#this post is talking about how they leap between trees

[ingravinoveritas]

I've been asked to write a post about Georgia's newest Insta stories, all of which (including the text title cards) are in the video above. I'm between events here at the conference, so I will try to get my thoughts down as succinctly as possible.

What seems to have happened is that Georgia dared David to climb a tree, and what we see in the video then ensued. I think what stood out to me most about this is the way David and Georgia are speaking to each other, which seems very different to how we've seen them speak to each other before. In this video, David seemed to really push back in response to Georgia, particularly when she was using her "mom" voice and talking to him like a child as she entreated him to get down from the tree:

"Get down." "You started it, Georgia." "I'm stopping it. Get down." "Oh no you're not. You don't get to do that to me."

I couldn't help but contrast this in my mind with the video Georgia filmed of David at Morrison's last year. How visibly uncomfortable he looked throughout, but despite that, kept on going and didn't say anything or ask her to stop. To go from that to, "You don't get to do that to me" seems like a major leap, and possibly another indication that the dynamic between them has shifted.

It was also interesting to see the difference as she continually pleaded for him to get down, and him seemingly...not believing her? The "Is this not a ploy?" was an interesting comment, as if he's become so used to being a gimmick, to being content for her, that he is now doubting her sincerity. It was hard not to get the feeling that Georgia was panicking less about him possibly falling out of the tree, and more about David not immediately doing exactly what she told him to.

This is not me saying that she wasn't truly worried about him getting hurt, of course, but when you take David's comment into consideration along with the second title card, it just seems disconcerting:

...I had to read this twice to really make sure I read it correctly. And again, this feels like it reinforces what we saw above, with Georgia not being able to handle David pushing back: The idea that she would be (and is) more concerned about her own image and her coming across as unappealing than anything else.

Which we again saw with the last title card and the ending of the story being that "the wife was listened to. All was right with the world." That was apparently the victory here more than anything else, at least for Georgia. And she is very good at not making this the most visible thing on the surface, but once you really think about what she is saying (he's 53 years old and embarrassing and has delusions of grandure grandeur), it starts to become a lot more apparent.

So those are my thoughts on the video. I could be wrong about all of the above, but this was what I took from it. I'm glad it all turned out well, though, and to see how proud David seemed of himself once he did get down from the tree (and him wearing that adorable stripey sweater again). Happy to hear from folks in the comments as well with your thoughts...

[xxnashiraxx]

WIP Wednesday - Kinktober Teaser (2)

I don't want to reveal this prompt yet because I'm still working out the kinks (haha I'm so funny), but it may be giving itself away here a little bit. Or it could still be mysterious!

I am hoping to post it this weekend, maybe Sunday in lieu of a WSTFMD chapter since the release schedule changed. It all depends on how I feel after I get back home from visiting relatives (and if I actually finish by then)! But the good news is I have 2,500+ words so far and I've barely even scratched the surface of the smut, so there's that to look forward to if you so choose. 💕

Enjoy! (subject to chaaange minorly)

“Astarion… what happened? Are you okay?” She asks, watching his head cock to the side as he listens to her. Her worry blossoms into unease as he remains silent, taking one careful step toward her. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck raise in response, but she holds her ground, careful to keep him cradled in her gaze as she notices two other large masses of fur behind the one he’d been hovering over. God, he’d taken down more than one? Her heart aches for him and as she refocuses on him she notices he’s covered the gap about five feet, so close she can see the stillness of his chest and the light wounds over his skin more clearly. “Please talk to me-” He snarls and she clamps her mouth shut, eyes widening. It’s too late to get away. He’s too close- too fast. He’ll be on her in a moment, and for some reason, he isn’t recognizing her. There’s an animalistic gleam to his eyes- sharp and keen as a predator tracking its prey. She feels her throat close and her pulse speed up frantically, watching in horror as he scents the air and gnashes his teeth. Shit. She turns on her heel despite every hiking guide she’s ever read telling her to always back away slowly- they always say that, what is she thinking? “Okay- I’m sorry! But can you please snap out of it? I can’t run faster than you!” She shouts over her shoulder, cursing her stupid sandals as they obstruct her leaps and bounds. She tears off in the direction of camp she has a vague recollection of, though truth be told, she’s too turned around and shaken by her lover’s strange shift in behavior to recall which way she’d come from. She can hear him behind, footfalls light but deafening in the quiet of the trees. She heaves for breath, lungs burning, terror closing around her rapidly beating heart. He’s so close that she can smell the blood in the air and the scent of his perfume, beckoning to her. She chances a glance, instantly regretting it when she trips over a tree root and falls flat on her stomach into the damp soil and leaves. “Ah!” She cries when he overtakes her, chest pressed against her back and hands closing like a vice over her arms as he holds her down. It hurts, especially the way his knees pinch her waist and her wrist bones grind together, gasping for air under the weight of him. Her cheek is barely cushioned by her hair and she looks up at him, eyes wide as his eerie, vacant red orbs spear through her. His lips part to reveal his fangs, the pair at the bottom elongated to match and shining in the dim light from above as his blood-stained tongue flashes over them. She’s never felt so afraid- every nerve ending wired and circulating adrenaline at the speed of light. “Astarion, please,” She pleads, whimpering when he tightens his grip on her arms. He lowers his face until she can feel his frigid breath against her neck, moist and fanning over her ear and upper back. He growls, low and gravelly, before opening his jaw wide. “No!” She shuts her eyes, bracing for the killing bite, but it doesn’t come. His lips find the mark he’d left her with earlier in the night, mouthing at it as a soft whine leaves his throat. He’s�� never made that sound before… She shivers when his fangs press over the indents and his hands start to unclench, body slipping over hers until one knee presses between her thighs and nudges them open. Oh.

If you guys have anything you'd like to share! 💕 I crave your writing!

@khywren @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @kalmiaphlox @justabiteofspite @elinorbard @preciouslittlebhaalbae @roguishcat @pinkberrytea

[in1-nutshell]

Can i also request a Tigatron adopting a sparkling, just like The ones with the pther beast wars characters.

Meant to post this yesterday for Father's day, but forgot.

Happy late Father's Day!

Hope you enjoy!

Tigatron finding an abandoned sparkling

SFW, Familial, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

BW

Sparkling is a leopard

Tigatron was out in the forest scouting around when he noticed a pod nestled between a couple of fallen tree trunks.

He carefully approaches it before it pops open.

Tigatron pulls out his blaster and aims it at the pod.

“Are you Maximal or Predacon?”--Tigatron

There is some rustling from inside the pod.

“Show yourself!”--Tigatron

Bits of chirping are heard.

Tigatron lowers his weapon confused.

A pair of small servos grip the rim of the pod.

A sparkling’s helm pops out and tilts it looking at the Maximal.

“… This is an interesting turn of events.”--Tigatron

And that’s how Tigatron ended up returning to the base with a sparkling in his arms.

The sparkling met by a group of surprised Maximals.

While Tigatron tries to explain what happened, Dinobot tries to take the sparkling, but the sparkling proves to have trouble letting go of him.

Even going as far as squeal and chirp in frustration as the former Predacon tries to pry them from Tigatron.

Rattrap laughs at Dinobots failed attempts and boastfully attempts to get the sparkling.

“Alrighty kiddo, come to Uncle Rattrap.”--Rattrap

The sparkling further digs their digits into Tigatron’s plating.

“Okay, that time actually hurt a bit.”--Tigatron

“C’mon you little—”--Rattrap

“Let me try!”--Cheetor

Rattrap and Dinobot huffs at this.

“If we were not able to do it, what makes you think—”--Dinobot

“Hey there, you wanna let go of big cat and we’ll go have some fun, how does that sound?”--Cheetor

The sparkling chirps happily and leaps at Cheetor, unintentionally transforming into their alt mode.

“…”--Everyone

“… So, it’s a cat thing then.”--Rattrap

After a bit of talking with Optimus, Tigatron agrees to take up the role as the sparklings caretaker.

Not that he was against it anyways.

Finally, someone he could teach about peace and nature!

The sparkling had taken a liking to walking around in their alt mode just like him.

No, he is not purring.

He wanted to bring the sparkling with him on his patrols, but everyone was against that.

As much as it bothered the Maximal in the beginning, especially with being more confided to the base, he was later thankful for that.

Originally, Tigatron tries to raise the sparkling alone… that was until it happened.

Tigatron coming in Airazor.

“Airazor! Airazor this is Tigatron!”--Tigatron

“Tigatron? Tigatron what happened?!”--Airazor

“I took the sparkling out for one of my patrols.”--Airazor

“Tigatron, you know what Optimus said. No more patrolling with the sparkling around.”--Airazor

“Yes, I know! Long story short, I put them down for a moment to investigate an unfamiliar noise, came back and now they are gone!”--Tigatron

“The kids gone!”--Rattrap

“Rattrap what are you doing on this line?”--Tigatron

“What happened to my sibling!?”—Cheetor

“This is a private line!”—Tigatron

“This is the babysitter’s line now Big Cat.”--Cheetor

“They’ve gone missing near Tigatron’s patrol route.”--Airazor

“I’m close by! I’ll go check!”--Cheetor

Its all servos on deck trying to find the sparkling.

Tigatron is slowly losing it as the minutes go by.

The Maximals were not used to seeing Tigatron not as composed as other times.

After hours of searching, Rhinox finds them in the ship under some monitors taking a nap.

Tigatron doesn’t leave the base for a while after that incident and becomes much more open to having the rest of the team help in raising and babysitting his sparkling.

Airazor, Cheetor and Rattrap are the sparklings favorite babysitters.

Tigatron really doesn’t know what to make of that.

He knows that they would never let anything happen to his sparkling… but there have been certain… peculiar situations when all three of them babysit together.

He honestly thought that by putting Airazor with the two would neutralize any tomfoolery.

… Apparently, he was wrong…

Tigatron returning from patrol.

“Rattrap, where is my sparkling?”--Tigatron

“Well, hello to you too.”--Rattrap

Tigatron sighs tiredly.

“Hello Rattrap. Where is my sparkling?”--Tigatron

“Oh yeah, I gave ‘em to Cheetor for a bit. Trying ta tire ‘em out so they can finally take that nap.”--Rattrap

“Oh? And where are they?”--Tigatron

THUD!

Tigatron and Rattrap jump hearing the noise and look at the window.

Cheetor was caring the laughing sparkling in one servo while holding onto Airazor.

Cheetor chuckles nervously.

