#this white kit is really starting to grow in me

[0-twentyone]

Miles is a Culé 🥹

[tetedurfarm]

get started in meat rabbits masterpost!

yesterday i accidentally hijacked a friend's post and got way more engagement than i expected, which is both amazing and exhausting. so today i present to you: a big post full of resources and answers to the most common questions i've been getting! please refer to this now before dming me with questions <3

information below the cut!

why rabbits?

because they're one of (and in my opinion, THE,) best small-scale meat animal out there. they are relatively small, extremely quiet, can live in cages and therefore do not take up much space, and have a higher feed conversion rate (meaning they make more meat per lb of feed) than chickens, and their poop is AMAZING for gardening! in the footprint of a washer and dryer you can have a trio of breeding animals and space for growing out their litters if you use stacking cages. you just can't beat that.

what do they taste like?

like chicken or turkey. domestic rabbit meat is a very mild, white meat, and can be substituted for chicken in almost every meal. most of my rabbit i grind into mince and use it in place of ground beef. my rabbits, at least, get enough fat to make it unnecessary to cut the mince with pork or beef fat, so even the burgers are really juicy!

will you sell me some meat?

unfortunately in the state of washington it is illegal to sell meat that has been processed at home. at best i could sell you a whole rabbit but you'd have to butcher it yourself.

how much do they cost?

this depends heavily on where you live, though imo they have a fairly low upfront cost relative to other livestock. your biggest upfront expensive will be cages, though you can find good deals on cages and other equipment at livestock auctions/swaps and craiglist/kijiji/similar. the rabbits themselves can be anywhere from free to $100+, though i personally would not pay more than $30-$35 USD for a meat animal (but again, your average prices may vary.) after that, it's all in the price of feed.

feed costs vary from area to area and brand to brand - generally a locally milled feed will be a bit more cost-effective but they can also be lower quality so do your research. depending on your area, you can also feed rabbits partially or even completely on forage or pasture, just make sure you keep an eye on your parasite loads and weights to ensure they are eating enough.

this is a good site that discusses rabbit safe forage: https://riseandshinerabbitry.com/2012/02/26/safe-food-list-for-rabbits/

and this is a good site discussing hay: https://hoppyharlequinsrabbitry.weebly.com/hay-chart.html

this page is focused on other larger livestock but is a decent basic rundown on reading a feed lablel: https://s3.wp.wsu.edu/uploads/sites/2070/2023/03/FS138E_Reading-a-Feed-Tag.pdf

and a basic overview of rabbit nutrition: https://www.merckvetmanual.com/exotic-and-laboratory-animals/rabbits/nutrition-of-rabbits#Pelleted-Diets_v54343534

i do not personally believe that feeding hay is necessary for rabbits to be healthy, which is contrary to what most of you may have heard from online sources. we'll talk about that in a minute. all commercially-available pelleted rabbit feets are made with hay, and the 'long-stem' thing you read about is based on studies in ruminant animals that DO need a 'grass mat' to digest properly...but rabbits are not ruminants. they chew up their hay into fine dust, which is basically what pellets are anyway.

what other equipment do i need?

obviously, your first step should be cages. i prefer cages that are either 24x24 or 30x30 inches depending on the size of the rabbit. you generally want a cage big enough for the animal to lay flat on its belly with its legs out and not touch at least one of the sides (i prefer them to be able to touch none,) and tall enough that they can sit up comfortably. i like to err on the side of larger for breeding does, since their nestbox will take up floor space for a few weeks, and the kits need room to run around and grow before they are weaned. weaned kits need a larger cage or hutch to grow out in until they are eating size.

these cages can be wire bottomed or solid bottomed, just be aware of the hygiene differences between these styles of cages. wire cages are not evil, and will not harm a rabbit's feet provided it has proper density of fur. you can avoid foot problems by buying and breeding rabbits with well-furred feet.

other necessary equipment includes: feeders (j-feefers or pro-b feeders are my favourites), some way to provide water such as bottles, crocks, or an automatic watering system, a hay rack if you want to provide hay, grooming tools such as combs and brushes (if applicable; most rabbits will not need much grooming,) nail clippers, a first-aid kit containing things such as scissors, vet wrap, antibiotic gels and drops, saline solution, fenbendazole (brand name panacur, a dewormer,) gas medications such as simethicone/gas-x, critical care (a specially formulated powdered feed that you can mix into a gruel and syringe feed rabbits that won't eat on their own,) probiotic powder, electrolyte powder, and of course, toys!

make sure any provided toys are edible (so avoid plastic,) and will not get turned into mush and cause dirty mats in the cage when peed on. toilet paper and paper towel tubes are great, as are just chunks of untreated lumber offcuts, wooden baby blocks, or soda boxes. if you have some splurging money, bird toy websites like abirdtoy.com have amazing selections of things that rabbits love destroying. i recommend the refillable skewers!

what about vet care?

this is a fairly divisive topic. most vets do not know much about rabbits, and those that do are typically operating on outdated or simply untrue information that aligns with animal rights groups. therefore, a lot of meat and show breeders do not trust or use vets unless the situations are dire or there is disease testing to be done, and then generally we'll go to our state's ag exstension or college lab. i don't want to come off as anti-vet, i am far from it. but i and most people i know have not had good experiences with vets treating rabbits.

in general, exotic animal vet care (and yes, rabbits are considered exotic pets,) is extremely cost-prohibitive in general, much less when you have multiple animals. like most farmers, rabbit breeders typically handle basic medical situations ourselves.

medirabbit is a great resource for rabbit medical information including illnesses and medication dosages: https://www.medirabbit.com/

how many rabbits do i need?

the average litter size is between 5 and 8 kits, and rabbits can breed montly (though i recommend giving the girls breaks between litters depending on how they kept condition.) a trio of one buck and two does can produce a very good amount of meat for a one or two person household. my spouse and i lived on five or six litters a year for a very long time, using rabbit as our primary meat source!

do they need friends?

no. despite what house rabbit circles tell you, rabbits do NOT need companions and in fact having cagemates can stress them out unnecessarily. rabbits live in warrens in the wild, yes, but that is a survival tactic and the warrens are usually very violent and only work because they can run away when they need to. in capitivity, rabbits that are cohabitated can and commonly will KILL one another. it is much safer and less stressful to keep rabbits in their own spaces. i promise they won't mind.

rabbit colonies, where they are raised together in more 'natural' systems, are becoming very popular with homesteading circles but you should not jump into colonies as your first way to keep rabbits. they require just as much if not even more time and effort to manage than your typical cage setup. plus, you have to have the space to do that, which not everyone has.

can you help me find rabbits?

maybe! if you live in the united states and are comfortable sharing your local craigslist, i can take a look and link you to any rabbits or equipment i think would be worth your time. if you are local to me in western washington's i-5 corridor counties, i may have rabbits i can sell you for the price of feed and gas, but that depends on availability. if you are on the olympic peninsula in kitsam, jefferson, or clallam counties, hit up my buddy ren @buttonbuckfarm for similar services.

arent't they really fragile?

yes and no. rabbits are prey animals with an extremely specialised digestive system. if you are familiar with horses...same deal. if a rabbit stops eating, it will die, and they love bloating/colicking just like horses. there are also a few diseases that are common in rabbits that you should keep an eye out for, especially if you pasture or forage raise.

that being said, rabbits are not made of glass. you can flip them, you can poke them, prod them, put them in a car, drive them across the country, and squish them into weird shapes on a show table. as long as you take precautions during stressful situations and desensitise them to things like handling and transport early, they're shockingly physically hardy despite their sensitive guts.

i'm scared to kill them...what if i mess up?

it's perfectly understandable to fear the end of the process of raising rabbits. and accidents do happen. slaughter is a skill that must be practiced, and maybe you can take solace in knowing that we have all messed one up at some point or another. when this happens, the only thing you can do is try again as quickly as you can until you can confirm the animal is dead. and then take a minute to decompress.

it comes easy to me, but i know that is not true for everyone. but i am a firm believer that if you are going to eat meat, you should know where it comes from and how it gets to your plate. the best thing we can do for our food is to give it a wonderful life, kill as kindly as we can, and use as much of it as we are able.

here is the AVMA's list of approved humane slaughter methods: https://www.avma.org/sites/default/files/2020-02/Guidelines-on-Euthanasia-2020.pdf

and you can find pretty good videos of the various methods demonstrated on rabbits specifically on youtube:

broomstick, choke chain, bunny ballista, hopper popper

please be aware that the above videos show animals being killed. though if you are reading this i imagine you are prepared to see that.

how do i process them once they're dead?

this is another one you can find pretty good videos of online. visiting a local rabbit show may get you in contact with someone willing to teach you in person, as well!

i am working on a big project website that is basically all i think you should know about raising rabbits, which will include detailed slaughter, skinning, and butchering videos, though as of now these are not available. i plan to have this project at least usably done by the end of the year!

ok so what's the thing with pet owners vs breeders

you may have noticed that i've been doing some 'as you may have heard' debunking in this post. that's because there is a very huge divide between the beliefs and practices of pet rabbit owners versus show and meat breeders and owners. why? well, that's complicated, but the big bad evil guy that is the first place to point at is the House Rabbit Society, or HRS.

the house rabbit society is basically rabbit PETA. i am not joking. here is a big masterpost on all their bullshittery: https://www.tumblr.com/o-i-have-too/185596917579/a-masterpost-of-house-rabbit-society-bullshit

i know this comes off as me having an agenda, and i guess i can't say that i don't, but i believe that the HRS' rules and rhetoric are not just wrong they are actively dangerous to follow. i have owned rabbits for nearly a decade and have produced more somewhere in the 1,500 range of animals in that time. i have owned a LOT of rabbits and have experienced all the different ways they can thrive and die and have done a lot of experimenting to find what works. just about everything the HRS says about caring for rabbits is blatantly false according to my experience. proper wire cage floors do not destroy feet. rabbits do not need hay if they eat a good pelleted diet. pellets are not evil or 'fattening' or the main cause of stasis. rabbits do not need leafy greens or veggies. rabbits do not need to be bonded. they are perfectly happy living alone, in cages. flipping a rabbit is not torture and is in fact sometimes necessary for many reasons. meat and show breeders are generally not contributing to the 'overpopulation' problem - if we don't want an animal most of us just eat them. breeding for meat is not evil if it's done appropriately and they are killed humanely.

unfortunately the HRS won the google SEO game and so their website and the sites of others that believe their rhetoric are the only thing that comes up on the first pages of search results. i'm not saying you have to blindly trust me, but i have the experience, and the combined experience of many of my peers both online and offline, that says that basically everything they believe in and preach is just...not true.

anyway that's it, hope this answers most of your questions! i may add to this in the future depending on what other questions i may get. stay tuned for updates on my website project and in general more farm content, rabbit and otherwise :)

[fear-is-truth]

i have a littlee rq ,, so this is w no alma and grace, but imagine, kit walker coming home to his kids babysitter, cleaning up the kitchen after dinner w nothing but an apron (the kids are put to bed and the babysitter is above age ofc 😇)

WARNINGS: mature content﹒mdni﹒fem!reader﹒smut﹒shitty writing ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ A/N: your mind is simply diabolical. imagine.. kit walker looking at you like that *swoons*

KIT WALKER steps through the door, wiping his hands on his work pants, the smell of gasoline still clinging to him. “hey, thanks for cleaning up,” he says as he walks into the kitchen. “you don’t have to do it. let me—” he stops mid-sentence, slack jawed and wide eyed. you’re standing at the sink, wearing one of his aprons, though it’s doing a poor job of covering your outfit—or rather, the lack of thereof. he clears his throat, trying to pull his gaze away. “uh… you didn’t have to stay this late,” his eyes flicker back to you, lingering a little longer than they should. “i can finish up.”

you turn to him with a sweet smile, leaning against the counter. “just trying to make your life a little easier, mr walker. you know how hard it can be to get those little rascals to bed.” “uh, right. appreciate it,” he stammers, shifting uncomfortably and trying to hide the growing bulge in his jeans. “but you really don’t have to—” sidling up to him, you look at kit through your lashes. “are you sure? i could always stick around for a bit longer… just to help.”

your palms are planted on the kitchen counter’s surface, arms aching from holding yourself up, standing on tiptoe as your employer pounds roughly into you from behind. your pelvis bumps rhythmically against the edge of the counter, but that’s the least of your concerns. “fuck…you feel so good sweetheart,” he groans next to your ear, one of his strong arms curling around your front to grope at the swell of your breast, rolling your nipple between his calloused thumbs. you gasp out a moan when you feel his cock press in deeply, the veins rubbing past your taut walls.

his frantic thrusts hardly allows you to get any coherent sentence other than a few senseless babbles without sounding so wanton. you cannot lose control and get too loud—not when thomas and julia are sleeping upstairs.

“hghmm– kit… ‘m close,” your knees start to tremble, the second you felt his tip kissing your sweet spot. you seriously can’t tell if it’s your innards twitching or if it’s his cock that’s throbbing inside of you. either way, fire builds within your bloodstream, molten and intense, electric pleasure prickles beneath your skin. Kit doesn’t slow down, doesn’t say anything else — just continue to push and pull back his hips, thrusting hard and deep, rubbing your oversensitive clit and coaxing the pleasure from your body until you’re mewling and squirting messily onto his cock. he gasps, his pelvis pressing snugly against the curve of your ass before warm spurts of cum paint your walls white.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

It's raining cats and dogs

My cat and dog hybrids, and random things about them! [Not proofread]

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

★ Brutus the german shepherd

He's a big boy alright. A startling 6'6 frame, but that doesn't stop him from acting like a little bastard. He's playful and cocky, a little protective but that's just in his instincts to protect his little herd! In his physical appearance, He's starting to grow out his buzz cut, a pair of German shepherd ears ontop. he's hoping to maybe dye a couple strands of hair blond once they're long enough. green eyes that stare into your soul, absolutely no thought process behind them

★ dolly the doberman

Everyone loves dolly. There used to be another doberman named Danny but they sent him to the pound when he bit both the farmer and his granddaughter. She used to have puppies with Danny but they didn't survive the winter, they got sick and passed the coming spring. She's a little rough around the edges but you'll love her too right? Don't let Brutus hog all the love! In her physical appearance, she has very short brown hair and a pair or doberman ears, with one of them being a little bit, ontop of her head. 5'7 with a deadly brown eyed stare.

★ bladviba the black Russian terrier

A messy mop of brown curls he calls hair sits atop his head. He's usually out in the fields observing the cattle, black eyes staring out Into the distance. The others say he used to be a fisherman's dog but then he had to find a new home since he passed away one night. Stoic and serious, he's secretly a 5'8 softie who wants to hide and cuddle you somewhere. But that bastard Brutus would probably find you in less than an hour.

★ molly the chow chow

molly may be the smallest out of all them, but that doesn't mean she won't let them do all the work. Usually she's trailing behind dolly, claiming that since their names are similar they have to stick close together. She has a short temper and a little brutish, but you'll get used to her. Spiky short brown hair, with dark black eyes that sparkle when she sees you. A 5'2 sweetheart- wait who gave molly a knife-

★ sweet pea the Samoyed

Sweet pea loves many things! You, bones, their house, sleep. Okay maybe not many things but atleast some things! Usually quiet and following you from behind, they quietly take up the role of your 6'1 guard dog. Helping you around the barn, and in exchange all you have to do is let them scent you for another 2 hours every 4 hours! Dirty white hair, with black eyes as dark as charcoal.

