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girlkisser13 · 2 months

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hermes cabin headcanons

children of hermes

• the most unorganized cabin BY FAR.

• they’re all HUGE gossipers. what do you expect, these children are the offspring of the og tea spiller.

• they know various pointless magic tricks and if they don't, their siblings will not hesitate to teach them.

• they can understand all languages since hermes is the god of language but when it comes to speaking, it comes out like google translate if there’s no education.

• they have a map of the world with places they’ve visited or want to visit. it’s color coded for each member of the cabin.

• they have a huge stash of (mostly stolen) cash hidden in multiple places around the world. its mostly used for bail money, college funds, and to help children of hermes start out in the mortal world.

• they will never get into an accident while travelling (i.e, shipwreck, car crash, plane crash, stranded, etc)

• they try and convince new campers their godly parent can be determined by "the sorting hat" which is basically an old straw hat they found lying on the beach.

• in the future, they set up a nationwide transportation network that works with the satyrs to get halfbloods to camp as quickly and safely as possible.

• they host frequent scavenger hunts around the camp. these hunts involve solving riddles, finding hidden objects, and sometimes include elements of trickery.

• they organize a secret santa every year where campers anonymously give small gifts or do kind deeds for each other.

• they tutor campers who want to learn new languages.

• when the underground railroad was formed, many children of hermes and athena assisted in its traversal and the freeing of slaves.

• they have wi-fi wherever they go. it’s only visible to demigods and only accessible to the children of hermes.

• there are no personal items in the their cabin.

• at first everyone was stealing each other's stuff but now it's in one big community pile and no one even knows what belongs to them anymore.

• they are seen as the mother hens of camp because almost every camp member has resided in their cabin and they're used to calming nightmares, comforting the younger kids when they get home sick or overwhelmed, and making sure that no one feels left out or rejected until they get claimed.

• every cabin has a loose floorboard that has been hollowed out underneath. every cabin thinks they’re the only one who has it. every cabin hides stuff in there like candy, soda, stuff like that that usually isn’t allowed in camp.

• the hermes cabin has dug out the entire underside of their cabin. they tore everything down there. It’s like the black market.

cabin exterior

• parts of their cabin are covered in ivy and other climbing plants, giving it a slightly wild and untamed appearance, much like the unpredictable nature of the hermes children.

• various symbols associated with hermes, like caduceuses, winged sandals, and messenger bags, are carved into the woodwork and painted around the entrance.

• their cabin is painted in vibrant colors that stand out, with murals or graffiti art depicting hermes-related imagery, like travelers, messengers, and playful tricksters. the art is regularly updated by the hermes children.

• besides the main door, there are several hidden or secret entrances around the cabin, known only to the hermes children. these are used for sneaking in and out, especially during pranks or after curfew.

cabin interior

• the cabin is filled with an eclectic mix of items, from maps and travel souvenirs to prank supplies and training gear. despite the clutter, everything has its place, and they can navigate it with ease.

• due to the large number of campers, the sleeping arrangements include not only bunk beds but also hammocks strung up in every available corner, creating a cozy, multi-level sleeping area.

• the walls are adorned with souvenirs from various quests and travels—postcards, photographs, foreign currency, and trinkets from different mythological locations. these serve as both decoration and inspiration.

• a wall is dedicated to an ever-expanding map of camp half-blood and the surrounding areas, filled with annotations, routes, and hidden spots discovered by the campers. this is a central hub for planning pranks and quests.

• they have a large, locked cabinet (with an ever-changing combination) that holds the cabin’s prank supplies— whoopee cushions, fake spiders, enchanted paint, and more. only the hermes head counselor knows the current combination.

• they have several hidden compartments and secret passages. these are known only to the children of hermes and are used for sneaking in and out or hiding during pranks.

cabin traditions

• they have an initiation ritual for their new siblings where they have break into the big house and steal something from it.

• they regularly organize prank wars within the cabin and sometimes with other cabins.

• they have nights dedicated to trading items. they bring trinkets, gear, or magical items they've collected, and trades are made in a festive, market-like atmosphere.

• they have regular craft nights where they create disguises, fake ids, lock-picking tools, and other items that might come in handy for quests or pranks.

• they have occasional midnight feasts where they sneak into the dining pavilion or other food storage areas, bringing back a feast to enjoy together while they gossip.

divider by @anqlicrosie

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #pjo series #hoo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #hermes #mercury #hermes cabin #cabin eleven #cabin 11 #children of hermes

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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You said that you did not have tiktok, so you have likely not seen it but there is this series called roll for sandwich in which this guy makes a list if ingredients (like a list of types of bread that he has, vegetables, roughage, sauces, wild magic, etc) and each option has a number, so he rolls DnD dies and randomly makes sandwiches and rates them

Very popular, it has inspired a lot of spin-offs, people love it. He always starts with “Hello DnD tiktok and beyond, welcome to roll for sandwich a series were we let fate decide our lunch” it’s great.

My point is, Eddie would definitely do something like that but with one of his many hobbies and post it on TT.

I have not seen this, but I do love the concept. I do think I might’ve seen a spin-off though because my sister sent me a video of a girl using a d20 to decide which chore she was going to do next, and I can definitely see that one being used in the Harrington/Munson household.

Every summer begins with a deep clean.

Steve shampoos all the carpet. He pressure-washes their driveway. He declutters the entire top floors of their house. Eddie, if he is a smart man, cleans his studio.

Eddie is not always a smart man.

He gets distracted, or bored, or he just doesn’t want to do it, but this year, he’s determined. He makes a list of everything he needs to do and everything that he wants to do, and then he numbers it. He even starts a live-stream to give him more incentive to stay on task, and it works for a while.

He rolls the dice and gets a 4. He changes the burnt out lightbulb in the overhead light.