“Hey Big Cat…”--Cheetor

Airazor gives him a nervous smile as she slightly struggles to keep them all afloat.

“…”--Everyone

Dinobot and Blackarachnia say they don’t like the sparkling.

Yet they often pet the sparkling wherever they are around.

They say its nothing, yet they have been caught making baby noises to the sparkling.

Optimus, Rhinox and Silverbolt are the backup babysitters in case Cheetor, Rattrap or Airazor can’t babysit them.

[outofconcheol]

Exit West (LMH x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+ summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: mentions blood and injuries, food scarcity

word count: 580 for the teaser, anticipated 3k-4k for fic

a/n: happy valentines day, i'm here to break your heart! this was just an idea I had after I finished Sweet Home 2 (let's not talk about it ok). i'm not sure when this will be out, but i am trying to work on it every day so pls look forward to it (and let me know if you want to be tagged)!

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. 

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it. 

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means that it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him.  Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow.

The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

a/n pt 2: i hope you’re as excited as I am! i don't really have an anticipated release date for this, but it's just something i'm working on for fun!

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Every Rose Has Its Sword

Author: wylf_storm

Artist: whichstiel

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, mentioned Sam/Eileen, implied Michael/Adam

Length: 45000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Temporary Imprisonment, Kidnapping,

Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Fae & Fairies, Mentions of Myth and Folklore, Inspired by Tam Lin, Human Castiel, Fey Dean Winchester, Shapeshifting, Bottom Dean Winchester, Swords, Witch Rowena MacLeod

Posting Date: October 29, 2024

Summary: Tired of living in the shadow of an old family misfortune, when Castiel Novak inherits an ancient plot of land in Scotland from his uncle, he leaps at the chance to move as far away from his past as possible. The place is charming, even if it has quirks, but best of all, nobody knows anything about him. It’s... mostly perfect. The only snag is the patch of woods on the land and the strange way nobody will talk about them. When spite leads Castiel into the Aikenwood despite being warned away from it, the very last thing he expects to find there is a knight named Dean in a grove full of roses. He’s handsome even if he’s also irritating, and despite himself, Cas is oddly charmed by Dean and the rose he receives from him. He finds himself drawn back to the wood again and again, but there are stranger powers at work than just a knight. A little digging reveals that most who enter the Aikenwood don’t come out again, Cas isn’t the only visitor to the bower, and Dean isn’t all he appears to be. With their lives and feelings tangling like vines, Castiel soon finds his past catching up and must do everything he can to save Dean from an impossible fate at the hands of a familiar face. But the truth has both roses and thorns, and Cas isn’t sure which he’s going to find if he succeeds…

Excerpt: One rose caught his eye – full bodied where the others were single blooms, a darker shade of ruby where the others were simply red. He moved towards it, fascinated by its daring to be different from every other bloom. It was soft to the touch. Castiel fumbled for his pocket knife while following its thornless stem with one hand and, leaving ample room for him to hold on to, carefully cut it free from the main stem. It came away cleanly and he bent his head down to see if it had a scent.  “Do you always cut flowers without permission or is this a special case?”  Castiel was so startled he dropped the rose. He fumbled to catch it but there was nothing there; just a faint roaring sound like a strong wind through the trees. He turned towards the voice.  A man in a white shirt with laces at the neck stood a short distance away, looking pointedly between the rose he was holding and Castiel. How the man had appeared without him noticing Castiel had little clue, but it was no doubt thanks to his attention being focused on the rose while the moss muffled the man’s approach. He didn’t recall noticing the man catch the rose before it touched the ground, either, but he wasn’t entirely sure that could be attributed to the moss. The man must have taken advantage of Castiel’s surprise to move. His arms were folded across his chest in a disapproving gesture, but his face showed only mild amusement and no trace of anger. From the way it made the hunter green of his eyes glitter, Castiel couldn’t help but think that amusement suited him very well.  “Not only stealing my flowers, but trespassing and disrespecting my property too?” The man said, stepping closer. If he’d held his hand out Castiel could have taken the rose right from him. “That’s three strikes against you already. Gotta be some kind of record, don’t you think?” He unfolded his arms and spun the rose slowly between his fingertips. “Truth be told, thief, I’ve never met someone brave enough to stick around after committing their crime.” The man cocked his head slightly to one side and the smile that had been playing around the corners of his mouth decided to make itself known. He tutted. “No… brave isn’t the right word. I think stupid is more fitting.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[readychilledwine]

Eris Week Day Four Hounds | Autumn Equinox

Unconditional

Prompt - Do Eris hounds like someone else more than him? How does Eris feel about this? Has Eris ever given one of his hounds as a gift to someone within the court?

Warnings - swearing and unedited

A/N - happy day four of @erisweek2023 my loves. It is a double post day! I personally believe Lucien has a deeper connection to nature and animals, so when I saw this idea, it immediately put this in my head.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Lucien dropped his bags and weapons, holding his arms out as three smoke hounds ran to him. Their whip-like tails were moving with blinding speed as the fastest of the three reached him and leaped into his arms, knocking him over.

Rhysand laughed nervously and backed away slowly. Lucien was chuckling as the three hounds licked him and laid on him, waiting for their master. They were whining if Lucien stopped scratching them, or stopped kissing them, or stopped talking to them in the soft baby voice he was using.

A deep chuckle came from the tree next to Rhysand. Eris was leaned against it, his arms crossed along his chest. "Rhysand."

"Eris," the High Lord said calmly. "How are you?"

"Annoyed my hounds ARE NOT DOING THEIR JOB." The three hounds snapped their heads towards Eris and Lucien's auburn brows went up. "Stop it. You all are hunters, not pets." The hounds ignored him, going back to kissing and receiving love from their uncle. "No no it's fine," Eris muttered. "I just feed you. Bathe you. Groom you. Ignore me though. It's fine." Eris straightened his jacket before inclining his head to Rhysand. "Welcome to my cabin. Please, come inside. How are you? Did you two winnow or fly?"

Rhysand followed him. "Things are well, we winnowed." He was blind sided as another smoke hound rushed to him, weaving herself around his legs before sitting prettily in front of him with her nose raised, waiting for a pat. "Well, hello, little darling." Eris could sense Rhysand's nerves.

His hounds were deadly. There was no other way to put it. To the outside world, they appeared to be ruthless hunters and trackers, willing to tear anyone and anything apart. In the safety of his cabin, though, they were his children. They took turns laying in bed with Eris. They were pampered and spoiled little things with an endless supply of love, toys, and treats.

"Luna, go lay back down. Leave him alone," a soft wine was the only response to Eris as the beautiful girl nudged Rhysand's hand. "Mother fuck me. Do you all not want to listen to me today?" Loud whines were his answer, causing the heir to roll his eyes. Rhysand watched as Eris opened the doorway to the cabin, and the remaining hounds ran to Lucien, reknocking the heir to the Day Court down with loud yelps and laughter following.

Another soft nudge came at his hand, and Rhysand finally caved, staring into the smoke hounds soft grey eyes as he gently scratched behind her ears. Her eyes shut in bliss as she leaned further into Rhysand's touch. He found himself kneeling down, getting closer to her, and raising his other hand to scratch the other ear as well.

"They are quite soft and lovely." Rhysand admitted, his heart tightening as Luna whimpered softly in joy, "This one especially."

"That one is my baby. She sleeps with me every night. She is a spoiled girl. Rarely leaves the cabin unless it's with me, which is fine she breeds wonderful pups. All of her litters are filled with hunters and protectors."

Rhysand smiled at Eris. "They are good companions?" Eris nodded. "Nyx would like them. He has been very forward about us getting him a pet soon. Azriel's shadows are no longer cutting it."

Eris nodded again, a small smile on his face as a puppy appeared behind him and looked between him and Rhysand before laying at his feet. Luna was instantly at the little hounds side, licking him gently before laying with him. "Good morning, little one," Eris bent down to the pup, patting his head lightly and putting a treat from his pocket. "I will keep that in mind for a solstice present. I may have a runt who would love a new home and his own little one to protect. He just needs a little more training."

Rhys was stunned, looking between Eris and the pup, "I could not accept that, Eris. It's too generous."

Lucien had finally entered the cabin, all the hounds in tow. "You really should, Rhys. There would be no better pet nor protector for Nyx. I have a good feeling about that little guy." The pup seemed to know they were discussing him, raising himself up, sitting down politely, and lifting his little head in pride.

Rhysand's felt his heart swelling again at the gentleness Eris was cooing the little hound with. It was the same gentleness he cooed Nyx with, the same gentleness he treated Cassian and Nesta's daughter with, and the same gentleness Rhysand had begun to see in Eris more and more as his walls went down. Eris scratched below the pup's chin, "Me too." He paused, looking at Rhys. "I think maybe we allow them to meet, and then we can decide?"

Rhysand nodded, holding his hand out to the pup and watching as he laid his snoot into his palm. "I can agree to that."

[prolix-yuy]

A Bearable Weight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Summary: New Years Eve is the holiday of new beginnings, and you take a leap to see if Javi might be one of them.

Word Count: 3k

Story Warnings: T, plenty of sweetness, more ridiculousness because I can't help myself, some lightly spicy kisses. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Notes: I had to get these two to New Years. They were just too cute to leave hanging. I hope each and every one of you reading this waves goodbye to anything that made your 2022 difficult and enters 2023 with open arms and excitement. Now let's see where the new year takes Javi and Conejita!

Cross-posted on AO3

The restaurant is smaller than you thought it might be, unassuming in a strip of businesses. The sign for it is understated, white lettering on a black rectangle with a thin gold border - Aperitif. You’ve been studying the sign, and the door below it, for well over ten minutes, the chill night air creeping up your bare legs. The new dress you bought for the occasion - black, tasteful but a little sexy, an amount you’re comfortable with - weaves around your knees when a breeze makes you shiver. You look down at your heels again, still torn between whether the glittery gold is too loud for your personality or loving that they make you feel festive. Your hair is styled, your makeup is perfect, everything is ready for you to go inside.

And you’re still rooted on the damn spot.

Javi texted you a few times since the first voice message. Every new phone alert made your heart jump, evolving to a flutter when it actually was from him. He sent you photos of his friends’ Christmas tree, their dog plopping her head in his lap, the snow outside a fogged up window. He also asked you things about yourself, some that you expected and others that made you stop and smile. 

What food will you eat if you’re having a bad day?

Best movies adapted from books?

Did your sister like the message?

