#summer spice 2024

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Summer Spice: Day 28 Sleepy Sex

Pairing: Halsin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit NSFW

Warnings: Kissing, mild biting, nipple teasing, dry humping, vaginal fingering, mutual orgasm, sleepy sex, semi public sex if you squint really hard.

Summary: Prompt for Summer Spice 2024. A quiet night in the Elfsong Tavern rooms leads to a few stolen kisses and a quick moment of passion while avoiding rousing your sleeping companions in the room.

Word Count: 3.1K

a/n: I stumbled across the Summer Spice 2024 prompt list from @alpaca-clouds (thank you for creating this list, by the way, the prompts are fantastic) and it immediately brought me out of my writers block. I’m a little late to this party, but that absolutely won’t stop me from writing for some of these prompts. They won’t be in order and I’ll post as I get them written, but I’m hoping to write for at least two others before the beginning of fall. They’ll all be BG3 related, maybe not all Halsin related, but considering he’s the primary one I write for I can say he’ll be a majority. 

I know I typically write for a gender neutral reader and prefer to do it that way so more people can either self insert or insert their own characters into the story more easily, for the sake of ease I decided to go with a female reader. You could read it as AFAB as well, but I did try to make it work for gender neutral. 

Read on AO3 here!

Slow, languid kisses to your shoulder gently roused you from your slumber. You stirred gently, lazily smiling at the feeling of your lovers soft lips peppering tired pecks against your skin. With a soft hum, you turned from your side, partially rolling onto your back to greet Halsin with half lidded, tired eyes. He greeted you with a kiss to your cheek, his own eyes were still heavy with sleep as he pulled you closer against his chest, your back nestling perfectly against his bare skin. You enjoyed the quiet moment, a rare event in recent times, and simply lay in Halsin’s warm embrace. You felt an arm slide beneath your head as a makeshift pillow as his free hand lazily ran along your side. 

“Good morning, my heart.” He whispered softly against your ear, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing your companions. 

The rooms above the Elfsong Tavern were much more comfortable than the open road and a dusty bedroll, but admittedly offered much less privacy without everyone having their own tent. Thankfully, you had managed to secure a room mostly to yourself, minus one cleric and an assimar for a few nights, and could unwind each day with the relative quietness of your own room. The room was open, however, not offering much seclusion, but at least you didn’t have to worry about a bunk mate disturbing your alone time with Halsin. Although the druid had his own bunk across the room from you, you greatly preferred it when he joined you in bed for the evenings, always feeling a fluttering in your chest when you felt him slip into your bed late at night and wrap an arm around you.

“Good morning,” you replied sleepily, ���are the others awake yet?” You peered over Halsin’s broad shoulder and looked around the room, finding it dark filled with various snores and other sounds of slumber. The sun had not yet crested the horizon and the room was dimly illuminated by a sliver of moonlight filtering through the stained glass of the window beside you. Your head came back down to rest along his bicep, somehow finding it much more comfortable than the feather pillow that was being quickly forgotten above your head. You intertwined your fingers with his, both hands resting against the soft sheets of your shared bed. You were both quiet, precariously balancing on the thin line that separated sleep from consciousness.

“I don’t believe so.” Halsin said after a pause, his voice thick with exhaustion, “It appears we’ve a moment all to ourselves.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the thought, your eyes feeling heavy at the gentle caress of his hands continuing their exploration of your body.

“I wish we had more.” You said quietly, your eyes closing as the final words fell from your mouth in nothing much more than a mumble. You felt his fingers slide up towards your shoulder, his finger hooking in the neckline of your tunic before tugging it down slowly. Halsin pressed another kiss to the freshly exposed skin of your shoulder while the hand that was interlocked with yours came up to rest against your chest.

“As do I,” he said as his fingers lightly tugged at the laces of your shirt, “but we can savor the ones we do find.” Despite his exhaustion and partially closed eyes, Halsin managed to unlace the front of your shirt, the neckline falling slack before he gently slipped his hand inside. You moaned ever so softly at the feeling of his hand cupping your breast, not wanting to rouse your sleeping companions and ruin the moment you’d suddenly found yourself in. Halsin stroked the delicate skin on the underside of your breast with his thumb, giving his own hum of approval as he felt your nipple begin to tighten and harden at his feather light touch.

Halsin’s opposing hand continued to travel along the expanse of your side, pulling from your shoulder to slowly trace your curves with the tips of his fingers. You felt a pleasant tingle run across your skin underneath your tunic, his gentle ministrations causing a soft warmth to begin forming in the depths of your core. You felt the whole of Halsin’s hand softly grip your hip, giving a few light squeezes to the fleshy parts of your posterior, wrinkling the cloth of your trousers with each grasp. His lips lingered against your tingling skin, pressing unhurried kisses against you as he explored your neck and jaw with his tongue. He kissed from your shoulder up to the back of your ear, lightly gazing your prickled skin with his teeth every so often.

Your tired mind was clouded at his touches and kisses, each bit of attention given to different parts of your body sent your mind into deeper into the fog. Yours hands caressed his board arm, one of the few places you could actually reach, given your position. His skin was warm beneath your touch, heating up quickly from his own excitement as well as his natural body warmth. Your lips grazed his forearm as he continued to touch and feel his way almost blindly against your body. You felt the hand that had been resting at your hip for the past moments begin to move again, this time moving to feel the plushness of your thighs. 

Halsin adored the feel of your body against his. You always slotted into his embrace perfectly when he would join you in the evenings, allowing him to pull you tightly against his body before drifting off to sleep. Although he joined you most nights, having moments of pleasure during the night had come almost to a halt since entering the city. Tensions were high, given what was at stake, and between the heat of the city and the fights that always managed to find the party, you were both often too tired to do much more than share a few lingering kisses and curl into each other during the night. So, when you both found a brief moment of silence in the night for even a handful of dirtier touches, Halsin was more than eager to pleasure you back to sleep, despite his own exhaustion. 

Halsin’s second and third fingers slid effortlessly between your thighs, pressing against your gently throbbing mound as he touched you through your clothes. You let out a quiet, shaky breath at the feeling of his wonderfully thick fingers rubbing against your sensitive bud. You squirmed as best you could in his embrace, your limbs still heavy from your rest and unable to have full range of motion while you were still on the cusp of returning to your slumber. You felt Halsin smile against your kiss-covered neck, clearly pleased with your reactions. He tweaked your hardened nipple between his forefinger and thumb, causing your body to jolt from the mattress briefly. The aged wooden frame attached to the bed beneath you creaked as you moved, filling the quiet room with the first sounds of the day. 

“You’ll wake the others if you can’t sit still, my heart.” Halsin whispered against your ear. He released your nipple briefly to press the flat of his hand against your chest, pressing your back against him in an attempt to keep you from moving and causing more noise. He return his grasp to your breasts before you could respond, silencing your voice into another hastily exhaled breath. As Halsin’s two fingers ran down the length of your slit at a steady pace, you rolled your head to the side until your forehead bumped against Halsin’s chin. He pressed a firm kiss to the center of your forehead, inhaling the scent of your hair as he continued stroking your sex through the thick fabric. 

Soft moans meant only for Halsin’s ears left your lips, barely audible as you tried to keep as quiet as possible. Your eyes remained closed as you felt Halsin’s fingers swirl against your pulsing clit, feeling yourself becoming slicker with each passing of his touch. Your hips rolled slightly, desperate to feel more friction against your lower half. His touch was firm yet teasingly slow, wanting to savor each second he had with you like this. He could feel a slight dampness starting to form along the trail he’d been following, your own excitement beginning to seep through your camp clothes. You clamped your hand over his, urging him to focusing his touch on certain spots.

“You’re impatient.” Halsin said with a light chuckle, finding excitement in your eagerness. Your thighs squeezed against his hand in an attempt to make him still his movements along your throbbing clit after you’d decided that your sleep-heavy arms were too weak against his own strength.

“We’re short on time.” You muttered softly, your voice getting lost against his skin as you pressed a kiss to the center of his throat. 

“It’s not as early as you think, love.” Your eyes opened slightly, meeting his sleep-heavy, yet playful, gaze as you realized it was the middle of the night and not the approach of dawn. He kissed your lips for the first time since waking you, smiling against yours as he enjoyed your false annoyance. But, being the giving lover that he was, Halsin obliged with your desires. 

Halsin pulled his hand from between your thighs, making you whimper softly as the loss of his touch, but remedied it quickly by slipping his hand under the waistband of your trousers. You sighed heavily against his lips, your breath entering his mouth as he mirrored his ministrations along the outer side of your small clothes. His fingers were so close to touching your bare sex, the thin fabric of your small clothes not offering much interns of protection against his fingers. Your legs parted slightly, allowing him better access to your waiting core as his fingers toyed with the slickness of your camp clothes.

Halsin groaned softly as he felt the warmth of your slick against his digits, finding just how wet you had gotten  from just a few simple touches to be more than exciting than he had anticipated. The lining of your small clothes was positively soaked, the remaining wetness had dribbled from the sides and had started to coat your inner thighs, making yourself slick with excitement. Halsin firmly pressed against the apex of your mound, listening to the small whimpers you made as he continue stroking along your slit. He felt his own arousal beginning to grow at the ease with which his fingers slid across your clothing.

You could feel Halsin’s hardened length pressed firmly against your backside, undeniably weeping against the fabric of his trousers as a result of toying with your perky nipple and swollen clit. Occasionally, Halsin’s hips would grind against yours, pressing the whole of his impressive length against the small of your back or the curve of your ass. You could hear a low growl rumble in his chest with each brief contact of his hips with yours, a signal to you that Halsin was holding back his own desires for the sake of privacy.

With every feeling and touch you were experiencing, you were grateful for your current position in the room. With Halsin’s large frame behind you and your front facing the wall, you were well shielded from any potentially prying eyes, making you feel much more comfortable in being so vulnerable around your companions. Although it was no secret that you and Halsin would have late night trysts and were undoubtedly a pair, the last thing you wanted was to be caught in the act of lovemaking. Although you had no doubts that if someone were to look in your bed space in the current moment they would be able to deduce what was happening, you were just thankful you were mostly obscured from view. You were also thankful that Halsin was mindful of your feelings. Halsin of course wasn’t shy of his feelings towards you in public, but admittedly preferred when he could spare quiet moments alone with you.

Feeling his own resolve beginning to crumble, Halsin’s fingers finally slipped underneath the fabric of your small clothes, two of which finally parted your soaked folds. Sensing the moan that was about to erupt from your lips, Halsin quickly released your now sore nipple from his grasp and pulled it from the front of your shirt. The same hand quickly clamped over your mouth, pulling your head to face him as he tried his best to stifle the sound spilling from your mouth while sliding his fingers knuckle deep into you. You felt your cheeks burn with a radiant warmth that matched the heat coming from between your thighs, your heart fluttering in your chest at the feeling of Halsin’s fingers slipping in and out of you with ease.

“Shhh, my heart,” he whispered in your ear with a certain level of husk to his voice, “quietly now.” 

With two of his digits buried in your wet folds, Halsin circled his thumb around your clit in small strokes, teasing the throbbing bud along nicely. He set a gentle pace, not wanting to make the moment end too quickly, but fast enough to stoke the fires settling within both of you. His lips continued to pepper your face with soft kisses, feeling the warmth of your cheeks beneath his lips as he kissed up towards your temple, moaning against your skin with each clench of your walls around his fingers. Once he was certain you would remain as quiet as possible for the time being, Halsin pulled his hand from your mouth and returned it inside your shirt, focusing his attention on the previously forgotten nipple. 

You bit your lip as you basked in the glow of your building orgasm, an all too familiar tingle beginning to tighten in your belly. Despite their girth, Halsin’s fingers were surprisingly nimble and agile. He knew your body well and knew just how to stroke the right spots in your heat to have you writhing and trembling beneath him. Halsin curled his fingers just each time his knuckles came into contact with your slicked lips, brushing against the well hidden spot within you that would have had your vision blur if your eyes weren’t already closed. He managed to time each thrust of his hips with each curl of his fingers, almost mimicking the feeling of his cock brushing against you.

Halsin emitted a gentle grunt with each movement of his hips, the tightness of his trousers and the contact of his throbbing length against you sent waves of pleasure through him, pushing himself closer to his peak as he worked to bring you to yours as well. You clenched tightly around Halsin’s fingers with each thrust into you, your breath becoming ragged and coming in quick pants as your orgasm approached quickly. From your position, you did your best to pleasure Halsin as well. You rolled your hips against his lap each time he trust them against you, earning you several strained and stifled moans into your neck. You could feel him throbbing against you, his cock aching for release with each connection of your bodies.