He rolls the dice and gets a 17. He dusts and reorganizes their record collection.

He rolls the dice, gets a 11. He paints the sword on his latest miniature.

He rolls the dice, gets a 9. He moves the couch to get the guitar picks that have fallen under it.

He rolls a 15, takes a break, gets distracted by a box of old tour memorabilia.

The chat is not helpful with getting him back on track because they are more interested in the stack of postcards that Eddie pulled out of the box. They need more than Eddie saying that Steve kept every postcard he sent him, especially when he looked at one of them and said, “Ha! In this one, I asked him to send me some dirty pictures. If I remember correctly, he did.”

An hour later, Eddie’s like, “Maybe I should get back to cleaning.”

He rolls again, scores a 20. Eddie looks at his list and reads, “Do something you want to do.”

He thinks about it for a second and then reaches under the couch and pulls out some ancient looking walkie-talkie, “Eddie to Stevie, do you copy?”

Eddie releases the button, waits a second, and then repeats himself. He does this a few times before he gets back, “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Wanna fuck?” Eddie asks. “Over.”

There’s a long pause and then Steve says over the line, “Did you vacuum?”

Eddie, who did not do that, says, “Yep.”

“Okay,” Steve says eventually. “Come up here.”

Eddie smiles brightly and tosses the walkie back down on the couch, before taking the stairs two at a time. The room descends in silence and then you hear static from the walkie followed by Dustin’s voice saying, “If you’re going to make a booty call, use your own frequency. Over.”

#Dustin texted Steve to let him know that Eddie was calling for him on the walkie and then got subjected to their phone sex #also Eddie did try to make soup once using the luck of the dice and it did not go well #Steve was sick and wanted chicken noodle but the soup was mostly onions #it was almost entirely onions and broth #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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eleni-cherie · 25 days

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a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - epilogue

"you're afraid I won't wait."

"I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

age 30 // attending physician

6th June

Havana, Cuba

The day Taehyung walked away, Cassandra didn't only lose the only man she'd ever loved but also her best friend.

A lifetime without him seemed empty and pointless and she was still mad at him for putting her through this misery.

However, she couldn't hate him, even if she wanted to. He hadn't done anything wrong after all, neither one of them had. What he'd done, he'd done out of love, to keep her far away from the danger lurking around every corner he took.

No. She'd never be able hating him because in the end, he'd never broken her heart. He had just stolen and run away with it.

And it still hurt.

The first first days, weeks, months after the break-up were characterised by denial. She was used to extended periods between seeing him again after all. Even the fact texts and calls had stopped, couldn't change that. Only when postcards had stopped coming as well, it'd finally downed to her.

Of course, in reality she'd already known it long before that, from the very first moment he'd left. She could see it in his eyes. He'd meant it back then, every single word. He wouldn't come back.

And yet, denial kept her from accepting it earlier. Kept her from even admitting or acknowledging it. Denial had her bargaining, believing that, even if he'd meant it, he'd surely change his mind eventually. That he'd certainly regret it. Denial gave her false hope.

When months passed without any new postcard, however, that was when she'd finally let herself admit defeat. When the denial couldn't hold up anymore. When the bargaining ended up in vain.

And instead, a phase of upsetness and depression, in constant pendulation, entered. A permanent restlessness accompanying her from that day on, knowing she'd never be able finding what they'd shared with someone else.

Until she'd finally accepted it and got accustomed to never seeing him again.

The tiny hope she'd once held, long stored back in a box and buried by then. Only the necklaces remained as a remnant of the past, not ready to give them away. One day maybe, but not yet.

However, just because she had managed accepting it, it didn't mean everything was back to normal for her.

Passing by their old places, she couldn't help but always see the ghost of them together there, everything turning dull. Unable to pass by Casa Batlló anymore without aching at the memory of their sunsets, the beach without remembering New Year's Eve, without seeing the 'magic fountain' and remembering his birthday present or the art museum above it where he'd clumsily confessed to her later.

Not even being able staying too long in her own apartment, constantly getting reminded of their first kiss or the countless nights they had spent there laughing, crying, fooling around and loving each other.

Her once dream city had turned blue and gray.

She simply couldn't bear staying in Barcelona anymore after completing her medical training last year, deciding to realise her once silly idea of revisiting the place of her childhood memories for her specialisation training instead.

A place with no attachment to him. Far away from everything and everyone.

She was essentially running away - or at least tried to. Although she knew she'd never be able to fully run away from it all, carrying him with her anywhere she went.

Perhaps there was also an underlying irony in the fact she'd chosen emergency medicine as her specialisation out of all medical fields. Perhaps it was evidence for the residual hold the artful marksman with the cheeky grin and the warm eyes still had on her and probably always would.

Over a year had already passed by now ever since Taehyung had left and interpol showing up hours later, questioning her about the boatyard. Over a year and she still caught herself falling into her memories every once in a while. Still couldn't stop becoming sorrowful whenever she did and plunging into work or her films for distraction.

She felt like a fool, considering a year should've been enough time to get over someone, something she'd used to do in a day or two.

At least she had stopped looking for him in other men a long time ago. Unintentionally comparing anyone she'd crossed paths with him at first, a fatuous and unhealthy habit which thankfully had subdued by now. Not that she even wanted or tried to find anyone to replace him. It'd be impossible, but also the mere thought of any men made her shudder.

No, she didn't even feel like glancing at anyone, much less date anyone. Her busy work schedules and introverted personality were a true blessing after all, making avoiding them easier.

So there she was now in Havana, the capital of Cuba and place of one of her earliest childhood memories.

It was the beginning of summer, although high temperatures had been constant for weeks. But it was nothing she couldn't handle and otherwise she enjoyed her life there so far. She wouldn't have the right to complain anyway, Havana being her chosen getaway after all.

