#winter hostess gifts

[reportwire]

Ready for a Winter Full of Parties? It’s Time to Stock Up on Hostess Gifts

Ready for a Winter Full of Parties? It’s Time to Stock Up on Hostess Gifts

No matter the time of year or cause for the occasion, there’s something to be said about a good old-fashioned gathering. From weekend dinner parties to impromptu cocktail hours and upcoming holiday festivities (time to break out those cozy dresses!), any opportunity to get together with loved ones is reason enough to clear our calendars. If you’re not the type to throw a party and find yourself…

[javitrulovesims]

Cupid's Kisses

A Valentine's Day treat for my incredible followers 💝

"What is one of Barbara Millicent Robert's very favorite winter holidays? Valentine's Day! Struck by Cupid's arrow, our festive hostess is ready to celebrate with the best traditional gifts. A heart-shaped box of "chocolates" sweetens up any party; a bottle of "perfume" lends an air of sophistication; and an adorable greeting card shares the love. She conmemorates February 14th wearing a lovely ensemble, sure to win hearts. Her dress features a red bodice and white short sleeves. The full white skirt is flocked with a design of flying cupids, hearts, and bows. Romantic accesories include golden heart necklace, golden earrings, pretty white lace gloves, and a red bow accenting her raven ponytail."

PS: Box of chocolates, Perfume and greeting card not included

This Stunning set is inspired by the 2014 "Cupid's Kisses" - Holiday Hostess Collection Barbie designed by Bill Greening. Can you believe that there only 5000 pieces of this stunning doll WORLDWIDE?

The set consists on 5 pieces, a Dress, a pair of lace gloves, a pair of golden earrings, a golden heart locket necklace and a hair bow (with a hat slider that way we can adjust it to any hair) all of them on my "Iconic 50's" Palette. PS: I also made a De-laced version of the dress at last minute, i feel that some of your ladies will rather have a more basic look for those non-valentines day dates.

Get your Valentine's Treat 💝-> HERE <- (Patreon) Free Release

[navybrat817]

Christmas Karma

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: Nick doesn't appreciate anyone pushing you around, especially when you're shopping. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, threat of violence, implied explicit sexual content, swearing, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?) being a little grinchy, but we love him. A/N: I present to you lovelies my writing challenge fic and gift exchange for the Thot Neighborhood's Tis the Season to be Thot-y! @angrythingstarlight , I hope you enjoy your fic! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @sgt-seabass , but any and all mistakes are my own. Also thanks to @sweeterthanthis and @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog regarding this idea. Banner and moodboard by yours truly, divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics , and prompts at the end of the fic. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Nick wasn't in the mood to be out and about today. He wondered if he could blame his grinchy mood on the cold, but the winter weather never bothered him. It was also a good excuse to keep you close. He could think of plenty of ways to warm you up and wanted to pull you back inside the minute the two of you left your home.

"Sweetheart," he grumbled. "Do we have to go shopping?"

He bought your gifts weeks ago and kept them in his office so you wouldn't find them. You asked him not to go overboard, but he couldn't help himself. You deserved to be spoiled and he couldn't wait to watch your face light up as you opened each gift.

He had a special gift saved for last.

"Nick, you promised," you reminded him when you tugged on his hand. "Just two small things and that's it."

Like him, you had your shopping done, even when he told you he had the one thing he wanted: you. Brushing that off with a giggle, you told him even the man who has everything deserves a present. Your gifts were always thoughtful. A last minute invitation to a neighbor's party, however, threw you for a loop. Not only did you insist on buying a gift for the hostess, but you needed to buy something for one of the games planned.

Which sparked a debate over whether to call the game "White Elephant" or "Rob Your Neighbor".

"Two things and we're really done?"

"That's it. We won't be out long," you smirked when he sighed. The look in your eyes made him want to drag you back inside more. "You can have me all to yourself when we're done. I'll even wear that little blue number you like when we have dinner as a thank you."

Nick ran his tongue along his bottom lip. It was one of the few pieces of lingerie he hadn't destroyed. Not because he couldn't afford it, but because you loved it as much as he did.

"We'll see if you can make it to dessert," you added.

"Tease," he whispered.

You both knew he'd have you bent over the table before the night was over.

All he had to do was make it through shopping.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he half joked as he watched a man fill up the trunk of his car with shopping bags.

"Yes," you smiled as you lightly hit his arm. "Even though I may have underestimated just how packed the parking lot would be."

He circled the lot twice to no avail and finally stopped when a nice guy waved him down and pointed to his car. The space was close to the door, too. Maybe they would be in and out quicker than he thought.

"Just for that, you should wear that new red number tomorrow," he suggested, giving the guy a nod as he backed out of the space and drove away. "My favorite next to the blue."

"See, now you're just looking for excuses to-"

Nick was about to turn into the parking spot when a red beamer nearly swiped his front bumper, drawing a gasp from you as he laid on his horn.

He didn't care that the prick almost hit him, but fuck anyone who scares his girl.

"Are you okay?" he asked, turning to look at you as you swallowed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. "Just wasn't expecting that. He came out of nowhere."

"He's lucky he didn't hit anyone," he said, bringing your hand to his mouth as the man got out.

Maybe it was his sour mood playing tricks on his mind, but he swore the smarmy asshole smirked at him before he headed toward the store.

Fucker. All I have to do is swerve and-

"Don't do anything," you said, as if you read his mind. "I don't mind walking. Besides, Christmas karma will get him."

He had to smile as you tried to make the best of the situation. "What exactly is 'Christmas karma'?"

"The brilliant and gorgeous Nick Fowler doesn't know what that is? Please, give me a moment to bask in this glory," you teased, making a show of closing your eyes and opening them again as he chuckled. You enjoyed stroking his ego. "It's karma, but it's wrapped in a pretty bow."

"I prefer you in a pretty bow," he winked.

"You're getting the blue number and possibly the red. Don't push it," you smiled.

He chuckled before he drove to the front of the store. "And I'm not making you walk," he said, putting the flashers on before he got out and went around to your door. "You go ahead. I'll find a spot."

You stopped to give him a kiss once he helped you out of the car. "Thank you. I'll see you inside."

That Christmas karma you mentioned must have been on Nick's side as he was able to find a spot a minute later.

His good deed for not running that prick over.

You messaged Nick to let him know which section you went to as he went inside to find you. He managed to bite his tongue as he dodged people who thought walking with their carts in the middle of the aisle was normal. You would have been proud that he kept his opinion to himself.

He smiled to himself when he saw you carefully looking through one of the shelves, one gift in your hand. The more he thought about it, the more he thought part of his bad mood had to do with the fact that it wasn't Christmas yet. He began to second guess if proposing that day was the right decision. He had complete confidence in the ring. One of a kind and crafted to perfection, just like you. He just didn't want a holiday proposal to be too cliche.

He meant what he said that you were the only thing he wanted for Christmas.

The smile slipped off his face as you reached for a box on the shelf, only to be bumped by the large guy standing beside you. The motion was too rough not to be an accident, but you managed to hold onto the gift as you found your footing. His eyes narrowed as he got a better look at the man who had the nerve to touch you.

It was the asshole who almost hit his car.

A special kind of asshole who apparently liked to shove women out of the way to get what they want.

"Excuse me," you said politely, even though the push wasn't your fault.

"Yeah, excuse you. You wanna hand that over? Now?" the guy snapped, trying to take the box as you pulled it out of his reach.

"No, I don't. I'm sorry," you said, frowning as he blocked your path.

"I was reaching for it and you snatched it. Give it to me," he said, putting his hand out.

Nick saw red as he padded across the floor, a few people moving out of his way. You once told him he had a murderous expression when pushed to that point. With his broad shoulders and fury flashing in his blue eyes, he was sure he looked like he was going to go on a rampage.

He should have just hit the guy earlier and been done with it.

You put your chin up as the man tried to grab the box again. "There are plenty of other gifts you can find," you said, an edge of annoyance creeping into your voice. "Please, excuse me."

"Bitch, give me that-"

"Step away from my wife."

You inhaled sharply at the deadly calm in Nick's voice. He didn't like to shout unless he had to, but the deep, quiet tone wasn't a good sign for anyone on the receiving end. Up close, the guy was smaller than him and all bark.

Or maybe the deadly look of his rendered him speechless momentarily.

"Or what? She took my gift," he accused.

"And you took my parking space," Nick lifted one shoulder in a bored shrug. "I memorized your license plate, by the way. I'm curious if I have someone run your plates if anything would come up. You seem like an 'outstanding parking tickets' kind of guy. Maybe worse. Would be a shame to ruin your holiday."

