of slime,” you began, keeping your tone even and cool, “but if you mean James, he’ll be back any minute from quidditch practice.”

It was a bluff, for he wouldn’t be back for another forty-five minutes, but Mulciber didn’t know that. 

He laughed, rolling and sharp. “Getting bolder, I see. Maybe you’re a Gryffindor after all.”

“We all are,” said Marlene, her expression almost sarcastic, as if she were a particularly cruel girl turning someone down for a date. It nearly made you chuckle, though you held your tongue. 

Mulciber’s eyes flickered over to you and then to Peter, his fiendish smile deepening. “How embarrassing.”

This seemed to fill Peter with a fiery wrath you had not seen in him before, his face growing red around the apples of his cheeks, moving up to his forehead. His fists quivered like bludgers as he popped up to stand beside Remus in an act of defiance. 

While Mulciber was not shaken by this turn of events, Zephyr took a minute step back, though his otherwise icy countenance did not change. Mulciber shifted his weight to one hip, cackling at Peter’s show of strength. 

“Zephyr, you ought to be humiliated by your housemates,” he said, glancing back at his new friend. He turned to you and Peter again, his narrowed eyes assessing your place, still sitting on the ground. “How shameful to be grouped in with the likes of Pettigrew and L/N.” 

Zephyr didn’t speak, though his face told you enough. He was genuinely repulsed by those in his own house, or at least he wanted it to seem as such. You weren’t sure what was more cowardly, actually believing in the “virtues” of blood purity or pretending you did just to save your skin. Either way, you and every other Gryffindor had already effectively excommunicated him from the house in everything but name. 

You kept your exterior of nonchalance, Lily doing the same. She flipped her textbook closed as if she were bored, glancing up at him. 

“Don’t make me report you, Mulciber.” 

“So many mudbloods, too,” Mulciber said to Zephyr, the word flowing out like poison. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do? This is getting a little pathetic,” you said, chuckling a bit. In reality, he was beginning to get to you, your palms slick and your stomach churning. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn to Lily, fearing what you would see in her eyes. 

His teeth shined in the light of the sun as his smile widened, though instead of being lovely it seemed unnatural, nearly monstrous. You fought back a shiver at the sight. 

“Potter’s turned you into quite the little firecracker. Maybe all you needed was a good shag to—”

Marlene flew up, her wand pointed at his chest. “You better watch your mouth,” she spat, pulsing with untethered anger. 

The whispers around the courtyard rose to murmurs, a few seventh years standing up as if to walk towards you, though none did. You and Lily stood as well, your inhibitions about getting into a duel in the middle of the courtyard lost at Mulciber’s new strategy. You hated to give him the satisfaction, though you hadn’t the self control to hold back any longer. 

“Leave, before we make you regret it,” you said, your voice seething and sharp. 

“So touchy…must’ve hit a nerve.” 

His smug smile reminded you of how he looked at you in the corridor when your face covered in blood, glaring up at him from the floor. Just as he did then, he seemed to you completely grotesque, entirely without any consideration for anyone but himself, and perhaps Zephyr, though you doubted even that. You wanted to call him every awful insult you could conjure, to use some of the spells you had practiced with James, though you chose to stay like a statue, stony and cold. 

Mulciber let out a short breath through his nose, taking a step back, still unconcerned with the threat of your group. “Tell Potter and Black I said hi.”

“No need,” said Remus, speaking for the first time since their arrival. “You can tell them on Monday in Transfiguration.”

The subtle threat seemed to be the only thing to break through Mulciber’s mask, his face darkening in genuine annoyance. He didn’t respond as she spun around, walking with Zephyr back through the courtyard and into the castle, leaving the students to erupt in a new wave of quiet, frenzied conversation. 

“What a prick,” Marlene huffed, turning to face you and Lily. “Are you guys okay?”

Lily swallowed, clearly shaken, though less than you. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice remaining even. 

Everyone looked to you, all with varying degrees of concern. Peter’s face was not yet drained of its bright red color, though it was significantly less now that Mulciber wasn’t in sight. Still, his eyes burned in their passionate hatred, lost in what you could only assume was the memory of moments ago. Remus was staring at you as if you were a ticking time bomb, his brows slanted with unease. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, putting away your wand and wiping your hands on the front of your shirt. “I’m okay, too— I think,” you added as an afterthought.

Lily nodded to no one in particular, her mind off somewhere else. When she came back to reality she lifted her face, resolute and somewhat frigid. “I’ll report him to Slughorn. He crossed a line saying that to you.” You felt an air of awkwardness forming around the group, though it could have been in your imagination, for Lily’s face reflected repugnance more than anything else. “And me,” she finished, running her tongue along her teeth as she faced Remus. 

“Yeah, yeah— I’ll come,” he answered without her needing to speak. 

“What about me?” you asked. 

Lily’s shoulders slouched a bit as she offered you a small smile, placing a hand on your arm. “I don’t think he’ll need to hear another account of it, but I’ll come and get you if he does. You should just go back to the room, maybe steal a few pastries from the kitchens on the way.”

Your smile was even weaker, though you were proud of yourself for even being able to force one at all. Marlene hooked your elbows, leading you out of the courtyard with the others. Remus and Lily split up with you on the staircase to head to the dungeons, leaving you, Marlene and Peter to go to the common room in tense, uneasy silence. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“It’s gonna be chaos when they get back,” you mumbled, sitting on the windowsill in your dormitory. You had been up in the tower for a half an hour with no sign of Lily. What she and Remus could be doing was anyone's guess, though the story of your near-duel with Mulciber would hardly take that long to relay. Your forehead was pressed up against a diamond of the lattice window, the muntin digging into your skull. You didn’t care if it would be sore later, for that was the least of your worries. James, and perhaps Sirius, might genuinely murder Mulciber. 

“We’ll stop them from losing their heads,” Marlene said from somewhere behind you. “James will listen to you, and Sirius will listen to James.”

“We can only hope. I’m not sure how a long distance relationship between here and Azkaban would work,” you paused, considering if you ought to say what had just come to mind. It wasn’t the best time, though you weren’t sure there was a best time. “How’s the, uh, Sirius situation?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder towards where she was sitting on her bed. 

She raised her brows. “You want to talk about Black now?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said, turning back to the window with a wave of your hand. “Just pretend I never said anything.”

You couldn’t see her, but you heard the small knock of her head falling against the wall. “I don’t know…it’s weird.”

You put your feet on the floor, spinning around to face her. Her hands were wound together, nervous and fidgety. “Did he talk to you at all?” 

“Sort of. He was strange, though, not like he was before,” she said, her gaze far off. “I’m not sure if he was flirting or not, so I just kind of went with it. Maybe he was just trying to test the waters, but I already told him that I’m not looking for something that casual, so I don’t really see the point. It’s not like I’m his only option.”

You thought for a moment, pushing down a smile. “I don’t know, maybe he changed his mind,” you offered, shrugging when she looked over at you. 