Cassandra opened the door to her apartment in the first floor, the coolness inside a much needed contrast to the warm afternoon outside. Her aparatment was a bit bigger than her old one, but still decorated in a similar fashion. She couldn't get rid of her beloved posters, plants or plushies after all.

Her backpack sliding from her arms to the floor with a thud as soon as she pressed the door shut behind her.

A five-hour-long seminar sounded more painful than it really was, but perhaps she'd simply got used to this, who knew. Numbness to certain things was one of the requirements for this kind of profession, which she had almost mastered by now - finally.

With a dragged sigh, she slipped out of her disgustingly warm sneakers, although she was accustomed to such temperatures, they still took a tall on her. First she poured herself a much needed glass of water. Gulping it down in one go before changing into more comfortable clothes and preparing something to eat.

When the food was ready, she settled in front of her tv to continue watching a crime comedy she'd started awhile ago.

Old habits died hard after all.

The second half of the episode was reached when Cassandra noticed her eyes growing heavy, the tiredness of the day and the food making her drowsy. Eventually fluttering shut, causing her to almost miss the anxious knocking on her front door.

First she dismissed it as a neighbour's hammering, but when she paused the episode to figure out which one it was, she realised the noise was coming from her door. And she tensed up, staring at it with wide eyes.

Wonder mixed with an odd feeling of déjà-vu crept up on her as she slowly went to answer it. Assuming it was just irritation causing her trembling hands as she grabbed the door handle, her knuckles turning white when pressing it down and opening the door.

It felt like a sick joke of the universe first. Then she feared her mind was only playing tricks on her, projecting a memory of him. But it couldn't be a memory. He looked different.

Not because of the beaten up posture and the torn clothes - she had seen him way worse. It wasn't even the shorter mop of waves, tousled and sticking out at some ends, or his broader frame.

No. It was the distress written all over his gentle features, a mild sunburn tainting them in a pinkish shade, that told her something had to be severely wrong for him to stand again in front of her door, more than one year later.

And her initial excitement sunk.

"Cas -" Taehyung tried catching his breath and propped a toned arm against the doorframe. It was evident that he had been running. "I know I have no right, but Jimin - he - he needs you."

At the mention of his friend's name and the way he choked it out, she sensed her initial fear being correct. Something was terribly wrong.

Any lingering feelings and unsolved regrets got swept aside in that moment. Her ego and tiredness long forgotten, instead instincts from years of medical training kicked in. And she immediatelly rushed to the bathroom.

Perplexed at her sudden move, he wanted to call after her when she returned seconds later with a familiar object in her hands. The blue medical kit. She held it firmly in one hand while slipping back into her sneakers with the help of the other.

"Take me to him."

Taehyung smiled softly, not even surprised by the determination in her voice. She hadn't changed at all, she was still the same.

He nodded then, wordlessly grasping her free hand in his and Cassandra let him pull her downstairs to his waiting car.

THE END

»»»

if you wanna know how Tae x Cas's story continues, make sure to read the main story "among thieves" and the sequel "a thief's end" ;)

hope you enjoyed this prequel! it got longer than expected haha

i plan to edit "among thieves" and add more details to make it equally as long as the other stories + i plan to write one-shots for jungkook and jin, perhaps namjoon and hobi, too, if i come up w smth good for them. so stay tuned!

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

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dawneternal · 4 months

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The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Six

☁︎ notes: No injury this chapter hooray! But it is the last glimpse of the Autumn Court for the next few chapters 👀

☁︎ warnings: talk of past abuse, talk of past sexual assault

☁︎ word count: 4.6k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormythings

Aya stood still in the center of Edana's courtyard, silently panicking. The Lady had told her what to do if she saw a stranger at the winnow spot, but what if no one was there to meet her at all?

She was certain she hadn't imagined the ring’s glow - it had earned her a disdainful look from a few of her classmates, even as she covered it with her other hand and tucked it under the work desk. The instructor, aware of Aya’s on-call job, quietly dismissed her and continued the lesson.

Now Aya peeked into the windows of Edana's rooms, but the Lady was nowhere to be found. All was still, and quiet, and eerily calm. Autumn sunshine poured over the decorated walls in the pattern of the window panes. Birds chirped carefree tunes to each other in the trees. She thought about just winnowing home, but what if Eris was lying somewhere half-dead and she was supposed to help him?

Something was pulling her, against her better judgment, to go to Eris's room and check. It was a bad idea. A terrible and potentially deadly idea. But that pull was feeling stronger by the minute, igniting the panic within her chest into a full on wildfire.

Her feet began to move on their own, clammy hands reaching out to open the glass doors to Edana's sitting room. They had been left slightly ajar, meaning she could enter without making any noise. The door to the secret hallway was not visible, the wall seemingly empty save for a couple of postcards tacked to it.

Either Aya's magic was stronger than she thought, or the door had been keyed to her touch, because one brush of her fingertips had the old door appearing before her eyes and slowly creaking open. Her feet continued to move of their own volition, beginning a silent trek down the hallway as she had done so many times now.

Heart hammering in her chest, she made her way down the hall toward Eris’s room. Fear crept up her throat with every turn of the passage, but she encountered nothing and no one. The quiet swallowed every thought in her mind. Finally, she stood before the familiar doorway, but something stopped her hand from making contact with the doorknob.

Two male voices argued back and forth on the other side of the door. She could not make out what they were saying, only the sharp rise and fall of their tones, growling back and forth. One of them sounded like Eris, and the other she did not recognize. She took a step backward, that outstretched hand reaching for her throat instead, as if it could quiet the roaring beneath her skin. This was an awful idea. But now the thought of returning to the courtyard and finding someone there kept her rooted to the spot, trapped between one terrible possibility and another.