Even if he had a clear record, he could pay someone off to teach him a lesson.

But the way the color drained from the guy's face, he was in some kind of trouble. "She can keep it."

"You'll pay for it. Both gifts as a way to say you're sorry," Nick demanded, his voice low. "And anything else she wants in this store."

"Just these," you said with a smile before you thought about it. "Oh. And maybe a small donation to them," you added, nodding toward a group in Santa hats near the front of the store.

"Oh, god. Not the carol singers," the man grumbled. "I'd rather punch them."

Nick kind of understood where he was coming from. He grew tired of the same songs after hearing them over and over. But if that was what you wanted, he'd make it happen.

"Nick, you sure you don't want to call the station?" you asked innocently.

"Okay, okay. The gifts and a donation to the carolers. Happy?"

"Very happy," you said as Nick slipped an arm around your waist. "It's the season of giving and we appreciate it."

"Go to the counter. Now," Nick ordered.

You muffled your laughter as the guy took off, both of you following close behind. "You're really making him pay for these? We have the money."

"It's the principle. He's lucky I didn't shoot him for treating you the way he did."

He was still considering it.

"Well, thank you for not killing him. As much as I support you and your endeavors, committing a crime like that in public could get you into trouble and I don't want to spend Christmas alone," you smiled before you cleared your throat. "You called me your wife."

"I did," he said. It slipped out before he could stop himself. "And I didn't hear you correcting me."

"Because it felt nice to hear," you smiled, stopping him before you got to the counter. "But I do need a ring on my finger."

"Maybe Santa will bring you one," he teased.

"Maybe I'll say 'yes'," you said, glancing above your heads where mistletoe hung. "And I think my future husband deserves a kiss before we go home."

He placed a soft and tender kiss on your lips. Maybe a Christmas proposal wouldn't be so cliche after all. Like you said, it was the season of giving and he wanted to give you all of him.

And in the spirit of giving, he wouldn't call the cops until after the holiday to run the plates.

Maybe they'd even put a bow on the warrant.

Hope you lovelies enjoyed this holiday treat. Love and thanks for reading!

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

I managed to use all the prompts in today's chapter: snowball fight - winter sports - snowman - lights - Deck the Halls

Join me at Mrs. Hudson’s who’s got quite the tale for us today.

Fair warning: there's a lot of thigh pinching in this chapter to prevent unwanted chuckles to surface.

December 4

“Come on, John! Mrs. Hudson’s mince pies won’t wait forever,” Sherlock shouts and bounces down the stairs to 221A. 

John chuckles at Sherlock’s excited behaviour and descends the stairs after the madman. 

His madman, mind you!

When he reaches Mrs. Hudson’s door, John hears the elderly woman squeal and cheer with joy. He enters the flat with a gleeful expression and must pinch his thigh hard not to burst out laughing when he realises what all the ruckus is about. 

An ice hockey match is playing on the telly, and Mrs. Hudson is clearly cheering for the team dressed in green and white. John had no idea their landlady was into winter sports of any sort, least of all the brutal game of ice hockey. 

Sherlock has seated himself on the sofa and watches his beloved Hudders with a fond expression. John walks over to the hostess and kisses her cheek in greeting. 

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Hudson says, her eyes never leaving the screen. The match is almost over, and then I’ll be all yours.”

John takes a seat beside Sherlock who wraps an arm around him and places a kiss on John’s temple. They both chuckle silently when the enthusiastic lady boos the other team, scolds the referee, or sighs exasperated when one of her boys misses to give a player from the other team a blow with his stick. 

***

To both John and Sherlock’s relief, Mrs. Hudson’s team won the match and piece was once again restored. “Deck the Halls” played on the radio, the mince pies were eaten, the sherry was poured into small glasses, which twinkled alluringly when the lights graced the liquid.  

“Have you told John about that time you and your sister got yourself into a snowball fight?” Sherlock inquires. 

“John?” she prompts, but John shakes his head and Martha Hudson makes herself comfortable in her armchair and takes a sip of sherry. 

“Well. This was millennia ago now, of course. Alice and I were making a snowman. We were so delighted that it was enough snow to do it. It had been ages since the last time. Alice put one of father’s old hats on the snowman’s head, when a snowball hit her hand and the hat fell to the ground.”

Mrs. Hudson’s voice gets agitated at the memory, and John finds himself quite fascinated by the whole spectacle.

“Don’t you dare laugh, or she’ll poison your sherry next time,” Sherlock whispers in John’s ear. 

John bites his lips hard to prevent his mirth from showing. Mrs. Hudson continues her story, and John’s not at all prepared for what comes next. 

“It was of course the boys down the road. Twins!”

She says the word as if it’s an insult. 

“Roger and Frank. Two years older than me. Three years older than Alice. Thought they were God’s gift to the female population!”

The scoff and eyeroll the agitated lady produce, make both men in dire need of a thigh pinch to stifle their chuckles. 

“Anyway. They had apparently no idea how good Alice and I were at throwing balls. Our father, who was a passionate cricket player, had trained us well, and it didn’t take long before our hard snowballs found their victims. I have it from good authority that both boys were heavily bruised all over their bodies for a whole week afterwards,” Mrs. Hudson finishes. 

“Bravo, Hudders,” Sherlock says and lifts his glass to salute her. 

John joins them and wonders for the umpteenth time how an innocent looking elderly lady can hide such tremendous depths. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @raina-at @sabsi221b @brandiwein1982 @helloliriels

[betterthanyalls]

I finished it! It’s so late but a friend gave me the idea of why not make it a New Years gift? Jeez, I can’t believe we are in 2024 already! Time flies so fast. Anyways, here ya go! Eat up! I am seriously so sorry this took forever, I didn’t mean for it to take this long but most all my family came over for Christmas Break and then I went on vacation so it took a while. But I still got it done, that’s good right? So uhh here it is!! I hope you like it :D I worked really hard on this:) ALSO RQ, this won’t follow the plot of the og Nutcracker exactly. I had to make changes here and there but I mostly based it off the Sweden Ballet and the Boston Ballet plots. Ok that should be all, enjoy!!

The Nutcracker

Words: 4.9K

Published: 12:00 AM. January 1st 2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laughter and chatter could be heard from the mansion up on the hill. Snow fell calmly outside, the soft winter breeze whisking snowflakes into small spirals before gracefully setting them upon the frosted ground.

Inside the mansion, there was a grand party taking place at the ballroom. Within the party, the host and hostess were walking throughout the Christmas party and welcoming guests. Their only child, Y/n, was talking with the other kids her age. The young 17-year-old was about to turn 18 just a few days after Christmas. The hostess, M/n, waved her daughter over.

When Y/n reached them, M/n handed her an ornament and gestured to the tree. The young girl smiled brightly, nodding and taking a box of ornaments from nearby. Walking over to the tree, Y/n showed the ornaments to the other kids her age. They all took a few ornaments and ran around the tree, trying to find a good place to put theirs.

After a good 20 minutes, the tree was glistening with ornaments, lights, tinsel, and garland, with some random nick-nacks here and there. Y/n and the others took a few steps back to admire their work until a giant gust of wind and the sound of slamming doors caught everyone's attention. All heads whipped to where the sound and wind came from—the grand front doors. Standing in the doorway, shaking off snow, were two people.

Unwrapping their scarves and taking off their hats and coats was revealed to be Y/n’s favorite, and only, uncles. Hector and Ruck Vendolez. The famous adventuring brothers. A glimmering smile enveloped Y/n’s face as she ran up to her two uncles, jumping up onto Hector.

Hector was at first shocked, almost falling over, but after regaining his balance, he hugged his only niece back. Hector spun them in a circle, boisterous laughter arising from the duo. Ruck backed up a little, not fond of physical touch, but had the ghost of a smile.

After hugging for a little bit, the duo parted ways. Y/n turned to Ruck with a much more gentle smile. Ruck rolled his eyes and sighed playfully, opening his arms for the girl. Her gentle smile grew, and she rushed into a hug, holding her cold uncle close.

The hug only lasted a few moments, but it meant the world to both of them. Finally breaking the hug, Y/n grabbed both her uncles hands and dragged them to see the tree that she and other kids helped decorate. Ruck looked at the tree and ruffled Y/n's hair before walking over to her parents. Hector seemed to be lost in thought when gazing at the Christmas tree. Y/n looked over to him with a slight confusion written on her face. She raised her hand and slowly waved it up and down in front of her uncle's eyes. Flinching, Hector came back to reality, offering his only niece a close-eyed smile.