★ bubba the borzoi

Bubba is so fucking done with both you and the others. Can you stop fucking singing 'let me do it for you' like shut up he's trying to do his job here. He refuses to let you see the slightest smile but just know he is smiling. He's just stubborn. Like VERY stubborn. Sarcastic and empathetic, a deadly combo. He could be comforting you and then calling you a blubbering fool the next. 6/10, would bite my ass. He's a startling 6'11, with blue eyes and light blonde hair

★ princess the ragdoll

Name the most spoiled housecat who ever lived. She lives up to her name, she's been in many beauty pageants and won a many prizes. Ribbons, trophies, photographs all align the walls of her room. She'll give you a side eyed look before making you go through a 600 step beauty routine, before ever allowing you to touch her. Atleast she'll cuddle you for hours on end, so the torture was worth it all. King is the only person she respects, aside from her owners. White long curly hair, blue eyes and 5'5

★ prince the Norwegian forest cat

He's the most humble cat ever known, all he really wants is to settle down, have a couple litters, and be a good dad. But princess hated his guts and quite frankly, he hated her. He much preferred you, he wondered how you'd look with a belly full of his kits.. he'll respect your wishes, but don't mind him breaking into your room every now and then. (He leaves hair everywhere, don't let him.) Ginger fluffy hair, green eyes and 5'7

★ king the Khao manee

King could either be planning your downfall or planning the entire family you'll have together. The greatest manipulator ever known to cat kind. He could convince you orange is red and red is blue if you let him (don't let him), he manipulates princess to do things for him but now that you're here, you won't mind taking over now will you? Sandy blonde hair with heterochromiac eyes. 5'6

Bonus: the forest pack ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧

★ Roxy the wolf

butch werewolf? Butch werewolf. She's stoic and quiet, but she's just a gentle giant. Following her brothers around, she's very obedient and surprisingly, loves gardening! Long Spiky black hair, red eyes and 6'7

★ Silas the wolf

Silas is the leader, commanding his siblings when to act and when to fall behind. But he just wants a break and to lay down, take a nice long nap. Until one of his siblings comes running to him for help. Oh well, he had a nice sleep. He loves them, he truly does, but he wants a nap in peace. Very short spiky black hair, red eyes, 6'9

★ Milo the wolf

Milo is selectively mute. With a deadpan look always on their face and they seem emotionless, but that's not the case. They're just always distracted and can't really focus on many things. Be a little patient will you? Medium long spiky black hair, red eyes, 6'6

★ Kiki the Pomeranian

Kiki is some dog hybrid they found off the road and decided they're one of them. Feral and has a big dog complex. Tries to be intimidating but they just aren't. Sometimes they watch you work on the farm from the edge of the forest, a little jealous of the animals that get to watch you everyday. Messy blonde hair, black eyes that hold the anger of a toddler being forced into A school play, and very short. 4'9

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[warrior-cats-rewritten]

If I had to rewrite Changing Skies:

Tawnypelt

The Clans are going to fight the humans.

Tigerstar is too busy leading and keeping everyone calm, so he sends Tawnypelt and whatever friends she wants to go on a mission to find out how they can stop the Twolegs.

Tawnypelt doesn't really WANT to, but does it because she wants her son to know she trusts his judgment.

She brings along Crowfeather (let me cook) and Brambleclaw. (LET ME COOK)

First major event is Crowfeather dying. He gets a terrible wound on his back leg from doing something Tawnypelt TOLD HIM NOT TO, and the infection kills him.

Tawny and Bramble are on their own now, and tensions are high. Not only that, but they have NO CLUE what to do, and the Twolegs are getting closer every day...

The only clue they have is with a strange kittypet named Rufus, wearing a strange bulky collar.

Tawnypelt is getting angry, and tired with Brambleclaw. He isn't the brother she thought he was, and their relationship has been fractured since the reveal that he trained in The Dark Forest. Sure, she supported him during TBC, but that ended up not being HIM and it was a terrible mistake to make...

It's his insistence that she listen to him, that he "prove himself", that he is the choice-maker and... Tawny's had enough.

"Brambleclaw, you're older than most cats around the lake, for Starclan's sake, GROW UP ALREADY!"

He leaves, insisting that he knows what is best, and she'll feel so sorry once he's right! No one ever believes in him, just because of his father!

She finds his body the next day. Rufus helps her bury him, but there isn't time to dwell, she needs to keep going. Rufus keeps walking up to humans wearing sleek white pelts that hild little flashing boxes up to Tawnypelt, he keeps saying it's fine but the way he lets them PICK him UP is going to give her a heart attack!

Kids these days. (Affectionate. Bewildered. 3 seconds from signing adoption papers.)

Leafstar

Leafstar is suffering from depression, and notices that her sight is starting to dim.

Fidgetflake tells her that she is developing cataracts, and Leafstar just takes it as "one more thing to happen to me". Her mate has died, her daughter Stormheart was killed in the horrific war against Splashstar and Berrystar that she herself barely made it out of with her last life... Her children have grown and have kits of their own, they don't need her anymore, cats don't want to talk with her...

She's completely lost her spark, and finds no joy in anything. She's not only losing her vision in a physical sense, but she's lost her 'vision' for Skyclan.

She also needs to hold the election for a new deputy, as Skyclan does things differently, and Hawkwing has been killed by a polluted stream.

The candidates are: Violetshine (who now has trained Beetlepaw instead of Reedclaw), Macgyver, and Rileypool (death swapped with Sagenose and mentored Kitescratch).

Violetshine is selected, and immediately some cats are calling for her to be made leader instead. A vote goes through, but not enough cats vote in the theoretical Violetstar's favour. (She doesn't mind!)

Leafstar is distraught when the construction comes Skyclan's way, poisoning their main stream and leading MANY cats to sickness, including her sweet granddaughter Wrenflight, born of Harrybrook and Bellaleaf.

The others Clans have less sympathy. Skyclan is using kittyp-er Daylight Warriors, they'll be fine if they just go back inside their homes. Maybe Starclan's angry that they're taking resources.

She slams her paw down onto the Moonpool's thin frozen surface, it cracks beneath her paw, the cold water spreading its horrible chill, ignored as Leafstar snarls at Starclan.

"Answer my pleas, stop punishing me, or my Clan, or I am taking us back to The Gorge, Other Clans be damned. Help us, or you will prove to me that you truly are a bunch of useless dead cats parading around with sparkling fur and empty promises!"

A ghostly figure appears, just for a moment, whispering to her.

"You may not have sight any longer, and I know all hope seems lost, Leafstar, but brighter times are coming. Do Not Let The Moon Fall."

Moonpaw

Since the writers wanna be awful about Sunbeam, I'm going to one-up them and do this pre-emptively.

Nightheart brought Sunbeam to Riverclan. He wasn't made Leader or Deputy, no, that was given to Icewing and Minnowtail.

Sunbeam, tragically, passed in childbirth soon after she got pregnant by accident... She left Nightheart with a single kitten, a tiny tortoiseshell tabby molly with a white chest, and wide blue and yellow eyes.

Nightheart, still stubborn about names and meaning and holding a grudge against his mother for not providing him with the Orange Gene, names his daughter Moonkit, determined to constantly remind her how she Doesn't Have To Be Like Sunbeam. She has quite a few friends, some in different Clans!

Moonpaw is apprenticed to Flame. An ex-Kin member that joined Riverclan during WCR!AVOS who Nightheart hates with a passion. Guess why.

Moonpaw is a good kid, but her relationship with her father is strained beyond belief. She wishes he would stop... Acting like this. Like he's the only cat to have ever suffered, stop arguing with her sweet mentor over the pettiest thing, stop comparing her to her mother in the most backwards way he can by trying to push her to somehow be the opposite of a cat she's never met...

She is good friends with Frostfeather and Whistlemoon, especially Whistlemoon, for obvious reasons. Moon buddies!

Moonpaw is dared by an older apprentice, Rapidpaw, to "go spend a night at the Moonpool when it's a new moon with all the ghosts!"

She's scared, not of the dark but if her dad finds out. "Sunbeam LOVED breaking rules!" He would always say, "But you can be good and do what YOU want. Just because your mother liked to stand out, doesn't mean you always have to! You can be special in your way!" She always saw Frostfeather glaring when he said that...

"Rule breaker." Frostfeather would scoff. "Didn't know her at all..."

Anyways, aside from a fright from a possum, she makes her way to the Moonpool with ease.

Too much ease.

She walks around, stepping into the pawprints on the ground, and batting a little plant that's growing at the entrance.

Not scary!

She walks into the main chamber, eyes sparkling and growing bigger as she lays eyes on the Moonpool for the first time.

It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

In awe, Moonpaw slowly steps up to it, looking at her own reflection in the sparkling, crystal water, she pokes a paw in.

The gentle ripples lap at the edges, and Moonpaw swears she can hear a soft whispering.

Immediately though, she is bombarded with noise, giggling kittens, cats chatting with one another, and a soft warning.

"Careful, don't fall in!"

Moonpaw looks around for that voice, softer than any others, yet more clear. She stares into the crystal clear, sparkling water of the Moonpool, deeper, deeper, and deeper, drawing her in and making her more calm than she's ever felt...

She falls into the Moonpool.

[terrible-at-aliases]

uhhh,, just an idea i felt like putting down,,,,,, idk man,,,,,,,, (920 words) (~3-5 min read)

The lamp hesitated into a soft glow, shining timidly amidst the jet black forest of furniture. The light bounced off the mirror and to his wide, blue eyes. The sound of quick, shallow breathing echoed through the dark air.

Right beside the light was the fox, dishevelled from the nightmare that played prior to his awakening. The room remained indiscernible, his eyes far from focused. He could feel his heart racing through his chest.

The vulpine lifted himself off the bed, feet asleep, and stared at his own eyes. Tired and out of his mind at the moment, he zoned out of consciousness for a minute or so before his vision refocused, the buzz under his paw-pads growing clearer. Recalling his mind's late-night movie, he looked down at the source.

The tails were barely functional after his little stunt a few months ago. There was no use for them, not unless he'd actually try to restore them. And why should he? He no longer needs the ability to fly on his own. He has a whole damn spacecraft to his name.

And then, the idea struck through the fuzz and haze. He doesn't need a second tail to fly. He doesn't need the second tail at all.

Hastily wriggling into his gloves and slippers, he padded out of the dark room, through the moonlit hallway, all the way to the workshop. He didn't really notice how loud he was, but it wouldn’t matter, anyway. Tails slept like a baby on most nights. His vision remained varying and inconsistent, accidentally stumbling on the stairs a few times and tripping up on the flat floor.

The fox scurried through the tools, searching for his perfect solution.

Bingo.

He unsheathed the tenon saw from its protective leather case screwed onto the wall.

There was a thin sprinkle of sawdust on its blade. The light of the reflecting moon invaded the workshop and made the steel glisten in his hand. He adjusted his hand to the grip happily, taking in the beauty in front of him.

The kit held one of his tails down, looking down at the pathetic, spindly thing. To be rid of it, his heart leaped at the thought. He tuned out every other sound, every other movement, as a smile cracked through his fur, eyes pinpointing the appendage, raising the saw with a shaky hand, and in a single moment—

Slice.

He looked down, and strangely, his tail was moved out of the way. But something wasn't.

Everything in sound was muffled, like cotton in his ears. On the table, shaking and bleeding, an ungloved hand. The saw had cut through half a wrist. Almost instantly, the realisation hit him like a boulder. He dropped the tenon saw and looked behind him, the kid's eyes wide and panicked. It was Tails.

Without saying a word, he got up from the table. Quickly, he switched on the light, located and opened the first-aid cabinet. The fox set the dark green and white box beside the other's arm. This was usually the part where he left the guy to figure things out himself. He started to walk away, when—

“N-Nine…” a small voice choked out.

Nine's eyes landed back on him then his shaking arm. The wrist was badly cut on the back side, deep enough to raise concern over the bone itself.

You can't perform first-aid well with one arm.

The fox hesitantly sat back down, a lake of guilt pooling up to his ankles and growing bigger with every drop of blood on the table. The lake had the viscosity of tar, dragging him down with every movement he dared make.

“Hold still,” he commanded, less so with authority than wishfully. Nine wrapped his wrist up in bandages and applied pressure for a few minutes.

“I’m…sorry,” Nine hesitated, “I should have seen your hand and stopped.”

“Th-that's not what I'm upset about,” Tails spoke up, his voice hoarse from the pained panic, “why did you try to cut… it off?”

“It's useless-”

“It's a part of you.”

A short pause.

“The worst part. It's caused me no good,” Nine scoffed.

Tails bit the inside of his cheek, unable to counter the fact. Nine finished tending to Tails’ wound, looking at him with sleepless and cold eyes, wrapping the bandages with little gentleness. Tails could notice .

“Wh-why'd you only think of this just now? Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“Mind your own business.” He packed up the kit and went to leave.

“Hey, I'm not leaving you alone after that.” Tails grabbed onto Nine's sleeve with his good hand. “We don't have to talk, I know you don't like talking to me.”

A beat passed.

“Just… let me make sure you don't try anything stupid like that again.”

“It wasn't stupid, it was brilliant!”

Tails wore an exhausted, irritated expression, sighing, “Sure, yeah… ‘brilliant’, as you always are, especially after another 2-hour night of sleep.”

The sarcasm was not received well. “What do you know about genius, Bright Eyes? Aren’t you just a living trail, following Sonic without another damn thought? That’s all you’ve ever been!” The words stung the other fox, clearly upset now. Tails’ brow furrowed a bit, eyes and he left his chair, walking past Nine.

“Must be pretty pathetic to exist being barely a third of a trail.” The remark flung out his mouth, Tails quickly realising his own statement. He looked back immediately, eyes wide and concerned.

Nine was turned away, facing the window.

“Nine, I didn’t mean—”

“Leave.”

No longer was the thought of talking a favourable decision. But with him, Tails took the saw.

———————

i originally set out for this to be hurt/comfort but this angstier route feels better,,,,, ill probably make a comfort part 2 if i get enough notes,,,,,

i haven’t written in a while, so mistakes are inevitable.

[mumms-the-word]

Forearms

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Set immediately after this fic about Dani settling into a new life with her companions on the road, Dani offers to mend Gale's robe. Which involves him having to take it off, naturally. (no smut, just Dani being ridiculous about Gale's forearms) A/N: This is 100% the moment where Dani is like "oh no he's hot." She thinks everyone is hot, but this is the moment where Gale starts to rise above everyone for her. It's silly, it's stupid, and I wrote it like months ago, but y'all asked for it lmao also yes this does adhere to the Gale Wrap Shirt Theory (I just borrowed Astarion's shirt because I don't have mods)

Dani stretched out her back and got to her feet, leaving behind her now-sorted camp supplies to make her way over to Gale and his cooking fire. She peered down into the pot before looking at Gale. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Stew,” Gale said, smiling apologetically. “I hesitate to give it any more of a descriptor than that. Oh, and a few leftover loaves of bread, too. Might as well use them up before they go bad. I think one of them was starting to mold…”

He said this last line to himself, turning to rifle through the box that contained most of their food. He pulled out a small, torn half-loaf of bread and examined it, turning it this way and that before tearing it and peering inside. Dani reached over and plucked the smaller half from his fingers, claiming it for herself. She tore off a bit and popped it into her mouth.

“Seems decent to me,” she said.

Gale looked briefly alarmed before shaking his head, amused. “You’d probably eat it even if it had mold on it.”

“Not true. I’d scrape the mold off first and eat around it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she pulled off another bite of bread to eat, silently challenging him to judge her.

Gale made a face but didn’t respond, turning back to his stew and flicking his wrist. The spectral mage hand that was stirring the pot lifted the ladle for him to inspect. He picked up a small spoon from his utensil set (of course he had a utensil set wrapped in leather, a hodgepodge set he’d collected over the last couple of days, but that he kept packed away like it was some sort of adventurer’s kit) and used the spoon to taste the broth in the ladle.

“Hmm…nearly there, I think,” he said. He let the mage hand go back to stirring while he wiped his spoon on a bit of cloth he had tucked into his belt. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for my spice shelf. Or just some extra salt.”

“Just add it to the list of things we’ll buy as soon as we see any,” Dani said, still eating her bit of bread piece by little torn piece. “I know I have a running list of my own.”

“Far be it from me to add to your growing shopping list of potentially expensive and ever practical items,” Gale said dryly, “but if you do happen to find a small case of salt, or any spice really, I think we’d all be a little better for it. It shouldn’t detract too much from your funds. I know you’re careful with your money.”

She arched an eyebrow. As the team’s craftiest barterer, she was in possession of most of the money, and her companions had already watched her haggle and cajole until a price was a bit closer to where she’d prefer it to be. Sometimes it took a minute.