It wasn’t long before Halsin focused his attention on your throbbing, aching clit, increasing the speed in which he toyed with the bud, circling and flicking across in an attempt to bring you to release. You can’t say it didn’t work, for soon you were a writhing mess, your legs beginning to tremble as your orgasm neared, your limp limbs getting one quick burst of energy in the moments before your climax. Your hand fumbled to find Halsin’s, fingers scratching at his knuckles as you held it in place while you turned away, the pleasure coming over your body in waves as your orgasm finally hit your body forcefully. While still holding onto his hand, you rolled and buried your face into the softness of the sheets beneath you, hiding the moan that suddenly tore from your lips as you rode out your orgasm.

Missing the feeling of your backside pressed firmly against his cock, Halsin rolled with you, settling comfortably on top of you with his fingers still buried deep inside of your clenched core. With a few sporadic thrusts against your haunches, Halsin’s own orgasm hit just as yours was subsiding, the feeling of your clenching walls around his fingers and the friction against his throbbing cock had finally become too much for him to contain any longer. He pressed his body firmly against yours, his mouth finding purchase against your shoulder as he bit lightly into you, silencing his own moan from the rest of your companions. You could feel a harsh warmth followed by a slight wetness against your lower back, Halsin’s own release soaking through his trousers as the last thrashes of his orgasm finally ended. 

You both lay there quietly, pressed against each other while still trying to regain some sense of composure. Halsin left tired kisses along your shoulder where he had bitten, kissing away any harm he may have done in the process. You could feel the hot pants of his breath against your exposed shoulder along with a light layer of sweat that had formed on his forehead and he pressed it against the back of your neck. Halsin rolled himself from atop you, gently pulling his fingers from your depths and out from the inside of your trousers, fixing the waistband as he did so. 

He returned to his side as you returned to your previous position as well, straightening your clothes as best as possible before turning to face him entirely. Your nose settled in the crook of his neck, placing a few gentle kisses along his neck and collarbones as a way of thanking him for your pleasure. The hand that had serviced your nipples came to rest in your hair, slowly stroking the back of your head and sleep weighed heavily on your eyelids. Halsin kissed your lips tenderly, wrapping his arm around your hips and tugging you against him snugly. His eyes drooped as you lay there together, thoroughly pleased and seemingly undetected. 

“Thank you, my love.” You whispered groggily, suddenly overtaken by the need to rest again. Your arms and limbs became heavy once more, unable to move even if you wanted to. Halsin felt the same, the stroking from his hand coming much slower with each passing moment, his exhaustion from earlier only being intensified as he came down from the thrill of your shared orgasm. 

“Sleep well, my heart.” He said softly as your eyelids closed for the final time that night, sleep finding you quickly. Halsin nuzzled his nose against the crown of your head, your natural scent mixing with the scent of waning arousal being enough to send him into a peaceful slumber.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear @mothermoth92 @obuoliukai

[alpaca-clouds]

Summer Spice 2024

Some might remember, that last year I had decided to do a summer smut challenge called Summer Spice. And because I had fun with it, I decided to do it again this year.

As I have been asked for my prompt list, I decided to also share it here now. You will find the list underneath the cut.

I will not properly moderate the challenge, but anyone who wants to join me writing some spice for the summer, you are more than welcome. I will start uploading my own stories starting June 15th and then upload three stories a week. My own stuff is gonna be all Castlevania and BG3, but again... Feel free to join with whatever.

The List

Day 01: Nipple Play

Day 02: Walked in On

Day 03: Cowgirl

Day 04: Against the Wall

Day 05: Dirty Talk

Day 06: Wax Play

Day 07: Roleplay

Day 08: Mirror Sex

Day 09: On the Tabletop

Day 10: Anal Fingering

Day 11: Blow Job

Day 12: Bondage

Day 13: Threesome

Day 14: Collar

Day 15: Orgasm Denial

Day 16: Aftercare

Day 17: Begging

Day 18: Consensual Non-Consent

Day 19: Aphrodisiac

Day 20: Laughing during Sex

Day 21: Outdoor Sex

Day 22: Rough Sex

Day 23: Pussy Worship

Day 24: Edging

Day 25: Face Fucking

Day 26: Tied to the Bed

Day 27: Blindfold

Day 28: Sleepy Sex

Day 29: Tease and Denial

Day 30: Domination

Day 31: Spanking

Day 32: Breath Play

Day 33: Anal Sex

Day 34: Striptease

Day 35: Bath Sex

Day 36: Post-Coital Cuddling

Day 37: Gagged

Day 38: Finger Sucking

Day 39: Cunnilingus

Day 40: Multiple Orgasms

Day 41: Humiliation

Day 42: Drunken Sex

Day 43: Scar Kink

Day 44: Fuck or Die

Day 45: Seduction

Day 46: Bukkake

Day 47: Large Insertion

Day 48: Furry/Scaly

Day 49: Overstimulation

Day 50: Orgy

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Summer 2024 Anime

In my experience, summer tends to be the weakest season for anime basically every year. Not entirely sure why: maybe everyone saves the biggest shows for spring and fall, so the space between gets stuck with the also-rans? Whatever the case, as long as I've been covering anime, summer has reliably been the season with the most disappointments and the least true gems. Except for this year. My god, except for this year. In defiance of the trend, summer 2024 has been absolutely stuffed with exciting anime, so many shows that delighted me in unexpected ways. I'm truly stunned by how many shows I watched that felt like nothing else I've seen before. Anime isn't just coasting through this summer on good enough; it's experimenting, pushing the boundaries, evolving the capabilities of visual storytelling in this medium. Maybe it's not an all-timer season, but it feels fresh in a way I haven't felt in quite some time. And even though the two best shows haven't quite finished yet (Monogatari Off/Monster and the back half of My Hero Academia's seventh season), there's more than enough for me to recommend you a full course of worthwhile anime. So let's buckle down and sort through the shows I watched this season to figure out which ones are worth your time and which ones should be discarded without a second thought.

(And if you see one show conspicuously missing from this list, don't worry- it's just around the corner...)

My Deer Friend Nokotan: Dropped at 7 Episodes

Normally I save discussion of the shows I dropped for brief snippets at the end of my seasonal wrap-ups. But this time, I got far enough into a couple shows before realizing they sucked that I figured I should let you know upfront so you don't get suckered into wasting your time like I did. Because I care about you. So if you were as excited by the batshit crazy meme marketing surrounding My Deer Friend Nokotan as I was, then you should know the actual show completely fails to live up to that bonkers energy. Oh, it certainly tries, but in execution, all the "lol so random" comedy and forced fourth-wall breaks makes it come off like a tryhard reddit troll so irony-poisoned they've forgotten what makes actual people laugh. And that's before it drops a godawful siscon imouto in the second episode, and all the jokes centered around humiliating the protagonist for being a virgin... god, I stuck with this piece of crap way longer than it deserved. If you want an actual hilarious slapstick comedy with batshit off-the-walls energy, just go track down Nichijou and experience the single funniest television show this side of Gintama. You'll have a much better time.

Sengoku Youko: Thousandfold Chaos Arc: Dropped at 7 Episodes

Man, Satoshi Mizukami is turning out to be the most overrated cult artist out there, huh? Sure, I liked Planet With a lot, but between this and the faults in Biscuit Hammer that you couldn't blame on the shitty production, all the beloved works his fans rave about like they're Shakespeare-level literature have completely dropped the ball. And I was excited for Sengoku Youko! The first season was pretty good! And the second season has a really interesting timeskip that reorients the story around a new protagonist and shakes up the kinds of ideas it can play with! But all that's let down thanks to one of the worst written female co-protagonists I've seen in a long time. God, Tsukiko is the worst. She's introduced as the strongest swordsman in her village, but all she does on screen is lose, get captured, act subservient to all the men around her, get captured again, and fall instantly in love with the guy who bisects her father in half. But don't worry, just wait until she's all grown up! Then we can add in gross sexual assault comedy complete with boob jiggles! Wow, what a mature and life-changing treatise on the human condition! Yeah, eat me. This is sexist garbage plain and simple, and there's too much good anime to waste time on the ones that can't clear the astronomically low bar of not being degrading to women.

ATRI: My Dear Moments: 3.5/10

There is so much I wish I could like about Atri. Its vision of a post-climate disaster world rebuilding from rising sea levels feels like the Studio Key/Ghibli crossover I've been dreaming of for ages. And it pulls at so many interesting threads; the meaning of community, the purpose of progress, disability, transhumanism, all wrapped up in a suitably sappy emotional package. And none of that matters. Because it's all secondary to the true purpose of this anime: justifying a romance between a near-adult and a robot girl who doesn't read any older than ten, complete with writing than infantilizes and sexualizes her at the same time. Because god forbid any of this high-concept melodrama be allowed to stand without making you feel like you should be put on a watchlist for engaging with it. Luckily, most of those worldbuilding philosophical ideas also pretty much fall apart by the end, so at least you don't have to feel conflicted about skipping this one wholesale. Christ, I miss Jun Maeda more every day.

Suicide Squad Isekai: 4/10

So this feels like it should've ended up either way better or way worse than it did. I mean, an unholy amalgamation of anime's absolute worst subgenre with the laughingstock of mainstream Western comics, written by the author of Re:Zero of all people? This should've either been a trainwreck of apocalyptic proportions or somehow wrapped back around to being an genuine lightning-in-a-bottle masterpiece. Or both! But instead, it's just sort of... there. It exists. It's DC supervillains transported to an isekai world to fight other DC supervillains and fuck around with fantasy nonsense, and I can barely think of anything else to talk about. I guess the isekai world itself is a lot more creative than the usual Dragon Quest knockoff? Character banter's alright? But it feels like all the effort here went into a very select assortment of things that the creators actually cared about- Harley's character design, a handful of genuinely awesome fight scenes- and everything else was just left flailing by the wayside with the laziest and least interesting execution, on a story and production level alike. You're better off just looking up clips of the best fight scenes on Youtube or wherever and giving the rest a pass.

Sakuna of Rice and Ruin: 4.5/10

This is one of those frustrating shows that doesn't really do anything wrong, but never manages to amount to more than that. It's a solid little tale about an immature young harvest goddess banished to an island somewhere in Heaven to learn maturity by growing rice, coming to terms with her grief for her lost parents and coming to respect the mortals who worship her along the way. And every stop of that character journey makes sense, with the progression from brash, arrogant hothead to mature, kind protector never feeling rushed or shortchanged. But ultimately, I think Sakuna just skews to young to be of interest. It's too basic in its moralizing and messages, as well-handled as they are, always taking the simplest and most obvious story route to get where it's going as if it assumes this is your first time watching anime and it doesn't have to try to be more complex than that. Well, there's that one weird episode where aliens randomly show up for a minute and are never addressed again, but that's not the good kind of complexity. I guess if you've got young kids, this is a perfectly fine show to put on for them; they might even get a lot out of it! But if you're over the age of, like, seven, you can get everything it offers better elsewhere.

Bye Bye Earth: 5/10

I've been staring at the screen for minutes trying to figure out how to properly describe Bye Bye Earth. But no matter what, nothing I come up with feels adequate to capture just how much of an incomprehensible fever dream this show is. The best way I can think to describe it is "Show Don't Tell" taken to its absolute extreme, a fantasy world where almost nothing is explained in clear terms and none of your preconceptions can be taken for granted. Swords that grow from roots, a city split into good and evil, battles that play out like giant orchestral processions, gender-shifting mermaids, elder gods that forbid travel between countries, girls hatching from eggs, an army of spiritual emptiness, plants that are more like animals than vegetation, so many insane and unique concepts that are treated as if they're commonplace facts any layperson would know. It feels like a show beamed in from an alternate dimension where the world's basic logic just does not function in the same way ours does, as if all these wild worldbuilding ideas are as familiar and universal as the sun in the sky and the moon at night. Does that make it a good show? A bad show? I honestly don't think it matters. All I know is that as utterly inscrutable as Bye Bye Earth is, I was glued to the screen every week wondering what demented sights it would show me next. At least until the penultimate episode had an astonishingly horrible rape scene that ended the whole affair with a black, bitter taste in my mouth.

