#working on a new piece but celebrating with this year's calendar piece too

[winchester-reload]

Happy Pride Month, everyone!!!

[finelinefae]

Could we please get a check in with the aviator? I love them like no other i swear

synopsis: y/n finds out she's pregnant with Aviator!Hs baby.

wordcount: 2.6 k

a/n: this isn't really a check-in more so something that happens a year into their relationship because i think about this moment a lot and i needed to write about it !!!!

also first one shot for the aviator whoop!!

. . .

It was the middle of the night. 

Y/N had been up since dinner, laying beside the toilet bowl so she could vomit the contents of her stomach every ten minutes. She’d stuck the thermometer under her armpit to check if she had a fever, only to find it at a completely normal temperature. 

She was tired and frustrated and her head hurt from throwing up so much. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep and she still had to get to work in the morning. 

The door swung open and Y/N lifted her tired eyes to find Nancy looking down at her, “You’ve been throwing up since dinner,” She held out a glass of cold water and Y/N gladly took it. 

“Sorry,” Y/N groaned, after taking a sip, “I’ve tried taking medicine but nothing seems to be working.”

Nancy sighed, “You don’t need to apologise, do you want me to call Harry?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “He’s been working all week, he’s probably exhausted.”

“Okay well you can’t just sit by the toilet all night, do you want me to warm you up some ginger ale?” Y/N sighed, considering her offer before pushing herself up from the floor and following Nancy to the kitchen.

She sat at the table, clutching her stomach and ignoring the nausea she felt. Nancy took out some ginger ale and began to heat in a saucepan over the stovetop. “I just don’t understand how I can feel like this but not even have a fever,” Y/N huffed. 

Nancy shrugged, “Are you due? Normally I feel pretty sick a week or so before my period starts,”

A dip forms between Y/N’s brows, “I don’t think so, I’m pretty sure-” Y/N paused, thinking back to the last time she had had her period. She had been waiting for it to arrive this week but one glance at the calendar on the kitchen refrigerator revealed that it was already a week late. 

Panic surged through her, “Nancy,” She gasped, looking up at her roommate and friend, “It’s late.”

Nancy’s eyes widened, “Are you sure?”

Y/N’s mind was racing to try and piece together the days but she knew that she was right and her period was over a week late.

Y/N didn’t have to say anything for Nancy to understand what she was thinking. “W-what am I going to do?” Y/N panicked as dread ensued her, “I-I can’t have a baby, I can’t.”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Nancy crouched down on the floor in front of her and took her hands, “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow morning we’ll go down to the clinic and ask them to take a test to make sure.”

Y/N shook her head, “Not the morning, Harry will know and he’ll-” She covered her mouth, “Oh God, Harry, what if he hates me?”

Nancy scoffed, “How could he possibly hate you? I’ve never seen someone as in love with somebody as he is with you,”

“But Nancy, a baby. It’s too soon and he’s still got Elise and-” Y/N’s mind was whirring with thoughts as she thought about how her life was about to change if she really was pregnant. Elise was only four and their relationship was still relatively new - they’d only celebrated their year anniversary a month ago which was more than likely to be the reason that got her in this predicament. 

“Y/N, calm down,” Nancy soothed her, “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll deal with these things after we find out whether you really are pregnant or not. For now, we’ll go to bed and think about it in the morning, okay?”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to digest the words she was hearing. Nancy was right, she needed to not worry until she had confirmation from the nurse that she really was pregnant. She tried to pause her worries until the morning but not a wink of sleep occurred when her mind was whirring with thoughts about how Harry would react to the possibility of it all. 

. . .

Y/N felt sick to her stomach as she walked to the hangar where she knew Harry would be working. She’d been so many times now that she knew exactly where to go, following the path through the doors and round the back.

“Evening Y/N,” One of the boys said as she walked past, tipping his hat. Y/N forced a smile onto her face in reply.

She walked through the back doors and found Harry outside smoking a cigarette on his own, the sun setting behind him. Unlike how she usually felt whenever she was around him, Y/N began to panic wondering whether she should turn back now before she told him something that would change both their lives forever. 

Harry’s head lifted and a smile carved onto his face when his eyes landed on her. He threw his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it with his foot, “Hi birdy,” He walked over and embraced her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her lips. 

Y/N knew Harry had sensed something was wrong from how stiff she felt in his embrace. He pulled back but his arms stayed looped around her, “Wha’s wrong?” He frowned, “Y’okay?” He cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eye.

Y/N pulled away, “I’m okay,” She lied and Harry immediately knew something was wrong when she took a step away from him. Usually, whenever they were together there was barely any space between them.  

“Hey, when do y’ lie to me?” He forced a smile, a pit of dread forming in his stomach.

Y/N’s eyes glistened, she sniffled and scrunched her nose to try and prevent herself from crying. “I just missed you is all,” 

“Birdy,” A dip formed between his brows, “M always right here y’ know that. Did something happen at work today?” 

Y/N shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, “No,” She replied, “I-I need to tell you something.”

This time Harry really did begin to panic. He thought back to the past few months and wondered if he had done anything wrong to upset her in that time but every day had been as blissfully sweet as the last. He was so in love with Y/N and that love continued to grow every passing day. She was the first person he woke up to in the morning and the last person he saw at night - every day it was Y/N, the love of his life. 

So he couldn’t understand what had currently gotten her so distant with him or why she was being so vague and secretive whenever she was with Nancy, “Are you…Are you breaking up with me?” Harry voiced his biggest concern out loud.

Y/N almost gasped, reaching for his hand and holding it to her chest, “God Harry, no. No, of course not.”

He relaxed slightly but still wondered what was going on in her head that was so difficult to tell, “Wha’s wrong then baby?”

Y/N released a shuddery breath, looking away from him and down at the hand she was currently holding. She twisted the ring on his pinkie finger, one lone tear rolling down her cheek that she quickly brushed away. “Harry, I'm pregnant.” She whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

Her heart thudded against her chest when she felt his hand stiffen. She could barely look up at him as she waited for him to say something.

Two rough hands cupped her cheeks and lifted her head up. Her eyes met his, lips parting to see tears rolling down his cheeks and the biggest smile she had ever seen stretched across his face, “We’re havin’ a baby?” He whispered in disbelief.

Y/N nodded slowly, “I found out this afternoon.”

A laugh escaped his lips, “Holy shit,” He let go of her and ran his fingers through his hair before covering his face with his hands and smiling beneath them.

Y/N stood waiting, still a little tense until he took one step towards her and picked her up in his arms, her dress twirling as he spun them round, “Holy shit we’re having a baby.” 

A wave of relief washed over her, Y/N finally mirrored the smile on his face when she saw the excitement on his face. 

He set her back on her feet, “You’re not mad?” Y/N asked. 

“Why would I be mad? This is my dream, I’ve always wanted to be a dad.” Harry was unable to rid himself of the smile on his face.

“I know but we’ve been together a year and-” 

Harry silenced her by smashing their lips together in a messy kiss, “I love you bigger than the whole sky Birdy, there is not a single person in this entire world I would rather have as the mother of my child.”

Y/N’s eyes watered and tears began to fall as she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands fell to her tummy, “I can’t believe there’s a tiny human in there,” Harry chuckled in disbelief. 

“I love you so much Harry,” Y/N murmured, wondering why she was ever nervous to tell him in the first place. 

. . .

Safe to say, Harry had become somewhat even more obsessed with Y/N than he had ever been before.

“Tha’s my baby mama!” He whistled, wearing his grease-covered overalls as he slid off the wing of the plane and ran towards Y/N who was only a month pregnant.

Y/N’s cheeks heated, eyes darting around, “Shh, what if someone hears you?” 

They had yet to tell any of their friends or Harry’s brothers that Y/N was pregnant.  Nancy had been sworn to secrecy despite her boyfriend constantly pestering her over telling him what they were always whispering about whenever Y/N refused a drink at a party. Harry struggled to keep such a big secret from his siblings since he had always told them everything, but Y/N wanted to make sure everything was okay before they let the world know another baby would be entering their little family. 

“There’s no one around, don’t worry.” Harry smiled, a dimple carving into his cheek. 

She had the tiniest bump, barely even noticeable unless she was bloated, but he was obsessed all the same. His hands reached for her sides, feeling the small curve of her tiny bump as he held her. “Hi Harry,” Y/N grinned, “Thought we could walk to the clinic together.”

Today they would be having their first appointment together with their assigned midwife. Harry had been close to a kid at Christmas as he counted down the days until he got to hear his baby’s heartbeat. “Yeah, I’ll pack my stuff away and we’ll head on down,” He nodded but stopped to kiss her quickly, “Missed y’,” He murmured. 

Y/N laughed, “You saw me three hours ago,” 

“Much too long,” He countered, slipping away from her and going to pack his things away. 

He returned in a fresh white t-shirt and jeans, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together as they walked down to the clinic. 

Harry could feel Y/N’s nerves bouncing off of her as they sat in the waiting room of the small office waiting for their midwife to call them in. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, tapped her foot against the floor and chewed on her bottom lip. Every now and then her eyes would glance to the door like she was desperate to get out. 

He reached for her hand, holding it in his lap and playing with the small ring on her index finger. His thumb traced the mole in the middle of her wrist, her pulse fluttering beneath it. “Y’ okay?” He murmured.

“Jus’ nervous,” She admitted, “I don’t like doctor’s offices all that much.”

“Y’ not having second thoughts about the baby are you? Because if you were there are things we can do and talk about. I-I’d never force y’ to have a baby, y’know that right Birdy?” Harry said. 

Y/N’s eyes softened, she cupped his cheek in her hand, “I want this baby with you more than I want anything ever.”

Harry smiled, “Y’ mean that?” He needed that reassurance from her more than anything. 

“I mean it,” She kissed him quickly. 

The door clicked open and in walked the midwife, “Y/N Y/L/N?” 

Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing Harry’s hand as they stood up. The midwife, an older woman with kind eyes, gestured for them to follow her into a small room. There was a simple examination bed and a tall metal stand with a strange, trumpet-like device hanging from it.

“This is a fetal stethoscope,” the midwife explained, picking up the device. “It’s how we’ll listen to your baby’s heartbeat.”

Y/N climbed onto the bed, her heart racing. Harry stood by her side, never letting go of her hand. The midwife placed the wide end of the stethoscope on Y/N’s abdomen and pressed her ear to the other end.

The room was silent as the midwife concentrated. Then, her face lit up with a smile. “There it is,” she said, turning to the expectant parents. “Your baby’s heartbeat. Would you like to listen?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he nodded eagerly. The midwife handed him the earpiece, and he leaned down, his expression changing from nervousness to awe as he heard the rapid, steady thump of their baby’s heart.

“Our baby,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion. 

Y/N could feel her eyes welling up as she watched him. Her hand reached out to thread through his curls as he pressed his ear to the earpiece once more and listened for the faint sound of a beating heart they had created, “Can y’ hear it?” Y/N smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Tha’s our baby,” He repeated like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Tha’s right, H.” Y/N said softly.

Harry reached for her bump, placing both of his big, heavy palms on it. He lowered his head and pressed a small kiss to the spot above her belly button, “Hello baby,” He murmured, “How can I love you this much when all I can hear is y’ heart?” 

Y/N smiled, letting him have his moment, “Promise I’ll take such good care of it,” He continued to speak soft and slow, “Both yours and mamas,”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand and held it in his own, his other palm resting right over her bump. He felt Y/N give his hand a gentle squeeze and wondered if she could hear just how fast his heart beat for her even without the earpiece.

“Don’t cry,” Harry smiled, reaching to wipe away Y/N’s tears. 

“I’m just happy,” Y/N sniffled, “You’re going to be such a good dad, Harry, I hope you know that.”

The words settled something in him. All his nerves seemed to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and anticipation for the new life they were about to bring into the world together. 

A family of his own. 

“I love you birdy,” He leans down and speaks to the bump once more, “and I love you too, baby birdy.” Y/N laughed and watched as Harry continued in conversation with their baby, hearing nothing but a gentle heartbeat in reply to his voice.

[breelandwalker]

Cold Moon - December 14-15 2024

Bundle up, witches! It’s time for the Cold Moon!

Cold Moon

The Cold Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of December. This will be another month when the moon appears full for two nights in a row, so we’ll have a nice bright full moon in the sky for the 14th and the 15th, with peak illumination on Dec 15th at 4:02am EST.

Like most full moon names, the Cold Moon takes its’ moniker from an English translation of a traditional name used by one or more North American indigenous groups. There are a number of indigenous names that reference the wintry conditions when this moon occurs, including Snow Moon (Haida, Cherokee), Winter Moon (Tunica-Biloxi), Hoar Frost Moon (Cree), and Long Night Moon (Mohican). More evocative names include Frost Exploding Trees Moon (Cree) and Moon of the Popping Trees (Oglala), both of which refer to a phenomenon which occurs during extreme cold, when the sap inside a tree freezes and the expanding pressure causes portions of the bark or even entire limbs to “pop” with loud cracking sounds that can be heard for miles.