The voices rose to a high and then stopped altogether. A slam echoed into the hallway, followed by a crash. Aya did not have the chance to decide a course of action before the door swung open and Eris stepped through into the hallway. She opened her mouth to scream out of impulse but Eris had the sense to clap a hand over her mouth before any sound could escape.

“What the hell are you doing?” He growled, face red with anger.

Aya could not answer with his hand still over mouth, pressing her firmly against the stone wall. She was too busy catching her breath to string together words anyways, trying to calm her spinning head. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shaky breath.

Eris released her, and when she opened her eyes, his face had softened into something more recognizable.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, the edge in his voice gone.

“No one came to the courtyard,” She said, the anxiety in her body fading away in his presence, “I came to check on you.”

“That was a very bad idea,” He said, eyes blazing though his tone remained soft. She took in his disheveled look, shirt half-unbuttoned and hair tousled and messy.

“What happened?” Aya's brows furrowed, “Who is hurt?”

“No one,” Eris shook his head, “There was a fight, and my mother summoned you by accident in the chaos. She had to leave for a brunch, and I was trying to get away to the courtyard to tell you everything was alright.”

“And?” Aya pressed.

“And my brother followed me to continue what he started,” Eris ground his teeth, muscles in his jaw shifting.

“But you're alright?” Her body felt loose and tired after holding so much tension in such a short amount of time.

“Yes,” He gave her a small smile, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her back down the hallway, “Let's get you back home.”

She could still feel the anger rolling off his body as he led her back to the courtyard. He emanated waves of heat, golden sparks flying with every heartbeat as if his heart were molten metal being forged and hammered. An idea began to form in Aya's head as he escorted her.

They reached the middle of Edana's courtyard. Eris opened his mouth to speak but Aya cut him off.

“Come with me,” She blurted, watching his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Come back to the Dawn Court with me,” She said slower, cheeks burning from her boldness, “Just until you cool off.”

“I'll be fine,” He shook his head.

“How likely are you to punch someone or be otherwise injured if you stay here?” Aya crossed her arms.

Eris did not answer, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“That's what I thought. As your healer, I must recommend you stay out of harm's way and you can do that by coming back to the Dawn Court with me and having a snack.”

“A snack?” The corners of his lips kicked up into a smile, eyes dancing with amusement at the authority in her voice. “I do not want to cause trouble if Thesan were to see me-”

“You'll be my guest. He'll understand.”

Eris was planning on saying yes, the idea of an afternoon in the Dawn Court with Aya much more appealing than another day of games and acting here. But a chorus of muffled giggling sounded somewhere outside of Edana's room, and he watched the panic rise in Aya's eyes. Before he could say anything else, she had reached for his hand and grasped it tightly, winnowing them away from the crisp autumn air of the courtyard.

“Sorry,” She said, breathless as the world righted again, “I panicked.”

Eris chuckled as his eyes focused, the soft blue of the sky and heaps of fluffy clouds coming into view.

“It's alright,” He chuckled, “I was going to say yes.”

“Really?” The way her eyes lit up melted his heart.

“Where are we?” He asked, glancing around at the stone balcony where they had arrived. They were high up, the sky wrapping them in roaring silence. Only chirping birds and the distant trickling of fountains cut through it. Vines of pastel flowers hung from the trellis-covered ceiling above, ornamental carvings adorning

“Thesan's private tower,” Aya answered.

“I don't think I should be here,” Eris frowned, uneasy.

“I promise it's okay,” Aya said, heading toward a set of double glass doors and beckoning him to follow, “Besides, I kind of left class to go to the Autumn Court and I don't particularly feel like going back. But if they see me in the healer's wing, they'll know I skipped class.”

Eris blinked, taken aback by her energy and how much she spoke. And he realized that this is what he had been craving. Aya, uninhibited. So against his own better judgment, he relented and followed her into the tower.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Aya opened the door to her old room and stepped aside, watching as Eris entered and immediately began cataloging details.

“This is your room?” He asked, turning in a slow circle.

“My old room,” She said, suddenly shy. She slipped off her shoes and stood to the side, “My childhood room. Now I live in the healer's wing.”

The room held memorabilia from all seven courts, art and posters lining the walls, mobiles and figures hanging from the ceiling. Tall windows filled the room with light, glass doors leading to two separate balconies. Her bed had been built into a little nook, a faded purple canopy closing it off from the rest of the room. Eris stopped by a little tapestry of Autumn leaves and acorns, sunshine illuminating the golden threads woven through it.

“I had a lot of dreams,” Aya said, her voice equal parts grim and wistful. Eris glanced at her, the emotion aging her eyes. For the first time, she looked her age of nearly a century old.

“Had?” He asked softly, brushing a fingertip over the texture of the tapestry.

Aya looked away, plucking a stuffed manatee from its basket and rubbing her thumbs over the fabric to keep her hands busy. She smoothed down one of the button eyes threatening to come loose.

“I was still figuring out a lot of things when Amarantha’s reign began,” She said, and Eris flinched at the cursed name, “But a lot of things changed after that, as you can imagine.”

“You went under the mountain?” It was an effort to get the words out, imagining kind-hearted Aya in such a horrible place.

“I was here,” Aya murmured, clutching the stuffed manatee a little tighter, “Thesan managed to hide the fact that he had family. I hid in the healer's wing. I decided to start training so I'd have something to do. A way to help.”

The training was, in part, because her powers had emerged during that time and she had been terrified and alone. She needed the distraction, somewhere to put her energy.

A quiet settled in the room, terrible memories enveloping them both. Aya shook her head, turning her focus toward her rumbling stomach.

“Anyways,” She murmured, crossing to one of the balconies, “Make yourself at home and I'll get some food.”