Spice and Wolf (2nd Cours): 5/10

Good news, everyone: new Spice and Wolf is finally out of the material already covered by the first show and onto the new stuff! It only took nineteen goddamn episodes, but there's finally a reason for this new adaptation to exist beyond poorly regurgitating the timeless stories already covered back in 2008! Was it worth it? Honestly, jury's still out. The one new arc we get at the end of this season is a solid Spice and Wolf entry with all the slow-simmering romantic tension and well-realized economic conflict that makes this story so enduring. But considering how much time we wasted getting here, I still can't shake the feeling that this whole endeavor has been the most pointless remake in the history of anime. It would've been a much better idea to pick up were the original show left off and jump right into the new material rather than waste a whole season repeating what's already been done. So who knows, maybe I'll feel different once season 2 rolls around and we actually get all that new, previously unadapted story this remake supposedly exists to cover. I hope it's good! But I'll probably still recommend skipping all but the last six episodes of this season, cause even at its best, it just doesn't hold a candle to the original's sense of lived-in atmosphere and subtle majesty. Just go watch the original, it's still a classic and deserves to be celebrated on its own terms.

Dead Dead Demons Dededededestruction: 6/10

Okay, look: is this a good show? Absolutely. Should you watch it? No, you should not. Why? Because after the penultimate episode, I cracked and read the manga, and it's just better in every conceivable way. Better artwork, better pacing, more detail that provides critical thematic and emotional context for most of the big political machinations, and a sheer mastery of the form that this mostly straightforward adaptation just can't measure up to. Whatever criticisms I have of Inio Asano as a writer, there's just no one else who can use the medium of manga in such heartbreaking, evocative ways. Even the moments I liked most from this show become so much more spectacular under his guiding pen. But most importantly? For some unfathomable reason, this adaptation takes one of the manga's penultimate arcs- a huge, paradigm-shifting flashback that completely recontextualizes the entire story in explosive and jaw-dropping ways- and shoves it close to the very beginning. It's one of the single most baffling choices I've ever seen in adaptation, completely robbing the arc of its context and ruining the impact it was originally intended to have. For that reason alone, I can't possibly recommend watching Dededede over reading the manga. And at least that way, you can totally skip the disappointing final volume that feels like a half-baked sequel pitch cut short halfway through development!

Mayonaka Punch: 6.5/10

Do you guys remember Ya Boi Kongming? That show from a few years back that somehow took the premise of "3rd century Chinese war strategist becomes a modern pop idol's manager" and turned it into a genuinely wonderful time? Well, the same writer and director have reunited for the first original work- and it's about cringefail lesbian vampire Youtubers. If I have not already sold you on Mayonaka Punch from that description alone, I'm afraid you're a lost cause. This is the most delightfully chaotic show of the season, buoyed by an endlessly dynamic cast of losers, misfits and morons who put the "suck" in "bloodsucker" in all the best ways. But even moreso than the constantly creative ways it finds to mash vampires and Youtube together, what's most impressive about Mayonaka Punch is how damn well it understands the influencer age. More than any other anime I've watched, it really gets the intricacies of the content grind, parasocial relationships, toxic comments, cancel mobs, and the thousands of contradictions that underline the simple desire to create something awesome and share it with millions worldwide. Because this team is simply that damn good at exploring the full, genuine ramifications of even the most insane premise imaginable. Sadly, its emotional moments aren't nearly as strong as Kongming's (save for one truly tearjerking episode in the first half), and the ending feels like a half-conclusion trying to keep things open for a sequel. So here's hoping we get a season 2 at some point that tightens up the screenwriting and lets this show blossom into its full potential.

Twilight Out of Focus: 6.5/10

There are two things anime desperately needs more of: good BL romance, and couples that actually explore sex in their relationships. Luckily, Twilight Out of Focus is here to give us both at the same time, three times over. This is a sweet, sensual anthology series about three gay couples that develop in the same high school film club over the course of a couple years, each one refreshingly different in personality and what aspects of film-making the story explores with them. I do wish it dived a little deeper into the more technical aspects of the craft at times, but that's not really where its focus lies (heh). It's more about how the various characters interact with film-making than the art itself, and what those interactions say about them as people and parts of a couple. And with evocative direction, charming voice acting, and a clever script that packs a lot of development into twelve episodes without feeling overstuffed, it's more than effective in its goals. Just be aware the first arc tackles some heavy topics like abuse and pedophilia, so watch tactically if those are sensitive or triggering subjects for you. They're handled well, to be clear, but just be prepared.

Days With My Stepsister: 6.5/10

I'm of the firm opinion that you can make a good story out of anything. Doesn't matter how tawdry, trashy, lowbrow, juvenile, or inherently distasteful the subject matter; with the right execution, any starting point can be shaped into something wonderful. Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself to justify how the show about step-siblings falling in love ended up one of the most captivating anime I watched all season. But can you blame me? I don't know what kind of wizardry first-time director Souta Ueno pulled, but it's clear he understood exactly what can make a story like this so compelling, and he delivered that vision with some of the most immersive, mesmerising, and downright poetic cinematic storytelling in TV anime. Cinematography that sinks you into the characters' feelings like a stone plunging into an abyssal pool, symbolism that makes even the most basic lines of dialogue bleed with unspoken nuance, fuck, even the sound mixing feels like it's communicating hidden depths beyond the simple words on the page or development of the plot. It's a tour-de-force powerhouse of directoral talent that left me in awe every week, even as the side characters fall victim to much tropier writing and the inevitability of the oncoming incest romance makes the back half buckle with discomfort. I'd be hard-pressed to call Days With My Stepsister a masterpiece, but it is absolutely an achievement worth celebrating, and I look forward to seeing where Ueno takes his talents next.

Too Many Losing Heroines: 7/10

You know that feeling when you watch a show and it makes you mad not because it's bad, but because it doesn't seen to trust how good it is? That's the feeling I got over and over again watching Too Many Losing Heroines. It's bogged down by the kind of tasteless, degrading fanservice you usually see in bottom-tier light novels, written by authors who know they're crap and try to paper over their mistakes with accidental pervert scenes. It's the kind of desperation that screams of a show shooting for the lowest common denominator because it knows it has nothing of actual substance to offer. Except Too Many Losing Heroines is actually really fucking good and doesn't need these scenes at all? It's blisteringly funny, outrageously silly, often tasteless in actual fun ways, and a genuinely sincere exploration of the many forms romantic rejection can take and how people process it. I'm not kidding, this show almost made me cry at multiple points with how it embraces the power of friendship in the face of adolescent angst. So why do we still have these stupid fucking boob jiggles and accidental gropings that contribute nothing except making it infinitely harder for me to recommend this to normal people? Why does so much anime just not trust itself on its own merits when it has something truly worthwhile to offer?

Shoshimin: How to Become Ordinary: 7/10

Like many anime fans, I have struggled to accept the cruel reality that Hyouka is likely never getting another season. KyoAni almost never returns to a series after leaving it dormant for this long, and with the director's tragic death in the 2019 arson attack, I doubt the surviving staff who knew him would want to take on such a heavy burden (before you ask, Dragon Maid season 2 was already in production before Takemoto passed). So if you've been missing author Honebu Yonezawa's penchant for meta-commentary mysteries as much as I have, then good news, here's another one of his works adapted to animation! Just don't expect it to be as warm and comforting as Hyouko, because whereas that show was all about the joy of seeking the extraordinary within the ordinary, Shoshimin is equally obsessed with the consequences of it. It's the story of two viciously abnormal high school students who know the way they interact with the world is alienating them from it, but just can't stop themselves from enabling each other's thirst to puzzle and out-think and understand. It's like watching two serial killers struggling to assimilate into normal society, except their only weapons are their intellect and their biggest victims are their own ability to feel at home in the so-called "ordinary" world they constantly find excuses to shut the door on. This is, hands down, one of the most fascinating series of 2024, and while its unhurried pace might be a bore for some people, if you've got the patience to let the vibes sink into you, I can't recommend it enough.

The Elusive Samurai: 7/10

There are moments watching The Elusive Samurai when you will swear it's the most beautiful work of animation every produced. Stunning moving backgrounds, jaw-dropping stylistic flourishes that bend the rules of reality, so much fluid detail and shifting perspectives, insane and mind-twisting editing choices... I can't count how many times this show left me staring dumstruck for minutes on end as it piled on moment after moment of the most striking visual artistry I've seen all year. It doesn't manage that level of consistency throughout its run, sadly; there are definitely moments where you feel the shortcuts taken, especially whenever the garish CGI horses are on screen. But there's enough of that brilliance that even if the story was complete garbage, I would still recommend checking this show out for its animation alone. Luckily, the story's pretty good too! It's a bizarre genre-blending historical meta comedy epic that's sort of similar to Gintama in tone, except it's more shooting to sucker-punch you with the most extreme juxtaposition of stupid comedy and gruesome, horrific violence imaginable. It's a tonal whiplash that does not always work, but it manages to weave a shockingly lovable tale of a runaway heir to the throne seeking to rebuild his kingdom not through violence, but through well, elusiveness and choosing the pursuit of life over the glory of death. Add a cast of charming sidekicks and some of the most comically loathsome bad guys in recent memory and you've got a recipe for a very good time. Now please let the cute halberd girl do more stuff in season 2. It's what the people deserve.

Senpai is an Otokonoko: 7.5/10

Love triangles are a trope I've struggled with for as long as I can remember. Most times it pops up in a story, I feel my skin crawling back into my bones trying to escape the cringe. So how do you get a love triangle I don't just love, but actively root for all three possible outcomes? Well, placing it at the heart of a queer coming-of-age story with a trio of kids grappling with self-loathing and the desire for acceptance certainly helps. Doubly so when that story is executed with as much love, understanding, and joy as Senpai is an Otokonoko. What seems like a fraught premise at first- a girl confesses to her female classmate before finding out she's actually a cross-dressing boy- quickly evolves into a genuine exploration of Japan's queer identity, from the stigma of being seen as gay to the struggle to understand one's own gender identity, to even asexuality! And it's always handled with genuine affection for the people at hand, seeking to uplift queer experiences and prove that no one, no matter how "different," is deserving of a place to belong in this great big world. The production values may be modest and a little too reliant on chibi cut-in gags, but out of all summer's offerings, this is the show that spoke to me the most, and I can't wait for the recently announced movie finale to bring Aoi, Makoto and Ryuji's story to a close.

Dropped:

Tower of God Season 2- Dropped at 2 episodes for being a butt-ugly downgrade of the first season with all the same writing problems.

Narenare: Cheer For You- Dropped at 2 episodes for being utterly vapid.

The Magical Girl and Evil Lieutenant Used to be Arch-Enemies- Dropped at 2 episodes for having the dullest submissive doll of a protagonist.

[nijigasakilove]

Another week not being married to Holo I can’t take it

[jjs-brainrot]

Alright, finally got my preliminary watch list for anime season Summer 2024 down. (You can find out what all the anime airing in Summer 2024 are over at AniCharts)

Carry Over: Spice and Wolf remake: Hell yeah, more Spice and Wolf!

The Fable: Decently strong so far so I'm def interested in more

Sengoku Youko: Hell yeah, more Sengoku Youko!

Oshi no Ko S2: I've already watched season 1 so I might as well watch season 2…

For Sure: My Deer Friend Nokotan: I must learn why humans are not deer…

Plus-Sized Elf: As a card carrying member of the elf ear licker association, I am required by law to watch this. (plus half my friends are fans of the manga)

Maybe: VTuber Legend: Imma be real, "corpo vtuber gets drunk and says some stuff she probably shouldn't but goes viral" is fairly standard stuff in the vtuber sphere

Mayonaka Punch: Youtuber anime. It's a P.A. Works original so it'll at least be decent. Like and subscribe.

Na-Nare Hana-Nare: Cheerleader anime. It's a P.A. Works original so it'll at least be decent. Hoping it ends up at least as gay as Anima Yell was.

Dahlia in Bloom: No idea how good this'll be but it's literally the only shoujo anime this season so I have to at least check it out.

A Journey Through Another World: Raising Kids While Adventuring: Yeah sure, dad isekai. The sword dad isekai was pretty good so why not.

My Wife Has No Emotion: I know it's been like 2 decades but Chobits season 2 is looking way different /jk.

Dungeon People: Dungeon Keeper the anime sounds neat.

[beyondthegate]

Always good to get some nice character interactions instead of only focusing on the mental gymnastics of when to buy/sell fool's gold.

[dinosaurchurch]

Today marks the first day of autumn, my favourite time of the year.