Other names for the December moon include Yule Moon (Norse origins), Oak Moon (Celtic origins), and Bitter Moon (Chinese origins).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

The year is winding down. It’s time to wrap up our projects and put aside what we haven’t finished or no longer need. Rather than berating ourselves for the things we didn’t finish or didn’t accomplish, this is a time to give ourselves some grace and celebrate our successes and triumphs and the things we DID accomplish.

With only one page left on the calendar, many of us are already looking ahead to the new year, making plans and setting goals. This is a good time to brainstorm and engage in a bit of broad-view planning. Sketch out the things you’d like to see or do or try in the new year. Give voice to your dreams and start thinking of ways to make them happen.

The Cold Moon also falls shortly before the winter solstice this year (Dec 21), which could be a boon for anyone looking to time their seasonal rituals in optimal fashion. A working could be begun on the full moon and built up to culminate on the solstice, or whichever post-moon December date has special meaning to you and your practice.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Have a small supper gathering with friends or family (holiday themed or not, it’s up to you) to share joys and fellowship and enjoy good food and drink. Make wishes together for the new year. (Wish jars can be done individually or as an informal group ritual. Sharing wishes anonymously can be a fun party game.) A “White Elephant” gift exchange or swap meet with inexpensive or homemade witchy goods for your circle could be fun too!

Make a wish jar for the new year and put it out to charge under the Cold Moon. Cleanse any of your tools or crystals or accoutrements that you use moonlight for one more time this year.

This is the perfect time for divinations and goalsetting for the coming year. Pull out your favorite divination tools and your new planner and sketch out the coming year. You can also try candle wax divination with holiday candles, if that’s something that interests you.

Also, save those seasonal bayberry candles for future use! They’re great for debt repayment and money-drawing spells.

If you need some ideas for a fun family activity, you can feed the birds for good luck, either with scattered birdseed or pinecone birdfeeders. String dried fruit slices, cinnamon sticks, pinecones, holly leaves and berries, and other seasonal faves to make garlands. Stick apples or oranges or clementines full of cloves in pretty patterns to make pomanders.

Use those fibre arts skills to create a special piece to keep your home warm and safe and well-supplied until spring. It doesn’t have to be anything big - a simple weaving or single square will do. Crochet or cut out snowflakes for your home decor. If you want to get fancy, pick up a ball of cotton warp thread and look for old doily patterns - they look great as hoop weavings hung on the wall (or make a witch web in winter colors).

Make one more batch of moonwater to carry you through to the new year. If it happens to snow or freeze where you live, you can save clean snow or icicles for special (non-drinkable) elemental water, which can be a fun base for moonwater as well.

And speaking of elements, make sure to remember in all your seasonal decorating that fire safety is paramount. Be careful with your candles, warmers, light strings, plugs, extension cords, and cables. DO NOT “daisy chain” your extension cords or power strips. Never leave candles or wax warmers or simmer pots unattended, and turn off your holiday lights before bedtime. Safety first, witches!

Thanks for joining me for this exploration of full moon magic. See you next year!

Happy Cold Moon, witches! 🌕🧊

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts

Secular Celebration Suggestions for Yule

Moon Rise Calculator - The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Cold Moon: Full Moon in December 2024, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

December Full Moon 2024: Cold Moon’s Epic Spiritual Meaning, The Peculiar Brunette.

How Do Trees Survive The Winter?, National Forest Foundation.

How to Make Pomander Balls, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Fun Kid’s Activity: Winter Pinecone Bird Feeder, Audubon Southwest.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: Longest Night

I imagine it's tricky for a family that's 3/4 vampires to celebrate the regular batch of holidays. But a kid deserves to be festive now and then and there is a handy time of year for nocturnal sorts to celebrate.

December 21st, the winter solstice, the Longest Night.

You can read under the cut or on Ao3 here.

There were three holidays in the castle.

One was St. George’s Day Eve, which neatly held hands with the boy’s birthnight. Father was always called away for the hunting of blue flames, but after the celebration of the night with Papa and Mum, Father would be waiting for him by his coffin at sunrise. He would have a coin harvested early from the earth and some gift of his own to give. It was good.

Another was New Year’s Eve. To the boy’s knowledge, this was considered the birthnight of Time itself. He would get to unwrap a fresh calendar to hang and do something called a ‘toast,’ though there was no hot crisp bread involved. Papa would down a glass of something that burned the boy’s nose to smell, then Father, Mum and the boy would take a single quick sip and welcome the New Year. Papa’s blood always tasted different after those drinks, a little singed, but somehow nice and swimmy on the tongue. It was good.  

But the best was Longest Night.

Longest Night was preceded by the crucial private magic of Shortest Day. No one was allowed to be up and awake during the Shortest Day, or else the joys of Longest Night would not happen. The Visitors that came by daylight were swift and skittish and would not stop to deliver their bounty if anyone was up to spy on their work. They might skip by regardless if they were not left the token of food before all were in bed by sunrise.

“What do they eat?”

“Whatever a home has to spare for a plate,” Papa told him. “Sweet things, usually.”

“Like the pep mints?”

“Peppermint, yes. Biscuits, cake, chocolate.”

This had worried the boy at first. Papa tasted sweeter in December from all the Longest Night things he and Mum put together in the kitchen. Once, Papa had been doing something with pieces of fruit, cloves, and spices, the result pouring perfume out of the bowl and through the air. And, perhaps not quite by accident, Papa allowed one of the hard little cloves to cut his thumb.

“Oh dear. Could you help me, Sweetheart?” Under his breath, smiling, “Quick!”

The boy rushed to put his mouth to the cut. Papa’s blood hit his tongue in a new way. He thought of the red-white candy that had shown up after Papa’s last errand—

“You had pep mint!”

“Peppermint. Yes, I did. Is it any good?”

“Have to check.” Another sip. Another. “Checked. Very good.”

“Good.”

Good, but sweet. What if..?

The Visitors will not come for Papa, Dearest.

Mum’s hand on his shoulder, her smile on her face and in her son’s mind.

He is for us alone. Besides, he would not fit on a plate. On that note…

The boy watched his mother’s gaze float to Papa, something of either mercy or conspiracy in her look.

…it need not be desserts alone. It is cold out for those who are not like us, and the Visitors would surely appreciate something with more heat in it. Supposing Papa is willing to part with some of his paprika.

“Absolutely.”

Something to keep in mind for the Eve before Shortest Day. But for now, we need to hunt for the tree.

The tree was very important for the Visitors. They were wild folk who were used to taking and receiving bounty in wilderness. Unless the boy wanted the gifts from them all left piled against some random trunk in the forest, the castle needed a tree of its own. One they could shelter and dress so that there was no mistaking it as the tree to stop for. The boy was scrupulous in seeking this particular quarry. It could not be too tall or too short, too spindly or too thick. There must be no animals living in it, not even the bats; though he knew already from Father that they had all taken off to their caves for the winter. It must be just right.

Eventually they came upon it, powdered in snow and sweet-stinging with its aroma.

This one?

“This one!”

Mum cleaved the trunk from its roots, hoisting it as airily as she might have carried the boy. They returned to the castle and set it within the stand that Papa had built for it. Then came the decoration. Threads of nutshells and dry berries hardened to beads were wound around the boughs, ready to turn to kindling once it came time to break the tree up into firewood. Give or take a few wooden ornaments the boy painted himself. He was still hanging them when Father appeared. Standing and staring and silent as the boy worked.

Father had allowed Longest Night to happen because of Papa. The boy knew so. Young as he was, there were some realities that one accepted without needing the Lesson laid out in words.

It was especially easy to accept as the boy had spoiled his own attempt at wheedling Father about holidays not so long ago. He had found one in a book on a high shelf in the library. The boy had clambered up to it for the sake of its pretty leather spine and flipped through it in awe of its illustrations. One in particular had arrested him. Even what little bits of the poem-story that went with it seemed somehow simpler to ingest than the rest of the dense writing about a king named Arthur and his many legendary knights. The image that held him was all holly greens and reds, with a wide-eyed young man gawking up at an emerald giant in knight’s armor, holding his own severed head as it rained blood. Beyond them, rows of knights and King Arthur himself stared over their banquet tables.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight had much the same bones as other fairy tales he was privy to, but the boy had caught on a word that had yet to show up anyplace else in his storybooks. A word that carried with it implications of revelry that was meant for adults as much as children, a thing of games and gifts and feasting and joy that nobody grew out of. A miserable fate that seemed to be the case with birthnights. The boy was alone in celebrating his, despite Father, Mum and Papa surely having birthnights of their own. It suggested to him that birthnights would go without celebration on some distant grownup year. But a holiday! Those stuck. And they were for everyone.

All this in mind, he had come to Father with the book under his arm and asked, “What’s Christmas?”

 Father declared that Christmas was two things. First, a dreamed-up fiction for the imaginary knights in the book to celebrate. Second, a topic the boy was not to mention again. Now give him the book, diavol. 

Foolishly, the boy had hugged the book to himself, citing the fact that it was in the library, and Father had said he could read whatever he liked in it, and—

“Boy,” Father had said, soft as a knife cutting snow, “you have a moment to consider whether you wish to disobey me.” Father’s eyes had flared. “There, it has passed. Now give me the book.”

The boy had given it. Father had given it to the fireplace.

Knowing he wasn’t to cry and waste blood, the boy had held his tears in. At least until he was outside, far from the courtyard and tucked up in a tree, weeping until he was the color of Papa’s hair. Mum had found him. They’d returned home only when they felt sunrise plodding toward them. The next nights had been odd. Different in the way they had been after Father had torn Hoppy to shreds.

That time before had ended with Father taking him aside for a lecture on the folly of pining for weak animals that would only break one’s heart with their frailty, capped with the gifting of a wolf crafted from downy fur and glass eyes. The boy had managed to tamp back joyous tears then, embracing his Father through an armful of plush.

The atmosphere of those preceding nights had settled thickly again. And it came, as it had before, from Papa. It was not so fiery as Father’s presence or as icy as Mum’s, but it was there. No one was more aware of it than Father. It might have been funny in a book: Father growing more and more agitated the more sedate Papa turned, until Father was left pacing and fuming while Papa went silent and almost frigid with patience. Until, finally, a week’s worth of nights passed and Papa and Mum came to the boy with talk of Longest Night. A thing left uncelebrated thus far because Father was not one for frivolity and Papa and Mum had left off holidays when they came to live in the castle.

Why?

“Your parents want for so little here, diavol,” Father had broken in, lupine smile back in its place. “It seemed unnecessary for us to bother with such rites. But you are here and young and new enough to want such things.” A clawed hand had flapped as Father dismissed them and himself. “Revel with it as you like.”

 And that had been that.

Now here was Father, scrutinizing the tree, curling his lip at the decoration.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

“Not for me. I am not the one expecting a tree wearing nothing but nuts and berries to stand out from every other in the forest. Even painted, it will hardly catch any Visitor’s eye.”

The boy sat up with a shiver, “It won’t?”

“I am afraid not. Your Papa and your mother, they hail from a choked and choking city with little in the way of nature. It is no wonder any meager flash of green caught attention there. But here, in our verdant mountains, there would need to be more applied. This?” He flicked one of the nutshell cords Mum had helped him with. “Will be as good as invisible.” He held up his hand before the boy could speak. “I have something that may be of use. Supposing you wish to bother with it.”

The boy was already adhered to his side. Off they went, up, up, up to Father’s own bedroom. There, piled in the corner…

“The coins will not hang, of course. But these?” Father hooked a dust-caked golden necklace. A ruby huge as a hen’s egg and bright as his own brooch dangled on it. The boy was already enamored with a chain of twinkling emeralds and a bracelet dewed with diamonds. “If these do not snare attention, the Visitors must be blind.” They were perfect and the boy told him so, pausing in his elation to embrace his Father’s leg tight enough to break an ordinary man’s bones. “Yes, yes. Take your bounty, magpie, and be off.” But Father lingered to watch as the boy loaded himself up with chains and cuffs enough to make him jingle all the way downstairs.

“Mum! Papa! Father had more decorations!”

They saw. Mum kept her expression even while Papa straightened with something like recognition. Yet this moment passed as the work of stringing the gold along the boughs began. The tree glittered and blazed as though it had been crafted by a giant’s jeweler. Given the chance, the boy might have sat up with the tree all day just to stare at it.

“You need to rest, Sweetheart. There’s more to do tomorrow.” Papa held out a sheet of paper and a sharpened crayon. “Remember?”