She thought about pointing out that she was “careful” with her gold for a variety of reasons, including stocking up an emergency fund for magical items should his arcane hunger trigger and she find herself without something to give him. But she stayed silent, watching him pull a few herbs from their food box and set them on a flat rock he’d taken to using as a cutting board. He sat with the rock in his lap, cutting the herbs up with a dagger that he kept on hand for food preparation. As he turned to hold the rock over the cookpot and brush the chopped herbs into the stew, she noticed a bit of white peeking through his purple robe sleeve, right at the shoulder seam. A tear in the fabric.

“Take off your robe,” she said.

He jolted, nearly dropping the rock and dagger directly into the stew. “I beg your pardon?” Maybe it was the firelight and the darkening shadows of dusk, but Dani could have sworn his face was suddenly pinker than before.

“Your robe,” Dani said, tossing the last bit of bread into her mouth and holding out her hand. “Take it off. You’ve got a tear.”

“Wha—a tear?” Gale looked all down his arms and the front of his robe before twisting his neck to spot the rip in his shoulder. “Argh, damn. This was one of my better robes, too…”

Dani snickered and gestured for him to get on with it. “Come on, hand it over. I’ll fix it for you.”

“What—now?” 

“Why not? You’re busy. Everyone else is busy—well, except Astarion. And I can mend it for you.”

Gale looked a little surprised. “I didn’t know you could mend.”

She shrugged. “My mother is a seamstress and I used to help her out every now and again. Plus, when you’re on the road, you have to keep up with a few skills. You’re just lucky we have a bit of needle and thread on hand. So.” She gestured again with her hand.

Gale squirmed as if uncomfortable. “I’m sure it can wait. The stew is nearly ready and we’re all about to dress down for the night. I can give it to you then.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Gale. If it was armor Lae’zel would be hounding you until you gave it up for her to fix. If it was your spellbook you’d want to mend it as soon as possible. Just take it off and let me do it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands, his face still a little flushed, but he acquiesced. He undid the belt around his middle and tugged off his leather bracers before finally untying the robe and shrugging it off. He still looked a little sheepish, but he willingly handed the robe over to her. 

The moment the robe was off, something shifted in Dani’s mind. She realized only then that she’d only ever seen him either fully dressed in his robes or in his velvety lounge clothes, but never in just his white wrap shirt and high-waisted pants. She paused a moment, her eyes roving over his form. In just his shirt, pants, and boots, he cut a trim figure, looking a bit like one of the handsome men drawn on the covers of tawdry romance novels she used to read back in Baldur’s Gate. Especially when he set one hand on his hip and frowned faintly at her, his earring glinting in the firelight.

“I hope it won’t take too long,” he said.

She blinked. Oh right, the robe. “It’s a simple tear, super easy to fix,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She turned and hurried away, her own face feeling a little warm. Was she honestly thinking…no. Well—maybe. Gale was handsome. No point in ignoring otherwise. But Gale in just a shirt and trousers? Or, perhaps, Gale in just his trousers…or, going further, Gale in nothing but—

Gods, Dani! She mentally shook herself and sat back down at her bedroll, digging her sewing kit from her bag. Now was not the time. She said she’d mend his robe and she would, so she had better get started.

But mending was mindless work for her, leaving her alone to her thoughts, so of course her mind drifted back to the subject of Gale as she dragged needle and thread through the purple fabric of his robe. Why was she only now struck by how handsome he looked? Sure, she’d flirted with him before, but she flirted harmlessly with everyone in camp. It wasn’t her fault she was surrounded by attractive companions. But Gale…

She glanced surreptitiously at him as he worked by the cooking fire, his focus on the food. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows to keep his cuffs away from the food, which was honestly worse for Dani. Rolled up sleeves and forearms? She could just swoon. She watched as he packed away unused food items and utensils, muscles in his forearms flexing, the dark hair on his arms made darker by the dusk and firelight. He stood back and rested both hands on his hips as he watched the stew, his white shirt stretching a little more tightly across his chest.

She bit her lip and focused back on the robe. Just get it done, girl, and then give it back so you can go back to thinking he’s just a fun, quirky wizard nerd and not the hottest guy in camp.

Oh gods, if only.

...was he the hottest guy in camp? 

She glanced around quickly at Astarion, still lounging with his book. His lips made a pretty pout as he read and his hair was damn near perfect, but he didn’t make Dani’s heart flutter in quite the same way the sight of Gale in his wrap shirt and rolled up sleeves did. She searched for Wyll, walking around in his ragged black tank and black trousers, his biceps glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he carried the last of the firewood over to Gale. Even with his devil horns, he was an attractive man. Dani was tempted to think he was even hotter than Gale—until Wyll set the fire down near Gale and Dani was forced to compare the two of them again.

…damn. What was it about Gale?

Gale glanced her way, raising his eyebrows at her questioningly when he caught her staring. She felt her heart go ba-dump like some cliche heroine in a romance novel and she quickly lowered her gaze back to her work.

Damn it. It was his eyes wasn’t it? His big, stupid, wet brown eyes, made darker and richer in the evening light. That and those stupid forearms she’d never seen before.

She almost wished she could go back to fifteen minutes ago, when she thought Gale was “handsome enough” but not exactly tempting. Not with Astarion smirking at her from across the campfire and Wyll flirting with all of them, not to mention all the flirting she’d done with Karlach and Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. She forced her attention back on the final stitches, determined to get this robe fixed as soon as possible.

She finished the last stitch and knotted the thread, giving the fabric a little tug on either side of the mended seam to test the strength of her work. Not bad, she had to admit. It almost looked as good as new.

She looked back at Gale and then down at the robe. She should give it back. Right now. Immediately. But…then again…if she kept it longer, he’d have to walk around without it longer. Which meant more eye candy for her, in theory. She pursed her lips, glancing back at Gale again.

No! She had to give it back. Now or never, Dani!

She got to her feet and walked back over to the fire, his purple robe tossed over her arm. He looked up from the cookpot again as she stopped near him.

“All finished?” he asked. “You do quick work.”

“Thanks,” she said, holding out the robe to him. Be casual, Dani girl, don’t be odd. “I’m famished. How much longer until dinnertime?” Success!

“Any moment now, I suspect.” 

He took the robe and examined the seams, running his thumb over the stitches. She was caught up watching his hands, admiring the perfect shape of his nails and how long and slender his fingers were. A pianist’s hands, she thought idly. An artist's hands. The kind of hands she'd want drawing patterns on her skin, fingers curling into her softer parts, sliding up her thighs to—snap out of it!

She sucked a short breath through her nose, trying to distract herself. Her gaze traveled up to his wrists, and then his bared forearms. There was a faint hint of ash lingering in his arm hairs from standing so close to the fire. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed it away. He looked up, surprised and she snatched her hand back, hiding it behind her back like she’d done something wrong.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just some—some ash. You should probably put that robe back on. As soon as possible, probably.”

Oh gods, she could just die.

Gale stared at her a moment before glancing at his arms again and then the robe. She saw something shift in his expression as his eyes came back up to meet hers, but she dared not interpret it. That, she thought, would be a dangerous mind game and her imagination was already working overtime.

“Well,” she said, and hated how weirdly breathless the word came out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “I’ll go fetch the others, then, shall I?”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and hurried away, intending to go after whoever was the furthest away from the cook fire. Surely she’d cool off in the time it took to gather everyone. Fantasies were for bedtime, not right before dinner when the object of her fancy was right there.

But when she finally returned after all that, he was still standing in his wrap shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He hadn’t even put the robe back on. He laid it off to the side.  She glanced at the robe and then up to Gale, who was ladling stew into bowls and passing them around. He caught her eyes and gave her a faint, intentional smirk meant just for her before turning his attention back to the stew.

That’s when Dani knew, with a rush of realization that struck her a bit like lightning and left her sitting, silent and dazed and a little offended and a little impressed.

She’d been as obvious as day, and now he was teasing her about it. And that smirk? He was being a bit of an arrogant bastard…but gods, he was suddenly all the sexier for it.

She was doomed.

[clangenrising]

Month 10 - Leafbare

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Sparrowpaw hopped along in his mentor’s pawsteps as snow fell thickly over the world. It clumped in his fur and caught in his eyelashes and he had to stop and shake his head every so often to dislodge them. Russetfrond’s pace was brisk and unforgiving, forcing him to really put some effort into sticking close behind him. Sparrowpaw knew that Russetfrond would slow down if he asked, but he would also say something about how he needed to learn to push himself if he was going to grow and so he stayed silent. Besides, Russetfrond was going so quickly to avoid any unnecessary stalling in the snow. The last thing the Clan needed was for their new deputy to catch frostbite. 

He dashed forward to close the growing distance between them and as he did, he kicked off with his hind legs to get a better view over the drifts of snow. They were technically out on a border patrol, but Russetfrond had told him to keep his eyes peeled for prey as well. Despite Yarrowshade and Pantherhaze’s great hunting skill - and Barleypaws, he thought proudly - food had become scarce to the point where Russetfrond had started teaching him how to ration meals most effectively. 

He’d made sure to bring anything he found straight to Smokyrose and her kits, who were just starting to eat solid foods. The first time he had brought them a meal after the kits had opened their eyes, Slatekit had stared at him with her big blue eyes like he was the most amazing thing she had ever seen and he couldn’t deny that it had boosted his ego considerably. He enjoyed the rush of pride every time she ran and hid behind her mother to watch him deliver the prey and he’d taken every chance he could to feel it again. Plus, Smokyrose was always appreciative and Fogkit was equally adorable. He laughed to think that he was once so cute and small. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen so much as a single bird all day. 

Sighing, he turned to his mentor and asked, “Russetfrond?” 

“Do you need me to slow down?” the big tom asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“No,” he shook his head then, thinking better of it, said, “Maybe.” Russetfrond’s pace slowed by a half step, allowing him a little bit of breathing room. Surprising Sparrowpaw, his mentor didn’t have anything to say about it. He continued, “Um, I wanted to ask you: is prey usually this scarce in leafbare?” Russetfrond had told him that it was rarer once the snow started, but he couldn’t believe it was always this rare. The Clan had been much bigger before he was born hadn’t it? How had they kept everyone fed if there was no prey to be seen?

“Not always,” said Russetfrond, confirming his suspicions. “The prey goes to ground and some of the birds fly away but it varies year to year how much there is to find.” 

“So this year is worse than usual?” Sparrowpaw pressed. 

“Yes,” Russetfrond said grimly. He looked out over the snow, towards the city in the distance, and Sparrowpaw reared on his hind paws for a step to try and follow his mentor’s gaze. All he managed to see was a blurry field of white as he wobbled and dropped back onto his front paws. 

“Will everyone be alright?” he asked. Russetfrond grunted in a way that Sparrowpaw had learned meant he was thinking. 

“We’ll have to see,” he said. “There aren’t as many mouths to feed but there are subsequently less hunters to feed them.” Sparrowpaw quirked his head, mouthing the word subsequently to test it out for himself. 

“Well, I hope StarClan sends us lots of prey,” he said eventually. 

Russetfrond grunted again - that one meant he was skeptical of the idea. Sparrowpaw wondered why but didn’t ask. His papa spoke frequently about asking StarClan for better weather or more prey or even just good luck. The way he saw it, if you just prayed hard enough, StarClan could solve any problem you had but Russetfrond seemed to think differently. What did his mentor know that he didn’t? 

The two of them continued their patrol in silence until they spotted the EarthClan patrol coming their way. Russetfrond greeted the senior warrior, Furrowleap, and his apprentice, Fishpaw, curtly and asked them if there was any news.

“Not much,” Furrowleap said, “Just the usual struggles of leafbare.” 

Fishpaw rolled her eyes. “Yeah, except Dawnbird has whitecough and Stormwhisper is still nowhere to be found.” 

“Isn’t he on a mission from StarClan?” Sparrowpaw asked, remembering what his papa had told Sagetooth. 

“All I know is he left us without a healer,” said the older apprentice, twitching her ginger tail irritably. Her mentor brushed his tail against her leg gently. 

“Maybe our friends in RisingClan could help us out,” he said. 

“I’ll let Sagetooth know,” Russetfrond said. “Her frostbite has healed without a trace so I’m sure she would be willing to come take a look at the girl.” 

“Much appreciated,” purred Furrowleap. Fishpaw looked away, rolling her eyes again. Sparrowpaw couldn’t stop the indignant snort that came out of him and she raised her eyebrow in his direction. He held her gaze without a word and eventually, she looked away again. Subtly, he let out a breath of relief. He had been very worried she was about to start a fight and he didn’t want to be responsible for that sort of thing. 

The patrol proceeded as normal, mostly in silence which was enhanced by the fat flakes of snow that continued to descend from the thick grey clouds up ahead. Sparrowpaw was starting to lose track of where exactly they were. He thanked StarClan that he had Russetfrond to lead him home again. 

“Wait,” Russetfrond said suddenly, lifting his tail. “Do you smell that?” 

“Smell what?” Sparrowpaw asked, leaning forward to try and see what Russetfrond was sniffing at. His mentor did nothing to move out of his way and Sparrowpaw huffed in frustration as he stepped back behind his mentor. The EarthClan cats, both taller than him and able to see over the snow on their own, successfully joined Russetfrond in sniffing around. 

“City cats,” Furrowleap nodded.

“Looks like there’s something under the snow,” Russetfrond grumbled, starting to dig at the snow. Sparrowpaw tried rising onto his hind paws to get a peek but still couldn’t see past the other cats’ shoulders. 

“What is it?” he asked, straining to balance. 

“A mousetail?” asked Furrowleap. “They left just a mouse tail?” 

“They’re taunting us,” Russetfrond growled. “When the border patrol met their leader, he offered us food in exchange for turning in the cat he was hunting. He said he knew it was hard to find food this time of year.” 

“So they’re hunting our prey to spite us?” Fishpaw hissed, tail lashing. 

“And to force us to do what they want,” Russetfrond said. 

“Those fox-hearts,” snarled Fishpaw. Sparrowpaw was inclined to agree. He knew that the lack of prey was suspicious! Now that he knew Razor was to blame, the sneaking suspicion that had been building inside him ignited into a righteous fury. He started pacing back through the tracks in the snow, looking for further signs of city cat transgressions. 

“Let’s fan out,” Furrowtrail said, seeming to have the same thought, “see if we can find anything else.” Russetfrond grunted in a way that said he disagreed but didn’t want to argue. 

Sparrowpaw put his head down and started to search. He was determined to find something, to help his Clan. He imagined Russetfrond congratulating him for a job well done and felt his spirits rise. Praise from his mentor was hard won but that only made it more satisfying to him, even if his littermates didn’t agree. 

He paused in his tracks and listened, ears forward, paws still. Maybe there were city cats nearby. If the mouse tail was fresh enough to be found under the snow, they couldn’t have been too far, right? 

A noise ahead of him pulled him into a laser focus and he crouched down between the tracks in the snow. Something was approaching, cautiously shuffling in his direction. It didn’t sound quite like a cat, the steps were too lilting in their rhythm - one, two… one, two… one, two. He held his breath and waited until, up ahead, the snow making up the wall of the tracks that the patrol had left behind crumbled softly and a face with wide set eyes and a pair of large, upright ears poked into the path. 

Sparrowpaw thanked StarClan for the coating of snow clinging to his thick fur. It seemed the rabbit hadn’t spotted him yet. He’d never caught a rabbit before, but he’d been taught how. Once again, he imagined dragging his prize to the nursery and showing it off for Fogkit and Slatekit. Even Barleypaw would be impressed, he told himself. He’d be a hero for catching such a filling meal for the Clan. Very carefully, he took a step forward. Then another. 

“What are you doing?!” Fishpaw’s voice snapped in his ear and he flinched with a gasp. The rabbit heard and sprinted away in a series of thumping footsteps. Sparrowpaw looked up at Fishpaw with a pout. 

“You scared it away!” he accused.

“You were going to steal our prey!” she hissed back. “Are you so dumb you can’t see you’re on our territory?” 

“I-” the blood drained from his face. Was he really? Fear built in his chest when he pictured Russetfrond’s reaction. 

“What’s going on here?” his mentor’s voice boomed as he stormed towards them and Sparrowpaw felt sick. 

Fishpaw stood to her full height and glared at him. “Your apprentice was just taking the opportunity to catch EarthClan prey while our backs were turned!” 

Russetfrond turned his fierce amber eyes on Sparrowpaw. “Is that true?” he asked. Sparrowpaw opened his mouth but his words died of shame in his throat. He looked down at his paws and wilted. 