We’ve been feeling the nip of colder weather here on the east coast especially during the night. Summer was lovely albeit very hot so I’m personally looking forward to the cozy evenings with hot lattes and crisp fall mornings.

I can’t wait to see the leaves change colour once again.

[goldenmusicmoments]

The GRAMMYs 2024 Nominations:

So the grammy nominations were just revealed and they follow a similar partner to what we’ve seen before. A handful of expected nominees, to then those unexpected. Some of the unexpected nominees are not deserving of the nomination, whilst others that weren’t expected are deserving. It is always hard to predict who will actually take home the trophies, however we will discuss who deserves the nominations/win and those that don’t. So lets get started.

Record of the Year:

Beginning with Record of the Year, here most of the songs nominated were expected to show up. ‘What Was I Made For?’, ‘Flowers’, ‘Vampire’, ‘Kill Bill’ & ‘Anti-Hero’ were major releases that all managed to achieve a lot of success. They are definitely tracks that the past year will be remembered for. Now though ‘Not Strong Enough’, ‘Worship’ & ‘On My Mama’ weren’t records that many predicted to be acknowledged by the recording academy, they are understandable choices. The first two were met with critical acclaim, though they didn’t make much of a commercial impact especially when comparing to the expected nominees. Regardless of that they standout from the consideration periods releases. ‘On My Mama’ only recently started its climb on the charts, however was well received by the general public who praised it for paying homage to the artists that came before and Victoria Monét’s delivery. It probably is the most surprising pick here. It is always hard to predict a firm winner, however ‘Flowers’ could very well be the one to take home the award. Though ‘What Was I Made For?’ is the record that should win this category as it is hands down the best single release of the past year that blew everyone away.

Album of the Year:

Now onto Album of the Year the biggest award of the night. The majority of the albums chosen here are those that many music outlets had predicted to show up. ‘The Record’, ‘Endless Summer Vacation’, ‘Guts’, ‘SOS’ & ‘Midnights’ were the least surprising. The former was critical acclaimed and loved by the general public, its quality really drew people to it and made it standout from the other releases of the past year. The rest of the albums received a mixed reaction, where some felt underwhelmed by the records. The latter two of the five mentioned attained huge commercial success ranking in the top ten of the best selling albums of the year gone by. ‘Endless Summer Vacation’ made a splash during its release week, but the buzz disappeared as many were disappointed by it. Mainly due to them expecting her to recreate her previous album that many loved. ‘Guts’ opened strong, but wasn’t able to remain stable. After a strong debut from Olivia Rodrigo the album was highly anticipated and expectations were high. Some loved the record, whilst others were left on the fence about it. It is a decent choice here, but along with ‘Endless Summer Vacation’ doesn’t deserve to win. 

‘Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’, ‘World Music Radio’ and ‘The Age Of Pleasure’ were the shocks here. The latter in particular as it isn’t a release that comes to mind when thinking of the releases during the consideration period. The first to are understandable as both are well crafted records that critics praised. Jon Batiste seems to have become a favourite of the recording academy as he shows up in all three of the major categories this year. He won the award the year before last, so you could see why he pops up again here. The album in itself is worth listening to as it is quite the experience, the most intriguing record on this list. Though it has the lowest critic score in this category. The Grammy's do love to surprise you with who they award the win to especially in this category. Though many think ‘Midnights’ or ‘SOS’ are the front runners, ‘The Record’ is the one that should take home the trophy.

There is one album in particular that was snubbed and deserved to be recognised here. That being ‘Calico’ by Ryan Beatty, a masterful record that is easily the best album released in 2023. ‘Portals’ by Melanie Martinez and ‘Bloom Mountain’ by Hazlett could have been great choices as well here.

Song of the Year:

Song of the Year has the most surprising moments so far. ‘Dance The Night’, ‘Butterfly’ & ‘A&W’ surprise you the most, the former because it doesn’t feature songwriting worth acknowledging by the recording academy in a category that is supposed to be recognising the writing. The other two because they weren’t tracks that many had in mind for a feature here. ‘What Was I Made For?’, ‘Flowers’, ‘Vampire', ‘Kill Bill’ & ‘Anti-Hero’ are the more expected choices. The latter four feature good songwriting, with ‘Anti-Hero’ being the strongest. ‘Flowers’ is pretty straightforward in putting forward its message. However the one that should take home the win is definitely ‘What Was I Made For?’, a beautifully written song that plays so well to the movie it accompanied and at the same time speaks to Billie Eilish’s life. 

Best New Artist:

Next up is Best New Artist a category that selects the artists on the basis of the past consideration period being the moment where they truly broke out. Which confuses some as they assume that the selection is from those that just had their introductory year. Most here are understandable choices, whilst others could very easily be replaced by more deserving choices. Gracie Abrams, Ice Spice and Noah Kahan were names thrown about when speaking about this category and are great picks. Jelly Roll though may have not been someone that was predicted, he is deserving as he just had his biggest year so far. Coco Jones and Victoria Monét were surprises, however deserving contenders as they are proving to be quite the forces. Fred Again.. and The War And Treaty don’t really come to mind if you were to ask the majority ‘Who are the artists you’ve just come across this past year that standout to you?’. They are also the least likely to win. In there place Ryan Beatty and PinkPantheress should have been nominated. As the two made such a big mark in music during the consideration period. This is the most hardest category to pinpoint who will win, Noah Kahan however should take the trophy home.

Sub-Categories:

Jack Antonoff seems to be the strongest contender for Producer of the Year (Non-Classical). In the Songwriter of the Year (Non-Classical) category, that is a new addition to the Grammy's, Shane McAnally is the obvious choice as he’s been a writer on so many well written tracks for a long while now.

Again ‘What Was I Made For?’ is easily the best choice in the Best Pop Solo Performance. For Best Pop Duo/Group Performance any out of ‘Never Felt So Alone’, ‘Candy Necklace’, ‘Thousand Miles’ & ‘Ghost In The Machine’ would make for worthy winners. ‘Karma’ doesn’t deserve the win, its nomination alone was surprising. Kelly Clarkson’s new album ‘Chemistry’ should be given the award for Best Pop Vocal Album as she is a force to be reckoned with vocally and that album proves it. 

Kylie Minogue really has had quite the big year with ‘Padam Padam’ as it earns a nomination for Best Pop Dance Recording, however her fellow Aussie Troye Sivan earns his first nomination with ‘Rush’ and it proves to be the better choice for the win. Moving on ‘Not Strong Enough’ is the one that standouts in both the Best Rock Performance and Song categories. Best Alternative Music Performance and Album feature both Lana Del Rey and Boygenius, so either being awarded would be deserving.

SZA and Victoria Monét really dominate in the R&B categories, both being greatly deserving of the recognition and they are two of the most nominated artists this year. ‘Attention’ by Doja Cat should easily take home Best Melodic Rap Performance and Best Rap Song as it made quite the statement and her delivery on the track is so captivating. Laufey’s appearance in Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album with ‘Bewitched’ is well deserved and it should be the one to walk home with the award.

‘We Don’t Fight Anymore’ definitely makes the strongest case for Best Country Duo/Group Performance. All the nominees in Best Country Song apart from ‘Last Night’ are worthy of winning. Best Country Album features some great choices, though Kelsea Ballerini featuring here is great, the record itself was put forth as an extended play and not an album. However it could be given the win for what it does, the most likely winner will be ‘Bell Bottom Country’ which many expected to be a nominee for Album of the Year as well. Lainey Wilson has made quite the mark in country music. 

Tyla makes an instant impact with her viral single ‘Water’ judging by its nomination in the Best African Music Performance. Once again ‘What Was I Made For?’ stands out as the deserving one to take home the win in Best Song Written for Visual Media. Best Music Video features some solid choices, though ‘What Was I Made For?’ has a rather simple visual its impact sets it apart. Caroline Polachek should have received more love as she makes an appearance with ‘Desire, I Want To Turn Into You’ in Best Engineered Album (Non-Classical), which also features Boygenius’s ‘The Record’ and Victoria Monét’s ‘Jaguar II’. Madison Beer earns her first nomination with ‘Silence Between Songs’ featuring in the Best Immersive Audio Album.

It will be interesting to see who actually ends up taking the win, here is to hoping the voters make the right choices when selecting the winners. 

[justjane24]

[dulcedelashay]

Natural flavor enhancing for tomatoes!!!

Good afternoon all of tumblr, especially my fellow gardeners! Did know that pairing certain fruits and vegetables with herbs actually help to enhance their flavor? In this case, growing marjoram or oregano as companion plants with tomatoes enhances the natural flavor of tomatoes tremendously. These herbs also act as natural garden pest deterrents. Happy Gardening!

[greenwitchcrafts]

December 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: December 1st & December 30th

First Quarter: December 8th

Full moon: December 15th

Last Quarter: December 22nd

Sabbats: Yule: December 21st-January 1st

December Cold Moon

Also known as: Aerra Geola, Drift Clearing Moon, Frost Exploding Trees Moon, Heilagmanoth, Hoar Frost Moon, Little Spirit Moon, Long Night's Moon, Moon of Popping Trees, Moon Before Yule, Moon When the Dear Shed their Antlers, Oak Moon, Snow Moon, Winter Maker Moon, Wintermonat & Wolf Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Sagittarius & Capricorn

Nature spirts: Snow Faeries, Storm Faeries & Winter Tree Faeries

Deities: Athena, Fates, Hades, Hathor, Hecate, Ixchel, Minerva, Neith, Norns, Osiris & Persephone

Animals: Bear, deer, horse & mouse

Birds: Robin, rook & snowy owl

Trees:  Cedar, evergreen, fir, holly & pine

Herbs: Bay, cinnamon, English ivy, frankincense, mistletoe, myrrh & sage

Flowers: Chamomile & poinsettia

Scents: Cedar, cinnamon, frankincense, ginger, lilac, myrrh, nutmeg, patchouli, pine, rose geranium, rosemary, saffron, violet & evergreen

Stones:  Aquamarine, bloodstone, cat's eye, garnet, jacinth, obsidian, peridot, ruby, serpentine, topaz, turquoise

Issues, intentions & powers: Dedication, devotion, love, peace, prosperity & strength

Energy: Alchemy, darkness, endurance, death&rebirth, higher education, reaching out to others, religious, spiritual paths, travel & truths

This full Moon has also been called the Long Night Moon (Mohican), as it rises during the “longest” nights of the year, near the December winter solstice. This name is doubly fitting because December’s full Moon shines above the horizon for a more extended period than most full Moons.

• This December is unique because there will be TWO new Moons. This is called a Black Moon.

A Black Moon is a special kind of New Moon, just as a Blue Moon is a special kind of Full Moon. Neither are astronomical terms; both are catch phrases for an unusual lunar calendar occurrence. For this reason, the definition of a Black Moon can vary and may refer to:

-The second new Moon in a month. This is the definition of Black Moon that’s used most often & it’s the most common. It occurs once every 29 months.

 -The third new Moon in a season of four New Moons. Every season (spring, summer, fall, winter) has 3 months & 3 new Moons. However, occasionally (every 33 months), there is a season with 4 new Moons. In this case, the third New Moon is called a Black Moon.   

-When there are NO new Moons in a month. This can only happen in February since it’s the only calendar month that is shorter (28 days) than the lunar month. When there is not a new Moon in February, there will be two new Moons for both January & March. It’s a rare occurrence (every 19 years or so) and the next one isn’t until 2033.

Yule

Known as: Alban Arthan & Winter Solstice

Season: Winter

Element: Earth

Symbols: Baskets of clove studded fruit, decorated evergreen trees, evergreen boughs, gifts, gold pillar candles, holly, mistletoe, poinsettias, wreaths & Yule logs

Colors: Gold, green, orange, red, silver, white & yellow

Oils/Incense: Bayberry, cedar, cinnamon, frankincense, myrrh & pine

Animals: Bear, boar, deer, pig, squirrel & tiger

Birds: Eagle, goose, kingfisher, lapwing, robin & wren

Stones: Alexandrite, bloodstone, blue topaz, cat's eye, citrine, clear quartz, diamond, emerald, garnet, green tourmaline, jet, kunzite, pearls & ruby

Angel: Auriel

Food: Caraway cakes, cookies, eggnog, fruits, gingerbread, ginger tea, nuts, pork, spiced cider, roasted boar, roasted chicken, turkey & wassail

Herbs/Plants: Bay, bayberry, blessed thistle, cedar, cinnamon, evergreen, frankincense, holly, ginger, ivy, juniper, mistletoe, moss, myrrh, oak, pine, rosemary, sage, valerian & yellow cedar

Flowers:  Chamomile & yarrow

Trees: Birch, cedar, chestnut, fir, holly, juniper, oak, pine & yew

Goddesses: Alcyone, Aphrodite, Ameratasu, Bona Dea, Brighid, Cailleach Bheur, Demeter, Diana, Fortuna, Frau Holle, Frau Perchta, Frigga, Gaia, Great Mother, Kolyada, La Befana, Idunn, Isis, maat & Tiamat

Gods: Apollo, Attis, Baldur, Bragi, Devak, Dionysus, Divine Child, Green man, Janus, Hel, Helios, Holly King, Horned One, Horus,  Lord of Misrule, Lugh, Mabon, Marduk, Mithras, Oak King, Odin, Ra, Saturn & Surya

Spellwork: Earth magick, happiness, harmony, love & peace

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Darkness, divination, light, messages/omens, purification, rebirth, renewal & transformation

Activities:

• Set up & decorate a Yule altar

• Clean, organize & cleanse before decorating your home

• Make witch’s balls to hang on your tree (protective & pretty!)