Only now did Y/n notice that Hector was carrying something—a box, it seemed. Y/n gestured to the box, as if asking what it was. Hector took a glance at the present and crouched down, putting it under the tree. The tag on it clearly read, ‘To: Y/n. From: Your favorite uncle’.

Standing back up, Hector noticed Y/n hiding her quiet laughter behind her hand. He tilted his head, making Y/n point to the tag. A chuckle left his mouth. The older one made his way over to his brother Ruck and his sister, M/n, the hostess. Y/n, having nothing better to do, walked back to her new acquaintances.

~~

A few hours passed with games and food and many conversations, but now it was finally time to open the gifts. Everybody found a gift for themselves, and they all sat or stood around the great ballroom.

It took a little while, but all the gifts had been opened. All but one. A simple box that Y/n recognized as the one Hector had earlier sat in Y/n’s lap.

M/n raised her hands to quiet everyone down, then looked to her daughter. Y/n felt all eyes on her, and she wouldn’t lie; she was getting a little uncomfortable with all the attention, yet she powered through. Slowly, she unwrapped the present dedicated to her. A soft gasp left Y/n’s mouth when she saw the gift.

A nutcracker.

And not any nutcracker. It seemed to resemble the demon toon, Bendy, from the popular show Bendy, The Dancing Demon. But instead of his normal attire in a classic tuxedo with suspenders, he is wearing a noble soldier suit.

Y/n had stars in her eyes, moving Bendy’s arms up and down a little. She was in absolute amazement at the gift, like a trance had overcome her. She hugged the gift tightly with a bright smile. This present meant the entire world to her. A younger girl next to Y/n held her hands out for the nutcracker; her body language read that she wanted to hold Bendy. Y/n being polite, let the girl hold her new friend. But alas, it seemed the younger girl didn’t know what manners were.

Showing her friend next to her, the girl passed the present around the circle, not asking for Y/n’s permission. Shocked but too scared to say anything, Y/n was peeved with a valid reason. That was her gift! And these kids just messed with it like it was an old, rotting, cheap toy.

About halfway through the circle, a boy and a girl got into an argument about who got the toy. Their voices grew over the chatting adults. Another boy joined the first boys side, resulting in two girls joining the original girls side. It didn’t take long before every kid in the circle, excluding Y/n, had gotten on a side. Boys are on the left, and girls are on the right. The boy and girl who started this whole ordeal both took part in the nutcracker and pulled.

Underestimating how well it could hold together, the nutcracker flew from both pairs of hands, and the head snapped from the torso of the toy. The entire ballroom became deathly quiet. In shock and panic, each kid backed away from the now-broken gift. Y/n emerged from the crowd and covered her mouth with her hands.

Tears began to well into her eyes, and terror and grief screamed from her body language. Walking forward and kneeling down to her ruined present, she took the head and body in her hands. Looking over to where Hector and Ruck stood, Y/n was about to cry. This was a handmade gift from her uncles; after all, thought and tedious effort went into it, and now it was ruined all because she couldn’t say no.

When Hector made eye contact with his near-sobbing niece, he felt his heart shatter into billions of pieces. He quickly rushed over to Y/n, Ruck following close behind. Hector crouched on Y/n’s left, with Ruck on her right. Ruck placed a hand on her back to help soothe her while his brother took the nutcracker. Hector gently took the gift from his niece's hands and turned away so Y/n didn’t have to see him brutally put the pieces back together.

Hector pushed and twisted the head and torso together until they were firmly connected. He tipped the toy upside down and shook it, making sure the head wouldn’t come off again. Turning back to his niece and brother, Hector gracefully handed Y/n the gift back.

Her expression went from shock to tears and laughter mixed together. Rubbing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around Hector in a giant bear hug. Ruck stood up with a faint smile and began walking back to his sister and brother-in-law, with Hector soon following.

~~

Hours had passed, and everyone had left now. Y/n and M/n were in the hallway to the bedrooms, bidding goodnight to each other. Once the two parted ways, Y/n walked into her bedroom with the nutcracker in her grasp.

When she reached the bed, she set the nutcracker down on her nightstand and turned off the small lamp that illuminated the room. Dozing off almost immediately, she woke up just as abruptly. After waking up, she heard the grandfather clock in the ballroom strike 12. And judging by how dark it was out the window still, Y/n guessed it was 12 a.m.

Shooting herself up into a sitting position, Y/n heard noises coming from the ballroom just down the hall. Slowly creeping out of her bed, Y/n hadn’t noticed that her nutcracker wasn’t on the nightstand anymore.

Walking over to the door and opening it slowly, Y/n peeked out to make sure nobody was there. After seeing nobody in the halls, Y/n tiptoed as fast as she could to the ballroom. When she finally reached the doors, Y/n slipped through them quietly. Making sure she shut the doors behind her. Y/n walked into the room, looking around for what could have made the noise. A scurrying noise sounded behind her, startling the poor girl. Y/n whipped around to see what could’ve caused the scritches on the hardwood floor but found nothing there. Suspicion wrote itself into Y/n’s expression as she raised an eyebrow and slowly turned back to her original position. Another scurrying noise was heard from her left, and Y/n swung to face the noise. Again, there was nothing there.

And with the distraction, she felt clawed hands wrap around her waist and mouth, muffling her yells of protest. Kicking, hitting, and flailing did no good against her attacker. Y/n felt herself being thrown into a metal confinement. Getting up quickly, she saw that she was in a large metal cage that resembled that of a bird's cage. It looked like the one she used to have for her red parrot so many years ago. She missed Panchito, her parrot, so much. But now was not the time for memories. Y/n looked around through the bars of the cage, seeing large humanoid rats partying around the ballroom.

Her parents were going to kill her if they saw this mess! Y/n tried to bang the bars and shout to get the rats to stop, but her attempts at attention were drowned out by the volume of the rats. Y/n felt helpless; no one was there to save her. Loud footsteps could be heard walking towards the ballroom. All the rats heard it and instantly got down on their knees, bowing in pure silence. The girl was frozen in her spot, petrified at what could make the rambunctious rats stop their antics so suddenly.

From one of the side hallways emerged a humanoid rat, taller than any of the others. It had a crown adorning its head and a giant faux-fur cape. The rat was dressed in kingly attire. How the rat seemed to acquire these garments was beyond Y/n. Referencing its physical appearance, Y/n opted to name it ‘The Rat King’. The Rat King strutted in with his head held high, pride radiating off of him. When the Rat King was in the center of the room, he lifted his clawed hands and began a party of his very own. Cheers from the rats that sounded the shrills broke out amongst them.

The rats' cacophony noises bellowed throughout the ballroom, and it made Y/n wonder how none of the servants or her parents had come in yet. A loud banging of a knock was heard at the doors Y/n entered through, and hope glimmered through her—maybe her parents had woken up? Every creature in the room went dead silent, confused or scared. The Rat King tilted his head in confusion but didn’t move. Another knock was heard, a little harsher this time. After a few seconds passed, the knocker must have realized nobody would answer. At least that’s what Y/n was guessing when the doors flung open with a mighty kick. Standing in the doorway was a human figure, and Y/n let out a gasp, recognizing who it was immediately. Her eyes widened, and all her breath left her lungs in a state of horror and shock.

There he was. The Nutcracker. Walking towards the Rat King like it was a daily affair. Y/n pressed her back to the furthest bars in the cage, trying to get away from the whole ordeal. She watched as the Nutcracker, whom she named Bendy for his appearance, stalked towards the Rat King. No expression was written on Bendy’s face; for being alive, he looked to still keep all his wooden attributes. She watched with an open mouth as Bendy stopped walking and reached to his side, pulling out glistening metal. The steel blade pierced through the light of the glowing candle embers that decorated the ballroom graciously.

The wooden toy gripped the handle of the blade firmly. His painted eyes could only stare lifelessly at the creature in front of him. And with a sudden spark of life, Bendy slashed his sword at the Rat King. Stunned, the Rat King jumped back and swung his sharp claws at Bendy. The two fought as Y/n and the other rats watched in awe.