“Yeah, well he still hasn’t asked me out properly,” she said with a laugh, humorless, though not quite bitter. “I’ve been thinking about telling Steve yes. Y’know how he asked me out right after Zephyr and I broke up?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Steve’s cool.” 

Although you meant what you said to Sirius, you weren’t going to stop Marlene from seeing other people, especially when Steve was cool. You had warned Sirius that she’d date someone else, though admittedly you hadn’t expected it so soon, putting the choice entirely in his hands. 

Marlene’s face brightened, just slightly, a vague glimmer of hope behind her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe it’d be good to give someone else a shot, someone who isn’t just looking for, well, y’know.”

Just as you went to speak, you heard heavy, fast footsteps running down the corridor outside your door. You and Marlene shared a look of confusion as they grew closer, your door bursting open soon after. Dorcas hurtled herself inside, her large hair a mess as she stumbled further into the room. 

“Y/N?” she gasped, finally spotting you in the corner. She rushed over, her eyes wide and wild. “Godric, Peter told us what happened. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t hex me or anything,” you said, blinking up at her with a strong sense of déjà vu. You’d been here before, and you sincerely hoped you never would be again. 

“They’re down in the common room. James is throwing a hissy fit. Again,” Dorcas said, a smirk peeking out on her otherwise worried face. She turned to look at Marlene, though you only caught one half of the exchange, Marlene sending her a pointed look of warning. 

You stood from the windowsill, already tired from all the fussing. “Are Lily and Remus back?”

“No,” Dorcas said, her concern returning in full force. “How long have they been gone?”

“Too long.”

James nearly pulled you from the final step of the staircase into a crushing hug, ignoring your small noise of surprise as he squeezed you tighter. Your body ran hot with embarrassment, burning as his curls brushed against your face. At least Lily wasn’t here. 

“You’re okay,” he muttered into your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you said, your heart aching at the sound of relief in his voice. “I’m okay, I promise.”

You caught Sirius’s face out of the corner of your eye as James let you go, a strange mix of fury with Mulciber and the desire to mock your public display of affection. Instead of giving into either, he placed a hand on James’s shoulder, his eyes flickering around the common room for a moment. Some people were watching, though it seemed as though the Gryffindor’s were getting used to yours and James’s dramatics by now. 

“Let's get out of here,” Sirius said, his voice low and raspy. 

James nodded once and you all left, your head craned towards your shoes until you were out into the empty corridor. 

“Should we wait for Lily and Lupin?” Dorcas asked. 

All eyes fell onto you for an answer, though you only stood with your arms limp at your sides, having little idea what was right. 

James met your eyes, his expression softening before he turned to the others. He placed a hand on your upper back, barely touching you. “You guys go to the dungeons and meet us in the RoR when they come out.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet!” said the Fat Lady, watching on behind you. 

You all glanced over towards her fluttering lashes as she gazed at you, then at James, her smile sappy. Again, you felt a rush of embarrassment, your mouth pressing into a hard line as you shot her a glare. It seemed ineffectual, for the Fat Lady continued to coo at the pair of you. 

“A protective man really is—”

“C’mon,” you huffed, briskly walking down the corridor and away from the Fat Lady without hearing the end of her sentence. Sirius chuckled quietly as they all followed your lead, his laughter only making your pace quicken. Was it so obvious that even the Fat Lady could tell?

James caught up to your side, matching your strides as you went towards the RoR. You felt his gaze on the side of your face, nerve wracking the way it used to be before you were together, when you were always left wondering what he could be thinking. Breaking through your frenzied thoughts of humiliation, you remembered a few of those times, trying to piece together what you saw in him then with what you knew now. All those smiles, the easy, bright ones that you were always waiting for, were they all for you?

Your train of thought ended when you reached the staircase. Peter, Marlene, Sirius, and Dorcas all had a similar look of purpose, sobering and somewhat downtrodden. Marlene offered you a feeble smile before heading into the stairwell, the same as Peter. Sirius, the last to leave, looked at you for a drawn out moment. You had expected him to tease you over the Fat Lady’s observations, though you only saw something akin to sympathy pulling at his brows. However, its flavor was off, wrong in some way you couldn’t articulate. You didn’t ask, honoring your promise to him, turning away to go with James. 

It wasn’t long before you all convened, circled around in your chairs akin to a clandestine counsel of vigilantes planning the downfall of a wicked ruler. As you considered Remus and Lily’s countenance, not as forlorn as you expected, though far from good, you wondered who was the ruler. Mulciber? Surely he was no ruler, not in any serious sense that is. Maybe the metaphor didn’t work, or you had simply gone mad from anxiety. Either way, the RoR was seeming more like a catacomb or forum these days than a hidden room where professors couldn’t catch you drinking. 

Remus sat with his elbows on his knees, slouched forward with a stare that seemed to be assessing the room, though you hadn’t any idea as to what he was looking for. He rubbed his lips together before he spoke, his voice firm, though not entirely without optimism, “Slughorn said he’s giving Mulciber a week of detentions with him, probably cleaning cauldrons or something. In all honesty, I expected less.”

James and Sirius let out similar grumbles under their breath, the former crossing his arms as if to guard himself from any further disappointment. 

Lily sighed, frowning to herself. “It’s probably because he likes me so much. He seemed more concerned with what he said to me than…” she trailed off, the awkwardness you had felt in the courtyard returning. 

Your eyes darted across the group, never staying in one place for long, fearful of what else you might find in your friend’s faces. Things were getting too close for comfort again, especially since you planned on telling Lily in less than a week. You wanted the hull to hold until then, though you could feel the ship sinking, the lifeboats too few to save the entirety of your dignity. 

“That's it?” James asked quietly, his temper poorly veiled. Lily only nodded. 

“She just has to get through till graduation,” Sirius said, leaning on the back of his wooden chair. He was the only one not sitting, in a constant jittery state of fixing his hair and shuffling his feet. 

“You think it’ll end?” James scoffed, looking up at Sirius as if he truly had gone mad. “Don’t tell me you’re that fucking dense.”

Sirius stood up a bit straighter, surprisingly considering James’s implications on account of your safety despite the rude way in which he went about presenting it. “Do you really think Mulciber will follow her home? Are we even sure he could find her?”

“Of course he can,” you said, mostly because you were growing slightly sick of hearing them talk about you as if you weren’t there, though you could hardly blame them. You had made yourself small and meek as if this entire meeting wasn’t strictly about Mulciber’s obsession with tormenting you. “It wouldn’t be that hard. But I agree with you, Sirius, at least in part. If he officially becomes a Death Eater—”

“Which he will,” Dorcas interrupted, spitting out the words like the crack of a whip. 

“Which he will,” you continued, “I don’t see why I would remain his top priority. I think they have bigger problems than some girl from school he didn’t like. Besides, we’re going to Frank and Alice’s on the second of July. If what we think about them is true, they won’t leave us high and dry.” You hated to even think about relying on two more people for help, though if the unfortunate and unlikely circumstance of Death Eater’s adopting Mulciber’s zeal for harassing you did occur, you reasoned you’d have little choice in bringing in outside aid. 