• Decorate & bless & Yule tree

• Stay awake until dawn to observe the cycles of nature

• Give gifts to your family & friends

• Donate your time or helpful items to charity

• Collect snow for winter/ snow magic

• Go caroling

• Hang mistletoe in your doorways

• Make Wassail

• Prepare a Yule Log

• Host a Yule feast

• Craft your own decorative wreath or garlands with oranges, cinnamon & pine

• Decorate your house with Yule colored candles

• Welcome the Sun

• Go on nature walks & leave offerings to nature

• Meditate & reflect on the passing year

“Yule” comes from Old English geol, which shares a history with the equivalent word from Old Norse, jól. Both these words referred to a midwinter festival centered around the winter solstice, which traditionally marked the halfway point of the winter season. After the solstice—the shortest day of the year—the days again begin to grow longer, so it’s thought that Yule was a celebration of the re-appearance of the Sun &the fertile land’s rebirth. 

• The celebration of Yule is one of the oldest winter celebrations in the world. Ancient people were hunters & spent most of their time outdoors. The seasons & weather played a significant part in their lives. The customs & traditions associated with it vary widely. Scholars have connected the original celebrations of Yule to the Wild Hunt, the god Odin & the heathen Anglo-Saxon Mōdraniht (“Mothers’ Night”)

• Some believe it marks the rebirth of the Sun (the God) from the Earth (the Goddess) & the cold days of winter will soon begin to wane. The Goddess is seen in her virgin Maiden aspect

In towns and cities throughout Sweden during the Christmas season, large goats are constructed out of straw. It is thought that the tradition originated in ancient times, perhaps as a tribute to the god Thor, who was said to ride in a chariot pulled by goats. In Sweden the goat came to be associated with the Christmas celebration & the Yule goat is now considered by many to be a companion or counterpart to Santa Claus.

This connects to ancient proto-Slavic beliefs where the Koliada (Yule) festival honors the god of the fertile sun & the harvest. This god, Devac (also known as Dazbog or Dažbog), was represented by a white goat. Consequently the Koliada festivals always had a person dressed as a goat, often demanding offerings in the form of presents. A man-sized goat figure is known from 11th-century remembrances of Childermas, where it was led by a man dressed as Saint Nicholas, symbolizing his control over the Devil.

Related festivals:

•Christmas- December 25th:

An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ as the son of God. For Christians, believing that God came into the world in the form of man to atone for the sins of humanity rather than knowing Jesus's exact birth date is considered to be the primary purpose of celebrating Christmas.

Hanukkah-December 25-January 2nd:

 A Jewish festival commemorating the recovery of Jerusalem & subsequent rededication of the Second Temple at the beginning of the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire in the 2nd century BCE.

Hanukkah is observed for eight nights & days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar. The festival is observed by lighting the candles of a candelabrum with nine branches, commonly called a menorah or hanukkiah. 

Kwanzaa-December 26th-January 1st:

An annual celebration of African-American culture, culminating in a communal feast called Karamu, usually on the sixth day. It was created by activist Maulana Karenga, based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West & Southeast Africa. Kwanzaa was first celebrated in 1966. 

A Kwanzaa ceremony may include drumming and musical selections, libations, a reading of the African Pledge & the Principles of Blackness, reflection on the Pan-African colors, a discussion of the African principle of the day or a chapter in African history, a candle-lighting ritual, artistic performance & finally, a feast of faith (Karamu Ya Imani).

Saturnalia- December 17-23rd:

An ancient Roman festival and holiday in honour of the god Saturn, The holiday was celebrated with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, in the Roman Forum & a public banquet, followed by private gift-giving, continual partying & a carnival atmosphere that overturned Roman social norms: gambling was permitted & masters provided table service for their slaves as it was seen as a time of liberty for both slaves & freedmen alike.

 A common custom was the election of a “King of the Saturnalia”, who gave orders to people, which were followed & presided over the merrymaking. The gifts exchanged were usually gag gifts or small figurines made of wax or pottery known as sigillaria. The poet Catullus called it “the best of days”.

Other celebrations:

Feast of Epona- December 18th:

Eponalia is the feast day of Gaulish Goddess Epona, the Divine Mare & in the time of the Roman Empire

Epona is known to be one of a very few Gaulish deities whose names were spread to the rest of the Roman Empire. This seems to have happened because Roman cavalry units stationed in Gaul followed her & adopted her as their Patroness. This may have started because many of the cavalry troops were conscripted from Gaul as they were superb horsemen. From Gaul the Romans took Epona with them including to Rome where She was given her own feast day on the 18 December. They worshipped her as Epona Augusta or Epona Regina & invoked her on behalf of the Emperor. She even had a shrine in the barracks of the Imperial Bodyguard.

Hunting of the Wren-December 26th:

A traditional custom carried out on the Isle of Man on  St. Stephen’s Day. It consists of groups of people going around villages and towns singing and dancing a traditional song and dance around a decorated wren pole.

The earliest and most common folklore story accounting for the origin of hunt the wren tells of a fairy/enchantress/witch whose beauty lures the men of the Isle of Man to harm, for which she is chased and is changed into the form of a wren. It is therefore in punishment for her actions that the wren is hunted on St. Stephen’s Day

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[alpaca-clouds]

Summer Spice: Her Sweetness [Halsin/Kantei]

Another story for Summer Spice. Today my fellow Halsin-lovers are eating very well (I hope). The prompt was Multiple Orgasms.

Her Sweetness

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Shipping: Halsin/f!OC Genre: Smut

Halsin is still trying to figure out what he is feeling for Kantei. He knows it is a tender feeling. But is it love?

[nijigasakilove]

Can’t believe we only have two more spice and wolf episodes to go 😢 season 2 me please.

Really good episode here. The annoying ass villagers blaming Lawrence and even trying to throw Elsa and Evan under the bus annoyed tf out of me. Any excuse to attack the church I guess.. I do understand the frustration about the bad wheat and having to pay back money to Enberch, but it seems like no one is putting 2 and 2 together(besides Lawrence) about this being an obvious set up..

The elder wanting Lawrence to bail out the village financially after they accused him of being behind the wheat situation and were generally nasty as hell to he and Holo is killing me lmao. Gtfo.

I love how Elsa and Evan having this little secret forbidden romance, they’re so cute. When Lawrence walked in on them holding hands and Elsa just scrambled back lol

Finally got some updated Yoitsu lore too! Home isn’t a place, but the people. As long as Holo’s friends are alive and well you can always rebuild the buildings in Yoitsu. I’m sure some are probably still hanging around the area. But it does raise the question of why the bear went wild and destroyed the place.

Running away was the best choice. That village is a lost cause and never accepted the church or Elsa. I wouldn’t feel comfortable staying there anymore. It’s gonna be fun seeing how she and Evan settle into the group dynamic with Holo and Lawrence!

[xalygatorx]

Someone Like You | Human!Alastor x Assistant!Reader

Written for the VoxTek Server Winter Event 2024 hosted by @redfoxwritesstuff & @redvexillum of @voxtekinc xx

AO3 ✍️ | Ko-Fi ☕

Prompt: "Christmas Party"

Summary: Being Alastor Garland's assistant has never been an easy feat, but you reach the end of your rope at the station's annual Christmas party when one of his snide comments hits a little too hard.

Warnings: Angst to hurt to comfort that rounds back into steamy fluff, We're rockin' around the Emotions Tree 🎶, Implied period-typical racism (it's the 1920s), Reader has an established crush on Alastor despite him presenting as a certified dickhead, Alastor likes you too but he doesn't handle it well up to this point, Confused graysexual screaming, Reader's grandmother has passed away, Reader is female and in her early 20's (Alastor is almost 30 in this one), There's no smut here even if it seems like there might be during the steamy fluff scene I'm telling you that right now

A/N: Whatever you do or don't celebrate, I hope you have the coziest, kindest winter season ahead of you. Take care of yourselves. x

And be sure to check out all the other festive, lovely stories from everyone who contributed to this event!

The entire house smelt deliciously of warm, spiced cider. Molten notes of fresh baked apples, butter, and a pinch each of salt and cinnamon rolled over your tongue with every inhale, accompanied by a bloom of heat when you opened the oven to retrieve the cake you'd been painstakingly crafting all day ahead of tonight's party.

Memories of your grandmother were easy to come by in her own home—a home that had been passed down to you specifically as an escape from the house you'd grown up in. The differences between a house and a home were plenty and those had all been differences you'd learned in your travels between the two—one, a house where you'd lived with your mother and father and three younger siblings, and the other, the home your grandparents had cultivated over decades and decades of firefly summers and holidays within the often mild winters New Orleans had on offer.

A home your grandmother had taken fully into her care after your grandfather had passed almost ten years ago. A place that, despite your family house never being cold or violent or somewhere you felt unwelcome, had always felt like home.

And then it had become your home the day you turned 18. Against your family's wishes—primarily ones born of concern—you'd struck out on your own, eager to take over the care of the home your grandmother had left you, that she had entrusted to you. It was your turn to bring life to it now.

When you closed your eyes, time travel was a simple task. You let the heat wafting from the open oven warm you to your bones, let the scents of the cake your grandmother had made every Christmas Eve fill your senses entirely until everything was simply cake. When you opened your eyes to slip on the mitts and pull the cake from the oven, the scrape of the pans against the rack filled your ears and, if you listened, you could hear the ghosts of holidays past along the edges of those metallic keens—your brother laughing at the expense of you or one of your sisters, your mother fretting over anything and everything, and your father's silence as he watched it all unfold.

As the pans left the rack and the scraping sounds ceased, you were left with silence again. Fragrant, nostalgic, but very silent silence. A sigh eased from your chest as you set the pan down to cool and busied yourself with locating the festive bit of china your grandmother had always used for this very cake.

You just hoped you'd done it justice—you hadn't had a reason to bake it before and your maiden voyage into your grandmother's old cookbook (a still relatively pristine copy of Woman's Exchange Cook Book) had come about due to your first office Christmas party.

Well, the first one you had any interest in attending.

Your jobs for the first few years of living in New Orleans had varied—diners, coffeeshops, a bakery, two speakeasies, and a tailor—but none of them had offered much in the way of holiday parties. The diner and bakery had tried, bless their hearts, but it had always been more of a social gathering among friends orchestrated by the waitstaff. The speakeasies had been fun, but when every night was a party, holidays were even more so and they often got too rowdy for your temperament (particularly the one year the boys and blue had attended as uninvited guests and you'd had to run out the back with the bartender and his girlfriend).

Whatever the station had planned would surely be much more in the realm of a planned, prim office party. A scene you were new to. Second only to how new you were to the station itself.

You'd spent six months so far employed there, which was five months and twenty-nine days longer than anyone had expected you to be. There had been a betting pool. There likely still was one, just kept better under wraps after you'd discovered the first. You'd been swiftly assured that the pool wasn't aimed at your work ethic, but rather at the pure hell your "boss" seemed gleeful to put you through on a daily basis.

Alastor Garland wasn't technically your boss. He was the current dashing darling of the radio world, a local celebrity gradually going national as the show's popularity spread, and the man you were meant to assist, but he wasn't your boss. You were sure he would've fired you by now if that had been the case. Or rather, you would've never been hired to begin with.

Again, not necessarily because of you—although that was becoming harder to believe as time wore on and his jabs got more personal—but because Alastor was stalwart in his insistence that he did not need an assistant. He took offense to your very existence so long as it was under the title of being his assistant. And he couldn't take it out on your boss, the owner of the very station you were soon to leave for that night, so he took it out on you.