Sharp clangs from claws on metal rang throughout the room like church bells. The Rat King and Bendy fought like a dance: one step forward, one step left, two steps back, one step right, repeat. The males moved in a circular formation during the dance. Neither seemed to have the upper or lower hand at any time; it was a well-even match. That was until the Rat King wrapped his tail around Bendy's leg and dragged him to the floor, pressing his long claws against Bendy’s wooden neck and beginning to split the wood. Frightened, Y/n reached down and took off her shoe, throwing it through the bar gaps and hitting the Rat King on the back of the head. Distracted and furious, the Rat King let go of Bendy and looked to Y/n. This gave Bendy the chance to drive his sword through the Rat King's back. A shrill pierced through the air, and the Rat King fell to the ground lifelessly.

The rats screeched in panic and ran around the ballroom in disorganized chaos. Amongst this chaos, Y/n couldn’t see her nutcracker anymore and closed her eyes tight as a bright light filled the room for a split second. When the light had vanished, Y/n slowly opened her eyes to see Bendy, who was no longer wood but now a living being in prince attire, offering her a hand to help her out of the newly broken cage. Taking his hand carefully, Y/n hopped out of the cage. And in the moment of pure impulse and gratefulness, Y/n placed a soft kiss on Bendy’s cheek.

In shock but with a giddy smile and a flustered expression, Bendy put a hand up to the cheek Y/n had kissed. Shaking away his embarrassment and fluster, he held his hand out to Y/n as an offer. Y/n tilted her head in confusion, not knowing what he was offering. Bendy made a sweeping motion with his hand behind the two of them, as if to offer a journey. Y/n looked behind her to the doorway that led to her parents bedroom. She turned her attention back to Bendy and nodded slowly, putting her hand in his.

The nutcracker prince led the two of them to the grand entrance doors that would lead them outside. When Bendy opened the doors, Y/n shivered at the cold air rushing inside. Y/n just realized that she had been wearing her pajamas this whole time. Feeling a little embarrassed, Y/n covered her body with her open arm. In front of the duo was a sleigh, all decked with decor, with reins holding onto two pristine white horses. Their coats gleamed in the winter moon, and snow fell invisibly upon them. Her eyes widened in surprise. When did this get here? Bendy led the teen to the passenger side of the sleigh and helped her into it. When Y/n was situated, the prince walked around and got into the driver's side. He made sure Y/n was sitting comfortably before shaking the reins with a low-medium force, signaling the horses to begin trotting forward.

Not expecting the sudden movement, Y/n fell back a little into Bendy’s side. But he didn’t seem to mind. While still keeping a hand on the reins, the nutcracker helped his companion back to a proper sitting position. Embarrassed once more, the teen looked away with a sheepish blush covering her upper cheeks. Eventually getting over her self-shame, Y/n took a chance to look around.

Through the darkened night, snowflakes danced down in a waltz. The wind sang its winter song, and the moon shone down in the spotlight of the snowy stage called Earth. The horses strode undisputed through the snow, letting the sleigh glide effortlessly across the snow. As they rode onward, the quartet of beings entered a forest. Y/n was in awe of the beauty of the trees. She couldn’t tell what type of trees they all were with how dark it was, but Y/n noticed the Willow branches drooping near the path. Only the bioluminescent mushrooms made the trunks of the trees known. Sparkling icicles on the branches reflected the moon's loving gaze.

Soon they arrived at an open area within the center of the forest. The horses directed the sleigh to the edge of the clearing and stopped there for a break. As if on cue of the horses stopping, soldiers in blue and white clothing and snowflake designs stomped into the clearing. The soldiers stood in two perfectly parallel lines. Bendy stood up in the sleigh and put one hand on Y/n’s shoulder, holding her tightly, and his other hand was placed on the hilt of his sword, which was sheltered in its scabbard. But thankfully, before any fighting could happen, two other figures walked between the soldiers. The two figures had their arms linked to each other. Like the soldiers, they were wearing blue and white attire with snowflake patterns.

The two figures, male and female, looked like a king and a queen. It would fit in with the soldiers if they were the rulers. The king and queen walked up next to the sleigh and introduced themselves, adding that they meant no harm and did not mean to frighten Y/n and Bendy. The nutcracker in question slowly sat down and released his grip on his hilt, keeping his hand on Y/n’s shoulder as he kept a close eye on the royalty. Y/n smiled brightly and greeted the monarchs, introducing herself and Bendy since he was too busy watching them with a glare to try and be friendly.

After chatting for a bit, the Snow King and Queen (as they were named) offered Y/n and Bendy to dance. At first, Y/n and Bendy were both going to decline. Y/n declined for the fact she was still in her pajamas and the cold, and Bendy had to ‘uphold his dignity’. But his mind changed the moment he took a glance at Y/n, seeing how her face was illuminated in the moonlight. Quietly and unknowing to his female friend, Bendy exited the sleigh and walked around the back of it so as not to disturb the horses. When he finally reached the side with royalty, he nodded in agreement for a dance. Turning to face Y/n, he held his hand out to her as an invitation. Taken aback, Y/n tilts her head slightly with a nervous smile. Bendy returned the smile, but with a more welcoming feel. He kept his hand held out, and Y/n stared at it for a few moments before letting out a sigh and taking his hand.

Bendy helped Y/n out of the sleigh as the two companions and the royalty made their way to the center of the clearing. With both duos in the correct stance, the dance began. The soldier snowflakes had taken out some instruments and began to play music to help accommodate a waltz. As the music began, the prince led the unlikely duo into a beautiful waltz. Soft music glimmered around the icicles and flowed around the two dancers like a calm stream not yet frozen by the winter. Being so distracted by each other, Y/n and Bendy hadn’t noticed the king and queen had stopped dancing to watch the young love.

As the music went on and on, Bendy couldn’t help but get lost in Y/n’s eyes. Her eyes dazzled in a beauty that was lost to the world. Dancing with her was something he would have never expected to do. Y/n was simply mesmerized throughout the dance. She couldn’t explain her feelings based on how fast they were going around inside her. It was only a few minutes of dancing, but it felt like an eternity that neither of them wanted to leave. Alas, the music soon stopped, and Bendy dipped Y/n down. They stayed like that for a moment, taking in the moment and staring at each other like there was nothing else important in the world and only this mattered. After a few seconds, Bendy cleared his throat and brought Y/n up and out of the dip. Y/n rubbed the back of her neck and looked away in embarrassment. It took a bit, but eventually they both got over their fluster. When they did, both Y/n and Bendy thanked the king and queen for the dance invitation and the peace before getting back into the sleigh.

When both were situated in their spots, Bendy took the reins and whipped them softly. Y/n turned and gave the king and queen a farewell wave, with the royalty waving back. Now facing forward, Y/n took a few side glances at Bendy to see what he was doing. The prince in question had a look of focus and deep thought in his expression. Not wanting to disturb his mind, Y/n just looked at the scenery around them. It was still clearly night and would stay like that for quite a while, but that didn’t take away from nature's delightful view. The way the frost laid itself upon the passing tree branches so gracefully was simply angelic. It didn’t take long for Y/n to notice all the snow turning into what looked like cotton candy. Confused, she looked around more. The tree trunks were replaced by candy canes, and the branches were taken over by licorice. Rocks became gumdrops, and all the ice and icicles became frosting. A smile broke onto Y/n’s face as she looked over to Bendy. He was looking around with a smile, too. Looking back to the scenery around, Y/n reached out carefully to take a handful of the cotton candy snow. When she got her desired amount, she turned to Bendy and showed him. Nodding to each other, the two of them shared the cotton candy. The sweet was delectable and scrumptious to their sense of taste. Being distracted by the candy, the duo hadn’t noticed that the sleigh had stopped in front of a grand palace.

At the whinny of one of the horses, Y/n finally looked around. Her lips parted slightly in awe as a small gasp left her mouth. Y/n stood up from her seat on the immobile sleigh to get a better view. A luxurious castle was only a few paces before her. But just as she was taking it in, a large group of guards—who looked like an assortment of candies—surrounded the sleigh and held up sharp spears. Her initial awe turned into immediate shock. She took a step back as much as the sleigh would allow. Y/n felt the sleigh shift from behind her, and she immediately whipped around, afraid it might be one of the guards. But to her relief, it was only Bendy standing up. He had a look of determination on his face as he stood. Raising her hands out slightly, he gestured for the guards to stand down. Now it was the candy guards' turn to be shocked before every one of them fell into a kneeling position. In confusion, Y/n stared at Bendy with furrowed eyebrows. Said nutcracker looked to his female friend and grinned at her before exiting the sleigh.