Your sister did indeed, and after catching you grinning at your phone several times throughout the long weekend finally made you confess how you got it. Her elation over the serendipitous meeting was only eclipsed by your hesitation over seeing Javi again.

“Are you serious right now? Cute, funny, probably loaded, a dork, sweet, and definitely into you? I will drive you there and drop your ass on the sidewalk if you don’t do it yourself.”

So you accepted the invitation, which was accompanied by a string of excited texts filled with details and one that made you tingle from head to toe.

Thank you for accepting. I hope you will consider what I asked you in my first message. But only if you’re comfortable. I really like talking to you, no matter what.

A beat, then…

If you’d like to be mine, this year.

You did. Holy hell, you did. But you were also a classically trained overthinker, and the days leading up to New Years Eve were spent Googling and riding the rollercoaster of excitement and dread. The Gutierrez family had an online presence, and not all of it was good. Luckily it seemed like Javi wasn’t in the crosshairs, but the more you learned the more convinced you became that this was going to be a shitshow. Wealthy, influential, a lover of the arts and gorgeous in every photo you find, your hopes got buried a little deeper with each word.

He told you it was going to be a party, nothing large, but the idea of being in your department store dress among the elite of society made you want to cancel. Go out for coffee instead. Let yourself down gently when you realize how different your worlds are.

But then you find a voicemail - a missed call from Javi:

“Hi conejita, I hope all the texts have not been too much. I realize that you barely know me, and I am maybe moving a little too fast. I get…ah, well, I get excited. You have made me very excited, and I want to be, you know, ‘cool’ about it, but I am not so great at that. Anyways, I am…hah, yeah, excited to see you tomorrow. It will be a lot of fun. And, um…we don’t…I only want what you want, conejita. So let’s just…see where the night takes us. I know what I feel, but I…I only want you to…to know…agh! I am messing this all up. Sorry, this message is so long now. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m…I’m really happy to see you tomorrow. Okay, bye.”

What’s the harm, you thought after listening to the message three times. If it’s terrible you never have to see him again.

Another breeze ripples over your skin, finally making you move towards the door.

And if it’s amazing?

You smile to yourself and enter the warmth of the restaurant.

Aperitif looked small from the exterior, and the interior is about what you expected. It could maybe seat 30 fully booked, but the dining room has been cleared out in favor of buffet servers against the walls, the ivory bar lined with champagne glasses and eager bartenders shaking cocktails. The handful of people chatting inside don’t look like heiresses or oil barons. Your shoulders relax a fraction.

“Name?” the man at the door asks, a short list in his hand. You give yours and are ushered in, a drink immediately put in your hand and a string of metallic gold beads tossed over your head by a waitress.

“Happy New Year!” she says, taking your coat. You slip into the crowd looking for the only person you came here for - Javi. But his caramel curls and exuberant laugh haven’t reached you yet.

“I love what they’ve done with the decorations!” a cheery voice exclaims over your shoulder. You look around, then up to see a delicate web of black and gold streamers holding balloons precariously above you. One single streamer hangs to the floor behind the bar, which an olive-skinned hand points to. “I think at midnight they pull that.” You turn to see the woman speaking to you, and she’s...normal-looking. Peppy brunette with a sharply cut bob, sparkling brown eyes, and a glittery top with black slacks. Maybe you had nothing to worry about.

“That’s fun, I haven’t been out on New Years in ages,” you say, taking a sip of champagne. The bubbles tickle your tongue pleasantly. It’s good, much better than any champagne you’ve had at parties.

“Oh then you’ve come to the perfect place! Who invited you?” she asks, finishing off her glass and placing it on a waiter’s tray as it floats by. 

“Javi,” you say, a little shyly. He mentioned that he was hosting it, but you had no clue who the other guests were. How long could you keep up the facade?

“Of course! How do you know him? I’m a long-lost cousin myself, been out of the loop for a while, but it’s nice to see him again.” She waits expectantly, and if you didn’t feel like throwing up before you definitely do now.

“Uhhh, we met…on a flight…” you start to say, working through how the hell you were going to explain the circumstances of your meeting to a stranger, when her eyes light up.

“Oh my GOD, it’s you!” she gasps, grabbing on to both your shoulders. “Javi told me about the girl on the plane on his way here. That story, the way he tells it, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. And you’re here! Now! I have to find him, he’ll be so excited!” She squeezes your shoulders again with a little squeal before darting through the crowd, a nervous giggle smothered in your hand.

He told people about you. 

He told people about you in a way that made him sound happy.

You could burst, the light inside you is so expansive. 

You’re about to follow when a large palm circles your bicep, turning you gently around in the crowd.

“You came.”

Javi says it like a prayer, like he believed but never thought a miracle would grace him. His curls are swept back from his face in tantalizing waves. He’s in a gray blazer, a navy button-up with some abstract patterning hanging onto his broad chest for dear life. The top three buttons already gave up the fight, chest dewy with the humidity in the room. But it’s his face that melts your anxieties away. His eyes drape warmth over you, fondness in their depths that he only hinted at in his messages. His soft smile lashes your heart into a gallop, breaking into one of your own.

“Of course. How could I miss it?” you say, winking when his grin widens. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, hand spreading across your lower back. 

“I am so happy to see you, conejita,” he whispers, raising goosebumps along the nape of your neck. 

Oh, you’re in it deep now.

As the night continues more people file in, filling the small space with chattering conversation. You find the bubbly brunette again, who introduces herself as Julia, and get to talking about houseplant care and aggravations. She’s unpretentious, passionate, and makes you feel like you belong. Honestly, most of the people do. As the night wears on and you shake more hands and spark more conversations, it dawns on you why these people are all together tonight. This is Javi’s circle, people who understand him and bring him joy.

Bashful happiness that you might bring him joy settles in your chest.

Javi scoops you up every few minutes, guiding you to new groups or asking you if you’ve tried something. The upscale pigs in a blanket are your personal favorite, snagging a whole tray for yourself when a waiter walks by. You’re almost embarrassed, but Javi’s crinkled smile as he tries to steal one and gets his hand slapped is worth it.

A murmuring begins by the entrance, a flocking to the door. Javi comes to your elbow, leaning on one foot and placing his warm hand on your lower back. He’s been doing it to you all night, every time you stand beside him, but it’s never less thrilling.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, your third glass of champagne fizzing delightfully under your skin. He catches someone’s eye in the crowd, gesturing them over.

“Just a good friend who came to visit.”

You almost choke on your sip of bubbles.

“Nicolas. Fucking. Cage,” you scoff to Javi under your breath as the man himself emerges out of the crowd. He’s bee-lining your way but stops to shake hands and engage in polite conversation. His emerald velvet jacket contrasts the burgundy button-up underneath nicely, but the faded Dad jeans and white tennis shoes clash adorably with the ensemble. “You could have warned me!”

“Your reaction was well worth your annoyance,” Javi placates, pressing you forward as the crowd falls back.

“How are you doing Nic? How’s the family?” Javi asks, pulling the famous actor in for a hug. They give brief updates, you standing back a step awkwardly. Debating on slipping away, Javi introduces you to Nic and pulls you back into the conversation.

“The girl on the plane,” Nic says, and if you ever thought his speaking affect was fake you’re certain now it’s genuine. He takes your hand in both of his, shaking it earnestly. “I heard your sister is a big fan. I hope she liked the message, I know it was a little rushed but, last minute on the holidays, you know…” You shake your head, fighting back your sister’s scream in the back of your mind.

“She was over the moon. Thank you again for doing that, it was very kind of you,” you say, trading a secret smirk with Javi. It’s a harmless lie, but the fact that he’s perpetuating it makes you even giddier.

“Well next time you’re at one of Javi’s parties you should bring her. I love meeting fans,” Nic says, giving you a pat on the shoulder and peeling off to get himself a drink. Javi slides back to your side, the laughter you’d been suppressing squeaking out of the corners of your mouth.

“Clara’s gonna die. I’ll have to lie to her to get her in the same room as Nic,” you sputter, leaning into Javi’s side as he puts an arm around your shoulders. Frenetic energy dissipating, you savor the solid breadth of his chest, that delicious citrus bite of his scent. He holds you there, and after a moment his cheek presses against the side of your head. He inhales, your face burning when you realize he’s smelling you. 

“That’s it, you’re a wizard or something. No one can grant as many wishes as you,” you tease, twisting to look into Javi’s face. The crows feet and wrinkles smooth as he looks at you, eyes darting from your own to your lips and back again. “Thank you,” you finally say, letting him slide his arm down to pull you into his chest.

“It is I who should be thanking you, conejita. I’ve been living a full life, a better life in recent times, but it feels that much brighter when you’re close to me.” His touch is hesitant when his fingers graze your jaw, his hold loosening on your back. It’s all broadcasting only what you want. He would chase you if you let him, though if you stepped away now he’d let you. But in those touches are the longing to be more than acquaintances. And in this room you thought you’d never belong in, you feel safe, and seen.

Over the chatter and laughter swirling past, you talk. About Javi’s life, and your own. Your work and what you love to do. His love of movies, your love of old houses and national parks. Your mutual dislike of overused CGI elements and predictable jumpscares. He strokes your back, your arm, as you speak, sometimes needing to break away to say hello or answer a question, but unfailingly coming back to you. 

As the final minutes near, you voice the question burning in the back of your mind.

“Javi, you’re so…” you gesture at this posh, gorgeous man standing beside you. “You’re so far out of my league I can’t even see you. And I know I’m a catch,” you interject, gesturing at yourself now with amusement. “I’m a snack, I’m a whole meal, I don’t deny it. But I’m more like…Applebees than Wolfgang Puck.” You wave your hands, banishing the jumble away. “I guess I just don’t understand why…me. Here. Tonight.”

Javi’s brow furrows, his mouth tightening into a pout as he casts his gaze down. Waiting is torture, needing to know if this is just a little thank-you or something more. 

“One minute!” someone shouts, the excitement in the room ratcheting up another series of degrees as everyone gathers in the center of the restaurant. Javi leads you to the middle, the throng of people parting enough to give you some space inside it. Once your feet stop, he sweeps you into another embrace, this one firmer. His eyes roam your face, searching for something before he speaks. 

“As much as I love the old movies, I do not believe in love at first sight. I believe in attraction, and common interests, and support. I believe in two people finding each other in the most unusual way and taking it as a sign. And when the universe gives you another chance and it only makes you want that person more, well…” Javi trails off, one hand coming up to curl around your head, his thumb stroking the hinge of your parted jaw. Your eyes must be hopeful because he barrels on.