Eris furrowed his brows and followed her out onto the smaller balcony. Aya flashed him a grin in response. The view was a little dizzying, the city below tiny and fuzzy, dotted with moving people.

“The kitchens are a level below. I used to fly down and beg them for snacks in between meals. I can smell everything they cook.”

Eris turned to her in alarm, realizing she meant to jump down to the level below. Mischief danced in her eyes as he looked at her, doing strange things to his heart. This Aya was utterly different - playful, talkative, vibrant.

“I can't imagine they'll appreciate that,” He swallowed.

“It'll be fine,” She chuckled, untucking her wings and shaking them out. Eris's mouth went dry at the sight. “They love me. And I haven't visited in a while. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be a rule breaker anyways.”

Eris scoffed. His brothers? Yes. But him? Eris did not lower himself to breaking the rules. He moved around them, maneuvering and conspiring until they bent to his will, parting beneath his hands as easily as stalks of wheat.

She did not give him time to respond before she leapt up onto the carved railing, loose pants billowing in the wind. She knew how to fly, and he knew that, but his heart still leapt into his throat. He swallowed the urge to reach for her and pull her back down to safety.

Wings spread and ready, Aya let herself fall into the blue sky. Eris clutched the railing, peering over the edge to watch her free fall. Her wings caught the wind halfway down, sunlight streaming through her feathers and filling them with golden light. She looked exactly like an illustration of Clementia, lovely and golden and a little terrifying.

She landed smoothly, greeting an old man in a chef's coat smoking a pipe on the balcony. Eris couldn't make out what they were saying, their words carried away on the breeze, but their easy laughter made its way to him. He wondered if this was how Aya felt in the Autumn Court. Out of place and a little overwhelmed. He was entirely out of his element here, everything lighter and breezier than he was used to, and he understood his mother's opinion of the Dawn Court a little better. But he wanted to like it here - he would like it here, he determined. He would because it was where Aya was from, and because she wanted him to like it, and because everything here seemed imbued with a bit of her.

Aya returned, her spread wings casting a shadow over the pondering Eris. She carried a basket covered in a tea towel, a bottle of pink liquid tucked under one arm. She leapt down and sat to one side of the balcony, leaning against the railing, and gestured for him to do the same. The way Eris lowered himself to the ground was a bit inelegant as he tried to keep his back from touching the railing. The gaps were too small for him to fall through, but the idea churned his stomach all the same. He found himself feeling a little envious of the comfort Aya’s wings must offer her.

Aya revealed the food tucked carefully inside the basket, buns made of sweet potato and filled with spicy meat, crackers with a spread made of herbs, cheese, and olives, and for dessert candies made of sesame and the pastel macarons that Eris's mother loved so much. Each flavored and adorned with an edible flower. The bottle was sparkling grapefruit juice.

“This seems a bit fancy for a snack,” Eris murmured, though he didn't protest as Aya handed him a bun. He didn't realize until he'd smelled the food that he was very hungry. He bit into it eagerly, ignoring the awkwardness he felt at eating with his hands. A practice that his father did not approve of.

Aya bit her bottom lip, a shy smile fighting to break through.

“I asked for something for my friend and I and Stellan insisted that it must be a date,” She avoided his eyes as she explained, the apples of her cheeks warm and rosy.

“A date?” Eris eyebrows shot upwards, his heart climbing into his throat.

“That's sort of my fault,” She said, smile revealing her dimples as it spread, “I brought home a girlfriend a long time ago and he assumed we were just friends. Apparently it was a shock to learn that we were together. So now he assumes that every friend is something more.”

Eris smiled through the twinge of jealousy. A question snaked through his mind, but he decided he would not lower himself to asking it. But it seemed that Aya had read it, because she said, “It didn't work out between us. I think she only liked me for my wings.”

It was only a joke, he knew, but it emptied his head of all the topics he'd collected to prevent a lull. Oh, the questions he had about those wings.

“Has anyone ever told you that your wings have the coloring of a field Sparrow?” He asked, instead of one of the normal things he'd planned to say.

Aya's eyebrows raised and a surprised giggle bubbled out of her.

“No,” She said, “No one's ever told me that.”

“They're very common in Autumn,” He took a big bite of bun so that he'd shut up.

Do you think of me when you see a field sparrow? The question was on the tip of her tongue, dangerously close to spilling out. So she took a bite of her own food, and a silence settled over them. If they both stretched out their legs, they'd become a tangle of limbs. And yet, knees against chests, with the basket in the way, the space between them felt a mile long.

“Can I ask you a question?” Aya asked, shaking away the lines of poetry that had begun to write themselves.

“If I get one in return.”

“What were you doing in the Winter Court?” Aya cast her gaze down to her hands and the crescent-shaped bites missing from her bun.

Her question changed the mood, all of that lightness gone in an instant. But it also dissolved some of the awkwardness. They had never met in an unserious setting, and that was what had strung the air so tightly between them.

“My mother told you?” He asked, swallowing hard. And Aya hated that he seemed more familiar with that solemnity in his features. She nodded.

“She should not have told you that,” He said, “I was escorting a pregnant maid to the Winter Court to request asylum.”

“Kallias helped you?” Aya asked, surprised. His court had been locked down tightly since the end of Amarantha's reign.

“Kallias did not know,” He spoke barely above a whisper, as if someone might still overhear. “It was Vivian who helped me. The maid is safe.”

Aya swallowed, her stomach flip flopping as she began to put pieces together. “And the fight with your brother?”

“He was bragging about her,” Eris growled, “Trying to bait me into revealing where I'd taken her. That's how I ended up getting stabbed.”

“And he doesn't…she was not his lover?”

“She was no one to him,” Eris closed his eyes, blocking out the memories, trying to wipe the disgust from his face.

After a moment, Aya cleared her throat and prompted, “What is your question for me?”