The boy squirreled himself away with the stationery, scribbling carefully in his coffin. Another important thing to remember about Longest Night was that the Visitors were not like himself or Mum or Father. They couldn’t just dip into someone’s mind and know what they wanted. If the boy did not write out what he wished for and have it sent out, the Visitors would be left to guess. Papa was entrusted with delivering his list in the post on his next errand in town. Father even let him seal the envelope with his own stamp, the wax writhing with a scarlet dragon.

With that done, now he had to consider what gifts he would bring to the tree. For the Visitors were not responsible for every present brought. Families wrapped and traded gifts among themselves too. But oh! What could he give that his parents, who wanted for nothing in the castle? Worse, how could he do what even the Visitors couldn’t, and guess the answers? He was not as smooth as Mum or Father when he peeked into a mind; even Papa caught him at it. There was simply no knowing without being found out. So…

“Mum?”

Yes?

“If…someone wanted to get you something for Longest Night, what would it be?”

 I need nothing and want little, Mum assured, her hand soft in his hair. But I suppose if I had to want something, it would be my loves, safe and happy.

That hardly narrowed it down, but the boy didn’t say so. He went to Papa.

“Papa, is there anything you want that you didn’t ask the Visitors for?”

“My family safe and happy.”

“No, I mean something that can go in a box.”

“Do you not still fit in the coffin?”

The boy huffed away, still puzzling. Surely Father would have something he wanted. Father was never satisfied. There had to be something he—

“The things I want are not delivered to me, diavol. If I want a thing, I take it. Besides,” Father’s teeth shined bright and sharp as icicles, “I have you and your mother and dear Papa. You are gifts that give every night in new and wonderful ways. As to anything I want beyond that?” A shrug. “Those will come to me in time. …Oh dear, such a look. Whatever is the matter, child?”

“I can’t wrap any of that! Mum and Papa didn’t say anything I could wrap either! Longest Night is only a few weeks away and I don’t know what to make or to find or—or anything!” He stared glumly out the frosted window as the moon stared glumly back. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t give anything.”

“Mm. So you shouldn’t. Folk such as the Visitors do take such a sour turn if they think they spy someone being selfish. Yes,” Father nodded with solemn weight, “you must have something to offer. I dread to think what would happen if the Visitors discovered you left your poor parents with nothing. Come.” Father rose and turned on his heel. The boy scrambled after him. “We shall find them something fitting.”

Again, the trip to Father’s chambers. The boy left it beaming, his new treasure hidden inside a blanket.

“But Father, this is all for Mum and Papa. What about yours?”

Father only grinned, insisting, “The Visitors know I am lord of this castle and Count of these lands. I would draw ire myself if I went bothering anyone for excess. No, diavol, that you would give these gifts from my hand and yours is fine enough.”

Time passed. Games were played. No titanic knights came around asking to have his head lopped off, thankfully. Although the boy did treat himself to one snowman he dappled all over with coniferous green before knocking its head off with a twig.

Other than that, he built up a whole snow family with Papa. Father took him flying to see the entire valley from above, mute and lovely in its winter white. Mum started a snowball battle with him that stretched for some nights off and on. It might have been shorter had Father not joined his side and made a war of things. And that too might have ended in a short victory if Father were not distracted by the boulder of a snowball that struck him from behind. Papa dashed away from his vantage point and into the trees. Father, being himself, gave snarling grinning chase. While they were off playing hunt, the boy pleaded a tired and happy truce to Mum. Towards dawn, Father tromped home with ice on his boots and Papa in his arms, drowsy and swaddled in Father’s cloak.

After that was the Eve before Shortest Day.

The boy could scarcely sit still all night. He would swear the clocks were going slower and that Father was somehow stretching the night out even further by covering up both moonrise and sunrise with extra helpings of cloud. It wasn’t until Mum and Papa sat by the fire for stories that he ceased fretting. This was Longest Night tradition as well.

“I thought grownups always did story time all quiet, reading to themselves.”

“Usually we do. But on this evening, and on through the last nights of the year, we like to tell stories to each other.”

Often frightening ones. We understand if you do not wish to listen.

But the boy was already in Mum’s lap, sharp ears up and mind alert. Mum told her stories. The boy shuddered through some and gasped over others.

Would you like to stop?

“No…” came from under the boy’s blanket.

…Would you like Papa to tell one?

“I’d be happy t—,” The boy popped his head out the blanket and twisted in his mother’s lap. Papa told his stories. They were not half so scary as Mum’s. A few even made him laugh. It was at the end of one of these that he heard the rooster outside begin to crow. The boy sat up as if pinched and went running to the nearest window. Too many clouds and a new swirling of snow and no hint of daylight yet, but the rooster always knew when the sun was coming. It was time.

“The plate! Mum, Papa, we need to set out the plate!” They set it out. A thing with biscuits and hendl and a helping of hot chocolate in a little cup. The boy pinned a note of thanks under fork for good measure. “I’m ready to sleep now.”

Dearest, the sun isn’t even up. Are you sure?

“Very sure. It’s time for everyone to sleep. Please.”

“Mm,” Papa nodded. “And you won’t be up running circles around the vault past sunrise?”

“No. I’m going right to sleep.”

Some hours and a sunrise later, the boy was up and pacing. Just to tire himself. That was all.

That doesn’t feel like sleeping.

The boy returned to his coffin. It was tricky to lay there with all the secret flotsam hidden inside with him. He managed to keep his eyes shut until roughly noon. Then he went slinking toward the stairs. Just to see if the Visitors had come. Nothing more. Nothing—

“Were you going somewhere, diavol?” This time the boy almost yelped aloud. Father almost never bothered to be awake during the day. But for Shortest Day, he had sat and lurked upon the stair. Waiting. “Were you?”

“No, Father.”

“You were just stretching your legs, perhaps?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I was stretching mine too. Now sleep.”

The boy dragged himself back to his coffin and flopped despondently into his covers. Shortest Day was a lie, he decided. It was actually the Longest Day. Perhaps even an eternal one. It would never ever end and he would be doomed to toss and turn in the coffin forever and ever and…

He woke to the tell-tale shift of day falling to dusk. It bristled in his bones. Carefully, carefully, the boy peeked from his coffin. Mum and Father were still in asleep. He gathered up his hoard of gifts and crept on half-mist feet up the stairs and away to the tree. Elation almost made him fumble the crookedly wrapped packages.

The Visitors had come and gone. Presents stood waiting under the twinkling branches. The plate and cup were empty. Scrawled on his own note in tiny block letters was a message of thanks in return from the Visitors; they looked forward to next year’s trip. The boy snatched the note up for his pocket, tucked his gifts behind the tree, and ran.

Up to the tower, dashing to Papa’s bed. How could he still be asleep!?

“Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa—,”

“Yes, yes, yes?” Papa asked into his pillow.

“They came! The Visitors came and it’s Longest Night! You have to get up, come look!”

Papa lurched upright, bloodshot but smiling.

“I’ll be down soon. I have to put my coffee on. Are we the only ones up?”

“I’ll get Mum and Father!”

And he raced away before Papa had gotten both feet on the floor. He paused only for another giddy glance at the tree, then onward again. Mum was already sitting up in her coffin, taking a moment to stretch and stand.

“Mum!”

Yes?

“It’s Longest Night!”

So it is. Did the Visitors come by?

“Yes! There’s so much and it’s so pretty and Papa is getting up but he has to do his coffee first and Mum you have to go look at the tree and is Father up yet?” He wasn’t. Mum watched the boy lunge toward the great black coffin. The boy pressed himself right up to the lid, whisper-shouting, “Father. Father, it’s Longest Night. Are you up, Father? Father, you have to get up, come see! Father, Father, Father, Father—,”

The lid opened a crack. A red eye gleamed.

“I will rise when it is time I rise. Go with your mother.”

The lid closed.

Mother and son went up. Papa was there, a steaming cup in hand.

Counting a missing head, Papa asked, “Did he want us to wait?”

“Wait for what?”

Papa and the boy jumped. Mum narrowed her eyes. Father was in the room and wearing a robe the boy had never seen before. A thing of deep arterial scarlet lined in ermine. He dragged the largest armchair up to sit and watch as the boy assailed the bounty around the tree. Toys and books and a new little fishing pole and a music box and a dozen other fun little oddments were waiting, some from the Visitors, others from his parents. The boy was so dazed by it all that he nearly forgot his own part. Nearly.

“Your turn!” the boy announced to Mum and Papa who had just taken their own seats after clearing the mess away as paper flew. The boy took his own offerings from behind the tree and placed them proudly in their laps. Father’s grin sharpened as Mum and Papa unwrapped two leatherbound journals with fine fountain pens to match. “Father helped me find them. He said you were both such good writers when you all first met, but lost your diaries when you came to live in the castle. And see!” He shuffled some of the gifts aside to dredge up his own new sketchpad. “We can all do writing and drawing together! I want to make a book, maybe.”

Mum and Papa continued to smile, but a flint of hardness passed in her eyes and a melting fatigue polished his.

You would make a wonderful author, Dearest. You could illustrate your own adventures.

The boy pretended not to notice how her claws pricked the cover as she set the journal aside. Papa put his own down gently. His hand now free, he laid it on the boy’s shoulder.

“Are you forgetting one, Sweetheart?”

“Oh!” He was. The boy ducked back around the tree and came up with the third gift; one Father did not know of. Father’s grin actually faltered as the boy rushed up with the little package in hand. A tiny box smothered in butcher paper. The boy bounced on his heels as Father opened it with agonizing slowness. The paper revealed box of weathered secondhand shop velvet. This had not come from the boy, but his Papa. The gift inside had his touch too. “Papa waded out to get them before the river iced up. They came out all clean from the water.” Father said nothing, casting a steady glance at the back of Papa’s head. Papa nursed his coffee from one hand and twined his other with Mum’s. Father switched the box from his right to his left hand and gingerly wedged it open with his thumb.

Inside, gold shined in the shape of two coins. Their already-rough images were smoothed from the river and the metal was brighter than any token Father had dug up from under his blue flames. He stared at one and the other, turning them in his fingers.

“…These are quite old,” he said at last. “My own father would know them only from memory.”

“Papa said they were special since the blue flames wouldn’t show up over anything but dry ground to tell where treasure was, so those,” the boy pointed to the coins, “would’ve been hidden forever if they stayed stuck in the riverbed. And he taught me how to do buying with them.”

“It was a bargain,” Papa hummed. “I bought such a fine piece of quartz off you with my two little coins. Practically a steal.” So saying, Papa cast a smiling glance at Mum. Mum cast her own back, turning her gift from Papa over and over in her free hand, the firelight filling its pale crystal like magic. It turned out that Papa had taken the lump of quartz into town to have a man chip it into the shape of an owl for Mum. Mum had written Papa a slim storybook all her own and it now sat tucked within Papa’s robe, flat against his heart.

“A steal you say,” Father huffed. “It might be, if my eyes do not deceive me. Or have I gone without a gift from my friend and the mother of our son?”

Your eyes deceive you, Mum intoned, her gaze still firmly nailed to the clear stone owl. The gift is from us both. In the tree.

Father and the boy looked up. A large envelope the color of ivory balanced in the branches, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I can get it!” The boy misted his way up for it, pondering the crinkling weight inside. He turned it over to find Mum’s own elegant swirling script penned along the flap.

For Future Consideration

—J, M

Father took the envelope from him with even gentler, almost tentative care. He even sniffed it. Mum and Papa gave him only an idle glance. The boy fidgeted again.

“I can open it if you want.” He reached for the ribbon. Father swatted at his knuckles.

“Shoo, thief. Go play with your own spoils.” The boy retracted his hand and even went to sit among his presents, but his eyes stayed with Father and his gift. After some endless seconds, the red ribbon fell away, the envelope was opened, and out came…paper. A thick sheet so large that it had to be folded twice to fit within its broad container. Father frowned at this until he opened the entire thing. For once, the smile on his face seemed actually to reach his eyes.

“Father, what is it?”

“Art,” Father beamed. “Of a very particular kind. Perhaps intended to lure me away to France.”

“What?”

Father turned the paper around. It was a poster done in reds and blacks, showing a smiling woman with a narrow sword on a stage. A man had dropped flat past her feet while beyond them an audience sat and watched. There was another man dangling by a rope around his neck, looking annoyed. Above it all were the words Le Grand Guignol on a banner. It looked scary, but the style of it made the boy think of the funny comics Papa let him clip out of his newspapers. Light, almost silly, like the fearful things were there for the crowd to enjoy. The lady with the blade certainly seemed happy.

“It is for a certain theatre recently founded in Paris,” Father went on, raising an eyebrow again at Mum’s writing on the envelope. “They put on the most amusing plays, I’ve heard.” His gaze leveled first at Mum, then at Papa. “This is a fine thing to consider. Perhaps as a family outing some night.”

The boy sprang up.

“When?”

“When you are old enough, diavol.”

“But how long until that?”