Impossibly timed errands. Last-minute coffee orders you knew were only requested to get you out of his hair for a bit. His overcoat dropped just shy of the rack so you had to juggle everything you were already toting into the recording studio for him just to get it up on the proper hook. Snide remarks whenever you messed up a cue or made his coffee "wrong" or took too long to notice whatever mess he'd made with the expectation that you'd clean it up.

He was rude. He was positively childish at times. He was sarcastic and mocking and generally unpleasant to work for.

And you liked him.

Your nose wrinkled at the thought alone as you sifted powdered sugar down onto the cake you'd just upended onto the festive Christmas china, the descending granules mirroring the rare Louisiana snowfall outside.

You were pretty sure your mother was ultimately to blame for this debacle, traced all the way back to your childhood. All the times you'd come home complaining that some boy had pushed you down in the schoolyard and she would simply check you over for anything past a scrape or a bruise and inform you, "He's probably just got a li'l crush on you, honey. Boys don't like to be honest about that kinda stuff, so they'll just pick on ya instead."

And then there was her relationship with your father, a gruff and perpetually pokerfaced man who wore his emotional reserve like a badge of honor. You honestly couldn't remember a single instance in which he'd told you he loved you growing up, but you also couldn't remember ever hearing him say it to her or his other children either. You were pretty sure he did though. You'd just always gotten the impression that he didn't know how to say it.

Well, if Alastor was one of those "boys in the schoolyard," he must've really liked you. The thought alone made you scoff because you knew that wouldn't be the case in a million years. Funny enough, he was also the exact opposite of your father while sometimes seeming the exact same. Alastor was emotive, theatrical in how little he seemed to hide, but he was just as pokerfaced as your father, you'd found. He just did it through showmanship and a smile.

You settled the cover to the china plate over the cake you'd finished garnishing, hoping it would be enough to keep it warm through the cold walk to the station. Stepping back, you went upstairs to finish getting ready, coming back down in a red velvet cocktail dress you'd spent three weeks' worth of accumulated pocket money on after hearing the receptionists discussing their own party budgets and worrying you'd look out of place.

You felt like a pretender or at least like someone trying to dress up like something they weren't, but there wasn't any time or spare change to go back on it now. So you bundled up in your coat and scarf, slipped on your heels, and plucked your freshly baked offering from the counter.

You triple-checked that the oven was off before taking a deep breath and working through the two additional deadbolts you'd added to the old front door after listening to one too many of Alastor's broadcasts about the recent murders around the Big Easy. And then finally, you left to start your trek through the snowy evening.

The snow provided a unique layer of soundproofing the city couldn't usually be afforded, particularly during its vibrant, sleepless nights. Contrary to the expectation that colder weather and snow might discourage New Orleans' nightlife scene, either the novelty of the chill or the holiday had even more folks out than usual. Couples rubbing noses under streetlights, parents and their children armed with sleds despite the hour, gaggles of teens pelting each other with snowballs while their laughter bounced off the seasonably decorated buildings lining the streets.

It helped to quell the somber feeling your silent home had left with you before departing—nice as that quiet often was, the holidays had a way of making even the most comfortable silence feel pointed.

Swiftly enough—and after only once nearly slipping and sacrificing your cake to the frosty pavement—you made it to the station and let yourself in the side alley door. Upon entering, you were immediately greeted with the murmur of conversation, the clanking of plates and platters being set up on an emerald green-clothed serving table, and a vinyl crooning from somewhere further in.

"Oh, hi, sweetie!"

Instinctively, you turned toward the voice and smiled when your eyes landed on Rosie—your boss's fashion-forward, easily delighted wife, who had all but made him hire you on the spot when she just happened to be in the station the day you came in to inquire about a job. She reminded you a lot of your grandmother had your grandmother been more boisterous and open with her thoughts.

She was wonderful. And it was always a relief and a joy to run into her.

"Hi, Rosie," you said back, smiling as she relieved you of your dish and then swept you into a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"And it's lovely as ever to see you, too, dear," Rosie said, throwing you a wink as she uncovered your cake and set the steam-lined cloche aside with care. "I knew ya'd stick it out here. I'm very proud of ya. I'm sure Alastor hasn't made it easy for you."

You just smiled a little tighter, comically widening your eyes the next time she looked at you, which made her laugh conspiratorially.

"Don't take it personally, dear, he's… He's a character," she said, not for the first time. "There's a reason he's made it to where he is and it's not by mincin' words." Whipping around to focus on your dessert, she asked, "Now, anyway, what do we have here? It smells divine!"

Your chest puffed a bit with pride. "That would be my grandma's favored recipe for apple cider cake," you told her, your smile widening when she gave a happy clap of her hands. "She made it for us every Christmas Eve when I was growing up."

"Well then how wonderful of you to share it with us, doll! I can't wait to try some," Rosie said as she turned to face you again. Her eyes darted over your head briefly before she tsked through her teeth. "Just don't even mind him tonight, okay, sweetie? He's been in a foul mood all week, as I'm sure you've caught onto."

Ah, you'd thought you'd felt eyes on you.

You were almost afraid to turn around, but you knew that it'd probably been obvious even from afar that Rosie had noticed him and then commented to you on his presence. So it might give him some degree of satisfaction or sense of victory if you didn't turn around now.

Couldn't have that. And you wouldn't admit it, but you weren't exactly rueful of having a reason to look even while your nerves ate away at your insides.

Pulling the proverbial bandage, you glanced over your shoulder and it took only a few seconds for your eyes to land on your target. He was dressed to the nines like everyone else in the station tonight, looking immaculate in a dark suit with merlot accents and shiny silver cufflinks. He was clean-shaven—something he'd uncharacteristically not been all week—and his hair had been hot-ironed straight in a stylish fluffy flop that was almost as signature to his look as his smile. His round wireframes had descended a bit down the bridge of his nose, but he righted them now with the precise press of a fingertip.

Behind the lenses, his honey-hued eyes were already locked on you.

You tried to channel your dad's immaculate pokerface, but there was only so much you could do when those eyes evoked in you the strangest mix of intrigue and genuine unease. When your eyes met, you felt yourself freeze—prey in a predator's trap as your heartbeat drummed ever faster against your ribs.

You swallowed harder than you meant to and you knew he saw it by the way the polite smile he'd turned toward the men he was currently rubbing elbows with—sponsors most likely, you didn't recognize them at a peripheral glance—slowly curled into a sneer.

So much for keeping him from a bit of undue satisfaction for cowing you before you'd even uttered a word his way this evening. Your jaw tightened and you turned away to roll your eyes, melting a little when you spotted one of the receptionists—the station owner's niece, Charlie—enthusiastically waving you over.

It's not just him here, you reminded yourself as you smiled back at the excitable blond belle and made your way over to join her. And you're off the clock. He's just a man.

Just a man you wished you could write off as truly just a man.

The cider cake you'd baked was annihilated within the first hour and it was compliments abound from everyone who'd had a slice. Rosie had been sure to let everyone know that you were the one to thank for it.

You really weren't sure what you'd done to endear yourself to her so much, but you were endlessly glad for it.

More party attendees had shown, however, and there was room to be made on the buffet. You excused yourself from Charlie's company—along with her friend, Anthony, and her "friend," Maggie—to squirrel away your empty baking dish and help clear the way for more warm, tasty homemade creations to have their spotlight moment debut on the table.

You'd settled the cloche on the crumb-dusted plate and then turned, taken approximately four steps from the table, and then a passing gentleman—who'd had a bit too much from a poorly obscured flask in his jacket pocket, nevermind the hot punch and roasted chestnuts from the actual spread—walked right through you and jostled the china from your hands.

It shattered on the floor and deadened all conversation in the room. Your hands had gone to your mouth after fumbling the dish and failing to right yourself and you felt tears stinging your eyes as you stared down at your grandmother's beloved baking set in ruins.

What had you been thinking, using that to bring your cake here tonight? How hadn't you foreseen something like this happening? If not now, from your hands, then from some other folk rearranging the table offerings or even before the party had started, when your heels had nearly slid out from under you on the walk outside?

You'd broken it. By unearthing it from your grandmother's home—your silent, silent home—you'd put it in the path of being destroyed. And now there was no replacing it because it wasn't the dish that was broken, it was every memory you'd tied to that fragile bit of china.

Utterly careless. When you thought such things of yourself, suddenly your inner voice started to sound like your mother and you felt like a child in their house—not your home, their house—all over again.

And if the mistake itself weren't enough, you were suddenly pointedly reminded of who was in attendance tonight.

"Dear, I really must ask that you reserve your skillset of being completely useless for working hours," Alastor remarked through a mostly stifled chuckle, earning heartier laughter from the men surrounding him who'd hardly given you a glance before you'd made a fool of yourself. "It's Christmas, after all, take a bit of time off."

"Alastor," Rosie admonished him as she bustled over to you and the wreckage at your feet, hands waving fretfully as she deliberated how best to help. "Sweetie, are you—"

"I'm fine," you said, quick and hard, before trying to school your expression and agitatedly swiping a wayward tear from your eye. You'd probably smeared your mascara in the process with your luck tonight. Shaking your head, you said again, "I'm fine. Don't trouble yourself, Rosie."

Rosie frowned, watching you stoop down and start to collect the pieces by hand. "It's no trouble, let me just—"

"I can manage," you said, still feeling Alastor's eyes on you and ignoring him with all your might as you collected the chunks of china from the floor and stacked them into something you could tote back home. Perhaps even fix. It wouldn't be usable again, surely, but at least you'd have it, you supposed.

Maybe if you put it back in the display case and pretended that you'd never broken it—truly the child version of yourself all over again, weren't you—you'd get away with it. But you only had yourself to fool now and there was no feasible way to do that.

It was in that precise moment that you realized finally what had you pining for your "house" over your "home" this time of year every year—you were lonely.

In your revelation and your determined state of clearing the floor of china shards, you'd missed the way Alastor's expression had shifted. His eyes never did, no—unfortunately for him, they rarely did with you.

If he was honest with himself, he'd regretted his comments as soon as he'd noticed the constituents around him laughing, too. It was different when it was just him and you in the studio or perhaps with one or two of your colleagues around to play the audience. Your coworkers knew you—they knew no matter how much grief he gave you that it wasn't anything you did. They knew you well enough to know that you were capable and patient and far better than you had any right to be at a job you'd all but fallen into.

These fools flanking him with dollar signs in their eyes and targets on their backs only he could see (for now) didn't know you. Even if they did, they wouldn't have respected you. So they turned to regard you and saw a silly little woman who'd dropped a dish and looked ready to cry over it and laughed.

Alastor had called you "useless" but he'd been thoughtless. And now you were hurrying so much through the cleanup stage of fixing what you'd broken that you nicked yourself on a sharp edge of china, ignored it, and toted it all away and out of the room while avoiding everyone's eyes.

And Alastor felt guilty. Because, unbelievable as it might be to you or to anyone who'd ever seen you two interact, he had a great deal of respect for you. It infuriated him how true that was because he didn't want it to be the case.

Because it wasn't just respect. He liked you.

And that—given your backgrounds, your age, his other career, and several other aspects of his self that he'd yet to fully understand in correlation to society's expectations—was something he'd found himself unable to tolerate the thought of. It was easier to try to find reasons to dislike you all while making you dislike him in the process.

"Mr. Garland, that was absolutely out of order," his boss's wife, Rosie, approached him to murmur, looking more distressed than angry. "I'm surprised at you! You're usually such a sweet boy—a little sarcastic, sure, but it's a good weapon to have at the ready. What's gotten into ya?"

"Nothing, ma'am," Alastor said, his smile snarling slightly as he heard the faint tone of petulance in his own voice. "Simply a joke that landed wrong. Nothing more."

"You owe her an apology, Alastor," Rosie declared, fixing him with a serious stare. "I mean it. The poor little thing's very shaken up, I don't know if I've ever seen her like this."

Despite all his teasing, poking, and prodding these past six months, Alastor had to admit he hadn't ever seen you like this either. You usually either rolled your eyes—as you'd done earlier, he'd not missed it even though you'd tried to turn away before reacting—had a remark to toss back his way, or just snickered a little, yourself, depending on what he was griping about.

He'd never seen you cry or just clam up and shrink in on yourself. He'd be hard-pressed to ever want to see it again.