“Well?” Russetfrond pressed and Sparrowpaw knew there was no way out.

“I… I got turned around,” he said weakly. “I didn’t realize where we were. I’m sorry.” Behind Russetfrond, Furrowleap rejoined the group looking concerned. 

“Sorry!” Fishpaw huffed. “That’s all he has to say for himself?” Sparrowpaw shrank even further. 

“Did he catch anything?” Russetfrond asked her. 

“No, but he was-” 

“Then there’s no harm done, is there,” he growled. “He won’t make that mistake again. Isn’t that right, Sparrowpaw?” 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded quickly. He would rather die than make that mistake again. 

“Good,” said Russetfrond, seeming satisfied. To Furrowleap, he said, “I’m headed back to camp to report what we found, alright?” 

“Sounds good to me,” nodded the warrior. “StarClan light your path.” 

“And yours,” Russetfrond nodded gruffly. Stomping forward, he said, “come along, Sparrowpaw.” Sparrowpaw immediately fell in beside him, using his mentor’s body to shield him from Fishpaw’s accusatory gaze. His pelt crawled with shame like it was full of ants and he held his breath as he walked, waiting for Russetfrond to discipline him more thoroughly once no one was watching. 

Eventually, he did speak. “Were you really turned around?” 

“Yes,” Sparrowpaw nodded quickly. “I saw the rabbit and I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t know I was on EarthClan’s territory, I promise.” 

Russetfrond grunted and for once, Sparrowpaw couldn’t decipher its meaning. “You’ll warm your paws and then we’ll go hunting for some prey on our territory. We won’t come back to camp until we’ve caught something, understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded again. “Is that all?” 

“What do you mean?” scowled Russetfrond, looking down at him. 

“I just thought…” he didn’t know why he was asking, “that there would be more of a punishment.” 

“This was your first offense,” Russetfrond said, shaking his head. “You’ve been warned and now you’re going to make it right. There’s no need for further punishment.”

“Oh,” Sparrowpaw nodded. That made sense. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grunted back. Despite himself, Sparrowpaw smiled and leaned closer to Russetfrond’s side. Awkwardly, his mentor’s tail settled over his back. Purring, Sparrowpaw followed his mentor back to camp, starting to look forward to their upcoming hunting trip. He thanked StarClan for giving him the most amazing mentor in the world.

UPDATES: - Sagetooth has recovered from frostbite so well you can't even tell it happened. - Sparrowpaw tries to catch a rabbit on EarthClan’s territory and gets seen, worsening the alliance even though he doesn’t catch the rabbit.

[ironyscleverer]

Can I do a little rant about Nate Shelley for a sec? Im gonna rant about Nate Shelley for a sec. Just becuase for a show about masculinity and healthy relationships and self-love, I HATED how they handled his character arc so fucking much.

Nate starts off in season 1 as this meek, nerdy, short, chubby Asian man who's routinely bullied by the guys (players) that he works for. He's very specifically disrespected becuase he's not conventionally masculine. It's important to note that Asian guys especially are emasculated a lot in society, doubly so if you're shy and/or brainy like Nate is.

But then once he starts getting a little respect and attention from Ted, we first get to see his confidence grow, but then we also start to see a nastier side of him emerge. He uses his new position of power to feed his insecurities and he becomes vindictive, cruel and resentful. He takes it out on his players, his former bullies, but even then he chooses the weakest person to pick on (ie Colin, who's a closeted queer man as we discover later).

And I actually think this part of the arc is really well done and interesting; it feels very real and throughout season 2, even though he's absolutely horrible, I can still see how it's stemming from a place of pain and bitterness. Being part of a system that abuses and disrespects you, especially when race is a factor, can really turn people sour and warp their perception of reality. Frankly, I think I would have a lot less sympathy for Nate's character if he was just another resentful white man, but his being brown really adds a lot of layers to the character.

And it's important to note that even once he becomes a coach Nate still suffers becuase of how he presents himself! The people at Richmond do occasionally make jabs at him (Jan Maas and the suit), and you can't tell me the situation at the Greek restaurant wasn't some kind of racist power trip. Even though he has more systemic power now, he still doesn't get respect becuase of how he exists in the world.

In that context, his choice to go work for Rupert at the end of season 2 makes complete sense. Richmond was a toxic environment for him given his past experiences there, and he was not going to get the mentorship or understand that he needed. I hoped that his season 3 redemption arc would involve him untangling his victim complex, learning to trust and stand up for himself, and looking out for people who are weaker than him (so basically this fic lmao). Basically, I wanted him to step up to the challenge of being a head coach and really confront his insecurities and their roots. Maybe he could've talked to another coach of color or something. I don't know.

The direction they went in with Nate in season 3 was so frustrating to me because he ends up right back where he started at the beginning of the show; at Richmond, working as a kit man for a bunch of white people. Sure, he's forgiven by Ted and he learns his lesson about power, but none of the actual, very understandable hurts on his end are really addressed. He's right back to the same environment he was in before, sans locker room bullying. He isn't allowed to grow or distance himself from that chapter of his life. (the writers also decided to just give him a girlfriend and make that fix everythin which I don't appreciate, but that's another essay entirely).

If I had it my way, I would have had him do the whole scene with coach Beard, reconcile with Ted, but respecfully tell them that he can't go back to Richmond. There's too much history there, and even if they've forgiven each other, it would be a bad environment for him. Then Nate and Ted/Beard/others can have a new relationship as equals, built on respect, rather than a boss/employee dynamic. But maybe that's just me being delusional.

Anyway, in conclusion, Nate deserved a better ending and I'm disappointed that they didn't give it to him. Thank you for reading this completely unedited rant, I may do another in the future about Ted Lasso's queer rep or its female characters. Lmk if you want to hear it.

[alleyskywalker]

I finally got to writing down my thoughts/feelings/notes/reactions on S2E1 of HOTD. Under cut because spoilers.

Thie episode – but really just this show – had pacing issues, which was one of its biggest problems, very reminiscent of what entirely killed of the seeds of good or at least decent plot points in GoT S8. IDK what genius decided to cut the number of eps to 8 – or why, given that this show is very popular – but then they had this issue somewhat last season too. We are also starting to see how recklessly cutting characters comes back to bite you in the ass, at it’s just the start here.

With the episode/season paced as it is, there was no time to spend on Jace’s diplomatic endeavors. Were they strictly necessary? No, I guess, but they could have been…interesting? And helped him grow/develop/showcase to the audience as a character. Like, I actually want Jace to be a character this season, yk?

So given that, as much as I am sad that they cut my girl Sara Snow, I can’t be too mad about it because they just kinda…cut all of it for the most part.

The North intro was kinda funny tho. For a second I was so confused because I was like “is the KIT narrating this?” Cregan is very Northy-North lol. Is that sword Ice? “You, at least, have the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon.” – lol, I’m glad Cregan got this little snipe in at Jace for his Targ revisionism. Like, yea, sure “treated” aha. Also, I liked the little Decimation reference, complete with the white/black stones.

The Daemon and Rhaenys scene was good. I like that she takes no shit from his ass. Also liked her little monologue about how hearing of Laena’s death made her go into denial and she couldn’t start grieving until she actually saw her body. It feels very realistic.

This is not what I ever envisioned Alyn to look like lmao. He feels kinda too old? But on the other hand, I guess it maybe makes sense if he’s meant to be Corly’s son. Another question though: why are we getting introduced to him and not Addam first, given who the dragonrider will be? Are they…for some reason…merging the two brothers but keeping Alyn of the two???

AEGON this ep/season! Wow, this show is truly bipolar. First, they character assassinate him in S1 and now he’s so…idk, likeable isn’t really the word. But, compounded by TGC’s charm, he really, really has the potential to be a kind of sympathetic or at least fascinating character here. Excited to see this develop.

Loved seeing him as a father. Really, we needed more interaction between Aegon, Heleana and the twins, but you know. Pacing issues. The council scene with  Jaehaerys was adorable – that Aegon cares to bring his son into council, even if he’s a bit young for it now, but you can really see him trying to be the father he never got to have in Viserys. And you can see how much he adores this kid.

Really, Aegon, for all his impatience and lack of true competence is so clearly trying. He’s impatient to go to war, but brashness of youth of course, plus it’s not like Aemond is not chomping at the bit as well. But Aegon can be restrained (for now) and does listen to his councilors. You can say that’s a sign of his weak will, and yea in part it probably is, but it’s not a terrible trait really? For a young, inexperienced king to listen to more seasoned counsel.

AND THE PETITIONS SCENE. He genuinely wants to be a good king to the smallfolk, acknowledges them as a necessary backbone. No, he has no idea what he’s doing, but really who’s fault was that? (Looking at you, Vizzy.) It was a great bit of comic relief, especially with TGC’s acting, but also just a great portrayal of what an idealistic but really inexperienced, naïve, and not naturally-suited young king might be like. “He came all this way.” Awww. He tried lol.

Aegon and his buddies! I love seeing him have friends. Will be interested if they play any more significant roles (like during the war) than just background chatter. The banter was cute. Very dumbass teenage boys vibes.

Dalton Greyjoy mention!

Fuck Larys. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.

Aegon and Helaena’s conversation njglgjls. He really has not way how to communicate with her and she doesn’t really know how to convey her thoughts/feelings in general. But of course she’s afraid, poor girl :( But as estranged/kinda awkward their relationship is it doesn’t seem…terrible, yk?

The Alicent and Otta scene was nice. It felt like they found some understanding and a way to work together. But I do get the sense that yea, Otto is not completely satisfied with it (maybe Alicent’s definition of “victory” seemed lacking to him, which he’s not…entirely wrong there).

Luke’s funeral montage was very touching – the music was gorgeous. (I can only hope they allow Jae the same respect next ep…) Speaking of that montage, ahhhh Alicent in the sept praying for the dead… The fact this girl prays for Vizzy ffs. And also Luke. She recognizes that he was just a teenager and even though it pains her, she affords him his respect. As Criston says, “she has a gentle heart.”

Criston and Aemond’s conversation was so great on several levels!

First, of course, Aemond and his father-that-stepped-up making battle plans was great! They really do just have such a great camaraderie and dynamic of trust. Aemond believes in Criston’s excellence; they trust each other with secretive plans and vulnerable conversation. Loved the bit of Criston putting his hand on Aemond’s shoulder briefly before leaving the room.

The “that makes her a fool” line actually comes across better in context than it did in the tailer. (Although, still, who calls their mother by her name??) For one, Aemond’s frustration is understandable, he feels misunderstood and unfairly so (given that Alicent and the small council did start this whole thing, as he points out) but also he’s probably hurt, given his history with Luke. Remember how he had wanted to make a present of Luke’s eye to Alicent? He thought she was on the same page with him on this and she’s…not. Second, Aemond actually doesn’t realize this is what might be going on with Alicent – he seems kind of surprised after Criston’s explanation, the way that line is delivered. He’s having his realization out loud but he’s also not had time to digest it yet.

Ok SO I am in no way one of those weirdos who thinks that Alicent and Criston’s relationship is all about Rhaenyra (lol). BUT she is a point of common trauma for them. What Criston describes – Rhaenyra being a “cunning spider” and having an emotional influence over Alicent and Alicent capitulating to her because of her “gentle heart” is, yes, a description of Alicent, but it’s also a description of his own relationship with Rhaenyra, at least how it had felt from his POV. He understands Alicent’s feelings here so well and can empathize with her and defend her to Aemond because he loves her, yes, but also because he’s been there too.

OK, now ALICOLE.

I mean…Am I glad it’s canon? Well, yea, I’ve been shipping it super hard. Do they deserve to have consensual sex that brings them joy? Yes! Do I think it’s “hypocrisy”? Nope, lol, not matter now much TB screech that it is, it just isn’t. I’m pretty sure I’ve rebloged posts explaining why not.

That all said…man did they not handle this well, or at least certainly not in the best, most compelling way they could have. Now, I understand that my love for asexual/courtly love romance is not something most people share, so this relationship was going get physical if it was to be canon at all. Also, this show isn’t really the right genre for a drawn out slow burn romance, necessarily. But. It IS quite a big leap to suddenly go from “implied” and “romantic tension” to…fucking on a regular basis, just because Vizzy has finally kicked the bucket. Especially with these two characters.

Now, Alicent, I can get. She’s a widow, her marital vows no longer bind her. She has also completed her duty as a wife, mother and queen (re: providing heirs). Social interest in her private life is as low as it could ever be for a woman in that society. (So, not low enough really lol but historically, widows had a lot of freedom, compared to unmarried girls and wives.) But Criston? How does this work for him? His vows are still in place and he had been so heartbroken about having broken them the first time. I mean, yes, this is a very different situation and relationship. He’s older, he’s already broken those vows once so it’s like…how much he got to lose there? He can’t go back ever to NOT being an oathbreaker. But I really would have wanted to see some more set up. We should have seen them fight their irresistible pull toward each other, until they finally broke.

I did love her putting the cloak back on him afterward. A nice little anti-parallel to how he takes it off during the sex scene with Rhaenyra.

There really, really was no need to have Helaena walk in on them having sex after B&C. There had to be better ways to establish that this was a regular thing for them now and that the whole “we can’t do this again” is just Alicent/them being in denial. A way that didn’t take away from a moment that is/was supposed to be so horrific and impactful.

I do love the contrast of Alicent and Viserys always doing it missionary style and now with Criston she’s on top!

Blood & Cheese. Oh god. I have spent the last few days so angry about this. I’ve rebloged do many posts about this that I’m not sure I want to spend to much time on it. It’s just depressing at this point. But I will say a couple of things:

Helaena’s reaction does make sense to me. I’ve seen a lot of people, including TG people, saying that it was bad, and she should have been more frantic. But, frankly, she did seem pretty panicked and frantic to me. It’s just this Helaena does not emote/externalize much. At some point it seems like she almost dissociates from the situation. It’s understandable that she picks up her daughter and runs – she can’t save her son but while the assassins are distracted, of course she takes the chance to try to save her daughter. Even the necklace thing kind of makes sense. In the books, she asks them to kill her in part because she can’t stand to make the awful choice between her two boys – she’s rather die than choose. But here she hears them talk about her being a son; when they reject her necklace they also repeat how “that’s not a son.” Only a son will do, so offering her life is pointless, but trying to outbid the person who hired them might not be.

 The people (TB, lbr) shrieking about how this was Alicent and Criston’s fault are just willfully dense. If Alicent wasn’t having sex, she might have been sleeping or reading in her room or preying. There is literally nothing that implies that she would have been with Helaena if she wasn’t having sex, ffs. Also, Criston is not the only fucking kingsguard or guard. Wtf were there like no other guards idk. That’s just a plot hole/devise that looks ridiculous. But nonetheless, he 1) isn’t on duty 24/7, that’s unrealistic, and 2) is Alicent’s sworn shield, so he wouldn’t have been guarding Helaena or the kids anyway.

This is where we see that cutting Maelor was a BAD IDEA. It’s going to potentially create even more problems down the line. Who would have thought that cutting characters left and right might be an issue? /s It really diminishes the horror of Helaen’s situation and sets up this kind of unrealistic replacement choice which makes no sense because like…why would they even need her to tell them which one is the boy? It’s not that hard to feel the kids up and see which one has the right genitals, yk? I’ve seen people try to do some interesting analysis for how this scene is Thematically Relevant but nah. That’s just cope the way I used to cope with things in GoT that went wrong in the last seasons by doing metal gymnastics to try to spin them in a more palatable way for me.

But even if they fucked up on the foresight and found themselves with a situation where they needed to play this without Maelor…They could have still tried harder. For example: framing it less from the assassins’ POV and more from Helena’s, having the scene be longer, maybe in these circumstances have her try to offer her life/emote more like in the book, have Alicent actually be present too, have the rape threat against Jaehaera, have Daemon actually order Jae’s murder or at fucking least have him say “a son for a son” on screen because you KNOW the rabid part of this fanbase will act willfully blind and dumb to pretend he’s not at fault. I really think it’s that last one that makes me the most angry in the end, as the murder of a toddler is awful and horrific even without the Sophie’s choice.