“Long enough that you need not fret about it for some time, Sweetheart. Now, would you be kind enough to hand me one of the ribbons from your pile?” The boy wondered at Papa, though not deep enough to spy in his head. There was a surprise pacing somewhere behind the clear eyes. Another red ribbon was fetched. Papa took it and bound it around his wrist in a bow. It covered half of the boy’s past kisses. “Longest Night comes with feasting. I must fill myself up before I can be decanted.”

Mum and Papa took themselves to the kitchen and the boy followed at their heels. In time, Papa found himself seated at the dining table, trying to both stuff and pace himself between different portions, some heady, some sweet, some rich. He sipped a creamy drink with a funny name—the boy would whisper nog nog nog to himself off and one for the next few days in his coffin, giggling over the sound—and a little of cider and of chocolate and, when Father set down a gleaming bottle of it, something called Tokay.

Eventually Papa pulled away from the table, sighing.

“No more. I will burst.” He unwrapped the ribbon from himself and tucked down the heavy robe’s collar. “I fear I might sleep until the New Year after this.”

“You will do no such thing, my friend,” Father murmured into his neck. “We shall roll you down the stairs if need be.” He slipped his teeth into the bend between Papa’s throat and shoulder. The boy thought he did so with a lighter kiss than usual, almost nipping in the way of a wolf nibbling at his kin in play. Blood welled just the same and Father lapped it clean. Mum went next, just as gentle, nursing in a steady stream. When she pulled away it was with a bloodless kiss to Papa’s jaw.

Thank you, Darling.

Last came the boy, fitting himself carefully on Papa’s wrist. He couldn’t say whether it was the bliss of the holiday or the seasoning of Papa’s meal or some dizzying blend of both, but the kiss tasted better even than his birthnight sip after Papa had sampled the cake. The boy sucked every droplet from his teeth and gums, savoring as best he could.

“That was a really really good kiss, Papa. Is that part of Longest Night too?”

“Perhaps,” Papa said sleepily. “Or else it was the nog.” The word set the boy snickering into his hands again. The Longest Night unspooled and the boy swore again the names must be tricks. How else to explain how infinite the Shortest Day felt and how brief the Longest Night was? Too soon he felt the sunrise coming to herd everyone away to bed. Mum walked with Papa up to the tower. Before the boy could follow up and give his good days, Father halted him with a long white hand at his shoulder.

“Leave them for now, child. There is something waiting for you below.” The boy fought against the urge to race down and ahead. He stayed dutifully parallel to his Father’s long strides, hustling in his own short steps to keep pace. Down in the vault they strolled up to Father’s coffin. “I had my own trouble sleeping during the day. Such was why I was up on the stairs. I believe there is some lump in there that bothered me. Can you see it?”

Father lifted the lid. The boy saw.

Here was the last gift, another tell-tale rectangle whose solid weight spoke to a book hidden in its skin of crimson paper. The boy unwrapped it delicately at first, then in an unstoppable gleeful rush.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was in his hands again, this time only a solitary volume in its immaculate cover of gold and green foil lettering. He saw it was still made thick with artwork in a spread of fantastical painted visions.

“I shall be glad to bring you all of King Arthur’s legends should you still wish them some night in the future. Such are an old and favorite collection of myths penned in your Papa’s distant England, but many tales are not quite suited for a child. I had thought I’d made the library safe for your eyes and burned my mistake to spare you. But this?” Father tapped the cover with his claw. “This I shall be happy to read and explain, should you desire its deeper meanings. But the lesson at its very top is something clear even to one so young.” Fangs flashed and eyes burned. “The weak live by the mercy of Powers greater than themselves.” The smile softened then, almost musing. “And I suppose the illustrations are to be commended if nothing else.”

The boy nodded at all of this but found his throat too tight to form words. He peered up at his Father’s face, high as the moon above him. His eyes asked. Father nodded and opened his arms. The boy leapt up and locked his small arms as far around Father’s shoulders as they could reach. Father held him close in turn. His throat stayed strangled with heat and his eyes threatened to betray him with the ruby twinkle of tears. He fought them back.

“Thank you, Father. I love it.” His face buried in the black fall of hair, his brow rasped against the trimmed wilderness of winter’s growing beard. “I love you.”

Father was quiet for a moment. His down-spotted hand stroked the small curve of the boy’s head.

“I love you too, diavol. Happy Longest Night.”

The boy wished him the same. He gave his love and his happy wishes to Mum on the way back up, racing against dawn.

Hurry, Dearest. He was half-asleep when I left him.

The boy all but flew. Papa was in bed, eyes still open for him. If only just.

“Did you enjoy your first Longest Night?”

“It was better than anything I thought it’d be, Papa. Why haven’t we done this before?”

“You were a babe,” Papa smiled, eyelids drooping, “and your parents had forgotten celebrations for quite some time. I cannot speak for Father, but your Mum and I did not have much celebration even when we were small. Our lives were very thin as children and stayed much the same as we grew up.”

“But then you met Father,” the boy beamed. “You came to the castle where everything is and he loved you like the princes in the books do.”

“…Yes. He did. And I loved your Mum. And now we live in the castle, where everything is, love and all. And where we forgot much of holidays, for there was no point to them. Not here.” Papa’s hand settled on him, light and cool as snow. His eyes shined like wet ice. Perhaps quartz. “Not until you. We might never have remembered the 21st of December without you, son. Thank you. Come here.” The boy came, folding himself into his Papa’s arms under the covers. His ear pressed to the faint drumming of the man’s heart. “I love you, Sweetheart. So much.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Mm.”

“Happy Longest Night.”

“Happy Longest Night…”

Soon Papa was asleep. His chest lifted and dropped with his breath, the boy clinging to him and the sound. He left a bloodless kiss on his Papa’s cheek as the first rays of sun arrived, lining the mountains in gold.

Down the steps.

Into the coffin.

The boy laid his head down and began to dream of the next Longest Night.

(This goes out to @ibrithir-was-here in particular. Happy Nearly Birthday, Merry Christmas, and a gothically grim-sweet Longest Night to you, friend.)

[elbiotipo]

Workbuilding Fundamentalist question: when it comes to dates, times and calendars in a fantasy setting where do you stand? I'm always conflicted as a writer just because changing the length of a year or what all the months are called all makes sense given that most fantasy worlds aren't earth and because every month is named after a person or deity and our calendar has been changed like 7 times in the real world. And yet I don't want to throw all this extra work at the reader.

Example I have a gas dwarf planet with like, winderwaker islands poking out above the gaseous ocean what people live on. And there's only 4 months in a year there so a 64 year old is still a teenager and it just seems like a lot to make someone keep track of.

First of all, very cool setting, I love islands among the clouds! Now, this is actually something I've given a lot of thought into, and might become a real concern if humanity goes to other planets.

There's, for example, an opening line of a Heinlein novel (IIRC) where a girl says she's 10 years old and thus old enough to marry, which is true, on Mars (the year is 687 days there). There is no reason, if one is designing a new planet, or even finding one IRL, to expect it to have the same day and year lenght to Earth, not even close. Mars with 21 hours is pretty close, but the length of our year and day is really just a cosmic coincidence. You could easily have an reasonably earth-like planet with shorter years (because it's closer to its star, or just revolves faster), or longer days or years.

However, very few fictional settings bother with this, and it's not hard to see why, you can have all sorts of exotic additions to your setting, but to wrap our head through different lenghts of the year or the day is a bit too much. Even different week lenghts, which did exist on history, sound strange. There are all sorts of different fantasy and sci-fi calendars, but at the root, most authors operate with "Earth-time". I don't blame them, it is 'extra work' for some readers, and it's not easy to wrap our head around, it's easier to say "this is sort of an alternate Earth" and be done with it. Also, to lenghten or shortern the year or day might bring all sorts of consequences from ecology to climate that should be considered, otherwise it's just a lame gimmick in my opinion.

HOWEVER, it's still an interesting piece of worldbuilding to consider!

Calendars of a sort have existed since humans started to count seasons and days, but our current society where there are calendars and clocks everywhere is quite recent, actually. I'm sure you are aware of the different calendars besides the BCE-CE one was imposed as the standard, many cultures . But there are also different ways of counting years;. The classic one is seasons, farming societies of course need it the most but hunter-gatherers also follow and know the seasons. There is no reason at all for them to correspond to the "temperate" seasons (summer, fall, winter, spring). Dry and wet seasons, cold and summer, and other options are not only possible, but have actually been widespread on human history. I recommend reading on Wikipedia about seasons, especially the section about non-calendar based seasons.

Of course the above applies to pre-industrial civilizations where timekeeping isn't as widespread. But even in those, counting years and ages is treated differently. Birthdays, for example, don't exist in all cultures. Koreans still count age based on the Korean new year, not your birthday. Some medieval Christian celebrated on the feast of the saint they were named after (and there are lots of them) or IIRC, their baptism. And so, a culture as yours might use different ways of counting the age of a person, perhaps by more "qualitative" rituals than just counting the years (though I have a feeling they would quickly adapt to their own calendar). Much like I told you about different kinds of seasons for different climates, I imagine that in worlds where the years are too short (or too long) to really make sense for the average person, some other ways of counting time will prevail. For example, are there predictable climate cycles in your planet? Moons (lunar calendars are always fun)? I can assume your planet has shorter years because it's closer to your star (by any chance, did you base it on red-dwarf orbiting planets?), so perhaps you could use something regarding the very visible star to count time?

Like I said at the beginning, this will be a real concern when humanity expands through space, and there's even a bit of debate if the human body can adapt to such heavy changes on its circadian rhytm. In any case, my prediction is that there would be a "Earth time", that is, 24-hours day and 365 day year, that is kept as standard out of convenience and in spaceships and space habitats (in my own setting Campoestela, it's called "ship time" because human spaceships use it as standard) and lots of "local times" on different planets with all the quirks I mentioned above, with everyone going into space learning how to convert their own time to "Earth time". Or maybe, to make things even more fun and, admittedly, complicated to the reader, the time of another time is taken as a standard. There's lots to play with here.

DON'T even ask me about relativistic time (like in Interstellar) because it makes my head hurt, even if I did use it a couple times on my stories. But "ship time" might be a real thing. Some cultures might have completely different 'times', not calendars, actually *times*, depending on relativistic time delation.

BTW anon, sorry for using this to promote myself, but if anyone loved this rant and would like to see more, I would appreciate some tips on my ko-fi (given the situation down here, now more than ever) and suggestions for other topics to talk about!

[merlingenrecs]

The holiday season is upon us, and Camelot is celebrating, too! If you want to get into a festive mood, you can find some reading material here.

Today’s gen fic rec theme: Christmas, Yuletide & Solstice

↓ Find the list of fanfic recs under the cut! ↓

⚬ Some Things Are Meant to Be by 1917farmgirl, 11k, rated G <https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183989> summary: For Merlin, having the world fall apart around him was nothing new, but having someone there to help him pick up the pieces afterwards unfortunately was. Until it happened twice, with two very special people who appeared in his life when he most needed saving. Modern AU, friendship fic. Sort of Christmas story.

⚬ A Gift Well Received by Gingeraffealene, 2k, rated K+ <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13458637/1/A-Gift-Well-Received> summary: Merlin hasn't seemed to really appreciate any of the gifts Arthur's given him in the past. Guinevere suggests Arthur try doing something Merlin really would appreciate, no matter how much it pains Arthur. Happy Yule! Have a Hug!

⚬ Overlooked by sarajm, 50k, rated K+ <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11087241/1/> summary: Arthur is well on the way to becoming the type of leader Merlin had always hoped he'd be - one who cares for all of his people. But even so, preparations for Yule festivities along with some unforeseen circumstances result in Merlin taking on too much work. Unfortunately nobody notices until it's almost too late.

⚬ To Drive the Cold Winter Away by VikingSong, 1.5k, rated G <https://archiveofourown.org/works/52608178> summary: A fluffy Yuletide slice-of-life from the dawn of Camelot's Golden Age. A cold snap has enveloped Camelot, but heartwarming friendship and a dash of magic are the perfect combination to drive the cold winter away.

⚬ Winter Solstice Celebrations And A Lesson in Appreciation by Glon_Morski, 13k, rated T <https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471682> summary: “He doesn’t appreciate you,” he said one evening to Emrys after the king had left. The warlock blinked at the statement, wide-eyed as if he didn’t understand what he’d been told. The boy huffed. “Everything you do for him, all the times you saved him and his kingdom, all the guidance and he doesn’t appreciate you at all!” “He does,” Merlin defended with a shake of his head. “Well, he has a weird way of showing it,” the boy grumbled with a pout. “It’s like he thinks you’re always going to be there, that he can do anything because you’ll never leave.” “That’s because I won’t. And he knows me enough to know as much,” was the warlock’s reply. “That doesn’t mean he should take you for granted.” Or: In which a druid boy takes matters into his own hands to ensure Arthur learns to appreciate a certain manservant.