As Rosie bustled away to tidy a few decorations that had gone askew throughout the night, Alastor sighed through his nose.

"Bit of a nag, that one," one of the sponsors remarked once she left, making Alastor bristle beneath his suit jacket. But it was via that comment and the way the other graying, self-important men around him began piling on amongst themselves that Alastor found an easy enough way to excuse himself.

Because, unfortunately once again, Rosie was correct. He owed you an apology.

And, damn it all, despite the purpose of his seeking you out, he found himself secretly pleased to be doing so.

After leaving behind the stuffy, string-lit room being used for munching and mingling, Alastor put his hunting skills to the test. A minor test, to be sure, but it gave him an excuse to stretch his legs and busy his mind. He already felt sluggish from the sheer boredom of being beholden to small talk with whoever presented themselves tonight.

At least, with you, he was never bored. It was often a thing attained at your expense, but he could admit—so quietly perhaps the universe would miss it—that even when it wasn't at your expense, you were far from boring to him.

Pretty little darling like you, inheriting your family's old ornate farmhouse and moving yourself out here by your lonesome despite your age (sure, you were in your 20's now, but he'd heard you tell Charlie once that you were 18 when you'd moved here) and despite not having a job or a betrothal lined up?

Whip-smart, progressive, sassy when sufficiently pestered, and still sweet and domestic when it came to the home. Why, you were fascinating.

You were also sitting on the back steps out to the alleyway, he found—it'd taken a bit of a search, but the station wasn't big and there were only so many places to get away from other guests tonight without outright leaving. And he didn't think you'd leave after that, at least not without telling Rosie or someone else you deemed a friend.

That traitorous ache near his heart felt morose at the notion that he would not be someone you'd think to tell you were leaving tonight. But when would he have earned it?

You'd snatched a small first-aid kit from the supply closet adjacent to the back door of the station before making your way out with your coat and the pieces of your grandmother's broken plate and cloche bundled up in your scarf beside you. You'd pulled out a cigarette case from a pocket on the inside lining of your coat, snapped it open, and placed one between your lips, sighing when the shallow cut on your hand smeared a little blood on the end.

You'd abandoned looking for your lighter for just a moment while you fumbled the kit open and cleaned your finger—you were bandaging it when Alastor found you. He lingered in the open doorway, watching you for a moment before announcing himself with a lamely spoken, "I'm afraid you might need to light that to get the full effect."

Why couldn't he just talk to you without talking down to you? You were both wondering that now.

You resumed your search in your coat pockets for your lighter and sarcastically mumbled around the cigarette, "Knew I was forgetting something."

You were playing nice, but there was a hard edge to your voice that spoke volumes more than your words. One of those volumes was an unspoken suggestion for him to go back to the party.

Alastor had never been one to follow instructions well. Particularly the ones left up to his interpretation. So instead of heeding your fair warning, he sighed through his nose and lowered himself to the step to sit beside you. Once he was settled, he rummaged through his own pockets and located his lighter, which he flicked to life and held to the end of your smoke.

You eyed him suspiciously, wondering if a wick could be poisoned and if that poison could be sustained through a flame to an unsuspecting host. Then again, after tonight, perhaps that would be him doing you a favor. You murmured your thanks as he stowed the lighter away again, hesitating before offering him your cigarette case by way of reciprocation.

He waved away your offer. "Kind of you, but I'm afraid that would put me back in your debt," he said, running his long fingers through his fringe as he glanced around the alleyway to avoid your eyes.

Your eyes narrowed, but you blinked them a little wider when a wayward snowflake landed on your lashes. He saw it in his peripheral and thought it was rather cute.

"So lighting my gasper is your definition of evening the score for tonight?" you wondered, tone flat and fatigued.

Alastor had a snappy comeback already on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. Even he knew when it wasn't the time and this was the opposite of "the time."

"No," he said, just the faintest edges of amusement at what he might've said lingering in his Transatlantic accent. If you hadn't known him better, you might've thought he looked sheepish. "I thought an apology would better suit that."

"An apology?" you half-laughed, sucking on your cigarette before noting, "Alastor Garland doesn't do apologies."

Alastor smirked down at his dress shoes, shiny on the dull stone steps you two were seated on. Snow had delicately dusted his hair in just the short time he was outside with you and he looked even dreamier than usual somehow. Ethereal.

You were supposed to be upset with him, remember? You were upset with him. It turned out that being upset with someone didn't always make them less beautiful.

"Not insincere ones," he allowed and, just when you thought that was his exit from the conversation and from whoever had guilt-tripped him or threatened his livelihood to get him to come out here and speak to you, he followed up with, "I'm sorry, darling."

It wasn't the first time he'd "darling"-ed you. If Alastor was anything, he was consistent, and he was always in supply of dears, darlings, and the occasional sweetheart for any lady he found tolerable, which was most of them. Certainly all the ladies that worked at the station. The only exception had been Susan, the receptionist whose spot Charlie had eventually taken, who he'd called an "ornery old bitch" in one particular dust-up you'd unfortunately missed but that still lived and circulated like lore within the station to this day.

All that aside, this "darling" felt a little different. Softer. Why?

Wary of the feelings this was stirring, particularly in your vulnerable emotional state, you murmured a simple, "It's fine," and left it at that.

Alastor wasn't having it though.

"It isn't," he disagreed. "Not really. Don't be so quick to let me off the hook, cher."

Alright, now that one was new. He had your attention—what was his game?

You turned to face him and felt the furrow in your brow deepen alongside your confusion. "…Pardon?" you asked, flabbergasted.

The smile he wore was almost boyish. He tilted his head as he studied you, briefly removing his glasses and cleaning the melted snow away from the lenses before putting them back on. Despite his efforts, they kept either smudging from the snow or fogging up with the heat from his skin.

"I was a complete ass to you back there," Alastor said and you blinked owlishly at hearing him swear. It had no right to be as attractive as it was.

Bewildered, you forgot to check yourself as you mumbled, "…You're always an ass to me."

A bit of shock froze his expression before he burst into laughter beside you, his mirthful cackling bouncing off the alley walls. Your arms brushed, something you understood to be a cardinal sin when it came to him (so much so that it'd been included in your primer when you'd taken on the job of being his assistant), but he leaned into the contact as he fought for composure.

When he finally had a handle on himself again, he grinned down at your chagrin-flushed face and nodded once with satisfaction.

"There you are," he declared as if seeing you for the first time tonight. As if you were comrades-in-arms rather than a famous radio host and the assistant he abhorred. "And you're right. I am. And I shan't be proud of it any longer! I feel positively dreadful after tonight."

"Why did tonight make any difference?" you asked, genuinely wondering.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because those charlatans Franklin's so keen on me impressing don't know their own mouthes from holes in the wall," he remarked after briefly glancing back at the door to ensure you were still alone.

Alastor looked back down at you as he said, "They certainly don't seem to comprehend that a woman's worth just as much as a man."

Your brow pinched. "Few do," you murmured, the simple statement as much of a slight to society as it was an acknowledgment of him being above that. If there was one thing you'd always noted about his jabs, it was that they never came from a place of demeaning what you were. What you did was another story.

"Indeed," Alastor said. "And my mother raised me better than that. I may have had my usual fun needling you at first, but they didn't take it as such—I don't like feeling as though I added to their backwards ways of thinking." His thin smile wavered. "And… Well, I've never seen you upset about something I've said. Have you just been adept at hiding it?"

You'd tended to your cigarette while he spoke and, halfway through the stick, ashed it out on the step and replaced it tidily in your case.

As you worked, you said, "No. I'm… The holidays are tough."

The admission felt strange to say aloud, much stranger to say aloud to Alastor.

"And things wear a person down over time. So perhaps it was that, perhaps it was all this," you gestured vaguely to the electric light strings and garlands lining the building, "and it was also that the dish I broke was my grandma's. It was all of it."

"It was an accident, no? I'm sure she won't be upset," he suggested, keen enough to lift your spirits somewhat that he'd forgotten the tidbit about you he knew regarding your inherited home.

"I know she won't be, she's been dead for years," you quipped, watching the fog of your breath bend and then fade in the night air. Sniffling a bit from the cold, you murmured, "Sorry, that was uncalled for. And not as funny as it was in my head."

Alastor chuckled. "No need to apologize, dear. It was morbidly funny, but I couldn't speak for having my entire foot in my mouth," he bantered back, mollified when he saw the corner of your mouth curl upward just the tiniest bit. "Still. You needn't be so hard on yourself. It's… Well, it's a dish."

"I know," you murmured, glancing down at your bundled scarf with the china remnants inside. "Straw that broke the camel's back, I suppose."

"I'm afraid I missed out on your little cider cake creation," Alastor said. "The entire thing was gone before I blinked."

A tiny swell of pride lanced through your hollow chest. "You're not one for sweets," you pointed out. "I don't know that you would've liked it much."

"Hardly the point," he said.

You glanced back at him. "Then what is the point, Alastor?"

He shrugged, suddenly boyish again at just his name on your lips. "That you went to all the trouble of making it," he replied. He cleared his throat a little and said, "And it looked rather good."

Was he flirting with you? Or just buttering you up to get through the rest of the party only to start back from Square One come Monday?

"It does go well with a black coffee," you allowed, resting your chin on your hand and studying him, looking for answers he wasn't openly giving yet.

"A-ha!" Alastor huffed, giving a theatrical sigh as he said, "I knew there was something for me there. Alas, now I'll never know."

"Bit dramatic," you murmured. "It's a Christmas Eve tradition. There's always next year."

Carefully, he asked, "You think you might still be at the station then?"

"Do you intend to fire me?" you asked rather than answer.

Something about that struck him as funny, but he didn't elaborate. "Couldn't even if I wanted to, cher," he informed you. "Even if I could, no. I wouldn't."

Finally, you asked the question that'd been nagging at you from your very first day on the job. A question that was made even more imperative by your exchange tonight. If anything, his explanations had muddied already-muddy waters and you needed some clarity if this was to continue.

"Then why are you so mean to me, Alastor?" you finally asked. Before he could take the easy way out, you added, "Not right now, obviously. But up until now. Why? Do you hate me or something? And why are you being nice to me now?"

His smile had grown threadbare, but it clung on for dear life. "Any other questions before I get a word in edgewise?" he snarked.

"No, that's all. Go ahead," you snarked back in kind.

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes before he turned away, staring at the opposite wall as he answered. "Because I desire to ruin our working relationship, dear," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "And not in the way you might think. Not in the way I'd prefer."

"What on earth does that mean?" you asked, already exasperated.

"Let me finish," he murmured, tapping the tip of your frozen nose with his index finger. You sat in silence as he took stock of his words and then started up again with renewed purpose. "I don't want to like you. You're young, occasionally quite bratty perhaps due to your age, and you waltzed into a job you are objectively not qualified for.

"You are also learning it at pace when I've given you no room to slow down. You've handled yourself with grace in every crisis I've seen you endure and you've shown compassion for others even when stretched to your limit. Myself included. All without sacrificing your own well-being in the process. It's a difficult balancing act that you do strikingly well."

What was happening?

Alastor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses back into place as he continued. "You are clever, persistent, hardworking, and kind," he listed off, making eye contact with you again as he emphatically added, "and not useless."

"I don't understand," you admitted, an unspoken apology in your tone for what you saw as perhaps being a bit obtuse. He could hardly blame you for not following the wild chase he was taking you both on though. That he'd been taking you both on for months now.

"Darling, the only thing I don't like about you," Alastor finally said, "is how much I do like you."

You were floored. It was the goddamned schoolyard run-around all over again. Maybe if he'd pushed you into a snowdrift and run away giggling instead, you would've caught on sooner. Honestly, that didn't feel far off from something he'd do on a whim.

"When you…say 'like'," you murmured, wary of him bursting into another round of laughter at the sheer implausible scenario you were soon to present about this being a confession rather than a truce. "Do you mean—?"

Alastor gave you a rueful, embarrassed smile as he flicked snow off his sleeves. "I said I desired to ruin our working relationship," he reminded you and you felt the heat of a blush creeping up your neck. "And not in the way you might think—that being that I want you to hate me or I want to hate you, and so on. That would also be the way that I'd prefer wanting to ruin things between us. That I've tried to."

"…But?" you prompted him when he didn't immediately continue.

Whatever this was, it was taking it out of him to put it into words. He stifled a groan and rolled his eyes to the clouded night sky as he murmured, "This isn't what you might've thought. It's not what I would have preferred. So yes. I do mean."