James’s head bent forward, his curls flopping as he ran his hand over his face and through them with a long, drawn out sigh. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, anguished and far too revealing, though you hadn’t the heart to push his kindness away. 

You met his eyes when he lifted his face, exchanging a silent acknowledgment that you each longed to hold one another in your arms in some vain attempt at comfort, though you could not. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed, your voice cracking. “It’s not your fault.”

Marlene looked on with a pained expression, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt. “I think I agree with Y/N,” she began. “I mean, after we join the others, won’t that make us all targets, along with everyone else fighting them?”

Remus gnawed at his lip, still engrossed in his contemplative look. “That doesn’t mean she’s less of a target, only that we’re more. Plus, it won’t just be Mulciber and a few others, it’ll be all of them.”

“That's the price,” said Lily, calmer than the rest, a growing conviction coming through in her steady tone. “If we’re going to help, that means we’ll be put in danger. At the same time, we won’t be on our own. Here, we’re limited. We can’t plan, we can’t retaliate. Out there…”

Sirius smirked, laughing under his breath. “I like this new Lily.”

“I do, too,” Dorcas said, grinning. 

With a chest still heavy at the sight of dark clouds rolling in over the horizon, you slumped back into your chair, an odd sense of peace washing over you with Lily’s words. You knew somewhere within the chaos the path of the Tarot lay dormant, waiting to be stumbled upon: the survival of a tragedy, rebirth through despair, healing of deep wounds, then a reunion, harmony of belonging, stability. You took a breath, feeling it flow through your lungs as your eyes found James’s, a small, sad smile making its way onto your face. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Later that day, you and James got away from the others before dinner on account of dueling practice, though you could not be found in the Room of Requirement. Currently, you were almost at the end of the Gregory the Smarmy passage on your way to Hogsmeade, the invisibility cloak tucked away in James’s charmed bag. You gave up on the fight before it even started, inviting him along on your little illicit outing despite your former intentions of making the journey alone. After what happened earlier, you weren’t exactly sure if you even wanted to do it alone anyhow. 

“Merlin, I hate sneaking out without the map,” James huffed, kicking an imaginary stone. “Feels like I’m flying blind.”

While it was Saturday and perfectly acceptable for you to be seen in Hogsmeade, your circumstances were less than typical and you reasoned that it was best to keep the entire transaction as secret as possible, given the reason behind the whole affair. That meant traveling under the cloak and taking the passage instead of the main path (the latter of which you thought was overkill, though you hardly argued your point). The map, however, was sorely missed. Even you wished you had it with you, and unlike James, you were far more used to traversing the castle and surrounding grounds without it. 

“You’ll get it back,” you said, offering him your best show of support.

He threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as he could manage while still being able to walk. You stumbled a bit, laughing when he planted a kiss on the side of your head. 

“What was that for?”

He scoffed, though you knew it was only in jest. “Can’t a guy put his arm around his girl?”

“Yes,” you droned. “But remember, this is a business mission. No dragging me into Madam Puddifoot’s for the sweetheart special.”

“How do you know about the sweetheart special?” he asked, the razzing edge to his voice making your head grow light.

You snaked your arm around his waist, flashing him a sprite-like smile, sly and made to bait him just enough. “I’ve been on dates before you came around.”

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest, as if the image of you sitting amongst the frills and flapping wings of Puddifoot’s gaudy-girlish decor with every other Hogwarts student on their first date enraged him to no end. However, he couldn’t keep up the act for long, letting out a snort as he glanced over at you. “I always did think Will was a bell-end.”

You had briefly dated Will, a Ravenclaw in your year, near the end of last year. He was very nice and very boring, not unlike Seraphina, whom he was fairly close to. 

“You did, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, he got an A on the Charms. O.W.L. I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be good at Charms.”

You pulled away just enough to glower at him, though it was without much passion, lacking any real reproving punch. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“My deepest apologies,” he drawled. “I won’t shit-talk Will anymore…or Nolan.”

“I went on one date with Nolan,” you said with a raise of your brows. “This jealous streak is new.”

He shrugged, his lips playfully curved. “You should’ve heard my thoughts before we kissed. Instead of wanting to hex every guy who looks at you, now I just wanna gloat.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you, sweetheart.”

You groaned, thankful when you saw the exit just ahead. “You really are the worst.”

James laughed, louder than he ought to, separating from you to take out the cloak, throwing it over both your shoulders. 

“No time to discuss my wit,” he said with an impish look in his eye, shaded beneath the glittering fabric. “It's showtime.”

You procured a baker's dozen fizzybombs from Zonko’s just to be safe, swiping them from the shelves completely unnoticed. James left the coins behind the counter, again unnoticed, despite your insistence that you could pay for it yourself. His arguments were fairly sound: first, that this concerned both of you, and second, that he had more money than he could ever reasonably spend. The major hole in his logic, which you recognized instantly, was that the only reason you were acquiring fizzybombs for Peeves in the first place was due to your request that you keep your relationship a secret, at least until Thursday. You bit your tongue, in large part because you felt not obliging him after he had handled the new Mulciber situation in a fairly calm manner might be enough to truly fry his nerves to the point of no return. You knew the secrecy was beginning to wear on him, though he hadn’t said a word about it to you, only making your nerve-frying theory all the more plausible. 

As you entered the passage to go back to the castle you checked your watch, seeing it was only five-thirty in the evening. You had a half an hour until dinner and the passage usually took about fifteen minutes to traverse, leaving the same amount of time delightfully free to do with what you wished. You felt unusually roguish, linking your arm with James, your hand creeping up towards his bicep.

“Let’s stay here,” you said, leaning into him more. “Just for a little while.”

He turned to you, seeming fairly partial to the idea. “What time is—”

“Five-thirty,” you answered. 

He hummed, his steps slowing before he stopped completely, moving to stand in front of you, the hand that was on his arm moving up to his shoulder. He smiled, laughing at some silent joke you didn’t quite get as he brushed along your temple in short, gentle strokes. Your fingers dug into his shirt when he continued to move down your face, his palm settling on the side of your neck. You wondered if he could feel your pulse, racing and skipping like the beat of a poorly practiced marching band. 

“I wish I had the radio,” he said, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Why?” you asked, the word nearly caught in your throat. You were convinced he never looked so handsome in all his life, though you were prone to thinking that every time he was this close to you. 

“So we could dance.”

Somehow, his expression melted into something fonder, a look that seemed entirely natural in the dips and planes of his features as if it was always waiting under the surface to show itself. Even though your love felt new, fresh, like a flower beginning to bloom, fragrant and rushing to catch the sunlight, you were reminded of how that sometimes fell away to something else. You trusted him as you did Lily or your family. You had put nearly all your eggs in his basket, risking more than any reasonable person would. In that look you saw the thing you could never put your finger on, the strangeness of this love. The undercurrent to all the excitement and the giddy moments that set your skin ablaze was a steady, calm affection, one that you had previously thought could only come out of years, rather than weeks. 

You hugged around his waist, somewhat awkwardly over the straps of his bag, resting your head against him. Your eyes closed as one of his hands fell to your waist, your neck still cradled by his hand. 