Bendy walked over to Y/n’s side of the sleigh and grabbed her arm gently, guiding her off the vehicle and to the large, fanciful doors that led into the palace. Without even having to touch the doors, they swung open, and a great gust of wind from who knows where swept the duo into the main room, the throne room. Sitting gracefully on the only throne in the room was someone Y/n could only describe as an angel. Words couldn’t describe the magnificence and beauty Y/n felt radiating off the person on the throne.

The Sugar Plum Fairy.

Y/n could recall faint memories that seemed to flow around her of her mother telling Y/n of the fairy tale. Stories of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s gentleness and kindness to all things living and nonliving. Stories of how the fairy could make anything into candy or sweet by the single thought of it. The legendary fairy now simply sat on her throne with a skeptical expression pointed towards Y/n. But before the Sugar Plum Fairy could say a word, Bendy stepped in and began explaining how Y/n saved his life when fighting the Rat King. He went into great detail about how his neck was almost split in two until she managed to distract the rat and give the nutcracker enough time to get back up and slay the beast. At this revelation, the Sugar Plum Fairy’s expression became one of joy, shock, relief, and thankfulness. In her gratitude, the fairy rose from her throne and threw her arms up in the air, signaling all the happy servants to come forward with celebration decor. The Sugar Plum Fairy walked down the throne steps and over to the teenage girl in front of her. When the fairy was only about a foot or two away from Y/n, the Sugar Plum Fairy turned to her left and waved her hand for a servant to walk over. The servant, who looked to be a peppermint, scurried over with a pillow.

A crown that could make the Imperial State Crown ashamed was set on the pillow. Cautiously yet deftly, the fairy picked up the crown and nodded to Y/n to bow her head. Y/n, unsure of what to do, bowed her head down with patience. The Sugar Plum Fairy set the crown delicately upon Y/n’s head and lifted the young girl's chin with two fingers. Y/n searched throughout the fairy’s expression as the cryptid creature analyzed her. To Y/n’s own joy and reassurance, the fairy looked in wonder at the younger. To Sugar Plum, Y/n resembled true royalty and looked almost identical to anyone who deserved the spot of a monarch. Nervously, Y/n turned to Bendy to see his reaction. The prince was in absolute awe. His friend looked as good—no, better—than any princess or queen to have reigned.

Bendy was shaken from his thoughts when Sugar Plum ordered two thrones to be placed next to hers immediately. And it was done as she commanded. Sugar Plum looked to the human and prince, inviting them to come sit next to her. Y/n sat on the fairy’s right, and Bendy sat next to his teenage companion. And before they knew it, festivities began all around. Dancers spun, and musicians trumpeted their instruments beautifully. Singers sang sensationally and show horses pranced among it all. Y/n was astonished, and Bendy was in mere awe at the celebration. But throughout the loud and joyous gathering, the prince couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl next to him. The party went on for what seemed like hours, and Y/n was fighting to stay awake. But, like all humans, she needed her sleep. Slowly but surely, Y/n fell onto Bendy’s shoulder, completely knocked out with exhaustion. As much as he didn’t expect it, Bendy wasn’t startled. He simply let the girl lay there.

As the sounds and lights faded out of Y/n’s senses, she felt herself fall into a dark yet comforting abyss. Then, as fast as she fell asleep, she woke up. Shooting herself up into a sitting position, Y/n rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was back in her bedroom. Soft morning light streamed in through her curtain shades. Her room was decorated in the soft hue of the sun's loving embrace of the world. Covering a yawn with her hand, Y/n crawled out of her bed and looked at her nightstand. Standing in the same position her uncle had carved was the nutcracker. The girl smiled tiredly at the wooden toy before turning and walking out her bedroom door, planning to tell her parents all about her dream at breakfast. All is well. All is peaceful. Everything is beautiful. Even you.

[clytemnaestraes]

Lady Stoneheart + Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: Parallels and Symbolism

The steel was polished to such a high sheen that she could see her reflection in the breastplate, gazing back at her as if from the bottom of a deep green pond. The face of a drowned woman, Catelyn thought. Can you drown in grief? — Catelyn, ACOK

Catelyn's face reflected in renly's green armour reminded me of the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I decided to dig into it and surprisingly found many things evocative of Lady Stoneheart.

1. A Judge

The Green Knight appears in Arthurian tales as a judge or tester of knights, challenging them to honour their promises. Lady Stoneheart plays a similar role in ASOIAF by demanding that jaime and brienne honour their promise to return her daughters or face death.

2. Colours: Green + Grey

It has been argued that green is wrongly attributed to the green knight owing to a mistranslation of the Cornish word glas, which means grey. In another variation of the story, the knight is often called "the man of the grey mantle".

Lady Stoneheart is heavily associated with grey.

Grey was the color of the silent sisters, the handmaidens of the Stranger. Brienne felt a shiver climb her spine. Stoneheart. — Brienne, AFFC

3. Identities and Aliases

At the end of the story, the green knight reveals himself to be Bertilak de hautdesert, Lord of a castle. Before getting resurrected as a fire wight, Lady Stoneheart was Catelyn tully stark.

On my honour as a Tully, on my honour as a Stark. — Catelyn, ASOS

4. A Game (of thrones)

The word gomen (game) is found 18 times in Gawain. Its similarity to the word gome (man), which appears 21 times, has led some scholars to see men and games as centrally linked.

The story itself began with a "Christmas game", known in folk stories as a "beheading game".

What... what game?

The only game. The game of thrones.

Catelyn ends up as Lady Stoneheart because her son wins every battle but loses the war, i.e., loses the game of thrones. Catelyn too was one of the players of the game, of course.

5. Winter, seasonality, and the rise and fall of things

The Green Knight tells Gawain to meet him at the Green Chapel in "a year and a day"—in other words, the next New Year's Day. Scholars interpret the yearly cycles, each beginning and ending in winter, as the poet's attempt to convey the inevitable fall of all things good and noble in the world

Winter is of course an extremely important motif in ASOIAF:

They are the knights of Summer, and winter is coming. — Catelyn, ACOK

It's also interesting to note that feasts are important events in both stories: the green knight first appears at a Christmas feast and Catelyn is killed at a wedding feast.

6. Trophies and Temptation: Girdles and Flayed skins

Roose bolton offers a piece of theon's flayed skin to Catelyn, and she is tempted to accept it.

"May I offer you this…small token of revenge?" Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. — Catelyn, ASOS

As Lady Stoneheart, she fully gives in to her temptation and ruthlessly pursues revenge.

"...She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We'll give her those, as many as she likes." —Brienne, AFFC

In Gawain's story, he is gifted a girdle by his hostess, the Lady Bertilak. He had earlier promised his host that he'd return whatever he got at the end of the day, but Lady Bertilak insists that it's a magical girdle that will prevent Gawain from being killed at the hands of the green knight. He gives in to temptation and keeps the girdle.

7. Chivalry and Contradictions: So many vows

The knight's code of honour requires Gawain to do whatever a damsel asks. Gawain must accept the girdle from the Lady, but he must also keep the promise he has made to his host that he will give whatever he gains that day. Gawain chooses to keep the girdle out of fear of death, thus breaking his promise to the host but honouring the lady.

Gawain's dilemma about whether to keep the girdle as ordered by his hostess or return it to his host and honour his promise to him reflects jaime's dilemma and the contradictory vows of knighthood.

So many vows...they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other. — Jaime, ACOK

It's also interesting to note that the five pointed star or the pentangle is heavily associated with Gawain, reminiscent of the seven pointed star of the faith associated with Westerosi knights (and by extension with jaime) as they are anointed by the faith.

8. Wounds to the neck

Catelyn's throat is slit by the freys before they dumped her in the river, and as a result, she is unable to speak properly.

At the story's climax, Gawain is wounded in the neck by the Green Knight's axe.

The symbolism surrounding wounds:

During the medieval period, the body and the soul were believed to be so intimately connected that wounds were considered an outward sign of inward sin. The neck, specifically, was believed to correlate with the part of the soul related to will.

Hope you enjoyed this post!

[oh-yeah-i-exist]

In the Company of Dragons | Daemon Targaryen x OC | Chapter 3

Warnings: war, bloodshed, angst

Synopsis: Before and during the course of the Dance of the Dragons, Daemon and his former lover reconnected. As the end of the civil war for the Iron Throne loomed ever closer, one final test stood between them and a different future.

Chapters: [1], [2], [3]

Author’s notes: this was quite a long chapter to write and a lot of research went into it, so I'd really appreciate your patience and kindness. My ask box is open, if you have questions/concerns.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The year was 116 AC. Spring was beginning in Pentos, with humid winds and light rain blowing towards land from the Narrow Sea. Greenery was returning to the coastal plains, and the ships making port brought with them new supplies and visitors after a slow, gloomy winter.