And to piggy-back off that last, it’s the diminishing of the horror for TG and the whitewashing of TB as much as possible that gets to me the most, I think. They made this horrific, impactful event almost a par for the course (for the GoT/ASOIAF universe) sort of thing and with as little responsibility and plausible deniability given to TB as they could. The blatant bias (that they then have the audacity to pretend isn’t there) is infuriating.

In conclusion: there were plenty of nice things, but the disappointments really overshadowed them.

[corpsepng]

Pls make a list of books you recommend to aspiring writers<3

Ok. Aspiring/burgeoning writer starter kit:

In writing anything you officially become a writer so that’s step one haha, no need to aspire too much. BUT. I’m going to soapbox for a bit using this ask as an excuse love u kissing u etc. So. This will barely be about books, but sort of the recipe of what I (personally and subjectively) think will help anyone who wants to grow their craft. (I know because I've been writing seriously for 14 years)

The act of writing is the best practice you can get but having a well from which to draw on creatively and skill wise in order to DO that practice is the trickier part. And sometimes we can be found lacking because we’re either NOT refilling that well enough, consciously enough, or only with the same sorts of things so it gets stagnant. This is a long one so I’ll shove it under the cut haha.

The recipe:

Study craft

Broaden horizons 

Diversify consumption

Consume with intention

Apply with reference

1) Study craft: this is the easiest to make sense of, right? I want to get good at writing so I read books about writing yada yada. Whatever you’re writing, it’s made up of a lot of moving parts, and you can dedicate time studying EACH PART, but figure out what you have the least experience with, or the most difficulty with, and start there. Also, before I go on to preach about why you shouldn’t solely stake your growth on some dusty old books, here’s some dusty old books I recommend:

The Elements of Style (strunk/white/kalman) (really quick and abbreviated advice, read every bit of this but remember: rules are important to know so you can decide which are worth following and which are in need of breaking for the pursuit of your goals. And nobodies perfect, or editors wouldn’t have a job)

Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott) (excellent work about fostering a process, important for everyone who finds themselves a little lost on how to just. Start)

Wonderbook (Jeff Vandermeer) (I haven’t read this one but knowing Vandermeers work this is on my TBR and I KNOW it’s going to be enlightening)

How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas C. Foster) (perfect for those who can see others stories working but unsure how to make their own work, I personally didn’t read much of this one but this will help people to more critically engage with what they’re consuming)

Save the Cat Writes a Novel/Joseph Campbells Hero’s Journey/On Writing and Worldbuilding/etc (all of these are on structure and craft in a concrete sense), I would recommend either choose one OR getting the abbreviated/digestible versions through YouTube because a lot of these can repeat themselves. I’m working on a playlist of writing craft/structure videos that I found helpful, so keep an eye out for that)

So. Studying craft should be a multidisciplinary process. Articles online, videos on niche media, books on craft or copying things from your favorites, looking for yourself in the movies you watch or fiction you read. Punctuation, prose, structure, rhetoric, character, world building, pacing, etc. Unfortunately, no matter how seasoned you become as a writer, you will always be learning new things about the craft itself.

It should be fun and I honestly feel like an enlightened little scientist when I see something that really cracks the open the magic for me (ex: scenes that serve more than one purpose are OF COURSE going to be more engaging that scenes with only one purpose- duh) (of COURSE magic systems should have a cost) (of COURSE the characters cant always win OR always lose)

2) Broaden horizons: consuming fiction and studying it is key to knowing how to reproduce it. We start with the training wheels of imitation before we ride away full speed into truly unique original storytelling. But the most impactful and thought-provoking stories are more than just fiction, so you need to know more than stories. Science, history, art, craft, math, music, cooking, psychology, religion, whatever!

Everyone always parrots “write what you know”, but what you KNOW can expand to influence what you write- so keep learning new things all the time and for fun, because you never know what could help your story. Your knowledge is not limited to experience alone, and research is your best friend. ASOIAF was so loved because George RR Martin loved not only fantasy, but British history. The Folk of the Air series is so loved because Holly Blacks special interest is faeries.

Note: this does not mean the study of OTHER PEOPLES trauma and experiences in an appropriative way, rather, become worldly. Because sure, knowing what a gunshot feels like adds realism, but I don’t care about realism if I don’t care about your characters or world. Science fiction is the best example of this: so many of those stories stick with us generationally because they’re pointing a lens back at humanity, asking big philosophical questions with science, which is something that touches us all.

But it doesn’t even need to be Big and Thematic like that. My dear friend @chaylattes has a project where she’s applied her love of plants to the world building AND plot, and has INVENTED whole plant species that enriched their work with something so exclusively Chay. No one else could write Andromeda Rogue because Chay, with specific interests and knowledge, put that specificity into the story.

3) Diversify consumption: surrounding yourself with more of the same means you’re going to regurgitate the same, derivatively. To be a hater for a moment: I can tell within the first chapter if someone only reads/watches one kind of media (m*rvel, fairy smut, grim dark nonsense, etc), and it’s distracting. When I read that derivative work, I’m not thinking about THEIR story. All I can think of is the people who did it first, and better.

Alternatively, the best work draws on the unexpected. Fantasy work taking notes from horror, science fiction including humanistic romance, romance with elements of mystery. RF Kuangs work feels so smart because she’s literally a PHD candidate who’s reading of academic writing. Cassandra Clares work is so interpersonally messy and hard to look away from because she watches a lot of reality television. 

Genre is less a set of cages to lock yourself inside of and more so the sections of a great big fictional playground- and you need to start playing. Rules, again, are guidelines that can be bent for the sake of your stories. I predominantly write scifi/fantasy/horror but some of my favorite stuff is literary fiction, historical nonfiction, thrillers, and poetry.

And if you can’t bring yourself to read different genres, it takes significantly less effort to WATCH different genres. Television and film are stories too, and can absolutely be learned from. 

4) Consume with intention: this is easier said than done. I, embarrassingly, admit that I did not have any reading comprehension skills until I was at least 19. I was consuming, but I wasn’t thinking a damn critical thought, just spitting it back out in a way that sounded smart.

Critical thinking skills (I say, on the website that historically lacks such a thing) are a muscle that needs to be exercised just as often as your writing muscle. Reading new work, studying craft, learning new shit- none of it matters if you can’t APPLY it all to a story. One can take a clock apart to learn how exactly it ticks, but it won't tell time like a watch until you put it back together.

The key is asking questions, all of the time about everything. That whole “why the curtains were blue” nonsense comes to mind, but if you want to be a good writer, (edit: a writer that cares about whether or not their work is vapid imitation of better work) learning to ask WHY the curtains are blue really does matters.

Ask why in ALL stories you consume, including your own. Why do Ghibli films make me feel calm? (Motifs of undisturbed nature, low stakes plots and quiet scenes of reprieve between action, characters that care about one another and aren’t afraid to show it) Why do I fly through a Gillian Flynn novel but take 8,000 years to read other books? (Concise descriptions, realistic but evocative premise, witty voice, contained and fast paced plot, an abundance of questions driving the mystery leading up to a satisfying crash of answers at the end) Why were the curtains blue, the coffee cup chipped, and the lipstick stain on the rim red instead of purple or pink? And why did the colors matter at all when the scene is about a father at a kitchen table? (You tell me!) Answers may vary.

You can put the work into learning the answer at the source (ie: listening to authors talk about their own work), or through the external interpretations of a critic (proceed with caution here), sure. These are even good when learning HOW to think critically if you don’t even know where to start. But your growth as a writer depends on your ability to answer your OWN questions. 

(Why do I feel tense in this scene? Is it because the character says they’re sweating and struggling to breathe? Is it because I’ve been told the monsters close? Is it because the sentences are getting shorter and the author keeps repeating descriptions of that monsters massive bloody teeth coming closer? Or is it because I know the gun in her hands has no bullets because another character already tried what she’s about to try?)

(Why do I feel sad in this scene? Is it because the characters mom just died? Is it because the character can’t even verbalize that sadness to others? Is it because none of the other characters seem to care enough to ask? Is it because of the wilted flowers in the corner? Or is it because there are daisies in the bouquet, and those were the moms favorite?)

I can nod and smile at 1000 opinions about “why X did Y and the end of Z” or “why X is Y and not Z” but how I felt when I consume something, how I was affected and how it made ME PERSONALLY answer my critical questions, that’s what’s important. That’s how we manufacture gay subtext in everything, because sometimes gay is a feeling as opposed to a fact.

Also, if those subjective answers are inconsistent among readers/viewers, the writer likely had their own intentions a little muddled. So, and I know I’m getting tangential but stay with me: romance. You know how you’re supposed to feel happy or convinced that the people falling in love are like, in love? And want to put yourself in that position or whatever? I CANNOT consume most romance media because it all comes off as categorically terrifying to me. I ask myself why the characters are doing what they do, reacting the way they react, saying way they say, and none of it feels romantic. I want to file a restraining order, and that’s the failing of the author, who did not make enough conscious choices in their work and accidentally created horror while writing their color by numbers trope slop of a “romance” novel. 

5) Apply with reference: is like taking all your ingredients and finally cooking. You want people to notice and respect when you add certain literary devices, descriptions, character choices, but not to the detriment of your work. Shows like stranger things are popular but divisive because their intertextuality and reliance on nostalgia bolster an otherwise unoriginal idea. They weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel, they were writing a love letter to Stephen Spielberg, and are riding that wave into the ground. But the fairy dick renaissance doesn’t feel nearly as palatable as season one of stranger things did because a lot of times they aren’t using the ingredients in their own way, rather, following the recipe to a T and selling it as new. Food really is the perfect metaphor and sorry in advance because I’m really going to run with it here lol. 

When I eat a meal, first of all I know I'm eating food, so don't try and trick me into thinking otherwise or I'll only get annoyed. I want to be able to taste all of what’s in front of me, spice, salt, sweet, bitter, etc and know what what you said you've fed me is really actually truly what I've eaten. One ingredient, or writing choice, shouldn’t overpower another, or surprise me so much I can’t take another bite. I shouldn’t try something you call “sauced and baked yeast patty garnished with fermented milk and smoked meat” and think “this shits pizza” because you didn’t even try to jazz it up more than what the instructions on the digiorno box said. I also shouldn’t bite into something you call a pizza and only taste bread because you really like bread and forgot that a pizza is more than just bread. 

But inversely, avoiding all ingredients gets you weird, nary inedible shit like charred milk reduction with lamb mist or whatever. Show me you have knowledge in your genre by referencing it AND remixing it, show me that you studied craft by foreshadowing properly or pacing well, show me you’re more than an AI writerbot by deepening your work with your unique and human influence, show me you read broadly by adding surprising ingredients, and show me that you mean every word you write because you made the curtains blue instead of yellow, and topped your pizza with pepperoni instead of pineapple.

Congrats on making it all the way through my rambling, hope I made sense and that this helped!

[haute-kewture]

Creativity Update

Lately there's been an endless drive to cast on many projects that feed my creativity. I have a list or 'to swatch' which but the main priority is to swatch the Iris Sweater by Trin-Annelie, first.

I put in a mass order with Knitting for Olive during their holiday sale...

This meant I could pick up some sweater quantities for a navy sweater and a cream/off-white sweater (pattern to be picked). I also went through and planned for the colours for the Iris. Notably, the pattern is designed for Holst Supersoft (which I have worked with previously, see my project page on Ravelry for the Felix Cardigan) - and the packs/kits when the Iris was released, sold out immediately. Which is great, but also not so great for anyone who missed out. Holst is a work-horse yarn, meaning, you can hold multiple strands, and it blooms beautifully, AND because it's essentially untreated (still with spinning oil in it) - you get a rustic but durable garment which isn't meant to 'pill' as quickly with wear. Important for the high-friction areas and what it means for mending. This meant I was exploring other alternatives and ended up with Knitting For Olive. I already knew it was going to be a time investment for a light fingering weight colourwork sweater... so I figured, why not opt for something which is on sale, and they have similar muted colours in similar chroma which could work. End result, a very large order to continue to inspire my creativity as my self-made wardrobe grows (slowly).

Side note: Admittedly, at times my collection of creativity (read: stash) - grows and evolves at a faster rate than I can knit, but I remind myself that this is my source of creativity. I am trying to be a bit more unapologetic about what brings me joy.

The Iris

This expansion of my source of creativity, means I have two options to explore for the Iris.

Option A: Per the Pattern

Image source and credit: © Trin-Annelie

Or Option B - which is the green template I mocked up, on the left - which is side by side to the mock-up of the Knitting For Olive 'blues' on the left.

I'm still deciding on the main colour for the body, I'm between Marzipan and Cream. This planning stage of something complex is something I'm really enticed about and really motivated. I feel very inspired and even considered knitting each flower with an alternating blue/green.

I've told myself, once I finish my current WIPs which includes a test knit for Vert & Rose Knitting. I also have two Paul Klee Sweaters by Midori House, which I've made up for my niece and nephew; and a Traveller's Shawl using handspun which I'm hoping to all have done by March. The Shawl especially as it's due to the recipient mid March.

The Twigs

I have the beginnings of The Twigs by Junko Okamoto on the needles as I couldn't resist breaking into the Ulysses yarn by De Rerum Natura. It's crispy and delightful to the touch. I'm done with the awesome cast-on to start the collar and I've put it to the side for the moment, as I've told myself to finish my Badger Sweater first. No, not the 'Badger' that's popularly known, rather the Badger that's in the book 'Observations' by Lotta H Lothgren.

Sewing

Meanwhile, I'm waiting for the printed sewing pattern of the Chanterelle Pants to arrive so I can start the Sew Liberated course for pants fitting. My biggest creativity goal is to learn to sew my own pants. I have been wanting to move away from buying new garments from the store.

Image Credit: Sew Liberated

I have really wanted to be self sufficient when it comes to textiles and clothing. It's why I work to evolve my knowledge, and have learnt to spin, knitting and sew. I have entertained the idea of weaving even though previously, I didn't necessarily feel drawn to it.

Weaving

I have been connecting a lot with my history and cultural roots, which originate from South America. This has taken the form of listening to stories of artisans from the Patagonia, who share how they learnt to weave, embroider, knit and also spin. These interviews are beautiful retellings of family histories and connection to land and self-sufficiency. Stories which display learning crafts out of necessity before then turning it into a means to earn income in arid landscapes amongst warm communities.

The episodes are entirely in Spanish and so if you speak or understand Spanish, you will most definitely enjoy the richness this pod has to offer.

For those who are curious - Atlas Textil produced by Pulso Austral is available on Spotify.

So TBA on whether I embark on learning to weave, but for the moment I am learning a lot about ancestors of the lands from which I originate and this is doing so much to fill my creativity cup.

Until next time!

[gemini-magic17]

Entanglement Chapter Eleven

After the news about my betrothal from my mother, I found myself in the castle library. It was almost bigger than my family's library and the types of books they had were ones that I had never encountered. Making my way through the stacks I landed on the section containing the history of Tir Asleen.

I grabbed the book from the shelf and sat down on a nearby chair next to a window. The contents of the book talked about the kingdom's origins along with the rulers that came to follow. Enthralled in what I was reading I didn't here the door open and before I knew it there was someone in front of me.

"Hello, Y/n", I almost jumped out of my seat only to realize the person who spoke those words was none other than Kit.

"Hi, Kit", I said and closed the book laying it on my lap.

"I remember in passing your mother told me that you enjoy going to your family's library when you are upset. I assumed you got the news about our union", she said as she pulled up a chair to sit in front of me.

"Yes, and I'm sure just like you were I was shocked to find out the wedding was being moved up", I said.

"You could say that", she said with a scoff.

"I know that you never wanted this betrothal and neither did I. Yet, I can't help but have feelings for you, and since we have been growing closer I just think that maybe this marriage between you and I could be happy", I said looking directly into her eyes awaiting her next words.

"Maybe so. It has been nice getting to know you and perhaps we could have that happiness you speak of", she said in a low voice while avoiding eye contact.

"Don't worry Kit it may not seem like it but you will get through this and so will I. It may be hard at first but we will be alright", I said.

**Kit's POV

After leaving Jade I headed towards the castle library knowing that is where I would most likely find Y/n. Even though she was the last person I wanted to talk to I needed to find out what she thought about this recent development. Opening the library door I see her sitting there next to a stained glass window what she seemed to be reading was a book on the History of Tir Asleen. Sitting there she looked absolutely angelic as her h/c hair cascaded down her back and the vibrant blue/white dress with gold detailing on it had her resembling a goddess. It was hard to turn my eyes away but moved toward her making an effort to talk to her.