“Sometimes, I think you were meant for me— that we were meant for each other,” you whispered, your head softly rising with every one of his breaths. Normally, you would have felt embarrassed over such a statement, though you could feel the remnants of your former shields against his charms being lowered, one by one. 

“I do, too. I think that more than sometimes,” he said, his voice almost like a lullaby.

“This is all so fast,” you said, still speaking low, as if you were tucked away in the corner of the common room, trying not to get caught. “I mean, it’s only been a month and a half, but…”

“I know,” he said, some radiance returning to his words. It was less than a laugh but more than a sigh, falling someplace in between. Despite its possible unclarity to someone else, you took its meaning right away: total understanding. He felt the same love, so strong it neared impossibility given the short period of time, yet he wasn’t smart enough to run away. “It’s because we were loving each other from afar,” he continued. “Just sped things up a little.”

He drew patterns onto your shoulder, his touch so gentle you wanted to scream. You lifted your face, placing an innocent kiss on the beauty mark beside his adam’s apple before pulling back to look him in the eyes. Your heart nearly burst, half with love, half with anguish.

“I know you won’t want to hear this right now,” you began, hesitant and slow, “but I need you to know that if one day, for whatever reason— it doesn’t matter, you don’t feel the same way about me,” you stopped when James opened his mouth to speak, though you placed a hand on his chest, placating him enough for you to finish. “I want you to know that I’d rather you let me go than drag me around out of pity or something, okay?”

He whispered your name, his expression perplexed and seemingly running through too many emotions to choose from. “I will never stop wanting you,” he said in total sincerity, harrowed by your suggestion. 

You ignored the way your chest blossomed, pressing your palm against him just a bit harder. “I know you mean that now, but you just have to promise me. Promise that you’ll tell me if you ever feel differently, even if it’s a bad time. I’d want to know no matter what, even if something awful just happened,” you were pleading now, watching the meaning fully sink in.

“Okay,” James said after a beat, moving past wounded and into fretting. “Where did this come from? Was it something I said or—”

“No, not at all,” you answered. “You’ve been— I can’t even tell you how perfect you’ve been. I guess I just got to thinking about how it hasn’t been that long, but somehow it feels like…”

“I know,” he said again, his tone more serious this time, though it still sounded like an endearment to your enamored ears. “I’m just as confused as you are. Not confused— I’ve just never had this before. But I figure, why question it? I don’t know shite about anything, but I do know that what I told you before wasn’t a lie. If this isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

You nodded, your eyes searching his, deep brown, your new favorite color. 

“And I loved you since the first of November, probably longer, if I’m being honest,” he laughed, his gaze dancing down to where his hand lay on your upper arm, his thumb moving back and forth. “What I mean is, I don’t think this is one of those things that burns bright and fizzles out fast. I had that before, and it wasn’t like this, not at all.”

You fumbled, unsure what to say. He had already explained this to you before, something you didn’t want to force him to repeat. “I wasn’t trying to compare-–”

“I know,” he said, the corner of his mouth inching up. 

“New favorite phrase?” you joked, some of your worries fading into the background as you watched his face change into the look he always gave you when you made fun of him: as if he wanted to be upset, but couldn’t bring himself to be. 

“I can never catch a break, can I?”

You grinned, rocking back on your heels. “Shouldn’t have fallen for someone so incredibly clever.”

He smiled back, his hand cupping the back of your head, his thumb brushing the shell of your ear. He leaned closer, your body doing the same on its own accord. Your fingers buzzed, your stomach much the same, even after being held by him a hundred times. You wondered if it would ever get old, if you would ever become accustomed to the spark. You thought not, for it was more than a novelty. It was like a piece of yourself had been found, realized with every touch and taste. 

“I’m trying to think of a comeback, but I’m coming up blank,” he paused, tilting your head to the side as he drew even nearer. “But you can’t blame me. It’s hard to think when you’re looking at a face like this.”

You closed the distance, catching his laughter in your mouth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

On Sunday, Sirius found you curled up in an armchair in the common room, resuming your book for the first time since the courtyard debacle. Big, black boots stuck out of the flares of his jeans, just the right amount of rebelliousness to make the more uptight professors crinkle their noses. You glanced up as he came to stand in front of you, his posture lazy, though not sloppy, the baseline you’ve come to expect. 

“Hey,” you said, slipping in your bookmark. “What's up?”

“Come take a stroll with me,” he said, his lip curled into what you assumed to be a playfully flirtatious smirk, though it only caused you to roll your eyes. You were immune to his charms, though his suave show was entertaining enough every once in a while. 

You followed him out into the corridor, his fluid, swaggering walk turned up to its highest degree, making you all the more curious as to what this could be about. He led you down the small corridor James had taken you on Sunday after the party, secluded and rarely traveled. After a little bit he began to talk, his voice back to normal, or rather Sirius’s normal. 

“I talked to Reg again. He uh— well, he actually listened to me this time,” he chuckled, staring straight ahead at the empty corridor. It seems as though he was only putting on a brief performance, perhaps for the rest of the common room’s benefit rather than yours.  

“That's great, Sirius,” you said, gentle as if anything else could scare him off. He didn’t seem skittish, though it was always hard to tell with him. 

He hung his hand loose in the pocket of his jeans, slowly coming to a stop in front of a large window. It looked out onto the lake, rippling with a soft breeze, the water shimmering in the midday sun. Beyond, the fields were a medley of greens, pale as they bent and darker as they rose. He stared at the scenery, debonair even in meditation. 

“James told me you’re gonna tell Evans on Thursday,” he said, only as a statement. You could detect no tone in his voice that told you what he thought about it, if he was in favor or not. In some ways, you’d thought he’d be happy about it since he would no longer be the bearer of your secret. On the other hand, he did enjoy having something to hold over your head.

“Yeah, that's the plan.”

He snorted. “You don’t seem too confident. Think you’ll chicken out?” 

You crossed your arms, wondering why you weren’t expecting his lack of judgement to last any longer than thirty seconds. Still, it was nice to hear him teasing again. It meant he was in a decent mood. 

“No. Maybe. No. I can’t,” you ended on a strong note, nodding once as if to solidify it into being. “I promised James, so I have to keep it. He says he doesn't care, but I know he doesn’t like keeping it from everyone. It’s not in his nature to be quiet.”

“Wait until Peter starts getting tortured with all his lovesick ramblings,” Sirius chuckled, his eyes flickering to yours. They only stayed a moment, back to the lake before you could get a good look. 

“Do you really think it’ll be that bad?” you asked, cringing at the thought of the amount of PDA James would be putting you through. It would probably be worse than you thought, given that he’s likely wound up from all the lost time. He was like a spring, pushed down as far as it would go. When you let it loose…you weren’t sure you could handle the height. 

“He might tone it down, depending on how Lily reacts,” Sirius said, his head moving back and forth as he considered all the varying possibilities. He smiled, devilish and overjoyed at the idea of you having to deal with James’s dramatic displays of love. He looked at you again, raising his brows. “‘Toned down’ has a different meaning to him, though.” 