⚬ The Secret Handshake by Skydragon05, 2k, rated G <https://archiveofourown.org/works/43350633> summary: It's the yuletide celebration, and this year guests are attending from all over the kingdom. There's one thing unusual though. Several of the guests are not only shaking hands with the King upon arrival, but with Merlin too... and they're shaking his hand backwards. Merlin can't fathom why, so Morgana goes off to seek answers.

⚬ Advent Calender 2023 by s0mmerspr0ssen, 44k, rated G-T <https://archiveofourown.org/series/4478905> summary: This series contains all stories that belong to the Merlin gen fic advent calendar 2023 as well as a few revised stories that were created that year. Enjoy!

⚬ Elf-Boy and Turniphead Save Christmas by Pelydryn, 46k, rated T <https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845624> summary: Three weeks before Merlin's eleventh Christmas, he is introduced to the thirteen-year old Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot and eventual heir to the throne of all Albion. As far as early Christmas presents go, it is a tremendous disappointment. When Merlin's mum is hired as royal governess by a magic-hating king, Merlin is not happy. Sharing Christmas with a turniphead of a prince does nothing to help his holiday spirit. And he had been so good this year…

⚬ Yuletide by daylighthour, 2.5k, rated G <https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108132> summary: It is the annual Yule feast, Arthur is sick, Merlin is attentive, and both are surprised at how much they care about each other.

⚬ One of Us Is Lying by sinivalkoista, 1k, rated G <https://archiveofourown.org/works/43523355> summary: Someone has a horrid sweet tooth and keeps stealing sweets from the kitchens for weeks leading up to the Yule Feast. Arthur decides to rope Merlin into helping him investigate.

⚬  The Christmas Promise by Uniasus, 1k, rated T <https://archiveofourown.org/works/8905864> summary: Scolding a dragon, even one you hatched, never worked well. Especially if you left her alone for a hundred years to be a tree. She turns a might clingy.

[venicebitch00]

shiv roy x reader pls!! like i was thinking maybe angsty jealous shiv and then fluff at the end? i dont mind anything honestly i just want shiv x reader content

dress

shiv roy x reader

a/n: omg i was so worried that nobody would request shiv so i was so happy when i saw these!! i hope you don’t mind i combined the two!! kinda ended angstier than i intended too

1.4 k

Shiv Roy had a meticulous morning routine that she followed every day without fail. She woke up at 5:00 (exactly half an hour before Tom), got changed, brushed her teeth, and went on a run. After about 3 miles, and when she knew Tom had left for work, she returned home and ate breakfast while scrolling through work emails and current headlines. This morning, however, her usually peaceful routine was interrupted. By you. 

As the woman ate her breakfast bar and scrolled through various news articles she couldn't help but notice your name-making and appearance. At first, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, your family owned one of the biggest fashion houses in the country so it wasn’t a surprise that some blog would write an occasional fluff piece about the outfit you wore to fashion week or speculations about your relationship with some model or actor. And although she would never dare admit it, she would secretly save everyone to read later. But it wasn’t until she saw your name plastered on an article headline written by her very own family’s news company that her attention was caught. The article detailed that your father had announced his anticipated retirement and you would be inheriting the family company and sole CEO. 

You had met Shiv and college, you wish you could say the two of you hit it off instantly, but you both knew it was from the truth. You both came from wealthy families and were used to having to fight viciously to get a spot at the table, so naturally, an unspoken rivalry formed between you, and the constant need to outdo and impress the other grew. However as your professors began to notice this competition, the more they would pair up the two of you, and eventually over the four years, your rivalry melted into something some might call a friendship. However the passion and intensity remained and it wasn’t easy to forget the late nights spent together fueled by wine and lust, the exam that you were supposed to be helping each other study for long forgotten. 

But as graduation approached and the simplicity of the days on your college campus came to an end, so did your and Shiv’s complicated relationship. She met her prince charming, a wealthy boy from Minnesota named Tom, or as you liked to call him “farmer fuckface”. But Tom was doting, he put Shiv before everything and promised a life of stability. One that her father might be proud of. Tom was safe. Tom was everything you were not. This, however, still did not stop the twinge of hurt she felt reading about this news. She fucking the fact that she had to hear about your life in a newspaper instead of listening to you ramble and giggle endlessly while tangled in your sheets. 

And just like clockwork, as she was fighting the urge to call you your name appeared on her home screen. 

Hey, know it’s been a while but it would mean a lot if you came tonight. I miss you. 

Shiv tried not to read into the last sentence of the message and instead clicked on the attached link you sent. It was an invitation to some party your company was throwing to celebrate your new position as CEO. If it was anyone else, she would of already politely rejected the invitation and made other plans for the evening. But it wasn’t. It was you. So she began to draft her text back. 

I’ll check my calendar. 

Much to Shiv’s dismay Kendall and Roman had also received invitations and insisted on coming with her. Shiv knew of her two brothers' motivations, both had been wanting to get into your pants since she first introduced you to them all those years ago and despite all the rejections they still seemed persistent. 

Shiv Roy was not a naturally anxious person. You can’t be, not when you go into countless business meetings every day filled with dozens of perverted old men just waiting for you to screw up and more focused on your tits that the words coming out of your mouth. But tonight her stomach was erupting in butterflies. 

Right as they walked in, Roman b-lined to the open bar, and Kendall mumbled something about finding Stewy, which left Shiv standing in the middle of your party all by herself. 

“What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself standing here all alone?” 

she could recognize your teasing voice from miles away. Shiv practically snapped her head around to see you, looking as gorgeous as ever, except now more mature and adult than she remember. 

“Bonnie,” you breathed, Shiv’s heart surged at the nickname you gave her years ago after finding out her full name, Sibohan, “fuck I missed you”. You engaged the redhead in a tight hug, one that Shiv hesitantly accepted. 

Once you released, Shiv cleared her throat, “Yeah I..Fuck yeah I missed you too” 

“Come on let’s get you a drink” 

At the bar, Shiv was impressed when you still remembered her order.

“So, I’m surprised you came” 

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“You’ve been avoiding me”

Shiv scoffed “I have not been avoiding you”

“Come on, you have to, ever since the wedding” you, of course, referencing Shiv’s wedding to Tom. “Speak of the devil, where is farmer fuckface” 

Shiv chucked at your endearing nickname for her husband, “He’s you know, working” 

“I see” you took a sip from your martini “I’m surprised he let you come here by yourself” 

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean” You peered up at her from your martini glass with a smirk. “Right well, I think I should make rounds” You fixed your hair and chugged the last bit of your drink. 

“Ah right you’re a busy CEO now aren't you” Shiv smiled, “I’ll see you later”.

Shiv watched you as you made your way around the room, greeting your guests and graciously thanking them for coming to your party. She couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy watching a bunch of strangers receiving your attention and loving praise. Her final straw was when she watched Kendall march up to you. You of course greeted him with a kind hug, one that lasted a bit too long for Shiv’s taste. She watched as he made you laugh and grazed your arm with his own. It used to be amusing to watch her brothers pathetically flirt with you all those years ago because she knew you were hers. But now it just made a pit form at the bottom of her stomach. 

Shiv chugged the last bit of the champagne she had been nursing and made her way to you. She abruptly grabbed your hand, muttering some lame excuse to Kendall about needing you for some “girl emergency” and dragged you to the nearest bathroom. 

Her lips were on yours the moment she locked the door, and your hands wasted no time getting lost in her short hair. 

“Aw what’s a matter Shivy, got a little jealous out there” you pouted her lip at her

“Oh fuck off” she murmured as you began to leave kissing down her neck, to her collarbone. 

“Missed this, missed you”. You felt Shiv’s hands begin to trail down your back, slowly unzipping your dress “Wait, fuck” you mumbled against her lips “What about Tom?”

“I’ve talked to him”

“About us?” you raised a brow.

“No, well, no not exactly. I’ve told him I want a more open relationship,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

“Wow, who knew Shiv Roy was so progressive” You started to kiss her again “What’s next, buying a van and starting a nomadic life?” 

“Oh shut up” you could practically feel her eyes rolling, “and since when did you ever care about Tom?” 

You looked up at her once more, “I just-” you paused, “Fuck, never mind”. You caved and reunited her lips with yours.

You realized this was a battle you were not going to win anytime soon. Before Shiv was your “Bonnie”, she was always going to be “Shiv Roy of Waystar Royco”, and your relationship just didn’t fit into that part of her life. Neither of you was ready to admit how much you meant to one another, so you would just pretend that it didn’t matter. And you figured if you got burned, at least you were electrified. 

[rabbitcruiser]

Ascension Day

We commemorate Jesus Christ’s ascension into heaven (as per Christian belief) by celebrating Ascension Day, which occurs on the Thursday, which is 40 (or 39) days after Easter. This year, it will take place on May 9. Known by multiple names — The Feast of the Ascension, The Ascension of Jesus, Ascension Thursday, Holy Thursday, or Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord — this is a Christian holiday that doubles as a public holiday in many countries like Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Germany, France, Switzerland and more.

History of Ascension Day

One of the earliest Christian festivals, Ascension Day marks the end of the Easter season. This event is celebrated primarily by Catholics and Anglican Christians; most Protestant churches do not follow this tradition anymore. The date, too, differs in different geographic locations. Western Churches prefer to use the Gregorian calendar for calculating this date, while many Eastern Orthodox Churches calculate this date according to the Julian calendar. As a result, their celebrations occur at a later date than the Western event.

As per the New Testament in the Bible, after Jesus Christ’s crucifixion on Good Friday, he was resurrected from the dead in three days, on the day we know as Easter Sunday. For 40 days after this, he stayed with his Apostles (the primary disciples of Christ) to instruct them on how to carry out his teachings. As the Bible says, at the end of day 40, Jesus Christ and his disciples went to Mount Olivet (or the Mount of Olives), near Jerusalem. After asking them to stay, Christ then ascended to heaven to take his seat at the right hand of God, under the gaze of his disciples. To Christians, the ascension signifies that Christ completed his work on Earth and allowed him to prepare a place for his followers in heaven.

Initially a part of Easter celebrations, this day was later separated from Easter, along with Pentecost. Celebration of Pentecost ends the cycle of Easter-related events in the Christian calendar.

Ascension Day timeline

68 A.D. The Tradition Begins

Ascension Day begins to be observed, albeit with two other holidays — Easter Sunday and Pentecost.

300 A.D. Ascension Day Develops As A Separate Tradition

A decree declares this celebration now must be observed separately — it is moved to 40 days after Easter.

385 A.D. First Written Evidence Appears

We see the very first piece of written evidence that the Ascension Day Feast is celebrated.

5th century Ascension Day Starts Appearing In Art

Christian art showcases this holiday.

6th century Art Begins To Reflect Different Versions

Syria develops a different version of the Ascension, which is later adopted by Byzantine art.

18th century Germany Celebrates Father's Day

Ascension Day coincides with Father's Day in Germany — they celebrate Jesus returning to the Holy Father.

19th century Germany Celebrates With Colourful Parades

To replicate the way the Apostles walked with Jesus, Christians begin to host colorful parades as a commemoration.

How To Observe Ascension Day

Go to church

Attend church processions

Listen to hymns

Learn how your local church celebrates this day. Take some time to attend a Mass or Christian church service. Clarify the details before you go, as these services differ based on whether the church is Protestant or Catholic.

Tradition says this holiday is observed by a three-day procession, then the feast itself, which includes a procession of torches and banners to symbolize Christ’s journey to the Mount of Olives and entry into heaven. While your local church might not have such grand festivities, find out if they are still carrying out a procession.

Listening to hymns is a traditional part of Ascension Day celebrations. A medley of these religious songs can have you humming along for days. Even popular artists have been known to hum a hymn or two over the years. Check out Carrie Underwood’s ‘Something In The Water,’ or U2’s ‘Where The Streets Have No Name,’ or even John Legend’s ‘Preach.’

Facts About Ascension Day

In Sweden, people go on early morning walks

The British celebrated by 'beating the willow'

Welsh people don’t work on this day

Portugal celebrates by keeping wheat in their houses

Indonesia has a public holiday on Ascension Day

Many people go out into the woods at 3 AM or 4 AM to hear the birds at sunrise, believing that hearing a cuckoo from the east or west brings them good luck — this activity is called ‘gökotta.’

In the olden days, as young boys were driven along the parish boundaries, they were beaten with willow branches to drive away evil.

It is more than a holiday celebration in Wales — Welsh people believe that it is unlucky to do any work on Ascension Day.

Traditionally, rural Portuguese households keep wheat in their homes throughout the coming year — this day is associated with peace and prosperity and, to them, wheat symbolizes prosperity.

Despite Christianity being a minor religion in Indonesia, Ascension Day is designated as a public holiday.