“Well, I am not one to overlook lightning striking twice. And you are…you are not an…apple bee?” he asks, confusion twisting the words. You shake your head and pat his chest.

“It’s a, like, chain restaurant. Sorry, doesn’t make a lot of sense if you haven’t heard of it,” you murmur, stroking a finger along his lapel. 

“But that’s just it, because I don’t agree with that. You are so much more than I wished. I feel like…not like a puzzle, but like…two rivers meeting. Both strong on their own, but together, mingled, are in harmony.”

“Okay everyone, get ready, on ten!”

“Javi, what are you…”

“Nine!”

“I want more of this, conejita. I want more of you. If you’ll have me too.”

“Eight!”

“I…do, but I just…it…it feels so…complicated.”

“Seven!”

“We do not need all of the answers now. Just one.”

“Six!”

“Which one is that?”

“Five!”

“Will you let me kiss you tomorrow?”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

“Yes, Javi.”

The restaurant erupts in cheers of “Happy New Year!” as people hug and kiss and celebrate. One of the waiters pulls the crepe paper cord and balloons tumble from the ceiling, packets of foil confetti dumping and exploding over the crowd. If you were paying attention you’d laugh, reach your hands up to the ceiling and try to catch handfuls of the glittering shower, but you’re preoccupied with Javi’s gentle smile before he pulls your lips to his.

If this kiss was a precursor to how your next year would go, magical might be a good descriptor. Or explosive. Swoon-worthy maybe. But perfect might be the best. Javi’s first chaste press is followed by deeper kisses, his full lips covering your own with quiet little pants. When he pulls back enough to see your kiss-drunk face his whole demeanor lights up, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you through the crowd.

Once tucked away on a bench in the back of the restaurant, he proceeds to kiss you with more fervor, tongue slipping against yours tentatively. He only interrupts the worshipful makeout with touches to your face like he still can’t believe you’re here. Covering his hands with your own, you tilt your head to one side.

“I feel like this is going to be a very good year.”

Javi’s sweet smile turns just a fraction devilish, and your heart flutters with it.

“Better than I could have wished for."

END

Part 3: A Gift of Light and Joy

[eris-snow]

𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, fluff, bakugou's birthday series 2023

This is a filler chapter that happens right before the events of ✨When you read each other's minds, which will come out on 16 April. It was supposed to be this chapter, but I'm scraping this idea and rewriting it. Sorry for the late post!

"I still can't believe it! That was so cute!" Mina squealed.

"Bakugou, you asshole." Mineta groans, face as perverse as always.

"Are you guys dating?" Shoto piped up tactlessly.

Who knew the class could be so fucking loud. Bakugou should have known better than to fall asleep though.

He swallows thickly, glaring angrily at his bedroom door and silently debating if he should open it or not. Today wasn't a school day. There wasn't a need for him to go outside and didn't want a repeat of yesterday.

He should have known better than to just...fall asleep there.

And even with the hastily efficient explanation you gave yesterday while you gripped his hand tightly in panic, Bakugou knew that the extras just took it as some sick love story.

Mina was gushing about it in the living room last night, and that was all he needed to hear before he jammed the button for the elevator doors to close so hard he thought he broke it.

He wishes he did.

Bakugou spends about 5 more minutes in his room before he caves, slamming his balcony door open.

Fresh air. That would help.

With his luck and skill of jumping off balconies, it was enough to sneak out of the dorm buildings to train in solitude at Gym Gamma.

He glances down, half expecting to see you eating a sandwich or training like the hardworking angel you are, but the green patch is vacant.

Looks like even you were avoiding him.

With a disappointed sigh, he sucks it up and leaps off the terrace.

-

What the hell.

Bakugou's gaze is scorching when you turn around to meet his eyes.

"What-" Bakugou swallows thickly, plucking a cherry blossom out of his hair. "What are you doing here?"

You frown, eyebrows furrowing. "Training...?"

"What about that green patch surrounded by all those goddamn trees? I've never seen you train here before." He counters, crossing the threshold into the gym.

Curse him and his keen observation skills. You want to run away from him, from your feelings, but it almost seemed that this blond boom boom man just had to be wrapped up in everything you did.

"I wanted to try something new." You reply, folding your arms. "You?"

"Just wanted to get away from the extras." He mutters. Wanted to get away from you, he wants to say, but omits that part out.

Cold silence fills the gym as you both avert your eyes from each other, not knowing how to break through the chasm of awkwardness that separates the both of you.

Bakugou finally salvages the situation. "Spar?"

You gulp, meeting his gaze "Sure."

--

A matchmaker. A person who arranges or initiates romantic relationships between others.

Denki thinks he's a matchmaker. Sure, he doesn't know the specifics, but he knows he fulfilled at least one of those qualities.

For however dumb everyone tells him he is (especially Bakugou), it was finally his turn to call out on the Great Murder Explosion Lord Dynamight about how hopelessly hilarious it was watching you two dance around each other like in a fictional story.

Denki doesn't know when it happened, but you two had somehow sneaked out of the dorms without anyone knowing, and had come back soaked in sweat.

Not just that, Denki can see your face lighting up as bright as the sun, smiling cheerily as you talk to Bakugou animately about something he can't hear.

Bakugou chuckles-let Denki repeat that again, chuckles-at you, wearing a soft smile as you push the door to the dorms open.

Kirishima and Sero whip their heads to the direction of the both of you the second you hear that raspy laugh, watching both of you disappear into the kitchen for what Denki presumes are fruits.

"When did Blasty even leave?" He gapes, blinking at Kirishima. "You didn't know? Bakugou gets out of his room by jumping out his window half the time. I've seen him do it once before to hang out with Y/n."

Denki blinks, stupified.

Just what did he start?

[inspofromancientworld]

Archaeological Dating

Babylonian “Astronomical Diary“ mentioning a lunar eclipse on 13 Ulūlū in the 5th year of Darius III [20 September 331 BCE], ten days before the battle of Gaugamela (British Museum, London; tablet BM 36390)

This post won't talk about relationships among archaeologists, but rather how they figure out when things happened. There are several methods they use, as well as dating systems. We'll go through them from the most recent to the farthest back.

With the advent of writing, people began recording things based on the reign of the current monarch and the calendar they used. Most calendars were lunisolar, combining the lunar month with an added month in irregular years to keep the various holidays in the appointed season. That these cultures were in contact with each other, through war and diplomacy, gives us an interlaced system of knowing when these reigns were. This allows us to figure out when things happened that were recorded that include a reference to the current monarch.

By Ángel M. Felicísimo from Mérida, España - Retrato de Julio César, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=91281949

It wasn't until the Julian calendar was implemented in 46 BCE that a definitive calendar that had a 'leap day' every four years and was 365 day year. That Rome came to control a large portion of the old world and traded with the far East, this calendar was helpful in calibrating other calendars to one we have a definitive date on. However the solar year is 11 minutes less than 365.25 days, leaving the calendar to drift one day off 1 day every 400 years. The Gregorian (our current) calendar corrects for this by skipping the leap day every century not divisible evenly by 4 (for example, 1700, 1800, and 1900 did not have leap days, but 2000 did). This lead to 'skipping' eight days in 1582, when it was initially decreed by Pop Gregory (making the 4th of October the 15th). This calendar was not accepted widely, some countries not adopting it until 1923 and some countries still using their own calendars along within their borders.

From the hoard known as the “Bodmer Papyri,” consisting of nine Greek papyrus scrolls, 22 papyrus codices and seven vellum codices in Greek and Coptic.

Other ways we figure out when things were written is the material it was written on and which writing system. Clay tablets, leather scrolls, papyrus codices (books) all give us clues as to a rough time period when a document was written when they're not dated. How letters are formed in particular writing systems also give us a clue to when things were written, for example, paleo-Hebrew resembled Phoenician until about 400 BCE, when the letters became less prong-shaped and more square.

The growth rings of a tree cut horizontally to the ground can be used to date the tree and wooden objects made from it. Ollikainen / iStock / Getty Images

Before writing, we have a few other ways of figuring out when things happened. One of those is carbon 14 dating. Carbon 14 is a type of carbon that has extra neutrons and gradually loses them and becomes carbon 12 (the 'normal' carbon) at a predictable rate. Carbon 14 is produced by an interaction between the solar winds and our atmosphere, similar to how the auroras are produced, so the rate it's produced is a bit variable, but we have found ways to recreate the 'wiggles' (actual scientific term) of its production. Tree rings let us know how much carbon 14 is in the atmosphere in a given year, letting us figure out these wiggles for 12594 years ago. All living things take in Carbon 14 by the act of breathing and eating other things that breathed. This intake stops when they die. Ice cores also give us a rough level of carbon 14, as well. Carbon 14 lets us date things to about 52800 years before the present, though prior to 13000 years ago, it's difficult to give a more exact level of carbon 14 in the atmosphere, which lets us know how much carbon 14 a living creature would take in. For water-dwelling creatures, which take in dissolved carbon 14, we don't have a solid record, so dates for them are approximated.

The right images shows fluorite glowing after being heated on a hotplate. Mauswiesel / CC BY-SA 3.0 / Wikimedia Commons

For things that can't be dated with radiocarbon dating but have been heated (like pottery), thermoluminesence is a method that can be used to date them. When certain minerals are exposed to the sun, they gather that energy into their crystal matrix. When they're heated (like firing pottery), they lose all this energy. With thermoluminesence, these items are exposed to heat (between 400-500°C), we can measure how much energy is given off and compare that to minerals that have never been heated. We can also tell when these these minerals last were in the sun (such as the interior blocks of walls and buildings that haven't been destroyed [think insides of the pyramids, for example]).

Curator Geoffrey Hargreaves inspects core samples from the Greenland ice sheet. They are stored in a freezer at -33F. The cores are vital to understanding changes in atmospheric carbon levels in the past. Roger Ressmeyer/Corbis/VCG / Getty Images

Other methods we have of dating things is figuring out what layers things are in. This gets complicated because things might have been buried in deeper layers, but we can get a rough date for things left in these layers. Decorations on pottery and how it's made also help us figure out when things were made as different civilizations made their pottery differently and decorated it though there were trade networks from very early in history.

When writing dates, archaeologists use a few systems, depending on what they're dating and where they're writing for. BCE and CE refer to 'before the common era' and 'common era', which is an attempt to be more culturally inclusive than BC and AD, even though they're calibrated to the same change over year. BP is 'before present', which is complicated as the present year changes every year. RCYBP and calBP refer to radiocarbon year before present, though the later refers to the calibrated (accounting for wiggles) date. TLYBP refer to dates calculated by thermoluminesence.