Your expression hardened as you challenged his gaze. “You better not make it any worse, all right? I don’t need you and James embarrassing me.”

“I’ll behave,” he said, though you weren’t sure you believed him. 

“So, um, about your brother,” you began after a beat of silence, leaning up against the wall. “Do you think he might stay with you this summer?”

Sirius shrugged, turning away. His smile was gone, replaced by an unreadable, straight mouth. “Maybe. I mentioned it, but he didn’t say one way or another.”

Indecision. You understood the fault more than you’d like to admit. 

“That's better than no.”

“And worse than yes.”

“You’re a glass half empty kind of person, aren’t you?” you said, trying your best to make it sound lighthearted, almost like a joke. 

Sirius seemed to take it that way, chuckling with a shake of his head. “I’m not here for a psychoanalysis. I just wanted to tell you so you’d stay off my arse,” he didn’t sound upset. Perhaps slightly amused, though clearly guarded. 

You respected his obvious desire to end the conversation, though not without one small addition, just so you could say that you gave it your all. “Marlene said she might go out with Steve Zielinski,” you began, your voice careful again. “He asked her out a while ago and she said no, but she’s thinking about seeing if he still wants to. He will, though. I just thought I oughta tell you.”

Like before, his gaze darted to yours, then away again, his jaw moving as if he was chewing on his words. “Anything else to report?”

You shook your head, beginning to walk back down the corridor, playing with the edge of your book. He didn’t follow, nor did he say goodbye, his eyes fixed on some point outside, too far for you to see. 

Chapter Twenty-Six

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard @letssee2468 @abhootghiihii

[spotaus]

So, I don't know if I've ever discussed Holidays for the New Age crew, but here are some rough ideas!

I think that the Solstice are a big deal for kingdoms like Orchard and Sanctuary. Orchard is mainly because none of their rules could control the sun (Nim really tried tho-) so the shift of the sun + the seasons (despite Nim's weather control) still became important to the people. In Sanctuary it's always been important since the beginning of Life's reign, and Reaper upheld the tradition! For Orchard, the solstice is more of a family group celebration, quiet thanks in your own space, quality time with family, visiting temples, etc. For Sanctuary? Parades! A festival that lasts 2 days and nights, and fills the streets of the capital. Further out towns will do their own if they like, but the biggest and brightest is right there in the biggest city!

This one might be strange, but Cross' hone kingdom is one of the few which held onto a Gyftmas-esque tradition/holiday! It's a lot more intense, genuinely focusing on the obedience factor (naughty/nice) and with Lore more targeted towards the creation of the kingdom (smth smth the old stories claim the land was owned by a wealthy king who had 3 sons and the one who followed his parent w/o question inherited the land, because he listened and obeyed without fault) and so kids are given gifts in return for listening to their guardians. (This one does lead to the season coming around and, while X-gaster rarely gave him or his brother gifts/celebrated, sometimes he would. This leads to Cross catching sight of snow outside and sonething inside him tells him to be on his BEST behavior in hopes of a gift, even though he's never heard anyone speak of the tradition in Sanctuary and has no reason to do it. Then he's disproportionately distraught when the day passes by and he can't shake it. When someone (Maybe Night or Horror?) Has his stop and explain his mood he voices it and then gets REALLY embarrassed.)

There's a tradition from Whistling too that has slowly worked into other cultures (though in a different way) where Whistlers will light lanterns once every five years and follow them on a little journey. These lanterns float on the air or on water, and this is a holiday mostly meant for whistlers who are young adults, who likely haven't left whistling before. A sort of coming of age where they set their lantern ablaze and follow it wherever it goes. When it goes out, find your way home. This holiday relies on mimicry and cleverness from the whistlers, ensuring they can accurately use their deception inside and outside the bounds of the kingdom. To ensure they will be safe if traveling in the future. It's not a requirement, but often Whisters like to make it into a competition to see who can get back to a meeting spot the fastest and with the oddest new form to mimic! Whistlers call it The Lighting.

Meanwhile, the neighboring kingdoms know this night as The Night of Mirrors. If flickering lights rise in the sky or a gentle glow floats past on a stream, stay indoors and lock away. It's unsafe, because those who steal your face are surely not far behind. All cultures handle it differently. Some wrap their faces in scarves, believing it wards away face-snatching. Some will set out offerings on their doorsteps to drive the mirror-men away from their doors. Some cities increase nightly patrols and involve code words for every guard on-hand. It's like Halloween, but worse, and usually w/o costumes.

I'm sure there are others but I'm posting this draft to distract myself from impending storm haha-

[solsticelosthermind]

solstice, any tips on how to violently embrace whimsy?? it's been hard lately with all the... yeah, you know why 😭😭 all the love ❤️❤️❤️

Allowing yourself joy is something I think most people struggle with—we’re living in a period where joy is somehow seen as not only bad, or “cringy” but actively a waste of time and an easy route to ridicule. So… step one is reminding yourself this is your life and you are allowed to enjoy whatever it is what makes you happy. Embrace ‘cringe’—which is really just a rejection of other people’s disapproval. Reach out with both hands and hold tight to the silly things that brighten your day.

Whimsy is simply playing. It’s gently coaxing out the little version of yourself you try to keep hidden and asking them, how can I play today? How can I smile today? Be childish. Be silly. Worry less—preferably not at all—about what someone else thinks of your joy.

Sometimes that looks like leaving a loved one a sticky note—I do this randomly with my partner’s work lunch. He leaves his glasses on his lunch bag so he remembers to collect what he made and bring it with him, and I’ll slip in a note to brighten his day. Sometimes it’s a silly dad joke, sometimes it’s a doodle, sometimes it’s a simple, “I’ll miss you today <3” …he’s kept every single one, Anon. They live in the lunch box; he’s had coworkers try to tease him over it but he’ll come home and tell me that those notes make his day, every day, because work is shit but look at this little pile of love I’ve given him to make it better, y’know? And knowing that I’ve made him feel better makes me happy, too.

My partner’s been known to drive out of his way to leave ridiculous notes in friends’ and family’s mailboxes. When I was doing my teaching practicum, I would sit and color with the kids, and on the way home I’d plaster pictures of unicorns and dragons and whatever under my partner’s windshield wipers. He thought it was great, his coworkers thought I was either insane or adorable, and it made both of us happier by the end of the day. See the theme?

Sometimes it’s going outside with a favorite drink and watching the wind through the trees, or the clouds across the sky, and just feelling the world rotate around you, slowing down and breathing deep and letting yourself *Exist* for a moment.

Sometimes it’s making up games for yourself to get through boring tasks. Imaginary play is not just for toddlers. Turn a long drive into a Very Serious Delivery for Very Important Reasons. Bring back the little animal/person who used to run alongside the bus with you that seemingly most of us invented somewhere around age four and kept until probably high school when we started feeling too guilty to entertain ourselves so childishly. Make yourself a sticker chart, collect pretty stars, be proud of yourself. Narrate your mundane in your head like you’re a some kind of great mythical being discovering how to fold laundry for the first time. Put on music and dance while you dust. Sing while you do the dishes. Pick a character and decide your task is imperative to them for whatever reason, playact like they’re in the room with you.