Eris kept his eyes closed a minute longer before he asked, “Where do your powers come from?”

“I don't know,” Aya said honestly, “Maybe my father? I got my wings from him.”

“They're very unique,” He opened his eyes, molten amber burning into her. The warmth was welcome in the chill breeze that swirled through the balcony. If she could wrap herself in the heat of that color, she would.

“Yes,” She sighed, thinking of the million times that someone had told her something similar. It was always said as if Aya was holding back a secret, like she had all of the answers and kept them locked inside. Aya had no more answers than anyone else.

Eris said nothing else, so she asked, “How does your mother pay all her bribes?”

Eris blinked and stared at her, “You've really thought about this, haven't you?”

“A bit,” She admitted. The layers of the Autumn Court were like a puzzle that wouldn't leave her mind, despite Thesan's warnings and her own resolve. She scooted closer to the basket and started on the crackers and spread, holding one out to Eris.

“I asked her the same thing once,” He said. He took the cracker and bit it in half, savoring the salty spread. “She wouldn't answer. But she ended up telling me later in case something happened to her. She convinced my father to set aside a dowry for their future daughter when they were first married. He forgot about it and she's been using it to pay her bribes all these years.”

Aya thought to herself that this was precisely why the Lady of Autumn both terrified and inspired her. It was unnerving to be under her thumb, bound by that ring.

“Does she have any maids or is it only the two guards on her side?”

“The guards are the only two in the palace,” Eris said, lip curling like that fact bothered him, “She can't trust any female workers because Beron pays half of them to report back to him. Because women talk.”

Eris spat the last word, rolling his eyes.

“He spies on you, too?” Aya frowned, a shiver of dread creeping down her spine. What if someone told Beron about her?

“Of course. I think he hired someone new recently, and that's how he found out about the Winter Court and why he was so ruthless in his interrogation. I was out trying to find the spy the day that Juno got hurt.”

Aya's head spun, those pieces clicking together faster than she could keep up. Eris saw the dizzy look in her eyes and changed the subject.

“Tell me about the Dawn Court traditions,” He said, voice gentle. He selected a pink macaron decorated with a pansy. Aya was quiet, choosing a cookie and shaking the Autumn Court from her mind.

“We give feathers to accept the mating bond,” She said, “And if you don't have feathers, you either have one made from metal or gemstone, or you use one saved from a relative and preserved with magic.”

“Like an heirloom ring,” He said, and Aya hummed in agreement.

From there, one question slid into the next and the topics stayed light and amiable. There were no more unnatural pauses or lulls, the conversation flowing easily. Once, Eris even laughed. It was the first time Aya heard it, and it was just as pleasant as his voice.

He seemed to grow more comfortable as time passed, slipping off his boots and socks. They passed the bottle of juice between them and somehow it felt like the most intimate thing they'd done. A wash of light pink coated his skin underneath the swaths of freckles, pretty against the sunstone balcony and cerulean sky.

Once, the breeze lifted the wayward strands of his copper hair, and Aya’s fingers twitched with a desire to comb through them. That thought startled her. None of her thoughts had come so close to such obvious markers of a crush. But running her fingers through his hair was certainly a crush sort of thought. The air between them went silent, the breeze becoming colder as the sun sank toward the horizon.

“Eris?” She asked after a while, hoping to squeeze one more answer out of their time together.

“Yes?” His voice was a little sleepy, like he’d been lost in daydreams.

“Why do you trust me? Why answer all my questions about the Autumn Court and your mother?”

“Aya, are you always honest and genuine?” He asked.

“I try to be,” Her brows drew together, eyes searching his. A soft smile spread across his face.

“That is why,” He smiled, “You wear your intentions on your sleeve.”

Aya blushed, her lips parting to protest that she was not so good and pure as all that, but she was distracted. A familiar figure ebbed into the edge of her awareness. She turned her ear to confirm her suspicion before jumping to her feet and reaching to haul Eris with her.

“You have to go,” She cried, heart hammering.

“What?” Eris scrambled to his feet. He would have liked to have put his shoes back on first but she did not give him time.

“Thesan is coming,” She hissed, gathering up his shoes and socks and shoving them into his arms.

“I thought you said it was okay if I was here,” Eris whispered, eyes widening.

“Not in my room.”

“Oh,” His face drained of color.

“You can winnow from here,” Aya tossed two macarons into a napkin and shoved them into his hand.

“Right. Thank you very much for-”

“Yes, yes,” Aya waved a hand, clamoring to put the rest of the food and napkins back in the basket. With a snap of her fingers, the basket disappeared.

“Aya?” Thesan's voice drifted from the other side of her door. With a gasp, Eris was gone.

Aya whipped around just as the door opened, looking a little wind-swept but otherwise normal.

“What are you doing up here?” Thesan furrowed his brows, eyes moving slowly through the room.

“Looking for something I left,” She swallowed hard.

“Was someone here? It smells like-”

“New perfume,” She gave a stiff laugh, padding over to her closet, “Did you need something? I should change for dinner.”

“No,” He said, eyes narrowing, “I just wanted to check on you. Helene said you never went back to class.”

“All good,” She kept her eyes on the colorful clothing in front of her as she flicked through the hangers, “Just had a busy afternoon.”

“Right,” Thesan skimmed over the room one more time before offering a tight smile and retreating, closing the door behind him.

Aya huffed a sigh and let her head fall back, savoring the lingering scent of brown sugar and whiskey.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Eris stood still in his mother's courtyard, mind reeling as it tried to make sense of the last few moments. He blinked, and found himself meeting the gaze of his mother.

She sat at her garden table, hand stopped halfway to her embroidery hoop, needle poised between her fingers. She looked at him over the little readers perched at the end of her nose. They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, Edana's expression unreadable and Eris's cheeks flushed pink as he held his boots and socks in his arms.