The conversation we had made me realize just like me she never wanted this. Her parents forced her into this just like my mother did. Having this talk with her opened my eyes to what was really going on and made me appreciate the fact that even though she was put into this situation Y/n was trying to make the best of it unlike me.

"I know that you were and are possibly still weary of me but I want you to be ok with telling me how you feel regardless of what it pertains to", she says.

"I may have been weary in the beginning because of how we met but now that I am getting to know you the person who I thought you were is the exact opposite of that", I said sincerely, and the small smile that crossed her face.

"I just don't want you to think that-" Before I could continue she grabbed my hand and it was almost like I lost the ability to speak.

She grabbed my hand and tried to reassure me that just because we didn't choose this doesn't mean that we can't make the best of it. I looked deep into her eyes as she did mine. I don't know what made me do it or how it started but I began to lean in. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but what about Jade she means the world to me but all I can think about is Y/n in this moment.

Filling the small gap that was between us our lips met. It just started out as one kiss but it turned into more very fast. It's like we were addicts and our drug was each other. Within a second I get out of the chair and pull her along with me to one of the stacks on the far side of the library without separating from each other. I pushed Y/n up against it and she moved her hands into my hair pulling on my dark locks. A moan escaped my mouth and my lips traveled further down splaying kisses on the side of her face until I reached her neck. The kisses I left there caused her to moan and before going further we heard the door open. Placing my hand over her mouth I waited for any sign of someone present.

"Hey, is anyone in here", they questioned and that voice belonged to none other than James. Y/n was pulling to take my hand away from her mouth to go talk to him but I shook my head no. I could hear his footsteps making their way around and before he could reach us I hear another sound of footsteps resonating.

"Um, Prince James what are you doing here", the voice belonged to Jade. Oh my god, Jade how could I do this to her she was the only person I ever wanted to be with. I looked back at Y/n and all I could think about is how much I just hurt Jade and she doesn't even know it.

"Oh, Jade I was looking for my sister. What are you doing", James said.

"I saw Kit heading this way and wanted to come talk to her", she said.

"Really", I could hear the gears working in his head putting it together.

"I was sure I saw her come in here."

"Well you must have been mistaken otherwise she would have come out when she had heard us Y/n as well", he said.

"I suppose your right."

Without another word, I can hear them both start to leave and once the door has been shut with no sign of them I slowly released my hand from Y/n's mouth. She looked at me waiting for me to say something but what I could say was that it was a mistake and it didn't mean anything. It was a momentary lapse in judgment and right when she was about to speak I pushed away from her and ran for the door. I just left her there without any explanation knowing it must have hurt and left her confused.

Running throughout the castle in search of Jade I finally found her as she was heading towards the courtyard. I called her name but she kept walking and again I called her name with the same action followed. Entering the courtyard I ran around her cutting her off to stand in front of her. By the look on her face, I could tell what she wanted to talk about before went out the window.

"Jade, whats wrong", I asked.

"How can you ask me that knowing what you just did", she looked at me with anger.

"What are you talking about"?

"Kit do not play dumb you are too smart to play dumb", she yelled. With that we started to get attention from nearby people so I tried taking her hand so we could go somewhere else but she jerked it back.

"You saw her and I in the library, didn't you", hoping the answer was no but already knowing in fact that it was true.

"No, more like I heard the moans that were resonating down the halls," she spat with anger.

"I'm sorry I never met for it to happen", and with those words, she rubbed her hands with her face displaying the evident frustration she was feeling.

"You have to know that it didn't mean anything. It was just the heat of the moment nothing else. All I care about is you", I said desperately.

"You say that Kit and yet go behind my back and do that with her", Jade said and walked away from me, possibly forever. My eyes filled with tears following her silhouette as she left knowing that I could have just lost her.

[sollattes]

mako's sticky little secret

Makoto quietly sneaked into his room. After his evening patrol as the 'friendly neighbourhood spiderman', his injuries finally catch up to him as his adrenaline slowly dissipates.

He removed his shoes first before climbing into the window to his room. Once in his room, he took off his mask, took a deep breath, and sighed.

He was removing suit when the door creaked open to reveal you, in an oversized white shirt and pyjama, messy hair and holding up a bat, your face still a bit puffy, it looked like you just woke up, Makoto noticed.

The two of you just stood there for a hot minute, trying to process on what was going on.

"I can explain," Makoto started, but he was cut off when you rushed towards him and grabbed his face, looking at how much his face was beaten up.

"You okay? Does anything other than your face hurt?" You asked him cautiously, checking his body, he hissed when you touched his rib.

"Take off your suit and just seat on the bed, I'll grab some ice and first aid kit," you left him, Makoto still quite in shock but followed your instructions.

You came into the room and found Makoto shirtless. You noticed that there was a big growing bruise on his right rib, and lots of scratches and smaller bruises were scattered on him.

"What happened?" You questioned Makoto as you started treating his injuries, cleaning them gently first with a wet towel.

"It was just a really rough night," Makoto looked down. He owed you this. You didn't care if he was Spiderman. You only cared that he was hurt, and Makoto couldn't be affected by your reaction. Sometimes, he thinks that may be it was fate that brought you, a med student, and him, Spiderman, together.

The both of you just stayed silent. After that, as you were focusing on treating his wounds, you put the ice in his bruise, Makoto hissed with the sudden effect of the ice, and you took his reaction to the ice to put the ointment gently.

Makoto could only look at you with adoration in his eyes as he couldn't find in himself the comfy silence. He watched the way your hands handled his wounds gently but securely.

"So... when were you planning to tell me?" You asked him, not making eye contact.

"I.. I don't know... I don't wanna endanger you, I don't want people targeting you all because you know me, I dont want to put you at any risk. " Makoto didn't like keeping things from you, but this was for your own safety. Makoto knew that if he ever gets you in danger, he will never be able to forgive himself.

You now looked at Makoto in the eyes. You could see the sincerity shining in his eyes. Yes, it did hurt you that Makoto didn't tell you, but at the same time you get where he was coming from, you too wouldn't have told him if you were in his place, also afraid of the dangers that might come after him, so you didn't press in the matter anymore.

"Since when was this?" You looked down once again to continue treating his wounds, maybe changing the subject could ease up the tension.

"Since 16, you remember that one time that I was absent at school because I got bit by a sipder. Well, it turns out that Spider wasn't just an ordinary spider. It was a radioactive spider that escaped from a lab and crept into my room, then bit me, and it gave me these abilities." Makoto laughed slightly. You laughed with him, recalling the memory of you non-stop pestering his parents to let you see him.

As dawn approaches both you and Makoto, just continue talking. The topic ranges from his Spiderman life to core memories that both of you shared with each other, made with each other, and this night was going to be one of those memories.

Makoto could only wish that moments like these could last, hiding in the cheap blinds of the apartment, talking the ears out each other, sharing laughter.

But Makoto knew that the city was going to need him sooner or later, and you were going to be put in danger and be taken away from Makoto since after all it was all bound to happen, it was already written in stone the moment that radioactive spider bit him.

tags : @simpforchuchu

[bonefall]

“Honorable father Rippleclaw” the only honor he did was being an honor sire.

What was Oakheart and Graypool’e relationship like with their kits? Similar to canon or other things tossed in?

[ID: Oakheart wearing sunglasses and a white T-shirt that says, "I'm not the stepdad I'm the dad that stepped up"]

TRADE OFFER: Oakheart receives 'presence in lives of his children,' Graypool receives 'Himbo platonic coparent'

Rippleclaw was only meant to be an honor sire, Graypool wanted kits and always thought he was an awesome warrior. She was like a 'fan' of his.

She gave birth to three kittens, two of which had never been very strong and were suspected fading kits. When they 'stabilized,' it was liked they got... bluer.

"DON'T question it, we're the Queen's Rights Clan you stupid fishbrain"

No one was surprised that Oakheart and Graypool started getting close around this point though. They were kind of connected through Crooked and Willow anyway and had always been friends, and a litter of 3 at once can be a pawful.

Swankit looked EXACTLY like Rippleclaw. The river's reflection of him. Meanwhile Mistykit and Stonekit...

Well, again, it wasn't questioned.

In any case, the kits were not raised with distinctions. Oakheart was their dad and Graypool was their mom, though they don't have very early memories of him because he only adopted them after Stone and Misty stabilized.

The three of them adored their parents and were very close growing up.

They eventually became Mistystar, Stonefur, and Swansong!

Always bugged me how TPB made it really clear that Mistyfoot saw Oakheart as her dad and really loved him, but then later material totally abandoned the "queen's right" that I built up into the FULL Queen's Rights system and, thus, had to make it that Oakheart had to watch his kits grow up from afar.

So now he gets THREE kids!

[chicgeekgirl89]

Summary: A nightmarish White Elephant gift haunts Carlos for the entire holiday season. Rating: M (no sex, but like...heavy on the implied) A/N: Is this a Christmas fic? Yes. Is it now January? Also yes. But Christmas is a feeling you can have anytime! Read on AO3

“Noooo!!!” 

There’s a collective shout of protest from the entire group as Mateo snatches a mug full of handmade chocolate from Paul and returns smugly to his seat on Owen’s sofa. “I got it for you boo,” he says, smiling up at Nancy with such a lovesick expression that it prompts another groan from everyone.

“Cap that’s not fair! People shouldn’t be allowed to steal gifts for other people!” Marjan protests. 

“You’re just mad because now Paul’s gonna steal your bath bombs!” Mateo tells her, not looking the least bit sorry.

“Yep,” Paul says, hopping up and plucking the bag of bath bombs from her lap.

“Cap!” Marjan protests again, trying to grab it back and failing.

“There is nothing in the rules that says you can’t steal a gift with the intention of giving it away once the game is complete,” Owen says calmly.

“Is there anything that says how unfair it is that the couples get to take home two gifts?” Marjan grumbles, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair petulantly.

“Maybe you should bring a boyfriend next time then,” Mateo shoots back.

“Okay enough children,” Tommy says calmly from where she’s sitting next to Judd and Grace. “Marjan you get to either steal or pick a new gift.”

“Fine,” she huffs and rolls her eyes. “I will take a new gift.”

Owen’s annual White Elephant party has been in full swing for a couple hours. The food and drinks have been flowing all night and they are deep into their gift exchange. Tommy holds a gift certificate for a local movie theater, Carlos stole a set of ornaments from Nancy two rounds ago, Judd has managed to wrangle a set of freezable beer glasses back after three steals, and Grace has threatened bodily harm to anyone who tries to take the gift card for a pedicure that she unwrapped to start the game. 

It’s been a night full of laughter and holiday spirit, much needed after the last few months. T.K. is snuggled into Carlos’ side, his eyes full of light and happiness. The relief Carlos feels at seeing him enjoy this time with friends and family is palpable. 

“Fine,” Marjan says, putting on that air that says she’s “rising above” even though she’s likely still harboring bitterness inside. “I will choose a new gift.”

She opens a gift bag with snowflakes on it to reveal a “Grow Your Own Avocado Kit” that mollifies her. “Okay Tommy, you’re up,” T.K. says. “Are you stealing or opening?”

“I think I will open,” Tommy says, reaching for a flat-ish gift that’s wrapped in the standard Amazon gift wrap. “I like an element of surprise.”

She puts on a face of fake contemplation and shakes it lightly. “Hope it’s not breakable,” Judd teases. 

“Doesn’t sound like it,” she says, pulling the packaging off. 

She and Grace both realize what it is at the same time and their eyes go comically wide. “Oh…my,” Tommy says as Grace clears her throat and shifts a little, clear amusement on her face.

“What is it Tommy?” Nancy asks, craning her neck to try and see.

“It is um,” Tommy turns it around for everyone to see, “an adult advent calendar.”

For a long moment the only sound in the room is Michael Bublé crooning on about white Christmases and sleigh bells. And in that moment, Carlos should realize that he’s doomed. But he’s too relaxed and full of holiday cheer to realize his fate has been sealed. So instead he sits there in blissful ignorance and doesn’t realize that his fiancé, cuddled sweetly in beside him, is already plotting a course of action that is going to ruin his holiday season.

“Well,” Owen says finally, “that is…an interesting choice. Who um, who decided to bring that gift?”

“It was me!” Mateo says proudly. “My buddy got one last year and said it was awesome. He and his girlfriend really enjoyed doing the activities.”

Carlos winces. Poor Mateo. The kid really doesn’t get it sometimes. 

“Babe,” Nancy says patiently. “What do you think an adult advent calendar is for?”

“I don’t know,” Mateo says, obviously confused by everyone’s reactions. “Like drinking wine and stuff? Things for adults.”

“Mateo, can you really not think of another meaning for the word ‘adult’?” Judd asks.

He wrinkles his forehead in confusion and then it clears, his mouth forming an “o” shape. “Oooooh, adult like…ADULT.”

“There it is,” Paul says with a nod.

Marjan leans over Tommy’s shoulder. “Twenty-four naughty challenges for every fast day,” she reads aloud. “Every fast day? What the hell does that even mean?”

“I think it means this came from a country where English isn’t the primary language,” Grace says in amusement.

“Oh god, Tommy, I’m so sorry!” Mateo says, looking horrified.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tommy says with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be getting much use out of this as a single person, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

The group gets a good laugh at Mateo’s expense and the game moves on. Owen opens a gigantic Hershey bar and immediately goes on a rant about how sugar is a metabolism killer before trying to foist it off on Judd to give to Charlie, and then Marjan steals Grace’s gift card and all hell breaks loose for about ten minutes as vicious gameplay ensues. Carlos loses his ornaments and ends up with the Hershey bar, which, if nothing else, will make his nieces and nephews happy, so it’s not too big of a loss. 

When the dust settles everyone is left with a gift except for T.K. “What’s it going to be T.K.?” Judd asks. “Are you taking the last gift or choosing to restart the violence?”

T.K. looks up at Carlos, a wicked smile on his face and Carlos’ stomach lurches. “Please don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what babe?” T.K. asks innocently.

“You know what,” Carlos says, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. 

Because somehow, in all the chaos, Tommy still has the sexy advent calendar. Apparently no one else is interested in “naughty challenges for every fast day.” But T.K. is always up for naughty challenges. And embarrassing the shit out of Carlos. 

“What are you two whispering about?” Nancy asks suspiciously. “Are you crafting some master plan for stealing these bath bombs? Because you can pry them from my cold dead hands.”

“Relax. I don’t want your bath bombs Nance,” T.K. says in that voice he uses when he’s about to ruin Carlos’ life. It’s the one that’s obnoxiously casual with hints of mischief and delight and it sends fear shooting through him like nothing else.

“Okay well we don’t got until New Year’s, pick a gift T.K.!” Judd says.

“If you insist.” T.K. stands and walks toward Paul only to do an abrupt about face and grab the advent calendar from Tommy instead. “I think we can probably find a way to have some fun with this at our place.”

Carlos dies. He literally dies. He can feel his face going fire engine red. He wishes he could sink into the couch and disappear. He knows T.K. is sex positive. He knows that that entire 126 is far more aware of the intimate details of their bedroom life than he would like. He knows. But rarely does he have to see it flaunted so blatantly in front of his face. In front of his soon to be father-in-law’s face. 

Right now Carlos is also sex positive in that he’s positive they’re never having sex again.

T.K. plops back down next to him and opens it up to a random page. “Ooh look at Day Eighteen babe!”

“I wanna see Day Eighteen!” Mateo comes running and leans over Carlos’ lap to take a look. 

“Don’t look at Day Eighteen, skip right to the end,” Nancy says, snatching it from T.K.’s hands and riffling through the pages. “Game in Santa? Is that like a threesome? Do you have to hire a Santa actor? That feels like something that should have been booked months in advance.”

“Santa actors are indeed very busy this time of year,” Owen says. “And I’d imagine a Santa willing to participate in a threesome is going to be much more expensive than your standard mall Santa.”

Carlos slumps lower in the couch and covers his face with his hands. This is a nightmare.