Resources:

What Does cal BP Mean? Accounting for Atmospheric Wiggles in Radiocarbon Dating

BP: How Do Archaeologists Count Backward Into the Past? What Do Archaeologists Mean by BP, and Why Do They Do That?

Introduction to dating documents

How Is the Age of an Ancient Manuscript Determined?

[splashspeck]

Clan Kingdoms - Discussions on Kin

A sweet drabble I've been sitting on and debating posting for a bit, SilverFire and Bluestar and Fireheart bonding.

Fireheart fought not to shake at the sensation of the honeyflower and oak leaves woven into his pelt, knowing that if Bluestar found out he pulled the irritating leaves from his fur before he left his meeting she’d lecture him about presentation of Leaderkin… again. He’d had enough lectures in recent days. At least the lavender he held carefully in his jaws, plucked from the edge of Windclan territory to the amusement of the observing patrol on the moor, a smiling Deadfoot giving him a knowing smirk. Flanking him as he trotted towards the Sunningrocks were Runningwind and Mousefur, the twins bickering good naturedly in a way that soothed most of his anxiety about meeting the Riverclan patrol that was no doubt awaiting them.

It had been longer since he and Silverstream had met properly, only encountering one another at the Gathering before Fireheart left to return Windclan to their territory, and having only long enough to talk briefly. Between Windclan and the newly arrived Cloudkit, Fireheart had nearly forgotten to prepare for their next planned meeting. With the quarter moon hanging high in the sky, the light was somewhat dim as he reached the edge of the trees, leaping down to the riverbank and smiling around his bundle as he spotted Silverstream laughing happily with her own escort. Heavystep and Loudbelly were grinning, likely at some joke Heavystep had told, lightening the mood immediately with a cheerful call to Runningwind and Mousefur. The twin warriors joined the other chaperones eagerly, and Fireheart met Silverstream’s warm smile with a purr as he leapt up atop the smooth stone next to her, gently placing the sprig of lavender at her paws.

“A gift, to apologize for missing our last meeting.” He mewed, smiling nervously up at the bigger molly, and earning a happy purr as she bunted her cheek against his.

“No apologies needed. We are warriors of our clans before we are Betrothed, Fireheart, I understand when duty gets in the way. I will accept the gift, however, it smells lovely! What does it mean?” Fireheart felt that warmth in his belly spread across his pelt as he settled next to Silverstream, watching her gently inspect the lavender sprig.

“If I remember my lessons, Lavender is a symbol of devotion. It can also mean distrust in the wrong circumstances, but I hope you know that’s not the intent.”

“I’ve no reason to distrust you and endeavor to not give you reason to distrust me.” She purred, only to falter when his face fell. “Fireheart?”

“Sorry, it’s been an interesting quarter moon.” He meowed, unsure how to broach the subject of his accidental adoption.

“Does it have to do with why you smell like the nursery?” Her eyes were guarded, and tail slowly swaying in a way that made him a bit nervous.

“Yes, though not in the way you may suspect. I’ve… taken in a kit, kin of my kin.” Blue eyes blinked, surprise and confusion blossoming.

“... you never told me about any kin.” She settled to lay down, tucking his gift close to her and giving him a nervous smile. “Tell me?” And Fireheart remembered why he’d admired the silver tabby so much since they met. Silverstream was bold and brash, but her kindness and understanding towards him as he learned two different cultures had been more welcoming than he’d ever expected. He settled at her side, cautiously draping his tail across her hind legs and responding in kind when she started to purr softly at the gesture.

“I wasn’t a one-kit litter, and one of my littermates lives in a twoleg nest not far from our territories.” He meowed, fidgeting with one of the oak leaves stuck to his fur with sap. “Her name is Princess. We aren’t particularly close, but she’s the only one of my birth-kin that I even know at this point.”

“The only one?” Silverstream mewed, brows drawing in. “Not even your mother?”

“Ah, kittypet’s are… different about birth-kin.” He felt his tail lash a bit in embarrassment and quickly tried to move on. “Anyways, she recently had a litter, and we were talking about how the clans feel so much stronger about family. She’d never leave her housefolk-” Silverstream opened her mouth to question and he smiled. “What kittypets call Twolegs. But… I think she wishes she could have that. So… she gave me one of her kits. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and made me take him home to Bluestar.” Silverstream’s surprise had bloomed into warm affection.

“Will you let me meet him? When he’s older?”

��Of course, he’s to be your kin as well as mine.” Fireheart purred, bunting his head into her chin with a louder purr. “I just didn’t want you to think ill of me, bringing another kittypet into the clans-”

“He’s your kin Fireheart. If anything I think better of you, offering your sister’s kit a chance at a life in the clan.” Fireheart noted, and couldn’t quite put into words the appreciation, that she didn’t call it a “better” life. “... tell me about your birth-kin?”

“I shouldn’t-”

“Why not?” Silverstream raised her head to eye him, eyes narrowed. Fireheart lowered his own, trying to look up at her.

“Some cats may see it as… corrupting you with kittypet ways of life. Cats… didn’t react well to me telling my denmates about my family when I first joined the clan. Especially since kittypets are so different.”

“How so?” Fireheart glanced towards their chaperones, anxiously wondering if they were listening. “Fireheart.” Silverstream’s tone was gentler, and he met her eyes. “If you aren’t comfortable I understand, I just want to know more about the cat I’m to be with for the rest of our lives.”

“... Kittypets don’t value birth-kin the same way clan cats do. Most cats don’t actually get to stay with their birth-kin very long, so it doesn’t make sense to be close.” He meowed, watching Silverstream settle back and watch him. “I never met my sire, Jake was just the tom Nutmeg happened to have kits with, and he didn’t even live nearby to her nest. Nutmeg told us he was always more ‘wild’ than your average kittpet, wandered further.”

“Some kittypets are like that, some of our warriors and Mudfur will trade items and herbs with a few wanderers.” Silverstream commented, and Fireheart smiled at the image. “Was Nutmeg your kin?”

“My mother. She didn’t really call herself our mother often though. Kittypet queens don’t get to keep their kits usually, so getting close just… doesn’t make sense.”

“They don’t even visit?”

“Queens don’t know where their litter will end up. Princess and I being near one another is quite rare. I haven’t heard anything about Nutmeg or my other three littermates since my old housefolk took me in… so you can imagine the culture shock when I joined Thunderclan.” He huffed, smiling nervously up at her. Silverstream was silent for a bit, then sighed.

“I can kind of understand that. I can’t even remember my mother. She and my littermates died before I even opened my eyes.” She looked towards their chaperones. “Dad was… mourning heavily, most of my kithood. Uncle Oakheart and my cousins made it easier, but I felt like I was the clan’s kit more than Dad’s for a long time.” Fireheart frowned, Crookedstar had seemed so close to his daughter. “It got better pretty quickly once Dad started actually talking to people again outside of duty. Now he’s my best friend, but… sometimes I wonder what life would be like if Mom had made it.”

“... I’ve never called anyone Mom. I don’t know if I’m actually allowed to call Bluestar that. I know she’s technically my mother now but… it’s just for succession.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Silverstream meowed, looking thoughtful. “She seems to be really fond of you. My cousins had my mother’s sister for a foster mother and she looks at them the same way, they’ve called her Mom as long as I’ve been alive, if not longer.” She was quiet a moment, but her tail twitched as she thought, and Fireheart waited quietly, watching the beautiful molly ponder something. “Clan cats may value birth-kin a lot, but chosen family isn’t something to dismiss. Graypool chose her kits, but they’re her kits just as her birth-kits were. Bluestar chose you, and I would wager she feels just as strongly towards you as she does her own birth-kin.”

“She’s rather unhappy with me at the moment.” He chuffed, amused and embarrassed. “She thought I was bringing home a bastard kit. Fresh out of the apprentice’s den and already souring Thunderstar’s line.” Silverstream laughed loudly at that, earning the attention of their chaperones, and Fireheart saw the warm way Loudbelly’s eyes softened at the sight. “Now, MIstyfoot’s kits, are they as cute as you expected them to be?”

The two of them lazed on their stone, purring happily and trading tales of kin and kits, until Loudbelly and Mousefur called the meeting to an end. Silverstream nosed Fireheart’s cheek, picking up the spring of lavender he’d gifted her and trotting after the two older toms, chirruping and purring fondly with them. Mousefur and Runningwind would tease him the entire way back, though the twins were kind enough to help free him from the adornments in his fur before he slipped into the nursery. Brindleface greeted him with exasperated bemusement, playfully nosing Cloudkit from her nest and sending the little white fluffball to his uncle. As the two settled in the nest he’d been allowed to make in the nursery, the white tomkit climbed atop his uncle and sprawled along his back. He was softly snoring in moments, and Fireheart was well on his way to following him.

The soft rustle of ferns at the entrance pulled him back from the edge of sleep, eyes opening slowly at the warm purring murmurs from Brindleface to the approaching cat. Turning carefully to the entrance Fireheart smiled when he met Bluestar’s eyes, the leader’s expression fond and bemused at the kit softly snoring on his back.

“Kits always find the oddest places to sleep.” She mewed, soft to not wake the three kits snoozing. Brindleface had settled back into her own nest, tail wrapped tight around her two remaining kits. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, Silverstream wasn’t offended at my missing our last, blessedly.” He mewed, lifting his head, careful to not shift his shoulders too much and wake Cloudkit.

“Good, I hear from Runningwind you gave her a gift?”

“Willowpelt said Riverclanners appreciate gifts, so I gave her a sprig of lavender.” Bluestar smiled, purring softly and lapping at his head. “She seemed to like it, brought it home with her.”

“A good choice, a show of your devotion to her. Hold still, you still have sap in your fur.”

“Don’t wake Cloudkit, please, he just fell asleep.” He pleaded, earning a purr. They sat quietly for a bit as Bluestar settled and groomed his pelt. “I told Silverstream about him.” He blurted it out, fighting to keep his fur flat and the tension out of his muscles when he felt Bluestar stop.

“... and?”

“She’d like to meet him. Wanted to know more about his mother, my family. I told her a bit, that kittypet kin is different than clan kin-”

“Fireheart-”

“She asked, Bluestar, said she wants to know her future mate… He turned and met her eyes. “She told me about her mother, that she lost her young, that she can understand.” Bluestar frowned, but sighed and returned to grooming him.