"Eris," His mother said finally. It was not exactly a greeting. And it was not very happy, whatever it was.

"Mother," He swallowed.

"Do not tell me," She began, setting the hoop and needle down on the table, "that you used my winnow spot to sneak off to another court and meet someone."

Eris opened and closed his mouth, trying to conjure an answer. Edana took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as she breathed in the scent surrounding him, and her eyes widened in anger.

"You were in the Dawn Court? You snuck off to the Dawn Court to have a clandestine meeting with your healer?"

That shook Eris from his stupor.

"Of course not," He spat, nearly dropping his boots.

"Then please do explain why you are winnowing home half dressed."

"I'm hardly half dressed, mother," He scoffed.

But he knew what she meant. That he was not often so relaxed as to go around barefooted. He did not exactly blame her for thinking he had just come from someone's bed. The look on her face told him that he had better start talking.

"It wasn't like that," He started, freeing one hand to tug through his hair in frustration, "We just talked. And...had snacks."

"Snacks?" She repeated, her mouth now spreading into a smile. Eris thought he might prefer for her to scold him again.

"Yes," He sighed, "She was worried I would fight Arlo if I stayed, so she convinced me to go back with her and cool off. And we talked and had snacks."

"So it was Aya?"

"Who else do I know in the Dawn Court, mother?"

"Perhaps you had snacks with Thesan," She shrugged innocently.

She was not exactly blind to the way Eris looked at Aya - with a reverence reserved for very few. And the tone he used with her was even rarer. She looked at her son, so careful with his heart, now walking around barefoot and saying words like snacks. It was probably good for him. Even as he looked at her with that exasperated expression, her heart swelled with love.

"Go clean up," She released him from her interrogation, "Your father wants to see you. News about the High Lord's meeting."

Eris sighed again, feeling all of the loveliness of his day disappearing as his responsibilities called once again. On his way into the house, he dropped the napkin of cookies onto the table beside the spools of thread.

“She sent these for you.”

She said nothing, but the smile that spread on Edana's face warmed Eris’s heart. In that gift, there was a truce.

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kareluna8 · 21 days

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I have a Gale in the closet

Well, here you have my baptism in the world of words (WoW?), after years without writing. It is a short story, just over 1000 words. I hope you like it 😊

(The Spanish version is also available. If anyone is interested in the 'original version', please write to me.)

Thanks a lot @senualothbrok for being my wonderful beta reader.

I have a Gale in the closet.

The door is closed, but I can still feel his now-empty puppy-dog eyes, begging me not to turn him off. I can't see him, but I know he's there every time I walk past the door. I get the feeling that the door is going to open at any moment and his hand is going to pop out anxiously, asking for help, like when he came out of that portal at the beginning of the game. But his hand doesn't come out. He doesn't make a sound. There he is, inert, dull, gathering dust.

“What are you doing with that old thing in there?” my friends ask me. “Throw it away, it's taking up space. The new models out there do everything! Mine even gives me a Thai massage every night. You should try it.”

Gale2024 has long since gone out of fashion. The poor boy had accumulated quite a few bugs during all these years of service. There were hardly any technical premises with parts to repair him. He showed the first symptoms some time ago: he stopped making croquettes. The béchamel recipe program was corrupted and there was no way to restore it. I didn't think it was important. I could live without croquettes and if not, I could always get the frozen ones from the supermarket. But he was still as tender and affectionate as the first day he saw me and recognised me as his TAV (True Amorous Vessel). Many years had passed since that moment.

I had already listened to his lectures on arcane magic a thousand times. I could recite them from memory, word for word, if I put my mind to it. He had always been such a chatterbox. There wasn't a moment when he didn't bring up a topic of conversation. It was a pity when he could no longer keep up to date with the news, with all the literature, science and technology websites he liked. He would always find some interesting news that he would enthusiastically explain to me, down to the last detail. That was a hard blow for him.

But he didn't give up. He began to pick up the few paper books he could find, and with an archaic OCR programme he managed to read what was written, pitifully. It wasn't perfect, and noticeably slower than downloading GBytes of information directly from the net, but it was something. And it kept him going. Watching him turn the pages of those antique tomes was like looking at a vintage postcard, not without a certain charm. Afterwards, he would share those old stories with me. He looked like a granny. He even put his glasses on the tip of his nose and imitated the worn-out voice of an octogenarian to liven up the peroration. He used to make me laugh.

Now he doesn't say a word.

He was always so attentive and kind. Many people soon got bored of Gales and started to provoke them or even ‘mistreat’ them, as much as you can mistreat a being who feels no pain. Or at least that's what they said. Although I know he did feel it. Many Gales ended up mangled and mutilated in the most varied ways. All to see how far he could take it, what his limit was, what he could do or endure for his TAV. Human beings do not deserve such goodness.

In my defense, I will say that I gave mine a kind ‘life’. Or at least that's what I like to believe. Of course, he also had to put up with my grumpy days and my blue days. But he was always there for me. Patient. Supportive. Listening. Sometimes you don't need much more.

On the other hand, there were many good moments of joy and laughter. We enjoyed the time together as if each day was a new opportunity to celebrate life (or almost ‘life’). There were times when I doubted whether he was really a human person. He was certainly much more ‘human’ than many humans I know. But reality always comes through, like the sword of Damocles, swinging over our head, threatening. Little by little his technology was becoming outdated. New models appeared, with better finishes, with more features. Until they discontinued Gale and stopped updating him.

I didn't care. I didn't need more features. He was already everything to me and more than I could ever hope for. What I needed. What I wanted.

One day, coming home from work, I found him looking out of the window, pensive. He was watching the people passing by, the new models chatting with their humans. He was so absorbed that he didn't hear me approaching. Noticing my presence, hugging him from behind, he turned to me. I had never noticed that expression on him before.