Why Ascension Day Is Important

It is an opportunity for reflection and to gain inner peace

We learn about Christian traditions

It helps us expand our cultural horizons

Instances, where we can simply sit, reflect, and learn the true meaning of peace, are rare in our busy worlds. This is why we recommend holding onto such chances with both hands. Ascension Day church services center around this theme. If you are not a religious or church person, simply take a moment to sit by yourself and reflect on your journey so far and how you would like to continue. There’s no better way to celebrate this day than by centering yourself and your thoughts.

Expanding our knowledge is good for us. Plus, learning about Ascension Day not only helps us expand our store of general knowledge, but also inspires us to observe some of the traditions.

Such traditions have been prevalent for a long time, and have taken on varying degrees of importance around the world. Even festivities change as per the customs of a certain region. Learning more about these traditions changes our views of cultures and gives us extended knowledge of people from other nations.

Source

[trivialbob]

Yesterdaty we had another Christmas celebration, one that fell on the actual date! (There's still one more gathering on my calendar too.)

My daughter-in-law's family has a large gathering each year in a hotel banquet room. It's like a family reunion and holiday celebration. Her father has eight siblings, ranging in age from 54 to 74. All were there except one who had passed away. There were also spouses, partners, cousins and children of all ages.

Someone even brought a small, fat dog that waddled around seeking crumbs of food. Picture a bratwurst and four broken toothpicks, two sticking out of each end, and you'll have a good understanding of what this dog looked like.

I met many new people and worked at remember names. With spread-out generations I think I can be forgiven for a few mistakes trying to figure out who was related to who. You are cousin Nancy's mother? Oh sorry, aunt Molly's daughter!

The family has a tradition for the recently-married at these events. Jack and Ali sat in front of the assembled crowd and played the Newlywed Game. It was hilarious. One of Ali's uncles hosts this feature and put a lot of work into it. Job well done. Jack also had to demonstrate that he knew the names of the nine siblings, from oldest to youngest. He got it right.

Food was pot luck. Eleventy-eight crock pots, trays of desserts and assorted coolers adorned banquet tables. I tried some of everything except the sweets. Later someone ordered a pizza for an evening snack. Though full, I took one piece. Didn't want to be rude.

After eating all afternoon and watching the Newlywed Game we had a white elephant gift exchange. I am certain the margarita glasses I netted, in their original unopened box, have been to that hotel before. I promise you they'll be back next year. It would be funny if people had printed years and names on the of the box, like the Stanley Cup trophy. It would be even funnier if that box contained a few rocks and an 20-year-old hundred-dollar bill.

After all that we settled down for belches and burps (oh, just me?) and got out games. Sheila brought our Crokinole board and taught people how to play. Some of the teens and 20s cousins really got into it.

When Jack plays Crokinole he will, perhaps after consuming a cocktail, take delight being silly about painstakingly applying powdered shuffleboard wax to the game pieces. I wanted to introduce a shot clock the longer this went on.

Jack "carefully" counts and applies tiny grains of wax to the game pieces. Everyone else simply dips the discs into a small pile of wax before taking a shot.

A cousin around 14-years-old decided to out-Jack Jack in this game. With a deadpan expression he methodically shaped a little mound of powdered wax near him, using some wax he took from Jack's side of the board. He held up game pieces to his eye like a jeweler examining a gem as he applied the powder. I couldn't stop laughing. Nor could Jack.

After a long day of eating and socializing Sheila and I went home. We tried to watch a little TV but ended up going to bed by 9 PM.

[diggingupgrave]

Magnificently Cursed... the blog post ✨

🕰🍂🕯🌿📔🧣🌙

My writing log says it’s been exactly a year since I started writing Magnificently Cursed, my Dark Academia Inuokko Magic School AU! I find summer to be insufferable (my apologies to the sun) so I took an escape hatch to an early fall last year and immediately fell down this massive rabbit hole. Not only did I write the whole fic and make overly-intricate graphics for each chapter… I also made a ton of other content that I simply didn’t have enough time to post! (Fall is but one season… unless you’re me, and it’s two, because fuck summer) So as a little anniversary gift to me, I’m going back through the archives and finally putting everything in one place. 

Let’s start with the character mood boards, shall we? 

Toge Inumaki: 

I wanted Toge to have an earthy/natural, vintage-y feel, while Yuuta was all sleek and new. I’m still completely obsessed with this library-lizard aesthetic for Toge.

I low-key wound up buying a brown sweater after searching online for literal hours just like the one in the upper left so we could twin. That duffle coat still has my whole heart. Lavender mug inspired by Neara 🥺

Yuuta Okkotsu:

The lil ghostie patch 😭 I still think Yuuta would look hot as hell in all these clothes- especially the speckle-y fisherman sweater. Coat game is strong here as well. 

... so is it obvious that I spend too much time on Canva yet? 😅

The Timeline: 

My outline wasn’t outlining and I resorted to making an in-world calendar to make sure the dates were realistic. Each chapter is a different color, and the lines represent what days the chapters covered in-world. The corresponding stars represented each chapter’s posting dates… except the real life dates didn’t line up with the fictional dates (rude), so those thursdays were actually saturdays? I think? I'm actually not 100% sure what past me was up to here, to be totally honest 😅

(also, politely ignore that bit that says “epilogue - december” 💀i’ll get to it when i get to it. I don’t really like the idea of it being *over* so maybe i'll just gatekeep that bit forever)

⬆️ Example of aforementioned “outlining,” which, yes, is unfortunately littered with as many potential tweets as actual organization 💀

Not pictured: the outline for the first three chapters… when i thought this fic… would only *be* three chapters. 🪦

Writing Log:

I wrote all 92k between July 13th and September 13th (including 60k in August, nanowrimo style)!

Honestly would love to know what her regimen was because i immediately went back to being slow and undisciplined. I don’t foresee this coming august looking anything like this, lol.

Also, sidenote, hilarious that I took a break to work on it would make a whole in the middle of this? Because I literally just finished that piece this week and posted it today 😅

The Playlist:

Spotify proving that July 13th commitment! If you start a wip without procrastinating and making a playlist for two hours first... did you really start a new wip?

The playlist was three and a half hours and i would listen to it nearly every day, sometimes multiple times in a day 💀. Listen during a rainstorm for peak vibes.

(other favs not pictured: The Butterflly Effect’s cover of “Lay All Your Love on Me,” Sabrina Carpenter’s “Decode,” Liz Longley’s “Rescue My Heart,” and "Nothing's Gonna Happen" by The Staves) 

Bonus:

(fall baking... toge's fav pumpkin muffins of course)

(my toge sweater knockoff)

(editing buddy... clearly working very hard)

(cider donut cider... for the ✨vibes✨)

(obsessively drinking massive pots of harney and son’s victorian london fog tea as i tried to interpret my own bullshit)

(me celebrating actual halloween like i didn't start in july)

.... ANYWAY (if you made it this far 😅) many thanks to anyone who read/kudos/commented/supported this fic, because (if you can't tell already) i had so much fun writing it.

Currently, working on another longfic rn that's also promising to destroy my life... but you never forget your first 😘

[shadowhuntersfemslashfebruary23]

Shadowhunters Ladies had it coming: presenting this year’s Femslash February prompt list.

Straight (or not so straight if you catch my drift) from the Shadow World, by @A_Taupe_Fox because they know what’s good for me (and you).

Here is how it works: you may have noticed the calendar with a list of prompts.

It is up to you (and me, I’m doing it too!) to create a brand new piece of fanwork for the Shadowhunters femslash pairing of your choice, interpreting the prompt however you see fit.

The only restriction is of course that every work you create must be femslash. Rule 63 is fine, and any character who identifies as a woman is welcome.

All kind of works (be it fanart, fanfic, fanmix, fanvids, fancraft…) are highly encouraged. You may create a reclist if you so wish, translate a work or make a podfic, as long as you tag responsibly.

Mature and/or dark content is allowed as long as you warn accordingly. Friendly reminder that the point of trigger warnings is that they need to be visible and understandable so people know what to avoid.

I’ll try my best to reblog everything through this tumblr as I’ll be tracking #SFF23, and I’ll be running an AO3 collection as well (Shadowhunters_Femslash_February_2023).

If you fill the entire calendar you may request a moodboard from me to celebrate, I’ll be happy to make one for your favorite pairing!

Minimum requirements

Fic and poetry: 500 words, unless you are specifically writing a drabble (exactly 100 words on AO3)

Art: 300x300 pixels if digital, 3”x3” if traditional

Moodboards: 3 images (+ optional blurb)

Playlist: 8 songs + cover art

Rec lists: 3 fanworks + reasons why you’re reccing them

Podfic: 5 minutes + clear permission from the author for you to use make it

Translations: the work it’s a translation of must fit the fic minimum requirements, whether new or pre-existing + clear permission from the author for you to translate it

Fanvids: 30 seconds

All other fanworks (gifs, crafts, edits, manips, anything else you can think of): as long as you think it’s complete and/or the best you can do right now, it counts

[tobiasdrake]

Makoto's being cryptic, Yomi's being fascist, we're neck-deep in enemy territory with no plan beyond "DO THE IMPOSSIBLE SOMEHOW", someone's PROBABLY dead by now, and I have to deal with these two chuckleheads?

Gonna go hang out with my bestie instead. For moral support.

This is why the family cut her off.

OH MY GOD ME TOO. They're an entire family of internationally-recognized chronomancers, carrying enough clout that the Unified Government grants them complete authority over maintaining time standards around the globe. They not only cut Fubuki off from the family for some reason but specifically banished her to the World Detective Organization.

I would play a spinoff game all about these people. The central gimmick could be solving mysteries through time travel in order to unwrite tragedies before they happen.

Let's start with how maintaining time standards works.

It does, yeah. Basically, Fubuki's saying that maintaining global standards of time sounds more complicated than it actually is. Time ticks itself away; All we have to do is observe it. The Clockfords' job is simply about keeping everyone's observation on the same level.

They just make sure everyone's abiding by the Time Zones and nobody's clocks have slipped.

In the real world, this is all decentralized efforts undertaken by individual countries. Everyone decides for themselves what calendar to use and what time it is right now. That's why the Time Zone map is this jagged piece of shit.

Look at that. Look at how ugly that is. Decentralized time zones are an utter disaster. By cleaning all of this up and providing neat, crisp lines and universal standards, the Clockfords are providing a public service to the world.

...is one interpretation. Of course, going along with the uncomfortable implications of the Unified Government, all of that "clean-up" means tearing the autonomy of sovereign peoples to decide what time it is right now from their hands.

A universal calendar standard accepted across the globe sounds cool, but it also means erasing cultural standards of individual civilizations. Chinese New Year? What Chinese New Year. China has to celebrate the same New Year as everybody else. The Chinese calendar is banned.

In the name of smooth, crisp global efficiency, the Clockford Family is engaged in temporal imperialism.

The Clockfords can dictate that it's 2013 right now, and then everyone around the world has to adjust because the Time Emperors have deemed it so? That's fucking terrifying.

Rain Code spinoff where the Clockfords decide to turn back the dial five years. The game features a guy who was about to go celebrate turning 21 by having his first (legal) bar trip, but the Time Emperors decided he's 16 now. No beer and he has to start high school all over again.

So, naturally, he's out for revenge and to liberate the time standards of the world from their iron grasp.

We have granted the Time Emperors an unbelievable level of control over the stability of civilization so we could charge them with one scared duty: To prevent the Time Emperors from abusing their unbelievable control and wreaking havoc across civilization. Only the Clockford Family can defend the world against potential abuses from the Clockford Family.

Wait, they banished you to go die as a Master Detective because they want you to lead the family?

Logic would then suggest that maybe you haven't been told officially because they don't want you as heir.

They realized they fucked up, so now they're using the WDO as a remedial education instructor. Which. Is. Not what the WDO's job is. *sigh* Shit, now I feel bad about that "This is why they cut her off" crack I made at the start of this hangout. That is, in fact, why they cut her off.

Wow, I hate your parents, Fubuki. With a violent passion. You should run away and follow your dreams of being an adventurer and coffee barista. What adventuring party couldn't use a coffee barista with time powers?

Sure, your absence would fuck up their plans for the future of their time empire but. That's a good thing. So it's win/win.

I hate that you think that, bestie. You are a diamond and you deserve the world.

[monozip]

JUST SOME THOUGHTS 💭 : the nine circles of loona hell.

After the very straining and soul-sucking battle that is BBC (although its not totally over! court-hearings are still due on August, it is still relieving knowing all 12 are out of BBC) new doors are opening up for the girls: as an odd eye circle comeback is right around the corner, a new wave of thrill and excitement is brewing up but, akin to the feeling of getting kicked on the stomach and as you stand up getting kicked again....orbits not only relive the feeling of euphoria to a new comeback, they'll also feel the same dread and annoyance at the piss poor management.