“Crookedstar and his kin have suffered much loss.”

“It’s good she had her uncle, aunt and cousins.” Fireheart agreed, feeling the tension ebb a little. “It’s something I’m a bit jealous of, admittedly, clanborn cats have extended families. Have… families.”

“... Fireheart, you have a family here.” Bluestar meowed, firm but not unkind. “My kin is your kin, and they will consider you as such. Whitestorm is your cousin, whether by blood or not, and he will look out for you and care for you because you are my son and our kin.” Fireheart sat silent for a moment, processing the warm feeling blooming in his chest, then leaned towards Bluestar and bunted his head under her chin with a purr, earning a shocked one in response.

“Thanks Mom.” Bluestar’s purr hiccuped a moment before renewing stronger and pulling him a little closer.

“You are my son, Fireheart. No matter what, we are kin.”

[iviarellereads]

The Shadow Rising, Chapter 24 - Rhuidean

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Dice icon) In which yes, that's another reference that barely gets touched on.

PERSPECTIVE: Mat feels like a cooked sausage, he hardly even has water to sweat anymore. He wonders how the fog here doesn't burn off.(1) He swears he saw Avi, but Rand doesn't believe him, and didn't see her himself.(2)

Mat and Rand ask each other if they'll go back, but both have to go forward. Mat thinks how he's going to have to get through that redstone doorframe again and give those snake folk a talking to. They walk into the fog, which seems Power-fed somehow, eating all sound and sight. On the other side, a city, smaller than Caemlyn or Tear, full of abandoned construction.

Rand says they were told not to bring any water, but the Wise Ones said nothing about what's already here. Rand channels water out of a fountain, for them to drink and soak in to cool off. Mat wonders how mad Rand is already.

Rand leads them to the center of the city, Mat just a little suspicious of all the empty windows and the empty buildings behind them. When they reach the great plaza, they see a huge tree, a hundred feet tall or more, and concentric rings of clear glass columns, nearly as tall as the tree. Each street Mat can see points to the columned rings, but in the spaces between the rings stand statues Mat doesn't know what to make of.

Rand almost stops to touch two figurines, a man and a woman carved holding crystals aloft,(3) but straightens and continues forward. He recognizes the tree as Avendesora, THE tree of life.(4) Mat leans up against the tree and feels content, peaceful. Rand feels it too, and says he can believe the stories of Ghoetam sitting beneath the Tree for forty years to gain wisdom.(5)

Rand says he has to go into the crystal rings alone. Mat decides to flip a coin for it: flame he goes in with Rand, head he stays out. The coin lands on its edge long enough for Mat to ask if Rand has any control over this nonsense, then falls with the head facing.(6) Mat suspects Rand channeled air to knock it over, and tells Rand to get on with it, Mat won't wait all night.

Mat mutters to himself about how if Rand's not out in an hour he's going back, but he stops dead when he sees another redstone doorframe. It looks identical, only he notices lines of triangles, points down, and he's not sure the other frame had those, but he wasn't looking at the details.(7)

He's given Rand an hour. Maybe he can take that hour and give the snake people their what-for. What difference can one more time touching ter'angreal make for him?(8)

He steps through, and finds himself in an entirely different place than before, but the guide who greets him says much the same, that it's been a very long time since they had a guest. He's taller than an Aiel, with skin as white as the finest paper, too-large eyes, reddish-pale hair, and pointed ears. Mat gets the impression of a fox about to leap.

He asks the same questions, about iron, instruments, or devices to make light. Mat confirms he carries none, and wonders if he's speaking the Old Tongue again. He asks to be taken to where he can get questions answered or he'll leave, but the foxy man gets agitated. No, Mat must not go, but he can bring Mat to where he can get what he needs. The man grins at Mat, and Mat decides he's never giving up all his daggers again, not for anything.

Instead of all curves, everything is many-sided shapes here. There's a long journey through corridors. On the way, he thinks the fox man's leather might be human skin, and there's a growing smell that he realizes, as they come to this version of the pedestal room, is an animal's lair.

Many people appear on the eight pedestals here as Mat is turning around to examine the room, and tell him to speak his need. Mat asks who the Daughter of the Nine Moons is, and they don't respond. He gets angry, saying he has no intention of marrying or dying. He walks around with holes in his memory, and if he had his way, he'd want them filled, but answers to his questions might--

Done, one of the men growls.(9) Mat wonders what the hell is done, and says they're as bad as Aes Sedai. He wants a way to be free of Aes Sedai and the Power, and away from them and back at Rhuidean.(10) Another man says done, echoed by a woman. Mat scans the wall, but seeing no door, he asks what is done and starts calling them names.

“Fool,” a woman said in a whispered growl, and others repeated it. Fool. Fool. Fool. “Wise to ask leavetaking, when you set no price, no terms.” “Yet fool not to first agree on price.” “We will set the price.” They spoke so quickly he could not tell which said what. “What was asked will be given.” “The price will be paid.” “Burn you,” he shouted, “what are you talking—” Utter darkness closed around him. There was something around his throat. He could not breathe. Air. He could not. . . .(11)

=====

(1) Bud, you live in a world with actual magic you've witnessed. (2) Do you get the feeling that happens to Mat a lot? (3) Hey remember those statues? The big one in Cairhien and the other one at Tremalking? Remember the broken thing Egg touched in TAR in Tanchico that also looked like one of those? I'm sure these little things, sitting intact and preserved, have absolutely nothing to do with those, right? Jeez, it's enough to make you wonder what else is just kicking around there. (4) Surely THE tree of life couldn't have just been here without anyone knowing for who knows how long, right? (5) Yeah, along with Queen Liz and Anne Landers and all that, we get a reference to the Buddha. (6) Funny how this goes right along with the probability vortex of the Dreamer Wise Ones and their visions. The Pattern works in mysterious ways. (7) It did, points up. Snakes, their tails up. Foxes, their noses down. (8) This is where we throw our heads back and laugh. Ready? (9) And yet he still fails to realize that these are not the same people with the same rules he dealt with before. He wants his memory filled, he doesn't specify how or with what. (10) Free of the Aes Sedai and the Power, and back at Rhuidean. Two requests, fulfilled. How fortunate that he asked for a way home, huh? Though he didn't specify what condition he'd get back in. (11) Hey so about all that "die and live again" stuff the snakes told him… (What, you don't think he'd be permagone already, with prophecy still hanging unfulfilled over him? Who's gonna marry the Daughter of the Nine Moons? Who's gonna trade half the light of the world away? Who, if not Mat Cauthon?)

[lumiereandcogsworth]

What are your headcanons for Belle and Adam’s engagement? How and where did he propose? :)

oooh yes yes !! i talked way too much so i’m putting it under the cut to spare people the scrolling lmao

so i’ve actually posted two (2) proposal fics since i’ve been on ao3 lol. the first one was maybe 3 years ago, and THIS one is already a year and a half old ! ah! anyway i think about their engagement every now and then and i melt into a puddle. i love how i wrote the more recent one though i think it’s quite fitting.

without spoiling too much, he proposes to her on the roof of the castle. he’s SO nervous and he still doesn’t feel completely worthy of her, but he just loves her so much he can’t bare ever being apart from her in life. he wants to be hers!!

i think the topic of marriage comes up Kind of early in their courtship. and i don’t think they courted for long. my vague timeline is:

June: the events of the movie, (which, i personally think the curse made them feel like they’d been together for weeks, a month or two even. even though it was 5 days in real time, it seems pretty clear that the curse skews time heavily. but that’s a post for another day.) and the curse lifting and them beginning a “proper” courtship !!!

July: courting, getting to know each other more and more and being SO cute. i think belle kind of splits her time between the village and the castle. she definitely Prefers being at the castle but she also doesn’t want to just abandon maurice completely. at one point she joins him on a week-long trip to an art market (at maurice’s request; i think he was sensing that adam & belle were nearing a point of marriage and he wanted some alone time with her before changes started to happen 🥺) but it’s good for the two love birds to have some time apart anyway! healthy, and all that. one of my favorites of my fics this year is set when she comes back from that trip though, it’s so so sweet.

August: I think adam proposes some time early august. maybe in the second week or so. he proposes with his mother’s ring (not her engagement ring, just a ring she wore often and loved). his birthday is the 26th and they’re already engaged by then, though it’s very new! and they probably used his birthday ball as a means of announcing/celebrating the engagement as well

September: they get married september 24th!! it’s all sunny and the trees are turning orange and it’s just beautiful. they get married in paris at notre dame cathedral. and from there they have a Very Long (like two months sjdksj) honeymoon traveling around europe. it’s mostly because adam just wanted to show his adventurous girl EVERYWHERE, so he went a little crazy planning this trip. BUT also it’s their introduction tour as the new king and queen of france. (they won’t be officially coronated until january, but once they’re married it’s like yeah they’re king and queen now. basically.)

anyway i got sidetracked lmao. my POINT was that i think the topic of marriage came up kind of early on, probably even by july. not so much like “I Want To Marry You” (though they both probably Thought that) but more like. the elephant in the room: adam is a prince, and heir to the french throne. and as soon as he finds a wife, he’ll be crowned king. as has been the law looming over him since his father died. HUGE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM !!!!

and some day i would love to write this conversation, i think about it every now and then. like, i think adam worries that the pressures and role that comes along with marrying him will scare belle off. and that’s not really true, though i do think belle Does take time to consider it. like. she’s been a small town farm girl with zero prospects her entire life. now she’s supposed to be queen of france????? quite the leap!!! they discuss it best they can, though it is a nerve wracking discussion because it kind of pops their romance bubble, so to speak. they’re not just a simple couple that can have a normal life. marrying adam is marrying the crown, and wearing it yourself.

i think adam is also very careful about how he approaches it, because in his heart of hearts, he KNOWS belle would make an incredible queen. her kindness and her brilliance, her determination and fearlessness, they’re all the perfect qualities for a leader. he is entirely uncertain about himself as king, (and he struggles with the role a lot at first after the coronation) but he knows belle would be an exceptional queen. when he tells her this, she scoffs and says her background has done nothing to prepare her. she’s not even properly educated. but adam assures her that she will have access to any university she wanted, if that’s what she needs to feel prepared, as well as any instructors and tutors and advisors at her disposal. he doesn’t care about her background, he knows what she is capable of when she sets her mind to it. (and this of course makes belle tear up).

anyway, belle of course comes around to the idea of becoming queen. i think adam even apologizes at one point, wishing they COULD just get married and be a normal couple. but belle tells him she’d marry him in any world, and if this one calls them to the throne, then so be it. (i think i have a fic about that too omg !! it’s very good. set after they’re engaged).