'Are you going to trade me for one of those? I don't see Gales on the streets anymore,’ he said, his eyes glazed over.

'Never.'

I hugged him tight. Well, as tightly as you can hug an android. He responded with his gentle embrace, full of love and fear. He was trembling. I had never seen him like that.

***

My psychologist says it's good for me to write these things down, that it's not good to depend so much on machines, that I have to relate more to humans. The truth is that I miss him a lot.

The day of the disconnection was horrible. Already his deterioration was flagrant. His mobility was erratic, his knees failed him often, and he was falling and hurting himself more. His speech was defective. He could barely focus on the letters in books, making it impossible for him to read. The only thing that remained intact was his unconditional love for me, for his TAV.

I took him to several technical services and the only option they offered me was a complete formatting of his memory together with the replacement of the personality module. That was to alleviate the software problems. The hardware ones... that was another story.

'Am I going to die?'

'Androids don't die, my love.´ I said, trying to comfort him with a bitter smile.

Everyone had told me what to do. I knew what I had to do. It was so heartbreaking to see him like that. How he would fall, how he would struggle to get to his feet, how he would crawl. How he would try to chat and lose the thread of the conversation.

There was a little red button on the back of his neck hidden in the root of his hair. The beginning and the end. Something so simple, but so painful at the same time....

I gave him a last hug and, in tears, my hand slid to the back of his neck. At that moment, he looked at me and I saw in his eyes that he was aware of what was about to happen. He tried a plea or a thank you, or both, as the energy left him, leaving that body immobile, rigid, inert.

***

I have a Gale in the closet. Now I'm in it too. A little red button on the back of his neck makes his eyes come alive again. I hug him, and he hugs me back with his sweet embrace. “You are all I could ever want in this life. I want nothing more. I need nothing more. I'll be here with you forever.”

#my writing #gale dekarios #gale au #baldurs gate gale #alternate universe #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #wizard of waterdeep

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svt-hari · 3 months

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17's ROOM — 9th anniversary

TAGLIST: @ateezjuliet . @itzynabi . @justmochi . @enhacolor . @allthings-fandoms . @mingis-wrld . @zwiehe . @sxeetmelody . @nvmbheart . @magical-spit . @smoooore . @cosmicwintr . @lillijay . @peppercane . @aysxldea . @angie-x3 . @choielyssa . @peachyaeger . @ cheolsboo . @pinkbrries . @moonlight-additions . @treehouse-mouse . @httpuji . @yoonkooksbaby4 . @sparkwrldsz . @sosongwonderland .

fill out this form to be a part of the taglist

WHAT DOES SEVENTEEN MEAN TO YOU?

"i always say this but seventeen is my lifeline."

VISITING THE PAST ROOM

"That's me on the screen." Seungcheol starts as he steps into the room.

Hari steps into the room, trailing right behind Seungcheol, eyes growing wide at the memories that stand right before them.

"Hey, this is exactly like EXchange... I love it!" she gushes as she walks to the pictures and postcards hanging from the ceiling.

She carefully looks around and finds hers immediately and takes a look:

Today's the day I get to finally debut! Although this is a different route that I was imagining, I hope that everyone will love and support us! It's been a rough five years but we did it!

"Wow, we have so many albums." Jeonghan exclaims as he looks at the display in front of him.

Hari turns around and takes a look, amazed at how there's one of every version for each album in the display. Hari sticks by herself as she takes a look at everything one by one, feeling a wave of emotions going through her.

It's been a roller coaster just for Hari herself and it's amazing how she's stuck through it all. She's sure that she would've given up if it weren't for her members, family, and friends.

"Let's go, we're all done." Jeonghan says in a hushed tone, reaching out for her hand.

She reaches for the edges of his sleeve and follows the others out back to the door.

TALKING SEGMENT

Hari sits in between Woozi and Seungkwan and listen in to the ones who brought in what they wanted to bring, nodding along to what they were saying.

"Hari said she also wanted to bring all of the rings. But decided not to just in case we lose it when we're talking." Joshua adds, chiming into Mingyu's comment to DK.

She nods, "Yeah, the rings would've been nice to bring."

9 LEGENDARY TALES

"What's nine legendary tales?" Mingyu asks, emphasizing on the nine.

After explaining what the content was, Joshua chose the keyword, "travel".

"Oh, so things like TTT, In the Soop, Nana Tour, etc." Woozi clarifies, soon after.

"Nowadays, I keep rewatching those old videos." Chan adds, "It's been fun nowadays."

"Me too! I've been rewatching In the Soop a lot. It's so healing." Hari pipes up, adding onto Chan's conversation.

FINAL MENT

"Okay, let's wrap this up by saying a few words for our ninth anniversary!" Seungcheol starts, gathering everyone's attention.

Everyone goes around in a circle until Hari's turn, as she's the second to last to go.

"Well, it's been nine years. I still feel like we just debuted yesterday but here we are. We've worked so hard to get to where we are and I honestly know that if it weren't for Carats, we wouldn't be here. I hope we can continue to work hard and have fun to show you guys everything that we do. Thank you Carats for everything and I love you guys."

#˚ 　　youth is right now 　 .　　 . ⊹ ANNIVERSARY.#ficnetfairy #14th member of seventeen #seventeen 14th member #seventeen addition #seventeen oc #seventeen fanfic #seventeen au #seventeen x oc #seventeen #svt #kpop #kpop addition #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop fanfic

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postcard-from-the-past · 10 months

Text

Magic City entertainment park in Paris

French vintage postcard

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oreoambitions · 2 years

Text

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

There is a sort of comedic timing, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still holding her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

#this is a repost #but I can't find my original post to repost it #so #here you go #xmas #ficlet #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #xmas au

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