"Oh," you replied, barely a whisper. You didn't think you could be more shocked. You were, yet again apparently, wrong.

"Do with it what you will," Alastor said to the night—certainly not to you, he could hardly look at you. "I apologize if this is untoward or if this causes you any measure of discomfort. Rest assured that I'm well aware that my behavior has been such to have not earned me any sort of good grace with you. I admit, I…am not versed in these things and, as such, handled it poorly."

You frowned, fiddling with your cigarette case. "Listen, Alastor, I'm not—"

"It was selfish of me even to mention it, I think," he said. "What a cliché this is, ha-ha! An older superior—a man no less—having an eye for his young assistant. It's innately a power imbalance, a vintage bit of nonsense. Rest assured, this little folly of mine will have no effect on your career, I can—"

"Let me finish," you asserted as he had earlier and he looked at you, surprised enough to fall silent and give you the floor. "First of all, phrased like that, it sounds every bit as scandalous as you think and that doesn't make it any less interesting."

You were gratified when he blushed bright red, his flush exacerbated by the cold. You couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up, but you schooled your expression quickly enough.

"Second, as antagonistic as you've been these past months, I'm afraid I like you, too," you admitted, finding it came more easily now that he'd said his part. Well, several parts. With how his eyes rounded, it appeared to be his turn to be shocked. "Don't ask me why. At least not based on our interactions. When you've not spoken to me, you've seemed perfectly agreeable and there's a lot to like about you.

"You're smart. You're an ace for banter, you just often use it for evil. You're strikingly handsome and you run one hell of a show. And just from your quick mention of her earlier, you seem to think a great deal of your mother." You smiled. "You're progressive, too. Even when you've descended upon my worth as your assistant, you've never demeaned me as a person. It's a strange standard to draw, but it's one I might've clung to a few times when I really did think you hated me."

"I admit, I did try to," Alastor sighed, finally taking you in again. His honey-brown gaze languidly traveled over yours, over your face, and then over the snowflakes clinging to your hair and coat. You were a vision he was finally allowing himself to appreciate, somehow not too late. "You make it exceedingly difficult."

"Thanks?" you replied, your uncertain tone causing you both to dissolve into a quiet round of shivery laughter. "Okay, I'm about to freeze to death. Back inside?"

"Back inside," Alastor agreed, his own Louisianan composition not cut out for these rare freezes he'd only seen one or two of before in his New Orleans lifetime. "Tom said earlier that the snow was supposed to stop around seven tonight."

"Well, Tom's keeping up his streak of being categorically incorrect then," you grumbled as you shook off the snow you'd accumulated on your person, plucked up the scarf-wrapped china pieces, and walked under Alastor's arm through the door back into the station.

He was chuckling at your remark about Tom as he followed you in and shut the door, checking that it locked before you both hung your coats back up. Alastor lingered while you found a place to stow your scarf bundle, watching you with elation flowing like post-hunt adrenaline through his veins.

This was warmer and more inviting though—he felt invincible after tonight, even knowing that he'd hardly broached the subject of his fascination with you. He warred with himself to not write off the victory but to also not let it cloud his judgment. He had a lot of making-up left to do.

That lasted all of five seconds before he spotted a new opportunity and he was surprised at the relief he felt over trying these sorts of things before he held any real interest in someone else. Things he previously despised ever having done at all were proving to be, curiously, worth something now if it meant it might all end with you.

Alastor cleared his throat behind you and you stopped in the doorway to the hall that would lead you both back to the party, your freezing hands mid-smooth over the skirt of your dress. Your instinct was to wonder what you did wrong despite the at-length conversation you'd just had about how so much of what he'd found "wrong" with you had been a ruse.

When you remembered that conversation and took in the pleased smile on his face, you were at a loss again.

"Yes?" you prompted him.

A little shiver ran through you at the realization that you were standing in a dimly lit hallway with a man. This man. He'd hardly ruin just your working relationship—he'd ruin you if you weren't careful.

The thought wasn't as unwelcome as you might've hoped.

"If the idea isn't one you are necessarily opposed to," Alastor suggested, his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile familiarly mischievous yet unfamiliarly warm. You were still getting used to that part. "Perhaps I might ask you officially—would you allow me to court you?"

Heat flooded your cheeks anew and you didn't have the cold air to fall back on this time as an excuse. You swallowed, feeling embarrassed at the sheer schoolgirlish amount of butterflies his question stirred to life in you, but had the wherewithal to nod at least. Some paranoid part of your brain that had learned not to trust Alastor's intentions at face value wondered if this was some elaborate multi-stage insult, too, that had yet to deliver its punchline.

"Lovely," he murmured, pure pleasure in your answer lacing the low husk of his voice as he continued to encroach on your space. You didn't realize just how close he'd gotten until your back pressed against the doorframe and he loomed over you, handsome even in shadow. Especially in shadow.

"This isn't an elaborate prank, is it?" you asked, feeling a little sick at the thought. Not only for how embarrassed you'd be for falling for it, but for the disappointment it would cause you, too.

You'd known this whole time that you'd liked him well past what you knew was smart, but you'd never known just how much until the possibility of him and of you and him was right at your fingertips. Envisioning the other possibility that you'd made a fool of yourself only to have him rip the rug out from under you—no, not just a rug, the ground itself—felt like the worst sort of afterthought.

"Heavens, no!" Alastor chuckled, leaning his forearm against the doorframe above your head. As he leaned down, nearly nose-to-nose with you, he added, "You have walked us both into a bit of a trap, however."

You blinked, eyes wide with alarm and confusion. "A trap?" you repeated. "I don't—"

Oh, but then you did. All it took was one pointed flick of his molten gaze upward for you to follow it and realize that you two were situated beneath a sprig of mistletoe someone—Rosie probably—had incorporated into the garlands lining the jamb, laced in with larger evergreen branches, pinecones, and holly berries.

You couldn't remember if that sprig had been part of the arrangement before you'd stepped outside, but it was certainly there now and the only thing more expectant than that traditional little Christmas plant was the radio star—your radio star now—leaning over you and waiting to see what you'd do.

Alastor shrugged, playing off the situation he'd drawn attention to despite the bit of nervousness beginning to drum up in his belly now that you'd caught on.

"I've simply made our little predicament more proper by asking for exclusivity," he pointed out, carrying on with his bit while relishing how your blush deepened with rivaling desire and undue shame. "You can thank me at any—"

Two could play at his game and he had never had the full upper hand, even before. You were always surprising him with your banter, your reactions, and your moxie. So you surprised him now, too, by leaning in first and pressing a careful first kiss to his speech-parted lips.

His brain positively scrambled the second your warm, soft lips touched his. Whatever teasing he'd been prepared to lead with into this precise exchange became positively moot.

He'd not been accustomed to the feelings he'd had for you before your heart-to-heart in the alley, but he certainly wasn't accustomed to these either. Less so.

And yet…

You'd just started to find time and headspace to start panicking at his lack of response when Alastor got his bearings and his warm hands found your still-chilled skin, sending a shiver through your frame. The sensation teased a threshold between the lingering cold from the snowscape you'd left outside and a blooming warmth that seemed to originate from Alastor's deft, elegant fingers tracing patterns along the velvet of your dress and your jawline.

His hand poised against your cheek tilted your head back and what were you to do but acquiesce? A gasp escaped you as his other hand cleverly found and toyed with the zipper on the back of your dress and he used the opportunity he'd elicited from you to lick into your mouth. You could feel his smirk as he kissed you deeper, self-satisfied in his usual way and yet so unlike himself in every other.

You finally found room to breathe when he moved down to your neck and the rush of oxygen to your brain reminded you what exactly you were doing and where.

"Alastor," you hissed, squeaking as the sound of his name just seemed to encourage him further and his hard body pressed more snugly to yours. "We can't do this here!"

"Mm, we seem to be doing just fine, no?" he whispered, his lips brushing over the pulse point in your neck as he continued pressing leisurely kisses to your throat. Tempted as something deeply primal in him was to leave marks, he refrained from doing so—he didn't want to embarrass you, after all. That respect came into play here, too.

"We won't be if someone comes back here and—cut it out," you mumbled, wriggling and only managing to make you both less inclined to pause your backroom activities.

Still, Alastor did stop and drew back a little to check on you, a cute tilt to his head that put his glasses a couple of centimeters too far down his nose.

You couldn't help but smile a little as you took in his blush and fixed his glasses for him. "You don't think I'm easy, do you?" you asked with a sigh, reaching up and gently fixing his hair, too.

Alastor looked alarmed by the question, but simultaneously melted into your hands—something you'd thought impossible for the usually touch-averse radio host and something even he was surprised he felt the urge to do. Especially considering how you two had started the night and your six-months-long working relationship. He'd thought for sure that this would be something confined to his more intrusive dreams or thoughts—instead it was simply better.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he murmured, seeming immediately aggrieved that he might've caused you to think that. "My apologies, I'm… I'm not accustomed to these sorts of indulgences. Or at least not being particularly fond of them. I suppose I lost myself a little."

You gave him a reassuring smile and leaned in to press one more chaste kiss against his lips—a compromise. "You don't need to be sorry, Al. I just… I don't know, I'm just still shocked you even like me, I guess, much less like me."

He sure looked like he liked you though. His honey eyes were tender as they took you in, a look you'd never seen in them before.

The corresponding smile that found his lips nearly took your breath away. "Then it sounds like I have some makeup work to do," he suggested, disentangling from you and kissing your hands before beginning to straighten up your appearance the way you'd done for him.

Your cheeks flushed hot, but you let him, appreciating him looking out for you (especially since he'd caused most of the damage). "That sounds ominous," you posited.

Alastor chuckled and gave you a mischievous wink before nodding for you to walk with him back out to the party. "Good."

The entire night left you in a daze. Between the stress of being around work colleagues in a non-work affair yet knowing whatever you did that night would still follow you into work the next week, breaking your grandmother's china, the embarrassment that followed, and then everything that happened with Alastor from being openly mocked to having a quick makeout under some mistletoe…

…well, you were exhausted. Exhausted enough to get through the rest of the party—separately from Alastor as you'd both decided to leave any announcement of your change in status for next week unless it came up sooner—and then head home and collapse into your bed, still fully dressed.

It was only on waking that you realized a couple of things from the night before.

The first of which was to remember the second half of the "Everything with Alastor" portion of the night and wonder if it all really happened. If it had all been a dream—and, admittedly, it wouldn't have been the first time you'd dreamt of him—it had been unbelievably vivid. Maybe there was something in the party punch.

The second thing you noticed was that you'd been so out of sorts by the end of the office soiree that you'd completely bypassed your scarf-bundled china wreckage when you'd gone to get your coat. So that was something you'd have to remember to collect from the back on Monday.

After settling in with a cup of coffee at your breakfast bar and easing slowly into the start of your weekend, you admittedly felt a little trepidation at what you'd finally concluded were the actual happenings of the night before with Alastor. He had apologized for his actions, he had admitted he actually liked you for all the reasons you'd thought he hated you, he had admitted to really liking you, and he had kissed you under a bit of mistletoe. Or rather, you'd kissed him and then he'd proceeded to really kiss you.

What if he regretted it? What if he'd woken up this morning and thought back and realized it'd all been a bit of a spur-of-the-moment fancy or some holiday impulsivity or the effect of some spiked punch like you'd earlier entertained the possibility of ingesting? What if you walked in Monday and he called it all off? Or worse, what if it really had been a joke and it was just a more strung-out joke than you'd originally fretted it might be?

You sighed, your breath stirring the steam wafting from your aromatic morning brew just before you took a deep sip.

What if, what if, what if. If he regretted it or thought it'd been good for a laugh or simply (more likely) played it off as either of those just because it was new and scary and maybe not something he wanted to commit to…despite not only kissing you but asking to court you, too…then there was nothing you could do about that. It was as much his decision as it was yours and you spent the off-and-on moments through the rest of your weekend in which you obsessed mulled over your memories of the Christmas party reciting that truth to yourself.

It was all a long game of prepping yourself for his eventual task of backpedaling to, in the best-case scenario, let you down easy in an attempt to make things go back to normal. Because there wasn't really, to your impending disappointment, a universe in which you could imagine Alastor not wanting out of this new dynamic of yours for any number of varying reasons that popped unbidden into your head.

The bouquet you'd find sitting prettily beside the meticulously repaired china set on your desk the following Monday morning would indicate otherwise.

[beyondthegate]

Nice to see Elsa taking charge of the situation in her own way. Also can't believe we're almost at the end!