Meilin kept to the dry, high ground at the far edge of the plains. Just last spring, she’d settled into her new residence, a fine-looking courtyard house surrounded by a lush garden of native plants. Her retinue was small — only a pair of cousins who served as her ladies-in-waiting, five guards, her old nurse, three kitchen maids, and a local pageboy to run errands in town. 

Without a husband, she was a prime target for wealthy Pentoshi merchants who fancied marrying into Shenzhou royalty and thereby securing exclusive trading rights of the Divine Realm’s coveted tea and porcelain. Others with less extravagant fortunes claimed that even a glimpse of the foreign princess’s beauty was reason enough to try.

Then came a day when the sailors and merchants of Pentos spied familiar silhouettes in the sky. Some ran for cover; others gawked openly at the arrival of the dragonriders. 

Unlike their last visit two years prior, the pair flew Caraxes and Vhagar past the port and all the way to the hills beyond the plains. In spite of their shared history, it had been Prince Daemon’s hope that the lady of the house would not turn them away.

Meilin’s allies in Westeros had kept her appraised of the ongoings within the Targaryen house, until she’d been summoned back to her father’s court. The last time she’d seen Daemon Targaryen in person had been at his niece’s wedding to Laenor Velaryon. Somewhere between guest and persona no grata, he’d managed to corner the newly-wed Princess and upset the King before leaving once again to resume his grapple for the wind-swept Stepstones.

Thus, it was sufficient to say that the Prince and his bride took her completely by surprise, standing on her doorsteps with news of the latter’s pregnancy.

“We wish not to intrude upon you,” said Lady Laena Velaryon, curtseying to the princess. “But I have heard much about you from my father and brother over the years. Even Princess Rhaenyra spoke highly of you. When Daemon informed me that you have taken up residence here, I asked if we could perhaps pay you a visit on our tour.” 

Her husband was uncharacteristically reticent besides her, observing his old acquaintance with a curious smile. “It’s been quite some time, Princess,” he said at length, “I do apologize for calling upon you unannounced.”

“Well, better here than at the magisters’,” Meilin replied, stepping aside to let them through the doorway. “I’ll have the maids prepare tea.”

And so, the couple remained under the princess’s care. The guards and servants were all smitten with Laena but were more cautious around Daemon, in whose company they made sure to never leave their mistress alone. Although time had healed the initial shock of Daemon’s exile from the Seven Kingdoms, the princess herself kept her distance. As a younger woman, Meilin might have found herself jealous and rightfully indignant at Daemon’s boldness. But she’d had to mature, and apparently, so had he. In the role of hostess, she lavished her attention on the Velaryon lady instead, gifting her rare silks and enthralling her with stories of her travels.

In mid-Autumn, a few hours after dusk, Lady Laena went into labour.

“It’ll be alright, sister,” said Meilin to Laena, who had been carried on to the princess’s own bed. Eight and a half months had made them close; the princess was particularly fond of the lady’s sweet nature, and the lady in turn had come to admire the princess’s independence.

“It hurts so bloody much,” replied Laena through gritted teeth, clutching Meilin’s hand. The expecting father had been sent to another chamber, for it was thought to be bad luck for him to be present at the birth. The household’s staff had prepared hot water, clean bedclothes, and heaps of towels, while the nurse stood ready to deliver the twins.

Though watching her friend in pain brought forth memories of her own mother’s unfortunate miscarriages, Meilin stayed by Lena’s bedside, whispering words of encouragement. Hours passed, but by dawn, the first babe had arrived. Her clear, strong cry could be heard throughout the house, and she was joined by her sister not a minute later. A pair of small and pale twins, but otherwise healthy, with fine features unique to the Targaryen bloodline. Daemon named his first true-born children Baela and Rhaena and was over the moon to carry them in his arms for the very first time.

Much to everyone’s delight, the now family of four extended their stay until the infants were strong enough for the flight home to Driftmark. The pregnancy seemed to have had no ill effect on Lady Laena, who welcomed the helping hands of her husband and her sister-friend. The babes ate well but slept at irregular intervals, leaving the adults quite sleep-deprived for the first few months of their new lives.

“Look, she’s sitting up!” Cooed Laena, with Baela propped up on her lap. The infant girl, now just shy of one year old, giggled at her mother’s exaggerated expression, silver eyes twinkling. They were seated together with the princess on a veranda, while Daemon took a short walk with Rhaena through the garden.

“Good girl!” Meilin smiled, giving the infant’s cheek a playful pinch. The girl squealed, closing a little, chubby hand around the princess’s finger.

Seeing Meilin’s easy demeanor with the babe, Lady Laena felt the urge to inquire. “Have you ever thought of one day having children of your own?”

The question seemed to catch the princess off guard, so the lady rushed to remedy the situation. “Forgive my imprudence, I merely…”

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” Meilin dismissed her concerns. She’d witnessed the birth of Laena’s children; there was no need for the lady to be so reserved. “It is quite impossible for us women to not think of motherhood. I was married once, actually… It was quite the debacle.”

“How so?”

“My father, you see. Before he abdicated the throne in favor of my younger brother, he’d promised my hand to Chemmon, king of Kauthara, in exchange for two provinces to be annexed into Shenzhou. Thus, I returned to my brother’s court to be wedded. I’d never set foot in Chemmon’s vassaldom, let alone met him, but…”

“Marriage is duty,” said Laena sympathetically. Balancing Baela on her lap, the lady reached for Meilin’s hand, offering whatever comfort she could. The gesture was bittersweet.

“Chemmon died a year after our marriage. Taken in the night by a sudden bout of fever,” continued Meilin, after a short pause. She could see in her mind’s eye the dull, lifeless gaze of Chemmon’s corpse just before the palace embalmers had taken him away. “I was to join him on the pyre, as per Kautharan customs…”

At such a revelation, Lady Laena gripped her friend’s hand, as though fearful to even think of such a thing. Meilin shook her head, “My dear brother would be damned if he were to let his sister die in the land of ‘savages.’ It was just the torch they needed to ignite a new war. In the end, the Kautharans acquiesced, and I was freed from my vows.”

“Thank the Gods.”

“Ah, indeed,” the princess chuckled. “We never returned their provinces to them, nonetheless. Could you believe that?" 

“Of course!” Laena let out a small laugh, prompting Baela to giggle along. “Sometimes, I like to think that if the men left us to be spinsters, it might just be a mercy.”

“Is that so? What shall I tell Daemon?”

The women’s lively chatter died down to a comfortable silence as they spotted Daemon’s white hair in the distance. The Prince and doting father had returned with his daughter. Glancing between her husband and the babe still in her arms, Lady Laena only smiled.

——————

Little did Laena know at the time that her words would prove prophetic. In the Red Spring of 120 AC, she was to forfeit her life, only to deliver a son that did not survive. Whatever hold she’d had on Daemon’s wild nature was now gone, and the Prince reverted back to his power-hungry ways, marrying his niece in secret, bearing two sons by her, and pronouncing her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms after Viserys I passed from the mortal coil. The Dance of the Dragons, or the civil war that befell Westeros thereafter, saw lords and knights slain, and might have ended with Queen Rhaenyra firmly on the throne if she had not enforced such harsh taxes upon the populace to finance the war. ‘Maegor with teats’ they’d come to call her, for her refusal to come to a truce with the party of the Dowager Queen, Alicent, and her sons.

The ravages of war reached the port of Pentos in the form of dwindling business and flocks of refugees. The magisters, desperate to boost trade, only doubled their efforts to pursue the Shenzhou princess’s hand in marriage, causing her to keep her doors closed night and day. The only times anyone was to see her were when she took in the poor and the sick, feeding them and easing their pains with herbal remedies. The Pentoshi, touched by her benevolence but unable to understand her gifts, dubbed her the Crimson Lady, Good Witch of Pentos.

Calm and predictable was how she strove to make her days. She awoke at sunrise, joined the household staff for their breakfast, and tended to the plants in her garden until past noon. Her correspondences would arrive by then, carried by ravens and hawks. The black-feathered creatures bore missives from the few allies she kept across Westeros and Essos. 

It felt as though every day, the two branches of the Targaryen House would devise new methods of calling blood to blood in the name of vengeance. Heavy blows had been dealt to both sides; one of Rhaenyra’s sons by Laenor Velaryon, Lucerys, was slain by his own kin, Aemond the One-eyed; and in return, her half-brother, Aegon the Elder’s infant child was murdered right in front of his poor mother. Countless other losses had followed, and banners of rivaling houses, divided into two factions, blackened the sky and terrorized the common folk, as they marched at ever-increasing haste towards a final confrontation. The world was engulfed in fire and blood.