Carlos is on shift the next day when his phone buzzes with a text message. He and Lexi are on desk duty, working on end of year paperwork. Other people might be unhappy about it, but as much as Carlos enjoys the more active aspects of his job he also finds paperwork soothing. It’s like putting things to bed and tying it all up in a neat little bow. 

Lexi does not agree.

“Whyyyyyy are there so many forms?” she moans, dropping her head dramatically onto her desk, dangerously close to her coffee cup.

Carlos automatically reaches over and moves it to safety. “You’re going to have to do them all over again if you spill coffee on everything.”

“No I won’t. I’ll just send them in covered in coffee stains. That’s admin’s problem.”

“Your desire for perfection is admirable,” Carlos teases her, picking up his phone to find T.K. has sent a picture of their sock drawer. Everything is neatly aligned and perfectly in place, just the way he likes.

Thanks for doing the laundry babe, he texts back. 

Three little dots pop up immediately followed shortly by a second picture, this time of their spice cabinet. Carlos frowns in concentration and zooms in a little bit. “Did he refill all the spices?” he asks under his breath.

“What was that?” Lexi asks, clearly eager to be distracted from her work.

“T.K.’s home today and he’s sending me pictures of his chores,” Carlos says, showing it to her before typing back, Busy day huh? Thanks.

Their sergeant calls them in for an impromptu meeting after that and Carlos doesn’t get to look at his phone again until lunchtime. A third picture greets him, this time of their vacuum, lines apparent on the carpet where T.K. has done some vacuuming. Carlos chuckles to himself, amused by his boyfriend’s antics. Thank you? he responds. What’s with all the extra chores today?

He knows something’s up when T.K. begins responding immediately. Even through the phone he can sense T.K.’s eagerness and glee. Whatever’s going on, T.K. is very proud of himself and probably about to make Carlos just a little crazy.

It’s Day Seven.

Carlos stares at the text, his mind drawing a blank. Day seven of what? December? What does that mean?

He texts T.K. back asking as much and receives yet another picture in reply. Carlos has to bite back an incredulous laugh when he realizes it’s a page from that stupid advent calendar telling them to send suggestive texts to each other throughout the day.

This is your version of sexting? he types out, trying not to smile too obviously. The spice cabinet and the vacuum? Very hot.

The reply comes immediately. No, it’s your version of sexting. This is my version of sexting.

The dots disappear for just long enough that Carlos gets distracted by a couple forms that need his signature. When he absentmindedly checks his phone again a few minutes later his jaw drops.

T.K. has sent a selfie of himself in front of their bathroom mirror. His shirt is unbuttoned, chest fully exposed, his belt and the button on his pants undone so they’re slung low on his hips with the waistband of his boxers peeking out tantalizingly over the top. And his face, god his face. Most of the time T.K. looks like a giddy little boy. But with his head tipped back, eyes half closed, mouth slightly open, god, he looks like… 

Fuck.

“Carlos? You okay?” Lexi asks, bringing Carlos crashing back into the present and his current location.

He shifts a little and immediately turns his phone screen off. “Yeah, just um, just need a break I think.”

She nods. “See? Told you. All this paperwork is bad for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, heat still pooling in his midsection. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Don’t rush. The paper’s not going anywhere,” she says.

He slips into the locker room, checking to make sure no one is around before locking himself in one of the bathroom stalls. He taps T.K.’s name and it takes only one ring before his boyfriend is picking up. “Hey baby.”

“Jesus Christ T.K.,” Carlos says. “I’m at work.”

“I’m aware.” T.K.’s voice is full of delight. 

“You’re going to kill me,” Carlos says, letting his head fall back against the cool metal of the stall wall.

“Mmm might you be a fan of the advent calendar after all?” 

Carlos huffs. “No. I have,” he checks his watch, “four more hours before I can get home to you. I very much do not like the advent calendar right now.”

“Four hours huh?” T.K. says. “I can send a lot of sexy text messages in four hours…”

“T.K. I swear to god, do not keep sending me stuff here. I’m going to turn my phone off.”

It buzzes as he speaks and he pulls it away from his ear to see yet another text message. “Just one to remember me by then,” T.K. says, his voice flirty. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Carlos alone and turned on as hell. He sucks in a breath and tries to give himself a stern talking to about professionalism and decency.

It barely works. 

He equal parts wants to worship T.K. and murder him.

He can’t help himself. He opens the last text. Couldn’t resist, it reads and then there’s a picture of T.K. in nothing but his boxers, lip caught between his teeth, his free hand so suggestively placed that Carlos considers faking sick and rushing home as fast as he can.

Instead he hardens his resolve. Two can play at this game. 

He flicks through the pictures on his phone, settling on a selfie he took a couple weeks ago. He’d really been feeling himself after a heavy lifting session and snapped it in the gym bathroom. His shirt is pulled up between his teeth, his curls messy and sweaty in a way he knows T.K. thinks is sexy as hell. You can just make out the faint outline of a bulge in his shorts. 

Carlos smirks as he sends it, then turns his phone off without waiting for a reply. He has to make it through the rest of the day and that’s not going to happen if T.K. keeps texting.

When his shift is over he stops at the grocery store to grab more cheese and a salad to go along with the pasta they’re having for dinner. He gets home a little after six, his mouth watering at the smells of tomato and garlic that are swirling from their loft out into the hallway. “Hi!” he calls as he steps inside and slips off his shoes.

“Hi.” T.K. steps out of the kitchen, an apron over his clothes and an amused smile on his face as he gives Carlos a welcome home kiss.

Carlos rolls his eyes. “Dinner smells good.”

“Should be ready in a few minutes.” T.K. watches as he sets down his work bag and starts looking through the mail that’s on their console table. “Have you checked your phone lately?”

“I turned it off,” Carlos tells him. “You were extremely distracting and I didn’t think I could make it through the rest of my shift if you kept texting.”

T.K. takes a step closer, false casualness coloring his voice. “You might want to take a look.”

Carlos sets the mail down. “If I look at more dirty pictures of you now we’ll never eat dinner. And I’m starving.”

“I think my dirty pictures are the least of your worries,” T.K. says, glee lighting up in his eyes. “Your picture on the other hand…”

Carlos smiles as he pulls his phone out and powers it back up. “Oh you liked that huh?”

“I definitely liked it. And so did everyone else.”

“Everyone else? What are you talking abo—“ Carlos’ eyes go wide as forty-six missed messages pop up onto his screen. The most recent one is from Judd, and when he opens the text thread he finds that—

“Yeah, you sent your revenge thirst trap to the 126 group chat babe,” T.K. tells him.

Horror fills Carlos from top to bottom as he scrolls through the messages.

“Whoa, what is this, Thirst Trap Thursday?”- Paul

“Dang, do you lift bro?”- Mateo

“Oh Carlos, sweetie, I think you sent this to the wrong person.” -Tommy

“Okay Officer Hottie!”- Nancy

They go on and on, everyone chiming in at one point or another, including Owen, who offers to hook Carlos up with his supplement regimen the next time they’re at the house and culminating in a text from Judd asking everyone to stop forking texting, his phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for an hour.

Carlos has never been more mortified in his entire life. “Oh my god,” he says.

“Deep breaths. You’re okay,” T.K. says, patting him gently on the back.

Carlos pulls back and glares at him. “This is your fault!”

“Pretty sure I didn’t send my sexy pics to the wrong group thread. How is it my fault?”

“You and that stupid advent calendar! This never would have happened if you’d just let Tommy keep it!”

“It’s one picture Carlos. Everyone will have forgotten about it by tomorrow.”

(No one forgets. They bring it up all the time. They blow it up to poster size and hang it in T.K.’s locker at work. They send a graffitied version of it to Carlos on his birthday. The following year’s white elephant exchange includes a copy in a garish frame.)

Carlos crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re getting rid of it.”

T.K. snorts. “No we’re not.”

“Yes we are!”

“It’s my gift! You can’t throw away a gift!”

Carlos clenches his jaw. “That thing is trouble T.K. I don’t want it around anymore.”

T.K. steps closer. “That’s funny. Because usually you like it when I get into trouble.”

“Do not start with that.”

“Come on baby,” T.K. says, his tone flirty and suggestive. “We were having a pretty good time with it before all this.” He runs a finger along the buttons on Carlos’ shirt. “I thought that picture was hot. And I like that everyone knows this beautiful body is all mine.”

God help him, something inside of him unspools when T.K. talks like this. “Your dad saw it. And Tommy,” he protests, the embarrassment lingering.

“Tommy sees bodies all the time at work,” T.K. says. “And my dad really doesn’t care. Honestly it’s kind of surprising he didn’t send a selfie back.” He looks up at Carlos through his lashes. “Let’s have dinner and then I’ll make you forget about anything except how hot we both are, okay?”

He must be the weakest man alive. “Okay,” he says. “But you have to promise me that that stupid calendar will stay between us from now on.”

“I promise,” T.K. says, patting his chest. “Only the two of us will know anything about it.”

“Good,” Carlos says in relief.

A couple weeks later Carlos comes home from Christmas shopping, struggling to find his keys as he exits the elevator with an armload of bags full of gifts for his family and T.K. He’s so focused on trying to extract his keys from his pocket without dropping anything that he doesn’t notice their front door is slightly ajar until he’s reaching toward the lock. 

He immediately goes on high alert. T.K. had texted he was on his way home five minutes ago. There’s no way he could have gotten here so fast. And even if he had, there’s no way he would have left the door ajar.

Carlos carefully sets down his bags and pulls out his phone as he eases the door open a little further, peering carefully inside. There’s music blasting and the smell of cookies in the air. Are they being robbed by the Keebler elves?

He ventures in a little further, body tense and ready for a fight, when out of nowhere there’s a blood curdling scream and he has to duck as a mixing bowl comes flying at his head. “Whoa!” he yells as it crashes to the floor behind him, splattering something all over their entryway.

“Carlos?! What the fuck?!”

He looks up to find his sister staring at him. “Cesca! Oh my god!”

“You scared the shit out of me!” she yells angrily.

“You scared the shit out of ME!” he yells back, rubbing his chest where his heart is still thundering away.

“Why is everyone yelling?" Adriana appears from the bedroom looking confused and mildly annoyed, giving him his second heart attack of the last three minutes. 

“Why are you both in my house?!” he asks incredulously. 

“We’re baking cookies,” Francesca says, as if this is totally normal and acceptable.

“Don’t you have an oven at your place?” Carlos asks.

“It’s broken,” Adriana tells him, as she walks around the couch and then spots the mess the mixing bowl left on the floor. “Cesca, what the fuck? We’re going to have to make the icing all over again.”

“He broke in and scared me! I had to defend myself!”

“I didn’t break in, this is my house!” Carlos says. “And you left the door open!”

“Sorry you have a weird ass bougie slidey door that’s difficult to close,” Cesca mumbles with a roll of her eyes as she returns to the kitchen.

His heart finally returning to normal, Carlos steps outside and retrieves his bags and then firmly closes and locks the door behind him. He’d prefer if his cousin and sister were on the other side, but getting rid of them is harder than getting rid of Christmas card glitter. He’s just going to have to accept their presence in his home until they get tired or bored and leave. 

“Why didn’t you just go to Mom and Dad’s?” Carlos steps around the sticky mess on the floor to deposit his purchases on the couch before going in search of a towel to clean it up.

“We did,” Adriana says. “Your mom kicked us out.”

Carlos picks up the mixing bowl and swipes a finger along the icing inside, popping it in his mouth as he heads toward the kitchen sink. “Why would she kick you out for baking cookies?”

His eyes land on the kitchen counter and he stops dead in his tracks. Every square inch is covered in gingerbread people, some of them already decorated, some of them still plain brown. But decorated or not, one thing is very, VERY clear. Every. single. one. is having sex.

“Tía Andrea claimed it was pornographic,” Adriana says, picking up a piping bag to add some details to a pair that are doing it doggy style. 

Carlos feels like he’s having an out of body experience. His sister and cousin have always pushed the envelope of decency a little bit, but this is another level entirely. And he’s completely trapped. If he expresses dismay they’ll call him a prude. If he says nothing, he risks this happening again. 

“We call it The Caramel Sutra,” Francesca tells him. “It’s for our Christmas party.”

“You and T.K. are invited, by the way,” Adriana says. “It’s on Friday.”

“I think we’re busy,” Carlos says, his voice strained. Does he yell? Does he run? Does he go in the bedroom and shut the door until they leave? 

“Oh my god, not you too,” Francesca says with a roll of her eyes. “That’s the same look Mom had on her face right before she started yelling at us to get our smutty cookies out of her kitchen.”

“I mean, they’re pretty…aggressive,” Carlos says.

“They’re just cookies,” Adriana says. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you’re some kind of prude. We know what you and T.K. get up to around here.”

She picks up something off the counter and waves it at him. Hot dread spikes through him as he recognizes the god damn Sexy Advent Calendar. “Where did you get that?” he asks.

“It was on your bed,” she says. 

Damn it T.K.

Despite his best efforts to get T.K. to forget about the calendar, he’s given in a few times and allowed his boyfriend to use it to spice things up. Most of the suggestions are ridiculous, but Carlos has to begrudgingly admit that a few have been kind of fun. Still, he hadn’t expected anyone else to see the stupid thing.

“Why were you in my bedroom?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even, still not rising to the bait they’re dangling in front of him. 

“I was using your bathroom,” she says. She flips a couple of pages. “Did you guys try Day Nine? Oooh Tía Maria is going to make you go to confession for that one.”

“What’s Day Nine?” Francesca asks, wiping her hands on a towel and leaning over to see. “Oh god. Wow. Do you have that hip flexibility?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Carlos says, unable to stand it any longer. “Give it to me.”

He holds out a hand but Adriana pulls it back. “No. I’m getting ideas.” She pulls out her phone. “Hold still.”

“Now what are you doing?” he asks.

She lifts the calendar and snaps a photo of it with him in the background. “Perfect. I’m going to hold onto this in case I ever need it for blackmail.”

“Adriana, give me the calendar,” he demands in his best police officer voice.

It does not work. 

She flips another page. “Oooh lap dance on Day Twelve! Nice that T.K. got to revisit his stripper roots on that one.”

He lunges for her, his hand closing around air as she darts away from him into the living room. “Adriana I am not kidding!” he yells as he follows her.

She runs around the couch, facing him down on the other side as she flips another page. “Tell us Carlos, what is your ‘free naughty wish’?” 

“My current wish is that you leave here and never come back!” he says, feinting to the left and then dashing to the right to try and catch her.

She squeaks and evades him again by climbing up onto the couch cushions, holding the calendar high above her head. 

“Get down from there! No shoes on the furniture!” Carlos yells.

“Throw a pillow at him!” Francesca says from where she’s mixing new frosting and watching the entire situation unfold.

He turns around sharply and glares at her. “Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

He changes course and stalks toward her. “Oh hell no Carlitos,” she says, cutting through the dining room and holding the mixing bowl threateningly above the floor in front of Lou II’s aquarium. “I will drop this on your carpet and I will not feel bad about it.”

“Day four seems messy,” Adriana says.

“Stop reading it!” Carlos yells.

“Um, hi?” 

They all turn toward the once again open loft door to find T.K. standing there, his work bag in hand. 

“T.K.! You’re here!” Francesca says in delight.

Carlos uses the momentary distraction to vault the couch and snatch the calendar from a shocked Adriana. She lets out a squawk and topples into the cushions as he lands on the other side, triumphant. “Hey babe,” he says, slightly breathless. “Welcome home.”

“This looks fun,” T.K. says, that gleam in his eyes that says he’s going to be of absolutely no help to Carlos. 

Everyone dreams that their family will get along with their significant other. Sometimes Carlos dreams that T.K. would get along a little worse with his.

“T.K. I need to know, who was on top when you did Day Thirteen and do you have regrets?” Adriana asks.

“Our personal life is none of your business!” Carlos hisses at her.

“Then why did you leave your sex-vent calendar out in the open?”

And that is when Carlos loses it. He’s sixteen years old again, the two of them invading his privacy, and he reacts accordingly. “IT WASN’T IN THE OPEN IT WAS IN OUR BEDROOM AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AT ALL!”

There’s a brief moment of silence as they all process his outrage. And then, “T.K. want a cookie?” Francesca asks.