For the love of all that is holy, remember how to play. Spitball nonsense with friends, fall into a yes-and style of silly, play video games and card games and climb a tree, get dirty, dig a hole, press flowers, collect shiny rocks, flirt with the friends who know how to flirt-as-play and tell each other how the local prince would simply swoon on the spot over their mannerisms. Crawl around on the floor, make a pillow fort.

Sometimes it’s acknowledging that your surroundings matter. The curtains need to be replaced? you have two options. The standard and socially acceptable one, or the fun, silly thing that’ll make you smile every time you open the window. Guess which one I went with. The big window in my living room has curtains that look like a woodland portal when they’re closed: so even when its dark, I have something beautiful and nature-y to look at that makes me smile every single day. In my kitchen, I have fairies and trees and the one over the sink has a pool of water I’ve decided is where the water in my sink comes from, because I can, and because it amuses me.

Kindness and joy and happiness are the most punk rock things you can do. Be as violent about embracing that joy as the world is violent about trying to steal it from you.

Get the coloring book. Wear the fancy outfit for no reason. Put up stickers or a window-cling of a dragon, ladybugs, your blorbo of the week. Make a little decoration to hang from the rearview mirror that’ll make even your car happy. Let yourself have a hobby and practice it. Visit the library, look for local hiking trails and try to find a ghost or a stream, whichever comes first. Write deeply self-indulgently and draw equally self-indulgently.

Paint your nails, your walls, your patio, make your surroundings pretty and appealing for you rather than the stale and lifeless thing we’re conditioned to find acceptable. My kitchen is purple, my living room is green, and in a million years when I’ve fixed the house enough to steal the master bed back from my kids, that’s going to be black because I *can* and I want to be. The rug by my door has a bigass pentacle and some moons because why not? It’s my house.

Hang real plants or fake pants all over the place. Put up glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Buy a print that has a silly saying from the internet you like and hang it up. Put holiday decorations on your bathroom mirror or use a whiteboard marker to write morning-you dorky notes about how you’re amazing, and loved, and the elves who live under your bed think you should go to sleep earlier. Dedicate a shelf to fandom merch, hang up origami cranes… yell about the things that make you feel good!

Be wierd. Be silly. Be loud about what makes you happy. It’s going to take work; it’s going to feel wrong, it’s going to maybe even be a little upsetting because how is it so hard to just be happy?

Well. It is hard to be happy. And it’s only going to get harder to be happy, so I’ll help:

I give you permission, my darling dove. Do it for me. Find one thing today that will make your smile come a little easier and be proud of it. Love it. And then keep looking, because there are so many things to make you happy even when the world is doing all of this around you, and we need to remember that those small joys— the whimsical song of a windchime, the pleasure found in an overblown ring or a knickknack that’ll sit so pretty on your books, or a new recipe to share… those are the whole point of living, aren’t they? So love them when you find them, and love them intentionally, on purpose, out loud, so your heart remembers how to keep going even when it’s too dark to see.

And remember that I’m there with you, too, and that I want you to be happy.

[gloricberlin]

people dont understand how bad i love percy jackson. its such an amazing book series. the show, already watched. stories? dont see much. but its actually one of my favorite things on earth. percy jackson is an escape route to forget about everyone and everything. when im feeling down? reading. when im bored? reading. and the way i have so many headcanons for it? holy shit. i tend to forget them all when im put on the spot but trust me i have some. i love percy jackson and its actually the thing ive enjoyed for what, two years? i started reading the lost hero and oh my gosh im obsessed

(summary of what i read under cut)

the writing is just amazing?? and i remember (mostly) everything so far. jason lost his memory when he woke up on this trip to the grand canyon, they ended up fighting a “storm spirit” (i forgot what they’re called) named dylan, leo gets almost knocked off the canyon so coach hedge has to save him, so jason takes his club, and then it breaks whatever, but jason gets zapped by lightning, which doesnt affect him because hes the son of zeus (did you know hes thalia’s sister because his name is jason grace, and hers is thalia grace? but she doesnt use her last name unless important) and then he uses his coin, flips it, suddenly has a sword, and blah blah blah. and their coach gets taken, hes apparently a saytr, saves leo, whatever, and dylan tries to take jason, but piper tackles him, and dylan tries to take leo next, but coach hedges saves him and is taken, and piper falls off the grand canyon so jason goes after her, ends up saving her because hes floating, and then when they’re all back, annabeth chase(one of my favorites) and butch gets off the chariot, and annabeth looks at jason because hes missing a shoe, and turns out she had to look for a boy with a missing shoe, which is him. but shes mad for the sky deceiving her. they’re taken back to camp, end up crashing, blah blah blah, then leo is claimed as a son of hephaestus, god of fire and forging, stuff. annabeth finds this tattoo on jasons arm, drew(cabin leader of aphrodite) takes him to chiron. meanwhile, piper is toured by annabeth after jason is dropped off, talking about how percy is missing, weird things, stuff, they go see rachel dare(my favorite for life omg i love rachel shes the best character.) the camp oracle, except shes not there, stuff, she lets piper pick a weapon, which is a knife that belonged to helen of troy which her beauty started a war(?), stuff, piper talks to jane using annabeths phone because phones arent allowed at camp, (some monster thing) and stuff, then they go to zeus and hera cabins which are mostly empty since the big 3 (zeus, poseidon, and hades) swore off having kids. they find rachel in heras cabin, they talk, until rachel pauses, her eyes glow green, which shes having a vision, and she grips pipers shoulders telling her she needs to free hera, and piper passes out. ONTO LEO. leo gets a tour of the cabin, jake mason is the head councilor after charles beckendorf died in war, and leo is given his bed which makes him creeped out. but then he goes and meets the other campers in cabin 9, and nyssa shows him around and tells him about the curse that everything they build backfires and tries to kill them, and they built a huge metal dragon and only one person can really destroy it, which is leo, but nobody knows that. all they know is the one hephaestus kid that posses power can do it but also they dont believe it because the last one who did that started the great fire of london. ONTO JASON. jason is flirted with by drew which he has no interest in because hes dating piper(which he doesnt remember due to his amnesia and simply isnt into drew) then taken to chiron who says he should be dead, they talk, jason speaks latin although he has no remembrance of speaking it, and has a vision of hera once again who wants him to free him before the summer(?) solstice which is in 3 days, because hera took his memory but is now trapped and he needs to free her for his memory back. annabeth worries pipers dead so she goes to chiron, but instead pipers in sort of a coma. annabeth takes jason to see the kids of hypnos in hope they can get his memory back, and they find clovis (who literally sleeps all the time) and clovis explains that roman gods arent exactly the same as greek gods, they have slightly different aspects. the roman versions of them are about more discipline and stuff. PIPER NOW (we’re skipping her dream cause its boring, about her past and her dad and stuff) rachel chats with piper and says she’ll get claimed at the campfire, which she does— but first, drew asks rachel about the prophecy— i’ll finish next post :))

[viperixsworld]

Born to die

━━ Benjicot Blackwood x oc

Chapther four: bravoosi dagger

Jon was never the smartest of the lot. When they were little, Corvin used to call him "Slow Jon" in the maester's lessons. Jon was the son of one of the kitchen maids, his father was a small-time hunter he didn't know, knocked up his mother and left.