These days, the only letters she still opened with any degree of anticipation were from none other than Prince Daemon, who had taken Harrenhal and presently occupied it with the aid of rebels from the river lands. Writing each other was a tradition they’d started shortly after the Prince and his family’s departure from the princess’s Pentoshi haven. Most recently, he’d informed her of his insofar unsuccessful hunt for Aemond One-eye. It was to her that he told every thought and brewing scheme, with absolute confidence that she shan’t tell another living soul nor chastise him for his incorrigible self. That much was true, although he failed to fully grasp how much it pained her, even after two decades of intimacy, to hear of his unfaithfulness and violence. Still, whenever she wondered why she subjected herself to such heartache, his arrogant facade would lapse, and she would find in his writing the honest portrait of a battle-worn man longing for a different life.

Meanwhile, the hawks travelled farther than the ravens still, bringing her news from her homeland. Frequently, her brother would send a message asking after her, anxious to see her leave the burning continents which he deemed ‘barbarous.’

Dearest Sister,

I sincerely pray that this letter finds you in good health and safe keeping. Even while our father confines himself to the study of sacred scriptures, he oft mentions your name. He regrets his decision which so long ago sent you away from us and besieges me to perhaps persuade you to reconsider. This past moon, we celebrated his sixtieth year, and you were sorely missed.

May good fortune be with you, until you are with us once more,

Qin-long

Meilin read her brother’s words with a heavy heart, setting the letter down neatly atop others inside an oaken chest. A late autumn breeze swept in through the open window, rustling the paper. The sun was well on its way towards the horizon, and the sounds of day laborers in the plains gave way to the rhythmic hums of crickets. The princess was about to pen an apologetic reply to her brother, King of Shenzhou, when the doors to her private chamber were thrown open.

“Your Grace, we saw some movement in the sky!” Li Huang, her loyal guard, announced. He looked to have been running. “It’s weaving through the clouds, but some of us are quite certain that—”

The poor man couldn’t even finish his sentence, as a heavy thud could be heard coming from the courtyard. Shrieks followed — whatever it was, it had undoubtedly spooked the female attendants in the household. Abandoning her brush, the princess went at once to the source of the commotion, armed with her blade.

“Who are you?” She barked at the intruder, standing unafraid in front of the guards. In the courtyard was a strange dragon, with brown scales and orange eyes, and its rider, a dark-haired, skinny girl of no older than ten-and-seven. The girl had a scar across her low nose bridge, and judging from the way she dressed, the princess surmised she was unlikely to be of noble birth — which made it even more perplexing that she’d trespassed upon these grounds.

“I- I go by Nettles,” the girl blurted out, hands raised to show no ill will. Her dragon seemed restless, glaring at anyone who dared come too close. “I was told I would find refuge here. He said—”

“Who? Who told you to break into my personal estate?” Meilin pressed, aiming the tip of her sword at the girl’s chest. Her defensiveness did not go unnoticed by the dragon, from whose nose smoke sputtered petulantly.

“Prince Daemon!” Said Nettles, flustered. “He, we were prowling the riverlands around Harrenhal for Aemond and his mount, b-but we was alerted that the Queen had ordered my execution, and…”

“Why would she order such a thing?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am, but I overheard his Grace talking to our host, a-and it appeared the Queen had been led to believe me a traitor.”

“Are you?”

“What, ma’am?”

“Are you a traitor?”

At the accusation, Nettles’s brown eyes went wide. “No, ma’am, of course, not!” She wrung her hands and shook her head. Fumbling through her ragtag armor, she retrieved a folded note and held it in Meilin’s direction. The princess’s guards moved instantly to intercept her.

“No, it’s quite alright…” Meilin called them off. She took the note from the girl and looked it over. She recognized the handwriting right away.

My Princess,

Please protect this dragonseed, as you have once so graciously opened your home to me and mine. Thank you, and I am sorry. For everything.

Yours,

Daemon

“What does it say…?” Asked Nettles, nervously picking at a stray thread on her sleeve. “I c-can’t read. Not yet… Prince Daemon was going to teach me.”

Meilin looked her over. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“No, ma’am. Just instructions on how to get here. It was all very sudden… I left two morns ago.”

“Where is he?” The princess lowered her blade, taking pity on the baseborn girl. Dragonseed or not, she was a fresh-faced, soot-covered little thing. “Where is Daemon right now?"

“Harrenhal, ma’am… He’s made up his mind to face Prince Aemond.”

“Against Vhagar? Alone?” Said Meilin under her breath, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. As quickly as she had sprung into the courtyard to defend her household, she made her way back inside. Her guards, not knowing what to do, kept watch over Nettles and the dragon. The princess ran to her letters, searching through them for anything to confirm what she feared was true — not even a moon past, Daemon had written her about the Black Council’s recruitment of three wild dragons into their ranks, bringing their total number of dragons up to nine, to go up against the opposition’s six. Sheepstealer was the mount of Nettles, a motherless and penniless bastard, towards whom Daemon had expressed fatherly affections. The girl had told no lies.

“She stays with us until I come back,” declared the princess upon returning to the courtyard. In her haste, she had taken only a heavy cloak and her blade with her.

“Where are you going, your Grace?” One of the guards hurried after her, braving past the dragon.

“To Harrenhal,” the look on the princess’s face was one of resolve. 

No one present understood her meaning, except for Nettles, who perked up. “I’ll go with,” she was already clambering back onto Sheepstealer. The dragon reared its head, sending the guards into a frenzy.

“No,” Meilin sharply cut them off. She bit the tip of her right thumb and drew blood, which she used to write a summoning spell upon the ground. The winds picked up all of a sudden. A red glow overtook the dusky sky. The guards, becoming aware of what was transpiring, held onto themselves, and it took all of Nettles’ might to reign in Sheepstealer, who reeled with trepidation and threatened to torch whatever it was.

A burst of light. A shriek that could rival a dragon’s roar. A single flap of its wings sent leaves scattering in all directions. Even Sheepsteler appeared daunted, dipping its head as if in acknowledgement.

“The phoenix,” awe-struck murmurs spread through the men and the women alike. 

“If I shan’t return, make your way home,” the princess commanded, astride her magnificent mount. The fiery bird was equal in size to Sheepstealer, with red-tipped feathers and a wing span to match. “Take my sigil, and you will be welcomed in my brother’s kingdom.”

————————

Chapter 4 is posted here!

[merrybrides]

DIY: Summer Citrus Sugar Scrub

Rejuvenate and revive your skin with this easy citrus sugar scrub recipe. With only 3 ingredients you probably already have on hand, you’ll be ready to whip up this gentle exfoliating body scrub in no time! 

Sugar Scrub, or body polish is a luxurious way to refresh your skin. It is so gentle that it can even be used on sensitive skin. 

Exfoliating body scrub makes a great shower favor, quick gift, treat for yourself or a hostess gift when you are welcomed to a friend’s beach house.  This jar will keep my skin happy all summer long!

Keep a jar of this sugar scrub by your kitchen to soothe your hands after washing dishes. It will rehydrate your skin from the harshness of the hot water and dish soap. Keep a jar of sugar scrub in the shower for a mini spa treatment up to 3 times a week! 

Citrus Sugar Scrub Recipe Ingredients

It’s made with just a few ingredients, from your kitchen!

Sugar – 1/2 cup of regular white table sugar is perfect for this diy sugar scrub! It exfoliates your skin, gentling rubbing away dead skin cells leaving your skin feeling smooth and radiant. 

Oil – I use 1/4 cup Vitamin E Oil in this recipe which is so good for your skin. Its anti inflammatory properties soothes and calms, while hydrating dry skin and working to heal any blemishes. 

Citrus – Is so good for your body inside and out! Naturally full of vitamin C it leaves your skin with a beautiful glow! It also can help to lighten sun spots or other blemishes on your skin. I love the texture and beautiful color the citrus adds along with its amazingly refreshing scent!  You can use the zest from one Orange, Grapefruit, or Lemon, or 2 Limes, in this recipe.

*** Zest is made from the top layer of a fruit peel. Always try to avoid the white pith. If you don’t have a zester, you can use a vegetable peeler to gently peel the top layer of your fruit. Then cut the strips into finer strips lengthwise, and then again into tiny cubes widthwise. 