ANYWAY WOWZA ! i sure am rambling. did i even answer your question? i do not know. but i hope you enjoyed the infodump sjdks

[twotangledsisters]

Two Tangled Sisters: The Great Tree - Chapter 8: The Magic of the Great Tree

Ao3 is still down...

I promised if it was I'd post today's chapter here so you didn't have to wait however long, so here it is!

Obviously this chapter will be posted on Ao3 once the site's back up again.

So, yeah, full chapter under the read more:

There was blood under Cassandra’s nails as she dug them into the bark of the tree, trying to scale it like a panicked animal, her teeth bared in fierce determination. “Caine!” she screamed, her voice shaking as she shed tears of panic.

On the other side of the tree, Caine was vaguely aware of Cassandra’s voice, vaguely aware of the two knights about to face off, but her vision was blurry and the noise was muffled as her head ached. She knew they should have left. It wasn’t fair she was the one injured! Though she supposed it was better than Cassandra.

Cassandra… If Hector was here, she was in danger. Caine couldn’t trust Adira to take him out. Caine didn’t trust Adira with anything. Least of all, Cassandra. Adira didn’t care about Cassandra, all Adira cared about was the Sundrop. Adira would use Cassandra as a throwing weapon to throw Hector off the ledge if the chance arose.

Caine was the one who had to ensure Cassandra’s safety.

She forced herself onto shaky legs.

Swords were clashing not far above her head. The knights were fighting.

A binturong growled down at Cassandra and her friends from atop the fallen tree.

“You shut up!” Cassandra shouted at the animal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Cassandra—” Rapunzel tried to reach out, but Cassandra slapped her hand away.

“Fidella,” she looked at the horse, who rushed over.

“You need to help me over this.”

Eugene grabbed Cassandra. “You aren’t running into that fight!”

“My girlfriend’s there!” she screamed. “She wanted to leave, but we just had to stay. Now she’s in danger!”

“She’s with Adira,” Rapunzel argued.

Rapunzel could feel the tension in Cassandra’s stare, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. “You did this.” Her words were low in volume despite her anger as she finally pulled away from Eugene, and Fidella didn’t hesitate to drop to her knees so Cassandra could climb on.

“Remember what I said back during the chase about not hurting the animals?” Cassandra whispered.

Fidella huffed.

“Forget I ever said that,” she said, loud enough for the binturong to hear. As she glared up at the growling animal.

Fidella nodded and leaped atop the tree, raising her hooves to kick the binturong just for the other binturong to crash into the horse knocking them both down.

Cassandra, now on top of the fallen tree, could see Caine.

Fidella neighed. I’ll handle the bear-cats.

Cassandra nodded and leaped off the tree, she felt a sharp pain in her ankles upon landing but she paid that no attention as she charged towards her girlfriend, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of her dagger and pulling it out just as Adira's body flew past her, crashing into a nearby tree.

“Cassandra,” Caine looked confused.

Cassandra wanted to wrap her arms around her girlfriend, but instead she used her left hand to take one of Caine’s fans. Just in time. She raised it and caught Hector’s sword in it.

Hector struggled, but couldn’t move his hand. Perhaps the idea of a blade hand hadn’t been the best idea but he couldn’t explain how this girl could possibly outperform him in strength, until he saw her eyes which were glowing gold.

“So you must be the Sundrop…” His brows furrowed in confusion, as he’d assumed it to be the blonde with so much hair.

“No.” Cassandra twisted her hand and Hector was thrown to the floor but got up fast as Cassandra stood up, too. “I’m just pissed.”

“Cassandra…” Caine looked panicked. “Don’t.” She couldn’t let Cassandra use magic, couldn’t bear for her to become as exhausted as the last time.

But this wasn’t like the last time. Though her eyes glowed gold, there wasn’t magic leaking out from inside of her, rather a green mist rose from between the rings of the dead tree on which they stood to assist Cassandra.

Hector’s eyes widened at the sight. He stepped back. “You are no mere human. Tell me, witch—”

Cassandra’s brows angled in anger at the word. “You think I’m a witch?”

Hector pointed his sword.

“Fine,” her voice came out gentle and with a swoop of Caine’s fan, the magic rushed at Hector, throwing him off the ledge.

Growls came from the binturongs as the man screamed.

“Shut up!” Cassandra screamed at the animals and they did for the first time, whimpering in fear at the woman with the glowing eyes who spoke to them and understood them but no longer listened to their words. “Your master is no more.” She raised her chin. “Deal with it.”

And as the glow faded, she returned to Caine. “Are you alright my love?”

“I’m fine.” She wrapped her arms around Cassandra before pulling away and glaring. “What was that? We agreed, no magic!”

“No, no, no, no using my magic.” She kissed Caine before the woman could interrupt. “I took it from the tree.”

“I saw that… How?”

Cassandra shrugged. “The same way I took it from the artefact back in the spire… I just… It came to me.” She looked at her hand, her veins still held a light glow, a mix of mostly gold with some blue from the Spire and now some green. “I think I collect it.”

“Great! Great, collect magic from who knows where inside of you! How could that possibly go wrong?”

“Sorry.” Cassandra lowered her hand before handing the fan back. “But I’d do it again. I had to protect you.”

Caine’s eyes widened before she snatched the fan back, trying to sound firm. “It’s my job to protect you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have started dating me,” Cassandra grinned, her voice teasing, making Caine blush.

Caine took her right hand in hers and opened her mouth to say something when Adira’s voice broke the moment. “We have to go before Hector finds a way back up here.”

“Ooooh, now staying in the tree is a bad idea?” Caine laughed. “Well, who could have guessed that? Oh, wait, I did!”

Adira glared.

“You were right, Caine, clearly.” Eugene’s voice came from atop the tree as Max had helped him up and he was helping others up too. “But right now, the priority is getting out of here, not settling feuds.”

Caine crossed her arms, but other than a quick glare at Adira, nodded.

Cassandra smiled at Caine. “I actually feel a lot better now.”

“Great.” Mumbled Eugene as he climbed down to where Caine and Cassandra were. “I still feel like my girlfriend stabbed me from the inside.”

“Sorry,” Rapunzel whispered.

“Not your fault, Blondie,” he kissed her. “I’m just jealous of your sister and her… Magic absorption powers?”

Cassandra looked back down at her veins and shrugged.

“Wait a minute,” Eugene said, about to ask a question, when the ground beneath them began to rumble.

Caine’s grip on Cassandra’s hand tightened. And Eugene drew his sword. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Soon, a bright green light was coming from where Hector had fallen. “That wouldn’t happen to be you, Cassandra?” Eugene whispered hopefully.

Cassandra shook her head.

“Then get ready.” His muscles tensed as he got ready to fight off whatever magical being was coming next.

[cometconmain]

My parents and a number of otherwise trying-to-be-respectful-of-trans-people people in my life would have had an easier time grasping my existence if I'd been binary trans, including my ex who is a trans woman and was constantly trying to push me toward being a trans man for some reason when I'm not.

I've met and seen a fair few people who can wrap their head around people changing between the accepted existing two genders, but identifying as anything else is a step too far and now this "whole gender thing is getting out of control."

I've seen someone arguing/'joking' that nonbinary is "just making a new binary because now you're either binary or nonbinary and doesn't that seem contradictory to you?"

There's a whole thing around creating a new slur for us called 'theyfab' that some other trans people made and do use to both complain about us not 'picking a lane' and insinuate that every one of us is definitely afab (of course amab nobinary people do not exist, fuck them apparently) because they see nonbinary people as solely cis girls thinking trans is a trend but are too cowardly to 'do it properly' because heaven forbid people have a process changing after a lifetime of trying to force yourself into one box because even when you learned trans people existed, the opposite gender wasn't how you identified so then the idea you might still not be cis took longer to sink in and even longer to build up the courage to implement if you could even figure out in detail what it meant to you at all because you didn't have existing societal 'templates' to try on and adjust to suit you, you just had to leap into the void.

We have to constantly justify to other trans people that we're not just "cis people who are gnc" and dealing with other trans people saying "can you please get your hands off the trans community because you don't belong here and are co-opting the movement from 'real trans people."

Hell, sometimes people try to point out enbiphobia is a thing and we'd like to be seen and recognized, only to have the person told basically doing point number three in responding but instead of 'making a new binary' it's now "you see this is just gender trinary? You see how you're now making non-binary a third gender, right?"

You see how you're joining in on shutting down conversation nonbinary people start trying to reach out and be heard about a different type of experience being not-cis in ways even other trans people shit on us for...

...right?

Not gonna lie, I'm kind of disappointed to see the cool trans masc person I followed for educational content on complex trans experiences I wanted to learn about (who literally has a post talking about how 'appropriation trans' is bullshit) seemingly outright falling for transmedicalist and terf rhetoric meant to split us apart. You literally had a trans woman coming in missing the point to scream about the fact she's still the most oppressed out of all of us when that wasn't the point people were trying to make as far as I could tell.

Just tentatively trying to point out enbiphobia is a thing has everyone up in arms against us. This is what we get all the time when we try to talk about this. You look the same as her you're just going at it from a different angle because (I think?) you at least managed to understand those messages probably weren't meant to come across as "and therefore Nonbinary people are the most oppressed actually. Stand aside trans women." Props to you for that I guess.

EDIT:

Ok I'm happy to recognize I may have misunderstood your intent as much as I think people have misunderstood anon's intent (I personally do think they're not barking up the right tree but I think I can see what's causing their frustration and the not-right wording). However I would like you to recognize 'gender trinary' language doesn't sound great either in the face of people existing who do intend to erase us trying to tell us we've 'reinvented the binary lol' just by identifying as nonbinary.

I'm ok to try to learn more about trying to help us all come together and figure out all the new language we have to invent to express our unique experiences of the world and how I might also need to adjust my understanding of binary trans label experiences being more complex than society's understanding of the chosen label. Just got a nerve pressed with your own wording in reply initially. Sorry.

Exept binary trans women and trans men have binary privilege over NBs. There's a massive privilege with being in the Gender Binarity.

okay but you see how you're just creating a gender trinary right. like you see how you're just recreating "nonbinary is a third gender" rhetoric. right. tell me you understand

[lukia26]

*watching naruto* wow just like in sss warrior cats!