He grew up in the stronghold of Raventree Hall, with Corvin, the son of master-at-arms, and the future Lord, Benjicot Blackwood. They were an interesting bunch. They had grown up together, fought together, once spent all day together roaming the Blackwood Vale.

Now, Jon was the stable boy and the good Lord Samwell tipped him well for it. Although he could not read, Jon had an excellent memory and remembered everything from roads to places he had been only once before to the seals of important houses. And for some reason, Lord Samwell had given him the task of collecting messages from the ravens arriving at Raventree Hall in view of the maester's poor health.

But then again, he wasn't the sharpest.

"Jon. Oi! Wise up!"

Corvin paced in front of him while Jon sat cross-legged in a hay bale.

"Don't leave me talking to myself," said Corvin.

"I'm sorry" apologised the boy "I think we got Benji in trouble".

"No, that's clear, I mean the other thing? Settle down, Lord Blackwood has said."

"Settle down... You mean on his bed?"

"Not like that, you muppet." Corvin looked up at the ravens flying over the grey sky. "Like in settle down to marriage."

Marriage. It was a foreign word to these kids. Jon's parents never married, Corvin's mother wears a metal ring on one finger. The closest marriage had been that of Lord and Lady Blackwood, but it was already a decade since the latter's death.

"Marriage... To a girl?"

"No, to a pig" Corvin replied "To a woman, obviously, and of high birth."

Just then, they saw their young Lord walking towards them. His brow was furrowed and the blood from his nose was already dried. Jon noticed that he had the face he makes when he reads the accounts, as if his head was straining.

"So... a girl," Jon blurted out abruptly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Ben.

"Sitting down, apparently," replied Jon.

"Setteling down, you dumbass," interjected Corvin.

"You were eavesdropping, you damned old gossips."

"No/Aye" said Corvin and Jon respectively.

"Bunch of bastards" said Ben plopping down next to Jon. The young heir pulled out the letters his father had received. Corvin snatched one from his hands.

"What is this seal?"

"Let me see," Jon reached out, but Corvin slapped his hand away.

"'Get off'" Corvin, who could read, took a second to speak again. "Lord of the Arbor, Luther Redwyne offers the hand of his third daughter, young Lucrezcia, blah blah blah" He paused for a moment "Arbor...why does that ring a bell?"

Of course, for two lads who had only seen a map of the Riverlands, the image of the Arbor is not at all familiar.

Jon's eyes lit up for a second.

"Wait! Remember the party in Riverrun last solstice? The one you sneak Corvin and I, with your cousin Davos?"

"The one where you threw up on a girl?"

"That's the one! The maester said the puking was from the slimy stuff I ate."

"Slimy stuff?" said Corvin with distaste.

"You mean the oysters?" asked Ben, completely lost with the point of the conversation.

"Yes! Those things! Well, the maester said they came from the Arbor, which was a very rich land in all the booze but that sea food could be somewhat indecent if not well cared for when transported from place to place."

"You're telling me that my future wife, that I know nothing about is likely to be a slimy thing that causes me to vomit."

"That's what I'm talking about, yes."

"Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Ben ducked his head again. He was getting impatient. The conversation with his father had left him with a strange feeling of alertness. And to top it all off, a girl from a distant land would be arriving in gods knows how many days, to marry him.

A complete stranger who was going to live under his roof, eat with him and... procreate.

"Oi! Don't stress, mate," said Corvin, crouching down in front of his lord, "I mean, how bad can it be to be served a chick on a silver platter? Some of us have to work for it, you'll even get paid."

"You get paid to marry a girl?" asked Jon in total disbelief "I'm getting paid too?"

"I don't think so, stable boy" Corvin explained "Lords with daughters pay other lords with sons to marry them, I once heard your uncle Willem once say that the bigger the dowry, the uglier the daughter."

"Thank you Corvin, you make me very happy" Benji said sarcastically.

"So... " said Jon "We know she comes from the south, she probably smells like an oyster and she's filthy rich."

"I hope you're wrong about the oyster part, but otherwise yes, Jon, you've hit the nail on the head," said Benji.

"So... you're screwed."

"Pretty much."

"Sure she does not smell bad."

"Better than you, sure."

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"I need a bath."

They had walked for days, stopping at the odd village and resting in inns. The clothes on the carriage had mostly burned, as had much of their belongings.

There was still a day and a half to go before they reached Raventree Hall. Lucrezcia was beginning to loathe nature; she had guts, yes, but she was still a noblewoman, always used to the best.

Luther was not a very loving man to his daughters, but he had always spoiled them. The way he saw it, that's one way to love a daughter. Cover her in gifts, give her the best food, the best education, all the best.

So wearing the same dirt-filled slippers was proving to be a personal hell for Lucreczia.

Meanwhile, Black Aly was getting news from home. She had trained her hawk as a raven in addition to hunting. The bird was trained to only release the message from her brother, Lord Samwell.

Ben had received news of his marriage. And by the looks of it, he had not taken it with overflowing joy. According to the little parchment his brother sent, Benjicot and his two companions had spent the entire day outside the stronghold.

Perhaps he was angry. Perhaps he had simply needed time. Lucrezcia didn’t know him, and she didn’t particularly care. Not yet. But the thought of marrying some brooding woodsman in a moldy stone keep was beginning to grate. Especially in her state.

She scratched at her scalp, grimacing. Gods, she was starting to smell like Nyssa. The older girl had not minded the trip half as much, and even now rode with ease at the front, laughing with a passing peddler.

Lucrezcia sighed. "A day and a half," she muttered.

"What was that, my lady?" Black Aly asked.

"Nothing," Lu said, slumping back into the carriage seat. "Just... A bath. I need a bath."

"We can stop at White Hollow tonight if you please, my lady" said Butch, one of Black Aly's men. "It's getting dark fast and we know it's not safe to stay on the roads".

Lucrezcia felt an ick to the collar of her dress, then in her wirst. 

It had been several days since the ambush by those robbers. She, however, had kept the dagger that one of the bandits had left on the ground. The one that had helped her save Nyssa and Kyle. Among the few belongings she had managed to save, clothes, maps and a couple of pieces of jewellery, Lucrezcia had hidden the knife under some of Nyssa's mended clothes.

She would inspect it in the moonlight once she knew everyone was asleep. With the little light she was allowed, she had been able to decipher some of the engravings.

The dagger was dark and a bit dusty, chipped by the hilt but well conserved, with the shape of coin. Her Lord father was one for antics, he loved collectionism, there was a room in the Arbor castle, full of pictures and antiques from all over the world. One of the advantages of being a trading island with various parts of the known world. Her father dealt with rich men from all over, and in exchange for wine, some paid in spice, some in gold and some in art.