Modhaus choose to stray away from the usual path a company would do for promoting their artist, that being with NFTS and the benefit of voting for certain things due to said NFT. And it seems to be working for other group under Modhaus. I understand the need/or want for a uniform marketing scheme, but I wonder if Modhaus ever wondered or taken into consideration if the majority of OEC/Artms demographic and fans actually...gives a shit.

Although being a hot topic during 2021 (and years prior to that), it slowly started dwindling back in the shadows as other waves of trends came crashing in.But even then it seems as if NFT is just a rich mans toy that also happened to pack a punch at mother earth: the whole novelty about NFTs are the cha-ching linked to it, you'd just oggle and laugh at the cartoonishly high prices celebrities pay for ugly drawings of monkeys or even participate in it just for a quick buck.

Yet I don't see why it's necessary to even have NFTS in Artm's case considering how environmentally degrading it is. If they wanted to earn a quick buck out of these fans they could've just simply locked those photos on a paywall, there are many avenues and paths that can lead them to the same place. Also factor in the fact that majority or at least a good chunk of the fandom either don't care or vehemently hate it, so it just stirs a lot of negativity in forums or platforms where positivity is a better option— and yet Modhaus or any company really, never listens to the fandom's wishes/thoughts/feedback which is a big blunder due to the fact that fans are what feeds these companies, without an audience there is no place for their music to thrive.

But what about the albums? They're environmentally degrading too!

See, this is where my main gripe about NFTS actually formulate. I'm very much aware that everything I consume in my life can and will damage the environment one way or another, but there's actually a purpose behind those things. NFTS on the other hand...not so much. They are soulless pieces of merchandise, thats soul purpose starts and ends with it being a selfie whilst damaging the environment. Albums is a great garden to grow and see even a tiny speck of art. The inclusions are also another factor, it's a medium for art to flourish and has some real life uses to it (cd's).

Aside from the drift between fans and NFTS. Scheduling, lack of 'hype' is a big sore in the comeback, considering how the members themselves spoke about how they wish for a win. Why couldn't they manage their calendars correctly? Why aren't they hiring employees that can cater for a better outcome? Why are there dead zones of silence in between teasers? There's also overpricing of tour tickets (the announcement being before we even got the video teaser, me-thinks it would've worked out much better if they announced it in the middle of promotions as the hype may still be around).

Promoting Loona had always been a pleasure for orbits especially in their hayday before the great Armageddon, but now as the tides are shifting: there is now a realization that orbits antics may just backfire: Promoting the group is always the companies job, it's merely an option for the fans. And it's not as if Modhaus is a company majorly lacking in resources, so why can't they do it themselves? And the bare minimum is not to ghost fans leading up to the release date, there are ways to bring in hype and extra content without even straining or overworking the girls themselves. Posting hints about the comeback, interesting tidbits and trivia about it, even posting a little screencap of the mv is a decent way to generate curiosity regarding the comeback.

I do appreciate those little shortcuts video they post, content better than nothing at least.

It's just tiring seeing oec/artms re-living the same old issues under the hand of the same old man.

But that aside, I do genuinely look forward for this comeback (or re-debut maybe?). I dig the concept and especially the first few set of photo teasers as it was very interesting and alluring. It's wonderful that they choose to recall previous details for the sub-unit's comeback/re-debut as it really gives a rush to old fans and can create interest to the new ones. Tiny thing, but I really like the details they placed on the eyepatches like the laces and stuff. Love the thick bangs on Choerry too. The video teasers were also an amazing watch, just hearing OEC's old songs now as they are in a new chapter in their career, new company, new everything, is just thrilling and sweet. I wonder (delusions) if Haseul or Heejin will be a featured artists in their b-sides! That'll be fun for sure.

[valentinaharrington]

[ciswoman, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [VALENTINA HARRINGTON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [LAURA HARRIER]. You must be the [THIRTY] year old [ARTIST]. Word is you’re [LOYAL] but can also be a bit [STUBBORN] and your favorite song is [WHAT IT IS BY DOECHII]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY DRIVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

Full Name: Valentina Harrington  Nickname(s): V, Vivi, Baby V Gender: Cis woman (she/her) Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Birthday: August 15 (31) Religion: Spiritual Nationality: American Ethnicity: Black Hometown: New York, NY Current Residence: Aurora Bay Drive  Time in Aurora Bay: 10 years on and off throughout childhood, moved back 1 year ago.  Occupation: Freelance Artist  Education: Master of Fine Arts degree, Columbia University Languages: English 

TL;DR: Valentina Harrington is a 31-year-old professional artist and socialite who inherited a passion for all things artistic from her wealthy art collector parents, including a cushy trust fund. She quickly made a name for herself in the New York art scene, with art commissioned by high-profile celebrities and events like the Met. She is known for throwing lavish parties attended by New York's elite. She moved after her parents threatened to cut her off due to 'bad habits' and indulging too much at her parties. Despite her glamorous lifestyle, V takes her craft seriously and is deeply passionate about her art.

PERSONALITY.

Pos. Traits: Magnetic, risk-taker, affectionate, warm, vivacious, risk-taker, loving, creative Neg. Traits: Reckless, impulsive, naive, stubborn, overly-trusting  Likes: Painting, makeup, clubbing, sports, cooking, travel, nature walks, skinny dipping, the TV show Succession, staying in hotels, quick getaways, weight-lifting, bike riding, rollercoasters, Disney, getting drunk on cheap wine Dislikes: Anything that's not easy to have, lack of fashion sense, people who can't appreciate good art, being told what to do. 

Meet Valentina Harrington, a 31-year-old artist, and socialite born in Aurora Bay as a child but raised in the Upper East Side where she considers her home. She grew up surrounded by the city's high society. Her parents were wealthy art collectors, and Valentina inherited their passion for all things artistic from an early age, along with a hefty trust fund to fall back on.

After graduating from Columbia University with a degree in Fine Arts, Valentina quickly made a name for herself in the New York art scene. Her works are often inspired by the city's vibrant culture and iconic landmarks and have been exhibited in some of the most prestigious galleries in the city. Specifically being commissioned by the Met Gala to curate pieces throughout her college years - making her a popular favorite to be invited and it helps that she is constantly being asked to model for designers.

Despite her glamorous lifestyle, Vivi is deeply passionate about her art and takes her craft seriously. She spends long hours in her studio, working on new pieces and perfecting her technique. She is constantly seeking inspiration and is always looking for new ways to push the boundaries of her art. Valentina's social media presence is strong, with a large following on Instagram and TikTok, where she shares behind-the-scenes glimpses of her creative process and glamorous lifestyle. She is also a philanthropist, supporting various causes related to the arts and education.

At the young age of 30, she decided to fully move to Aurora Bay in search of a more peaceful lifestyle and was essentially forced by her parents to do so. She had grown up with her family visiting over summers and grew tired of consistently fast-paced nights out that dominated her social calendar in the city. In Aurora Bay, she found a tranquil and idyllic coastal town that allowed her to focus on her personal growth and creative pursuits.  That doesn't stop her from being her full self. She filled her wardrobes with carefully curated pieces that reflected her unique style and artistic sensibilities. Each outfit she wears is a statement-making masterpiece that blends vintage and modern elements in a way that only she could pull off. She pays close attention to the smallest details, always ensuring that every accessory and piece of jewelry is perfectly placed to complete the overall look.  Her love for classic films, books, and art continues to be a source of inspiration for her. 

[tw drug abuse] In addition to her artistic endeavors, Valentina is also a prominent figure in the city's social and fashion scene. She is known for throwing lavish parties and events, attended by New York's elite. Her charm and outgoing personality have earned her a reputation as a socialite and influencer, and she is often seen at fashion shows, charity events, and other high-profile gatherings. This lifestyle allows easy access to drugs of all kinds, and while she appears to have it put together on the outside she hides that side of her from her friends and family and indulges occasionally. Another major reason why she moved to Aurora Bay due to her parents threatening her trust fund and leaking her drug abuse to the press if she didn't get clean. She's been clean for 6 months, and is 'California Sober,' so she still lights up a j and drinks alcohol but can't help but feel tempted to return to that former lifestyle of more substances. But her love for her pristine image rests on her shoulders.

WANTED CONNECTIONS: 

Platonic - a fellow artist, best friend, high school bf/gf, childhood best friend Romantic - one-night stand, friend w/ benefits, more serious hookups, flirty friend

Happy for any and all connections  @aurorabayaesthetic

[darcylewisbingohq]

Welcome fans and friends of Darcy Lewis to Darcy Lewis Bingo Headquarters and our 2023 bingo round!

2023 Darcy Lewis Bingo Challenge Signup Form: link

Darcy Lewis Bingo 2023 custom card (5x5 squares) requests open today, January 7th! Signups will remain open until February 14th.

Please carefully read through the bingo guidelines below before signing up. We made some fun changes this year to help you customize your card all year long.

2023 Darcy Lewis Bingo Guidelines

We’re making a few exciting changes this round!

To begin, four different types of bingo cards will be available for you to choose from in 2023:

Custom Bingo Cards: These are traditional 5x5 grid cards available to everyone who signs up early during the initial entry period in January. Prompts are assigned on these cards based on a simple questionnaire to determine the kinds of fanworks you like to create and your preferred types of prompts. Participants can choose to have 24 prompts + 1 free space or 25 prompts with no free space on these cards as part of the customization process.

Premade Bingo Cards: NEW FOR 2023—these 5x5 grid cards are available to anyone who signs up later in the year, after custom cards are delivered, when late signups open in the spring. (Early entrants may also choose a premade card in the spring to work from in addition to their custom card if a particular premade card theme appeals to their muse.) Each of these cards will have 25 prompts with no free spaces. Prompts available on these cards will be fandom typical, such as tropes, AUs, exclusively nsfw prompts, Darcy multishipper/rare pairs, etc. If there is a particular prompt you’d like to see, we’re open to suggestions for future premade, late entry cards.

Mega Bingo Cards: ALSO NEW FOR 2023—These are a new size card available to all bingo players on our Discord. Mega bingo cards will come in a 10x10 grid size. Every mega bingo card will be identical with 100 prompts total and no free spaces. Each square will have a one-word prompt that can be used to inspire fanwork creations like every other Darcy Bingo prompt—however a creator sees fit to use it or finds inspiration in it. Special reward badges are available to anyone who gets a bingo or a blackout on a 2023 mega bingo card.

Limited Edition Event Cards: UPDATED FOR 2023—These are another new size card for the 2023 round. Limited edition event cards will be premade 1x5 cards created for special occasions, such as Valentine’s Day, Marvel special occasions, Pride 2023, Halloween, and Winter Holidays. These premade cards will each have five prompts with no free spaces and will be made available 2-3 months before each holiday or event month. You’ll be able to choose your limited edition card from a group of 5-10 premade cards based on related themes. Special, limited edition reward badges will be issued to anyone who completes all five prompts on a limited edition bingo card in the 2023 calendar year.

Limited Edition event bingo card signups will be available exclusively to Darcy Bingo Discord server members. MCU special occasions may also be celebrated with limited edition cards. Halloween, Hanukkah, and Christmas, for sure, but maybe Anniversary of the Battle of New York or Steve Rogers’ red, white, & blue birthday, too…? Who knows?!

The link to invite your friends to Darcy Lewis Bingo can be found through the ‘invite’ link at the top of the list of channels on our Discord server.

Please feel free to share it amongst your Darcyland and MCU fandom friends who wish to join this bingo.

As always, creators may write or create as few or as many fics or pieces of artwork as you would like for each prompt. This bingo writing challenge and the prompts provided on each card are meant to inspire, never to stifle your creativity.

When to Begin: You are welcome to begin creating as soon as you receive your card(s). Custom bingo cards should be emailed to you within 30 days of signup, so if you signup on January 1st, you can expect to have your card in hand by February 1st.

Remember, all mega bingo cards will be identical with no customization at the start. Every mega bingo card will have the exact same prompts, but prompts can be traded and swapped during Discord bingo parties this round just like any traditional custom bingo card. The 2023 mega bingo card will be made available in our Discord for creators to save for your records and to work from all round long.

Only one custom card per person will be issued at the start of this bingo event round. If you blackout your 5x5 custom card or your 10x10 mega bingo card, you are welcome to choose one of our 5x5 premade cards to continue creating Darcy Lewis content. However, only one badge each will be issued for 2023 participation, and one each for both the 5x5 and 10x10 cards’ bingo and blackout challenges this round.

Additional badges may also be announced and awarded. Check out our Discord server for future announcements on additional 2023 reward badges.

Bingo Deadlines: There continues to be no deadline for completing a Darcy Lewis 5x5 bingo card or 10x10 mega bingo card for 2023. Creators may take as long as you like to finish a 5x5 or 10x10 bingo card for this round, even well into the following year.

Limited Edition 2023 cards must be completed by the deadline issued in Discord for the event and masterlists submitted by the end of calendar year 2023 to qualify for limited edition reward badges.

As long as this bingo exists, old 5x5 and 10x10 Darcy Lewis Bingo HQ cards completed with new creations will be honored.