[chronicrabbit]

A Very Steddie Christmas

Listen. I had an idea.

It’s post-Vecna. Steve and Eddie are friends. Eddie has had a hopeless little crush on Steve for years, yada yada yada. The usual shit. You get the picture.

It’s mid December and Steve Harrington is hyped up for Christmas.

Steve had always been a Christmas fan. He lives for it; the tacky decorations, the twinkling lights strung up on every tree and house on the block, the joyous atmosphere, the warmth of a good cup of cocoa on a snowy Hawkins night.

Everything.

Steve loves Christmas, even more so now that he has a Family™️ to share it with!

So when he overhears Eddie talking to Gareth about how he’s:

“Never had an actual Christmas”

he knows his services are needed.

He makes it his mission to give Eddie Munson the best Christmas ever, despite Robin’s teasing looks and Dustin’s frown of confusion.

He starts it all off with inviting him over to decorate inside and out, mostly because he doesn’t particularly want to do it himself and Robin point blank refuses when he asks her.

It’s not the funnest holiday activity, but the end goal is worth it; that’s what Steve’d always thought, anyway.

The Harrington’s were not terribly festive people, but they were deeply prideful and competitive, so naturally there were about five shelves in their sizable garage packed full of lights, tinsel, baubles, and other more expensive pieces of decor purchased by a fuming and wine-drunk Claire Harrington after a single and very passive aggressive conversation with Mrs. Thompson across the street.

Steve and Eddie work for hours, ending in tinsel littering every available surface, a bent gutter from a very close call with the ladder, and a declaration of hatred for string lights, but the huge grin on Eddie’s face is undeniable as they stand side by side, clinking together their hideous holiday mugs of eggnog and rum as they survey the impressive product of their hard work.

It looks amazing.

Mrs. Thompson, eat your heart out.

His next step is to bake his Nonna’s red-hot cinnamon snickerdoodles, the ones she’d sneak him every Christmas when he was a kid before his parents decided visiting was too much effort, and to watch a few Christmas Classics.

The cookies were meant to be a surprise, but Eddie shows up an hour and a half earlier than he’d said he would with the movies Robin had set aside for him and finds Steve in the kitchen, hair pinned back, glasses on, and red knit sweater covered in flour despite the apron tied around his waist.

He finds he doesn’t so much mind the change of plans as he and Eddie dance around the kitchen to George Michael, Eddie grabbing the batter covered wire whisk for a compelling performance of “Last Christmas”, a song he very clearly knows none of the words to.

Once the cookies are safely tucked away in the oven, they make their way to the couch, sitting nice and close for extra warmth as “It’s a Wonderful Life” begins to play.

Eddie talks through the entire first part of the movie, and when they return from the short break they take to retrieve the cookies from the oven and divvy them out between the two of them along with two cups of steaming hot cocoa, he talks through the rest through his mouthful of cookie.

Steve’s never enjoyed that movie more.

The third step is a bit more of an impromptu thing, because when Steve wakes up to see a fresh layer of beautiful powdery snow on the ground, he basically has no choice but to round up the party for the worlds most epic snowball fight.

Eddie complains at first, but quickly changes his tune the moment Mike manages to nail him directly in the face with a snowball.

He leaps into action with a declaration of:

“Oh it’s on, Wheeler!”

No matter how much Dustin swears you can’t win a snowball fight, Steve and Nancy definitely take the victory that day between her killer aim and his brutal throwing arm.

They split up into groups after the fact for some more snowy day activities.

El, Max, Nancy, and Steve build a little snow family together, Mike, Lucas, Will, and Robin work exceptionally hard to craft a nice sturdy fort with packed snow and ice (they write out actual equations and dimensions that make Steve’s head spin), and Erica, Dustin, Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle make a serious of increasingly more ridiculous snow angels, ending in the five of them just tackling each other over to see what shape it makes.

Everyone stays out until their fingertips and noses are bright red and numb, finally giving in and heading inside once the sun starts to set and fresh snow starts to fall.

They clamber into Steve’s house, bundling up in blankets and huddling in front of the fireplace together to watch, much to Steve’s chagrin, the He-Man Christmas Special from the year before that Dustin had recorded over an episode of Night Court (Claudia was still upset with him over it).

And he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend he didn’t know how close he was sitting beside Eddie on the couch; close enough that their shoulders were bumping together with each breath.

He also couldn’t pretend he wasn’t enjoying every single time Eddie would turn to face him, to share in the excitement of whatever was happening on the screen.

Steve hadn’t watched a single second of the movie, far too focused on the dimples that appeared whenever Eddie smiled that big sunny smile, or the crinkles that appeared likewise around his big brown eyes, or the small freckle just over his lip…

Oh.

Oh.

Well…

He’d have to adjust his plan just a little.

With that new information tucked safely away in his mind, his next step became very clear. Thankfully, he didn’t need a different gift idea than the one he’d already come up with, perhaps just a different method of delivery.

………

It’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve when he knocks on the door of Eddie Munson’s trailer, the only one in the park with a complete absence of Christmas decorations or, at the very least, a wreath or something.

Eddie answers with that heart stopping smile, dressed in a blue sweater Steve is 90% certain he snatched from Robin who stole it from him some time last year.

He doesn’t give Eddie much time to greet him, holding out a small green bag with a red bow.

“What’s this, Steve?”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together, his smile not quite dropped, more slanting into a look of gentle confusion.

“It’s a present. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so…”

Steve does a ‘here we are’ motion with his hands, pushing the present towards Eddie once again.

The movement seems to reactivate Eddie, who pulls Steve into the warmth of his living room with a shiver.

“You got me a present?” Eddie inquires the moment the door was closed behind them, protecting them from the bitingly cold air.

“Of course. Can’t have Christmas without the gifts, can you?” Steve laughs.

“Christmas,” Eddie repeats after him a bit dubiously.

“Yeah, I suppose you can’t,” he shrugs, as if he doesn’t know.

“Exactly, so!” Steve extends the bag towards Eddie once again, shaking it enticingly.

Eddie’s nose scrunches in that way it does when he’s very carefully considering something.

“Steve. As much as I appreciate the constant stream of hot cocoa and holiday cheer you’ve been bombarding me with for the past week, I gotta ask. What gives? Why are you doing all this?”

Steve sighs.

“Well, I…” he starts, licking his lips as he tries to sort out his jumbled thoughts before continuing.

“To tell the truth, I overheard you telling Gareth that you’ve never had a real Christmas before. I… I’ve always loved Christmas. It’s the only holiday my parents would stay home for- well, up until I turned 16, that is. So, I guess I just… wanted to give you one. A real Christmas, that is.”

Eddie presses his lips together into a thin line, his usually open expression strangely unreadable as he considers Steve closely.

He nods when he seems to come to a conclusion, reaching his hands out towards the little bag and clenching and unclenching his fingers as if to say:

“Gimme.”

Steve smiles and hands over the gift bag, his stomach turning somersaults like an Olympic gymnast.

Eddie tears through the tissue paper, sending it flying to litter across the carpet, until his fingers find the occupant of the bag; a single Polaroid.

He fixes Steve with a raised eyebrow before letting his eyes fall back down to take in the picture.

“Alright,” Eddie nods as if he’s trying to understand a joke, mirth-filled gaze landing back on Steve over the Polaroid.

“Ok, Stevie. Very funny.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that overtakes his own face.

“And it’s all yours,” he assures him, playing into the playful tone as he watches Eddie survey the snapshot of the guitar; a BC Rich Warbeast with a glossy black body and a cherry red flame motif.

“I’ll cherish it, Big Boy,” Eddie snorts good naturally, pressing the image to his chest with a dramatic little sigh.

“I sure hope you will,” Steve nods.

“It cost me most of my savings up front, and I still have payments to make on it for the next few months.”

Eddie eyebrows scrunch together at that, that puzzled look from before returning to his face as he pulls the picture back up to take a closer look.

“Steve, wha- this… is this in your living room in this pic- Did you…”

Steve watches as several emotions crossed Eddie’s face; confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, and then, finally, understanding.

“Steve…” he says in what’s barely a whisper, Steve leaning in a bit closer to hear him.

“Did you… did you actually…”

He can’t seem to finish the sentence, so Steve takes it upon himself to answer him.

“I know you’ve been missing your old one. It’s not the same, but it’s the closet I could find and it’s waiting for you under the tree at my place. I had to drive all the way to Indy for it, and it’s not new, but I checked it out and it’s only lightly used. The scratches were easy enough to buff out, and Jeff helped to make sure it was-“

Steve grunts at the sudden impact of a body against his, warmth flooding through him as Eddie wraps him up in the tightest hug he’s even been given in his life.

He can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him, sputtering as some of Eddie’s hair gets in his mouth. He winds his own arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him somehow closer and simply breathing him in.

“You are unbelievable,” Eddie breathes as he gives him a solid squeeze before pulling back, though he doesn’t relinquish his hold on Steve’s shoulders.

“So, I’m guessing you like it?” Steve asks through his smile.

“Like it? Stevie, I… I could honestly kiss you right now! You’re damn lucky there’s no mistletoe here, or else-“

Eddie’s words die out as Steve digs in his pocket, pulling out and raising up high above their heads a little sprig of mistletoe with the most charming smile he can muster.

He prays his nerves don’t show through as Eddie’s eyes meet his, wide with shock as they flicker back and forth between them and the mistletoe.

“Damn lucky,” Steve says, his tone steady with resolve even as his hand shakes.

In the next second Eddie’s lips meet his and it’s everything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

It’s everything every single cheesy little Christmas RomCom promises.

Magic.

When they finally part, both breathless and dazed and smiling like complete idiots, Steve tugs Eddie in close by his pilfered sweater.

“So? Was this a good first Christmas?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise up and he honest to god giggles.

“Considering Christmas is tomorrow, I’d say it’s a pretty solid start.”

Steve allows himself a very John Bender-like fist pump, much to Eddie’s amusement as he pulls him into another kiss.

“As sweet as this is, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers against his lips, hands fisting in the fabric of his sweater to hold him nice and close, which is lucky considering how hard Steve swoons at the word “sweetheart”.

“I feel the need to ask.”

“Anything,” Steve promises, nudging Eddie’s nose with his own as he presses a couple more gentle kisses against his grinning mouth.

“You know I’m Jewish, right?”

………

I might turn this into an actual multi chapter fic. Let me know if that’s something y’all would want!