Lucrezcia had never seen such a dagger before. She was no weapons expert, but she had already spent several weeks surrounded by warriors. Hardened Riverlands warriors who used swords and arrows of ordinary steel. This dagger was dark as night, and its blade had words engraved on each side.

"Valar Morgulis"

and

"Valar Dohaeris"

Even for a lady educated in various languages such as Pentoshi or Myrish, she could not recognise what it was. The septas who had been in charge of her education and that of her sisters (the 13 septas in all, 9 of them frightened only by Lucrezcia herself) had never stopped to teach them High Valyrian. In the Reach, many Valyrian customs were taken heretical under the harsh rule of the Faith of the Seven. Even under a monarchy such as the Targaryen, High was a language few were fluent in.

Lucrezcia knew that her father could slur a few words and phrases useful in business, and he himself had seen to it that his daughters were taught characteristics of the various cultures of Essos. Not for nothing was her maid and best friend a Bravoosi girl.

"What are you doing?" 

"AH!" 

Lucrezcia gave a bellow when she felt Nyssa's nearness. Until a second ago she was further ahead, talking to the men. Her bravoosi accent sounded again “You've been quiet for a long time, it's quite unlike you, my lady”.

‘I just...’ Lucrezcia could tell her about the dagger, it's not like Nyssa didn't know how to keep secrets.

‘You were thinking about the dagger hidden in the cloths?’

This time, instead of screaming, Lucrezcia was stunned. She'd been careful, it wasn't that big of a dagger.

‘It belongs to the bandit Nyssa,’ the lady explained quietly, "He called me by my mother's name, no one has seen her for nine years. He put the dagger down and then said something like valorr.... vallor murgi..."

Nyssa's tanned face seemed to lose a shade.

‘Valar Morghulis’ she muttered.

"Yes! That was... I thought it was myrish or tyrish, maybe lyseeni? so, what language is it? It's not bravoosi, is it?" Lucrezcia seemed too delighted to have solved the mystery to notice Nyssa's serious face.

"It's Valiyrian, my lady" she said flatly, low so that others around her would not hear her "It's a phrase.... common... in Essos, it means 'All men must die'

Lucrezcia was intrigued, and let her maid continue.

"The dagger has another phrase, on the other side of the blade."

"Valar dohaeris" Nyssa guessed correctly "All men must serve."

The girls felt silent for a moment. It is not common for such sayings to reach Westeros. It is not safe. Nyssa knew that, but she also knew her lady and the deep hole that was carved the day her mother dissapeared. She saw it in his eyes, the way the green crystallised slightly at the mere thought of Vala Harlaw. Now she had this dagger, this clue, that could lead her to a man with answers or to almost certain death.

"I'll never talk you out of it, will I?"

Nyssa adored her lady, truly. Lucrezcia was an energetic, funny, clever girl, barely two years her junior. Nyssa had come to the Arbor by the hand of a ‘merchant’ who had captured her on Bravoos when her mother died of fevers. By cleaning and being quiet, minding her own business, she had managed to arrive unharmed on a remote island, where she could barely speak four sentences.

She remembered the day Lord Luther called her into his service. Or more exactly, the Lady Vala. 

The Lady of Arbor and mother of the Redwyne daughters, was the one who brought Nyssa into the palace. At the time, Vala had been heavy with her youngest child, and the household was in quiet disarray. Still, Vala noticed the Bravoosi girl on a walk through the harbour markets, skinny, clever-eyed, far too still for a child. She was being handled by one of those merchants who dealt in “indentures,” the kind of man who wore perfume over rot.

Vala didn’t make a scene. She simply paid.

“Westeros has no place for chains,” she told the merchant coldly. "Neither does my husband's land"

Nyssa was barely ten. She spoke just enough broken Westerosi to say thank you and keep her head down. She was first placed in the laundry  scrubbing, folding, invisible — until one day Vala summoned her personally.

“I have three daughters,” the lady said, already seated with embroidery in her lap. “One is married and gone. One thinks too much of herself. The other is too sharp for her own good. You’ll help with the last two.”

And so, Nyssa had been reassigned to the nursery, to help with Olga and Lucrezcia.

Olga didn’t like her. The second daughter of Arbor was devout, proud, and quick to remind anyone of their place. To her, Nyssa was foreign, improper, and suspicious. But Lucrezcia…

Lucrezcia was something else entirely. Curious. Lonely. Wild. And only a few years younger.

She would ask questions faster than Nyssa could answer them. About her city. Her gods. Her mother. Her accent. Lucrezcia made her laugh, and then made her swear not to tell anyone that she had. Nyssa quickly went from chambermaid to shadow. She helped her practice dancing, snuck sweets out of the kitchen, and kept quiet during her pranks on the septas.

It was not long before Lucrezcia began calling her “my maid,” even though Vala hadn’t given orders. It simply became fact.

And after Vala’s disappearance, it was just the two of them. Two girls on an island of silk and shadows  growing up too fast.

"You will not" answered Lucrezcia "But I will not burden you with this, I can solve it on my own" said the lady. Not in a rude or dismissive way, but as more lonely. 

"As if, my lady" replied Nyssa more lightly "I wouldn't dream of leaving you at your mercy with face-changing bandits, but we have to be smart"  said the bravoosi "We'll plan better when we get to the inn". 

Lucrezcia seemed pleased, and then added.

"Face-shifter-what?"

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Far ahead, in Raventree Hall, the boy lord of Blackwood was brooding beneath the boughs of the weirwood, trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t be married to a pompous Reach maiden with calluses where her heart should be.

Little did he know she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Get that cutthroat face off, my lord” Corvin's voice echoed at the entrance to the Godswood "Jon has the horses ready, if we hurry we will be at Old Netty's tavern in White Hollow before the hour of the Wolf".

Ben hesitated for a second, staring at the big dead tree

It had been several days since that talk with his father, the lads trying to cheer him up by taking him out of the fort, running races or going to taverns. In four nights they'd hit all the worst bars east of the Blue Fork.

Netty's was Corvin's personal favourite. It was the first tavern where Jon got really smashed. And Ben liked a good game of dice with some unlucky guy. No one even knows if Netty is real, but is has its charm. 

His father would not be pleased with him. 

"Benji! Oi, c'mon, ya deaf lordling!" 

But he was not pleased with his father either.

"Benny boy, let's go before Bessy snitch us up!"

Maybe it was childish, he was an heir and would have to get married sooner or later. 

But then again, a third daughter from a southern posh island that probably smell's funny, and a sense of uneasyness on his father need to secure the Blackwood legacy. 

Benjicot Blackwood turned to his friend. 

"Don't just stand there, mate" said the lord approaching his friend "You're going to have to buy me rounds when I beat you at the dice"

"What an abusive lord, I might just complain to Lord Tully".

"Let's go, don't keep our Jon wainting" said Ben amused. 

"As you wish" 

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tag list: @erysione @asteria33 @shifter-101 @drwho-ess @hotdxdragon @username199945 @nixtape-foryou @saturnssrings

[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

[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

[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

[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