“I would love one,” T.K. says. “But I think your brother might combust if I don’t talk him down a little bit first.”

She shrugs. “They’re here when you’re ready.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos snaps when T.K. walks over to him.

“Mmmm okay,” T.K. says, amusement on his face. “Come on, come here for a minute.”

Carlos follows him into the bedroom and stands stiffly with his arms crossed as T.K. shuts the door, giving the illusion of privacy even though his sister and cousin can probably still hear every word. “This is why we should have gotten rid of this thing!” Carlos yell whispers at his boyfriend, shaking the calendar angrily. “You can’t leave it lying around! My family has no boundaries! They wander in and out at will! This is our private sex life and I don’t want them to be a part of it!”

“I know,” T.K. says calmly, prying it gently from his fingers. “I get it. I’ll make sure it gets put away where no one can find it.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, releasing an angry breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to come home to this.”

“Carlos I am familiar with the ways of your sister and your cousin. It doesn’t surprise me anymore to come home and find them hanging around.”

“Does it surprise you that they broke into our home to bake pornographic cookies in our oven?” Carlos says bitterly.

T.K.’s eyebrows rise. “That…is a little surprising, yes.”

“Well that’s what’s happening. So, yeah.”

He sits down on the bed and tosses the calendar down beside him. T.K. steps forward until their knees bump together. “You know what might help?” he asks gently.

“What?” Carlos asks, still feeling moody and pissed off at his family.

T.K. rubs a hand up and down his arm, that gleam back in his eye. “If we try out Day Sixteen again.”

Carlos flashes him a sour look. “I hate you.”

“But you loved Day Sixteen,” T.K. says, pushing a hand into Carlos’ curls. 

That’s true. And T.K.’s sweet smile and bright eyes and the way his fingers feel in Carlos’ hair make his stomach do that stupid flippy thing that always happens when T.K. is around and he feels himself teenage angsting a little less. But then he glances down at the advent calendar beside him and remembers what a nightmare it’s been.

“I don’t think we should use it anymore,” Carlos says.

“Not even for Day Sixteen?” T.K. tries.

“We don’t need a calendar for Day Sixteen. We already know how to do it.”

T.K. sighs. “Fine. You win. I will get rid of the advent calendar.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. It’s clearly bothering you, so I’ll make it disappear.”

A smidgen of guilt flitters through Carlos, but the relief at not having to worry about the unpleasant side effects the calendar seems to bring them overpowers it. “Can you get rid of my sister and cousin too?” He realizes he sounds whiny, but he’s too wound up to care.

“I will.” T.K. says. “But it might take a little while. You know how difficult it is to get them to leave.”

Carlos sighs. “I know.”

“And your mom would probably want us to invite them to stay for dinner.”

“Ugghhhh,” Carlos groans. “Fine.”

T.K. steps back and holds out a hand. “Now come on. I’m actually dying to see these cookies.”

Carlos lets T.K. pull him to his feet. “I knew you would be.”

Noche Buena has always been chaos at his parents’ house, and it’s only gotten crazier since his sisters started getting married and having kids. Their family seems to expand by at least ten people a year and everyone has an open invitation to show at up at any point throughout the night.

Carlos goes over early to help with tamale assembly. The house is already full of family even though it’s early yet. His sisters are all here with their husbands and kids, and a few cousins, tíos, and tías have shown up to help with food prep too. He smiles as he listens to his mom and Tía Maria argue over how much salt to use in the masa. They have the same argument every year and every year the tamales are exactly as good as the year before no matter how much or how little salt they put in. 

He’s stirring what equates to a vat of sauce when the doorbell rings. “I’ve got it Andrea, your hands are full,” Tía Lucy says as his mother searches in vain for a towel on which to wipe them.

She disappears from the kitchen and seconds later he hears her exclaim, “T.K.! Feliz Navidad, come in, come in!”

“T.K. is here?” The words are spoken nearly in chorus and the next thing Carlos knows he’s been left completely alone as every woman in the house flocks to the front door. When they return they have his boyfriend in tow. 

“Now you know that you are family in this house, no more ringing the doorbell mijo,” Carlos’ mom is chastising him as they walk in, the rest of the group murmuring their agreements and insistence that he simply walk in and out at will like everyone else as they return to their food prep duties.

“I’ll remember for next time,” T.K. promises, even though Carlos knows full well that he won’t. 

“T.K.! Come taste this!” Lucía, one of Carlos’ middle sisters, holds out a cookie toward him.

He takes it dutifully, his eyes finding Carlos’ and sparkling with joy. Sometimes Carlos feels like his family is some kind of zoo exhibit, wild and crazy and amusing to anyone on the outside. But T.K.’s brightness and exuberance have fit seamlessly into the mix. In fact sometimes Carlos thinks T.K. fits in better than he himself ever has. 

“Ay, let the man kiss his boyfriend. They haven’t seen each other in hours,” Teresa says over the chatter, her Mrs. Claus apron fluttering as she bends over to check on things in the oven.

They let him through the crowd and Carlos pauses his stirring to give T.K. a brief peck on the lips. “Welcome to the crazy,” he says with a smile.

“I love the crazy,” T.K. reminds him.

“I know,” Carlos says, warmth filling him from head to toe. “Don’t let them talk your ear off. Oh,” he lowers his voice, “and definitely do not answer if Tía Maria and Tía Dolores ask you whose pozole is better. It’s a trap.”

“Got it,” T.K. says, giving him a mock salute with his un-cookied hand.

“Carlos! The sauce will burn! Stir!” Tía Maria calls out sternly and Carlos quickly returns to his duties. 

T.K. is pulled away after that, plied with food and drinks and taken to the living room for conversation by most of the tías. “Mom, go with them,” Elena urges. “We’ll handle things in here.”

“There’s still so much to do,“ his mom protests.

“We’ve got it,” Lucía insists. “Go.”

She looks reluctant, but removes her apron. “Don’t let Adriana and Francesca touch the masa.”

“Hey!” they protest at the same time from where they’re seated on the counter’s barstools, both of them halfway through their second glasses of wine and doing absolutely nothing to help.

“You heard me,” she says, giving them all a warning look before disappearing out the door.

Carlos switches hands, his right arm aching from stirring. Teresa sidles up to him. “So,” she says. “How’s the advent calendar working out for you?”

Carlos whips around. “I’m going to murder you!” he says, holding the dripping spoon out like a weapon at his sister and cousin. He should have known they wouldn’t keep it to themselves. 

“No murder during the holidays,” Teresa tells him.

“What?” Francesca asks. “She asked how you guys were doing. What was I supposed to say?”

“Literally anything else,” Carlos tells her through gritted teeth.

“I think it’s fun,” Lucía says. “You’ve gotta keep things interesting somehow.”

“But not too interesting. That’s how you end up like this,” Elena says, rubbing a hand over her pregnant belly.

“Good thing Carlos and T.K. don’t have that problem,” Adriana says. “All fun and no consequences.”

“Tell us about Day Nine,” Lucía says, her eyes sparkling. “That sounded very fun.”

“Since when did we become a family that discusses our sex lives?” Carlos asks, feeling suddenly hot and short of breath.

“Oh we’ve always talked about it,” Elena tells him. “You’ve just never gotten to be part of it because you’ve never brought a boy home before.”

“Sh! Shut up!” Teresa hisses, all of them going quiet as Tía Maria reenters the kitchen. 

She looks at them suspiciously. “Your mother wants the green tablecloth with the poinsettias on it.”

“I’ll get it,” Francesca says, hopping off her bar stool and opening a drawer next to the pantry. “Here you go.” She’s doing this fake sweet innocent thing with her face that makes her look even more guilty.

“Gracias,” Tía Maria says, still eyeing them all as if she knows exactly what they were just talking about. “Carlos, you’re not stirring.”

“Sorry tía,” he says, quickly turning around and going back to work. 

She gives them all one more look and then leaves. Carlos puts his spoon down and turns on his sisters. “And that is just one reason why I don’t like talking about my sex life. Are you trying to get me lectured on Christmas Eve?”

“God don’t be such a prude,” Adriana says with a roll of her eyes, popping a chocolate into her mouth and talking around it. “You’re over here gatekeeping the good stuff from us.”

“I’m not gatekeeping anything,” Carlos says. “You could get that stupid calendar on Amazon if you really wanted it. And we didn’t even finish it anyway.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?” Elena asks.

“Did one of you get a sex injury?” Francesca wants to know.

“God I can’t remember the last time I had a sex injury,” Lucía says wistfully.

“No!” Carlos says. “I told him we had to stop because everyone kept asking us about it.”

There’s silence in the kitchen. “You quashed your boyfriend’s holiday sex fun?” Teresa asks. “Yikes Carlos. Not good.”

“What a Scrooge,” Adriana mutters.

And odd mix of guilt and embarrassment floods through him. “I—it was—“

“Someone literally handed you a book of Christmas sex ideas and you turned it down,” Francesca shakes her head. “I’m ashamed to call you family.”

“Rejecting your partner can be very damaging to the relationship,” Lucía says as if she’s reciting from a self-help book. “Especially at the holidays.”

“I really don’t need your advice thanks,” Carlos says, even as her words hit home. Has T.K. been feeling rejected? He hasn’t seemed off or upset but…sometimes T.K. is really good at hiding things from him.

“Just saying this is Texas. There are plenty of other Carlos Reyeses around if T.K. feels like you’re not respecting his interests,” Francesca tells him right before she drains her wine glass.

“Okay, we’ve made the poor boy suffer enough. Let’s leave it,” Teresa says, finally taking back the reins of peacemaking oldest sister. “But seriously Carlos,” she says, leaning closer so only he can hear, “you should live a little. Before you know it you’re old and married and have to schedule sex on Google calendar between karate classes and PTO meetings. Take advantage while you’re both still young and fun.”

Carlos feels stricken. He continues stirring automatically, but as soon as he can persuade Lucía to take over he goes to find T.K. 

His boyfriend is laughing at something Tía Lucy is saying and Carlos pauses for a moment to appreciate how natural T.K. looks sitting with the rest of the Reyes clan. If T.K. thinks organizing their sock drawer is the sexiest thing he could possibly do, he is deeply, deeply wrong. Seeing T.K. fit into their family like he’s always been there is a massive turn on.

But there are more important matters at hand so Carlos pulls himself back to the moment and interrupts. “Hey, sorry tía. T.K., can I talk to you for a second?”

“Ooh some Christmas secrets? Or are you two off to kiss under the mistletoe?” Tía Lucy asks, the sparkle in her eyes matching the one Lucía had earlier. “Wait! I have some in my pocket you can use.”

“That’s okay, we’re good,” Carlos says, waving her off as T.K. gets to his feet. “We’ll be right back.”

T.K. follows him up the stairs and down the hall to his childhood bedroom. “Everything okay babe?” he asks when the door is shut securely behind them, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Did I make you feel rejected?” Carlos asks. “When I said no more advent calendar?”

“Rejected? What are you talking about?” T.K. asks in confusion.

“I told you no more advent calendar. Did that make you upset?” 

“I mean…it was kind of a bummer,” T.K. admits. “I was having fun and I thought you were too when you weren’t sexting our friends or chasing your family around the loft.” He shrugs. “But it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” T.K. says, patting his stomach reassuringly. “Come on. Tía Lucy was about to tell me about the time she went paragliding in Hawai’i.”

T.K. heads out the door and back to the party, leaving Carlos to relive the kitchen conversation on his own. All he can think about is scheduling sex on Google calendar. Which sounds exactly like something he would do. And he absolutely does not want that to be their future. 

Maybe his sisters are right. Maybe he is too much of a prude. 

Carlos looks around and spots his dad’s printer. Before he can second guess himself he grabs a piece of paper and goes to work. 

XXX

T.K. is woken by soft, but persistent kisses. He inhales deeply, eyes fluttering open, gritty with lack of sleep. “Hey,” he grinds out.

“Merry Christmas,” Carlos says softly, pressing another kiss to his lips, then sliding his body over until he’s draped across T.K.’s torso. He trails kisses across T.K.’s collar bone, around his pec, and then back up to his neck.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” T.K. says, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

They’re crammed into the full size bed in Carlos’ childhood bedroom, but T.K. doesn’t mind a bit. It means they have to snuggle close, cuddling each other while they sleep.

Last night they’d donned matching pajamas and stayed up late playing games with Carlos’ sisters and brothers-in-law after the kids went to bed. T.K. had stuffed his face with tamales and buñuelos and laughed at the antics of the Reyes children. They’re a special kind of chaos and it’s very funny to see his calm, sweet boyfriend absolutely lose his shit over a board game. 

T.K. skates a hand across Carlos’ bicep and up the back of his neck, toying with the soft curls he finds there. “What time is it? Do we need to get up?”

Carlos shakes his head. “I don’t hear the kids yet.”

T.K. blinks a few times and squints so he can focus on the alarm clock next to the bed. “Carlos!” he squawks. “It’s five o’clock in the morning!”

“I know,” Carlos says, nuzzling into his neck.

“Baby.” It comes out on a long suffering groan. “We’ve only been asleep for like four hours.”

“We need to take care of the final day of the advent calendar before everyone wakes up,” Carlos tells him softly, his nose brushing against the shell of T.K.’s ear.

T.K. frowns and pulls back a bit, forcing Carlos to lift his head and look at him. “The advent calendar is done. The last day was yesterday.”

“Mmmm, are you sure about that?”

“Yes?” T.K. says in confusion. “It was Game in Santa. Which we couldn’t figure out.”

“You know I’ve always thought it was kind of lame that you don’t get anything from an advent calendar on the twenty-fifth,” Carlos says. “It seems like you should get an even bigger gift.”

“I think that’s the point. You get something every day and then all your Christmas gifts on the twenty-fifth,” T.K. tells him.

“I don’t like it,” Carlos tells him.

T.K. snorts. “I’ll be sure and submit your complaint to the advent calendar council.”

“Good,” Carlos says, nuzzling down into his chest again. “But for now, I think you should check the advent calendar and make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“The advent calendar is at home.”

“Is it?”

“It should be since you made me swear on my life that I would hide it away from any prying eyes.”

Carlos rolls away from him and reaches over the side of the bed, dropping a piece of computer paper on his chest. “Carlos what on earth?” he asks with a laugh.

“Take a look,” Carlos says, a smirk on his face.

T.K. reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp and squints as he reads Carlos’ bold handwriting.

Day 25: Fulfill a Fantasy.

He looks up at Carlos, a questioning look at his face. “What does this mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“I—-I have no idea. You’re going to have to spell it out babe.”

Carlos pushes up onto an elbow and uses his free hand to grip T.K.’s hip, stroking his thumb back and forth right along the waistband of his pajama pants. “You stole Adriana’s phone last night.”

“You saw that?”

“I did,” Carlos says. “You deleted the blackmail photo she took of me and the calendar, didn’t you?”

“Very good detective,” T.K. says with a chuckle.

“You took care of me,” Carlos says, his voice low. “I think you deserve something special for that.”

He pulls T.K. closer and kisses him, firm and insistent, his mouth warm and wet and it sends sparks flittering through T.K.’s core. He pulls back for a second. “Are we going to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

“Mhm,” Carlos says, diving in for another kiss.

T.K. lets him go for a second and then pulls back again. “We’re not allowed to have sex in your childhood bedroom. You tell me all the time that we’re not allowed to have sex in here.”

“I know.” Another kiss.

“Then what—?” 

“Isn’t it one of your fantasies to have sex with me in here?”

“I mean yeah but—“

“Well,” Carlos says, trailing a finger down T.K.’s bare stomach so that his muscles jump and twitch under his touch. “Let’s consider this a one-time special Christmas gift. But you are going to have to be very, very quiet.”

“What if your sisters walk by?”

“The door is locked.”

“What if your mom walks by?”

“T.K. do you want to do this or not?”

God he’s so turned on right now. Carlos’ fingers dip beneath the line of his boxers and T.K. arches into his touch, letting out a moan that Carlos immediately swallows in another kiss. “Yes,” he says breathlessly when Carlos releases him from it. “God yes, yes, yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“This is going to get us both on the naughty list,” he says.

Carlos laughs. “I think I can deal with that for one year.”

Tagging some people who might be interested in reading: @lemonlyman-dotcom, @liminalmemories21, @carlos-in-glasses