Swaps: NEW FOR 2023 Because Darcy Lewis Bingo hosts monthly bingo parties on our Discord, where bingo players have a minimum of 4 opportunities every single month to swap, adopt, or earn additional prompt swaps during bingo party game play, there will be no instant swaps available immediately after custom cards are issued to bingo players.

Weekly Challenges: ALSO NEW FOR 2023 In fact, our Discord Weekly Challenge will present each bingo creator at least 4-8 additional opportunities every month for creators to swap prompts. If you create something for our Discord Weekly Challenge in the seven allotted days for that challenge, you may swap that creation and prompt in for any prompt square on any of your 2023 round cards: 5x5, 10x10, or limited edition 1x5 cards. But the creation must be posted by the end of that challenge week to qualify for a swap and the date of that challenge week swap should appear on your masterlist at the end of the 2023 bingo round to indicate you swapped it with a weekly prompt and when. Weekly Challenge fills can be banked all year and saved to use as swaps as needed until the end of calendar year 2023. Players are responsible for keeping track of their own banked Weekly Challenges. They may alternately be used immediately as swaps, if the creator chooses not to save them for later, once the challenge fill has been posted by the weekly deadline.

By our count, this means every creator has the opportunity to swap up to about 144 prompts in the 2023 round.

That’s a lotta swaps and opportunities to customize your bingo cards. 😉

How to Use Prompts: Remember that no prompt is required to be used exactly as it appears on your card. If you can justify how the prompt inspires the creation, that’s good enough for us.

Masterlists: You will need to provide a masterlist for completed bingo and blackout reward badges in the masterposts channel on our Discord or mention us @darcylewisbingohq on tumblr. Masterlists may be posted at any time for rewards in the 2023 round.

Returning Bingo Players: We ask that bingo players returning from the previous round complete at least one line of bingo on the previous round’s custom card before requesting a new custom card be created for them in 2023.

Requesting reward badges for completing earlier bingo rounds: If you have a custom card from an earlier round of Darcy Lewis Bingo that you never got to finish, but you’d like to keep creating for, we will also honor those rounds with new rewards for creators who complete a bingo line. (New rewards will not be issued for bingo lines of 5 prompts all completed entirely for Darcy bingo cards issued before June 21, 2022, however. This is when Grimey made the handoff of Darcy Bingo to new bingo management, Mods Turtles & ChrissiHR.)

Tags & Trigger Warnings: Please include trigger warnings when you publish your creations. Warning appropriately builds trust with your readers in the long term. Tagging accurately is important for this reason, as well. If trigger warnings are spoilers, put a warning in the tags that spoilers are in the end notes and then actually include the spoilers in the end notes. Tagging builds trust and encourages readers to return to read more of your work. Trust us on this and tag like you want readers to return.

How to Get Reblogged: Mention @darcylewisbingohq in the A/N on tumblr and use the tag #dlbingohq (all one word!) in the first five tags on tumblr to be included in our bingo roundups. Include any tags you’d like us to tag your work with, as well.

Posting Creations: Share your fill in one of the bingo fill channels on our Discord. A brief outline of what to include in your post is pinned in each of the fill and weekly challenge channels.

Don’t forget:

Please use the ‘keep reading’ feature on tumblr when possible to abbreviate lengthy fills if you’d like them reblogged by the Darcy Lewis Bingo Headquarters account.

What Counts as a Fill?: Aesthetics, drabbles, one-shots, multichaptered fics, series, drawings, paintings, sculpture, social media AUs, gif edits, video edits, music video edits, moodboards, coloring pages, and playlists are all accepted fills.

What’s that? You craft or crochet?

That counts, too.

ANY CREATION inspired by your prompt counts.

Poetry? Yes.

Sidewalk chalk drawing? Yes.

Soap sculptures? Yes.

Bullet journal theming? Yes.

Watercolor? Yes.

Haiku written in glitter calligraphy? YES.

Peed in the snow creatively? As long as it’s inspired by a prompt on your bingo card, it counts. So yes. (We’re not your mom. Be weird, make stuff!)

One square = one bingo fill. If you write a multi-chaptered fic, each chapter can be considered a fill using a different prompt, or you may use just one prompt to inspire all your chapters.

You may use one prompt square per chapter or fill from up to two different Darcy Bingo cards at a time. Using two Darcy Bingo cards’ prompts on a single fill is permitted, but only if the prompts originate from two different cards. This includes custom cards (early signups), premade cards (late entries), mega cards, and limited edition cards. You also may combine up to two squares as long as they’re from two different Darcy Bingo cards in a single chapter.

When using prompts from two different Darcy Bingo cards, fill requirements still must be met for each prompt, so a 100-word minimum becomes 200 words minimum when stacking your two prompts from different cards into one fill—just like you’d stack your prompts for cross-fills with other bingos.

All characters, ships, reader inserts, OC’s, actors, crossovers, and AUs are permitted as long as Darcy Lewis is a substantive character contributing to the story or creation or part of a main pairing or polycule in your creation.

Your creation may include characters from other MCU movies or even other fandoms. Just remember it must include Darcy as a substantive character to count as a prompt fill.

If you don’t know what a particular prompt means, you can @ a mod at any time on tumblr or Discord, or DM us directly. We’re happy to help.

All works created for this bingo should be new or previously unpublished. You may add new chapters to old works, however. You may not use previously published chapters of existing works or previously posted one-shots or creations to fill the prompts on your new card.

Minimum prompt fill requirements:

• 100 words for written works or word art, with the exception of poetry with a specific word or syllable count format (such as haikus)

• 1 image for artwork or handcrafts of any kind

• 6 images for social media AUs

• 6 elements or images for moodboards

• 10 songs for playlists

What Counts as a Fill (an addendum)

Just like writing a multichaptered fic, there’s more than one way to fill additional prompts on your bingo card without going down the rabbit hole and writing 25 different stories for every single prompt. (That sounds exhausting to us!)

If you’ve already written a fic you love, go ahead and make a playlist for it, too. Ten songs on a playlist counts as a fill! So does a moodboard! Or an aesthetic board. You can do a social media AU with two or three different IG account pages. Each mock IG page could count as a fill if it contains a minimum of 6 images. There are so many ways to use your prompts and world-build for your stories.

Still not sure if yours meets the minimum requirement? @ a mod on our Discord or message one of us on tumblr! We’re @ibelieveinturtles & @chrissihr here on tumblr.

We wish you all luck with each and every one of your prompt fills in 2023!

Regarding Completion Rewards: Turtles and I have recently discovered a mutual love of giving bingo players extra bonuses and rewards along with reward badges, so bingo players participating in future Discord Limited Edition events, Discord Weekly Challenges, and bingos may receive additional rewards and bonuses above and beyond bingo & blackout reward badges—as dictated by our whims and fancies. These bonuses may include more Wild Cards or Free Space Tokens for participation in particular challenge weeks, opportunities to revisit earlier events and finish unpublished works as instant swaps, surprise adoptable prompt weekends—you name it. More monthly bingo writing and moodboard games will also qualify for instant swaps this year.

Keeping this bingo fun and dynamic all year long for all of you is our goal, but it’s fun for us, too, so expect more of that this round, as well. 😉

The Darcy Lewis Bingo Mod Duo,

Turtles & Chrissi

[redstainedsocks]

Gifts Offered

I know I haven't posted much of any writing for... way too long, but I had a seasonal idea for my Weight of Earth series and I managed to make it happen! Huzzah! Enjoy. Second part will be queued to post tomorrow :)

Masterlist

Contents: General captivity vibes, angst, impending danger, Christmas Vibes

Time may feel like it slows, drags, goes on forever and a day and pulls at you like the weight of water in sodden clothes. But it never stops. Not for a second. Not for anyone. And as much as Alex wishes it would, that this isn’t his life slipping away beneath his fingertips, he can’t stop the progression of days and weeks turning into months. Before he’s really begun to process the unforgiving monotony, the stale sameness of his situation, the end of the year creeps onwards and comes upon the cavern in a rush.

Through their means of tracking days – calendars, clocks, the one wind up radio – the festivities are hard to ignore. It’s like lead in his stomach, a balloon in his chest that he can’t breathe around. When his mind drifts away from the current reality all he can think of is being home, around his family, his friends. With the lights and songs, the rituals that always seemed a little stupid, when he was younger, but that they did anyway for the nostalgia.

He’d thought it would be bad enough, knowing it was happening out there in the real world, and living in the bare rock of the cavern. It gets worse when Adria produces a collection of decorations and insists they put them up. Most of them are strange to Alex, someone else’s traditions from another time and place. But there’s some that Jasper holds a little more tenderly, that lift the corner of his mouth into what’s nearly-but-not-quite a smile. Will Alex have his own pieces in those boxes some day? Things given on some condition or other so that his own life can be represented in this bastardised version of celebration? He shudders to think about it. To be here, trapped, and still expected to go on as if nothing is wrong. As if he isn’t missing everything he holds dear.

Adria makes it worse still. Clustered around the fire one evening as the logs crackle and the air fills with the sweet-bitter scent of burning wood she asks them about gifts. Alex sits frozen, heart barely beating, as Jasper stammers through a short list. New paints, some cooking utensils, a soft new cosy jumper to wear when the cavern gets cold.

Then, Adria turns her burning gaze to him.

Alex can barely return the look, his eyes drifting sideways and down, away from having to lock eyes with her.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

“You don’t know?” She repeats it, and he can’t read the tone. Angry? Bemused? He chances a look at her face and it looks placid enough, but her eyes are narrowed. Is it an insult to turn her down?

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I didn’t know… I thought because you didn’t like me, really…”

It’s a bad excuse, he knows it as he says it, sounding thin even to his own ears.

“Well you don’t have to decide right away, but if you take too long I may refuse the request. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He nods, swallows. Hears himself say, “Okay.” and “Thank you.” and the moment passes. They go to bed, and later, as he lays next to Jasper’s slumbering form he thinks and ties himself into knots, and wonders why the thought of being handed a present he’s supposed to be grateful for makes him want to claw his own eyes out just so he doesn’t have to see it.

A couple of days pass and the idea formulates without him really meaning it to. He knows what he wants, more than anything. He also knows it’s a big deal and unlikely to be given freely. He works up the courage to ask for Jasper’s opinion first.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I’m… I don’t know, Alex. I think it might, um, make her angry, more than you can realise.”

“But it wouldn’t do any harm, would it? They can’t do anything about it, about me, not while I’m here.”

“She’s always told me no, before, when I asked for something like that.”

“But have you ever asked when she’s specifically told you to decide on a present?” he leans forwards, eager for the reply.

“Maybe not? There’s… it’s a lot of years, I don’t remember everything.” Jasper wrinkles his nose in thought, rubs absently at scar tissue across his jaw. “Can you not, please, just make it easy?”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me not to hope for something now I’ve thought of it.” Alex pushes away from the counter he was leaning against and sets his resolve. He’ll ask, he just needs to find the right moment.

A day and a half goes by before he finds the moment he was looking for, several others passed him by as he lost his nerve at the last second. But she’s here, humming lightly to herself as she prepares to head out for the day, once again leaving them alone. It’s as good a time as he could hope for, she’s in a good mood, and if it goes badly hopefully she’ll still be out most of the day and her wrath will lessen by the time she comes back. Alex clears his throat, and stops beside the opening to her dressing room, where she’s bouncing from foot to foot securing pins in her hair.

Adria spares him a glance. “Yes?”

“I know what I would like to ask for. As a… present.”

Immediately he gains her full attention, several hair pins balanced between her fingertips. “Oh?”

“It’s not a typical present!” He rushes to say. “I don’t need much, you don’t have to think of me. It’s just an idea, and you did ask.”

“Why do I get the sense you’re looking for something more than I offered?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s less than you’re getting Jasper, even. You don’t even have to… buy anything.”

“Well spit it out then, boy.” She spins a silver pin and he notices the sharpened point, now wavering in his direction.

His mouth is drier than ever, his palms sweaty. She could cause him agony in a heartbeat, just with a touch. If her anger flares she could burn him in second, or knock him down and cut right through to where he bleeds soft and red and delicate. But it’s this or nothing. He’ll lose either way.

“I want to send a letter to my family.”

Adria goes still, head cocked to one side. Her eyes flash, brighter red, glowing. Her veins stand out like a firecracker burst of heat, for a blink, before it’s gone and her smooth, porcelain skin is just as creamy and unblemished as ever. Alex has the distinct impression of standing in front of a tiger that’s poised to pounce. Every synapse that fires, every nerve ending in his body screams run.

With nowhere to go, and no chance of hiding, he takes half a step backwards and raises his chin. Breath catching in the small space at the top of his lungs. She moves, and he cringes, but it’s only to place another pin into her styled and smoothed hair.

“And why do you think I’d allow something like that?”

[Part two to follow soon!]