Supplies

Large Glass Mixing Bowl

Handheld Citrus Zester (variations under Tips and Tricks)

Spatula

Measuring Cups

Sealable Glass Jars (I like to use mason jars or repurpose clean jars I already own)

Ice Cream Scoop

How to Make Exfoliating Body Scrub

This scrub is so easy to make. It only contains natural ingredients and no artificial food colorings.

Combine sugar and oil.

2. Add zest.

3. Scoop into sealable glass jars.

4. Label and date.

5. Store for up to 3 months in an airtight container.

Variations

This sugar scrub recipe is so easy to customize to fit your needs! 

Citrus Variations – In this recipe I use orange, but any other citrus would work well! In the past, I have used grapefruit, orange, lime, and lemon. They all have worked wonderfully! If using lime I chose to use the zest from 2 limes since they are smaller sized fruit.

Oil Variations – Vitamin E Oil, Coconut Oil, Olive Oil, Almond Oil, Carrot Oil, Argan Oil, Jojoba Oil, and Grapeseed Oil. 

Sugar Variations – Any white sugar should work well in this recipe. Sugar is used for a gentle exfoliation so keep that in mind when choosing the coarseness of the sugar. 

For a winter sugar scrub try adding a dash of ground cloves or ground cinnamon. 

Add a few drops of essential oils. My favorite combinations include other citrus oils to complement and enhance, floral scents such as moroccan rose or lavender, and woody scents such cedar or rosemary. 

Pro Tip: If using coconut oil, it will help to slightly warm the oil on the stovetop or even the microwave before adding it to the mixture. I love coconut oil and lime combination! 

How to Store Sugar Scrub

This Sugar Scrub recipe can be stored for up to 3 months in a properly sealed jar / airtight container.  

PRO TIP: Upcycle jars you already own!

[colleenmurphy]

Gloria Christine Stanic

Nicknames: Chrissy or Glo ( only her mother calls her that )

DOB: June 22, 19- ( she's forever 22, thank you very much )

POB: Sutton Beach, NY

Parents: Rita & Bob Stanic

Siblings: Two younger sisters, Dorothy ( who's 12 years younger ), and Jane ( 15 years younger )

Schooling:

Our Lady of Peace Middle / High School ( graduated class of 1980 )

Sloughbridge Community College ( Graduated with a diploma in Interior Design in 1982

Occupation:

Sales Clerk at McKeen's Market - 1978-1979 ( summers only )

Shoe / Sales Attendant / Pin Setter at Sanderson Lanes & Rink - 1979 - April 1980 ( winter / spring )

Seal N' Save Sales Rep - 1982 - current

Waitress / Hostess at The Aegean Cafe - 1980 - 1983

Receptionist at Spina Construction - 1982 - current

Significant Other: Adonis 'Eddie' Spina

Likes:

The Color Red

Blondie / Kim Carnes / The Pretenders / Carole King / Juice Newton

Chantilly perfume ( later a gift of Dioressence from Eddie changes her world )

Her two door LeBaron in her signature color, Safari Red it came from Canter's Chrysler over Frost River.

Dislikes:

The fact that Eddie just has to be married let alone to a woman like Colleen. If it were any other woman it wouldn't bother but with her it does. Colleen has to be the sweetest woman Chrissy's ever met. Which is why she apologized and was more than surprised when Colleen said she didn't blame her, she blamed Eddie entirely because it's what he did to her, too. *What she doesn't know is that Col & Eddie aren't actually legally married. Col's the one that controls the business but not Eddie's personal small spending account.*

The fact that she's just now finding out just how many wives Eddie Spina...or rather Adonis Spartakos, actually has.

[somediyprojects]

DIY Log Slice Display Dome

Project by Kate:

i just want to say that i envy all of you out there with a working fireplace. i have very fond memories of sitting around a crackling fire in maine, and watching my dad place freshly chopped firewood in a huge pile outside. that being said (anyone else watch curb your enthusiasm?), i am glad i can bring wood projects into my home on a smaller scale while i enjoy the mild california winter. the month of december will feature wood projects for decorating and gift giving, and they are all fairly easy projects requiring few tools. this first project is very special to me because i have always loved miniatures, and now i have a nice homemade display jar for all of my little treasures. these would make a charming hostess gift, or great holiday table decor; i can see a cluster of them with fresh pinecones and sprigs of winter greens tucked inside. all you need is a saw, and you could even skip the wood-burned indentation ring if you were in a hurry, but i think it adds a nice touch. plus that way i get the brief nostalgic experience of smelling burning wood! have fun! – kate

materials:

1. wooden log (if you want to skip the sawing wood step, you can buy wood coasters at various places. i found these simple ones online)

2. saw (chop saw or a regular tooth saw and mitre box)

3. pencil

4. stemless wine glass, drinking glass, or a clean glass jar (this is depending on what shape you want your jar to be. i found stemless wine glasses had a nice domed shape, but a jar would also look nice. if you want to size these up, i recommend using mason or other food container jars or simple glass vases as cheap options)

5. wood burning tool (these are sold at craft and hobby stores, and range in price from $12 up to $30 or so. you need one with a medium rounded tip, or you can purchase the tip separately)

cost:

stemless wine glasses: $3 for two at crate and barrel wood logs: free (cut from logs in my backyard) wood burning tool: $15

time: 

2 hours

instructions:

1. cut your log slice. it can be anywhere from 1″ – 3″ thick, but make sure both sides are flat so it sits level.

2. flip your glass over and center it in your log slice. trace around the rim with a pencil to leave a ring template on your log.

3. turn on your burning tool and let it heat up. working very slowly and carefully, burn the ring into the wood so it is is indented by about 1/8 to 1/4 of an inch. when you are tracing the ring with the burner, work on the inside of the line because the line you traces sits directly outside the actual rim, and you want the rim to fit into the groove you are burning. stop every few minutes to place the glass in the ring to see if your shape is right. i recommend not trying to draw the entire ring at once with the burner, but instead burn tiny dots one right next to each other and then run over them again and again to connect them into a continuous shape.

4. switch off your burning tool and let it cool down. brush off the top of your wood and place you glass upside down. the rim of the glass should fit into the burned ring, preventing the glass form slipping around.

note: you do not need the indentation ring, but it does help keep the glass positioned and the burned wood pattern is actually quite lovely. but the glass can also simply sit atop the log if the log is level.

[thiswasinevitableid]

#2 nsfw with either indruck or sternclay? I’m just a sucker for arranged marriage

Here you go! I played with the prompt a bit but I think it worked well. 2: Our marriage was arranged and you’ve been away since the wedding but now it’s winter and you’re home and we have to figure out how to actually get along

Snow greets Joseph as he departs the train, rendering Kepler a grey and white photograph instead of its usual, vibrant display.  Mt. Zeverat is no more than an idea, enrobed in more white than a society bride. The ice-slick stones and his still-weakened leg force him to take the path home at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time he reaches the post office, his coat has gone from black to white and he’s feeling his choice to pass on coffee while on the train. 

He’s practicing being less in a hurry, and so he sits down in the Snowmelt Cafe and orders coffee with cream. The hostess, a mountain satyr he hasn’t seen before, looks startled by the stack of mail he sets on the table.

“I know, I didn’t think I’d been gone that long either.” He smiles, sorting the envelopes into piles and finding enough of them are missives from “fellow cryptozoologists” who think he’ll fall for all kinds of hoaxes that he asks the hostess for a trash can. 

Letters in a shaky hand catch his eye; Roger DeBoise, head of the Zeverat expedition, writing to him with chilly fingers that they had returned to Joseph’s home and were staying there as they’d agreed. 

The letter was from two months ago. Why the hell hadn’t they asked about forwarding their letters when it became clear he wasn’t coming home to meet them and debrief?

He shoves the remaining mail into his travel suitcase, lays his money on the table, and moves quickly–not as quickly as he’d like, but still–onto the street. A length of black flutters down and he’s instantly grateful for the snow; without the contrast, he might have missed it. 

He’d been devastated to miss the Zeverat trip, doubly so that it was his own damn mistake that made that the case. A week after the expedition left, he got a letter from a concerned gardener just over the border who had, “an injured mothman” on his hands and no idea how to care for him. He’d heard Joseph knew about cryptids and could he help?

Joseph was on the train that night.

The mothman, Indrid, recovered from a cold-induced torpor thanks to Joseph’s notes and a series of telegrams to the mothperson, Ulysses, who had been Joseph’s source of them. While convalescing under the watchful and increasingly fond eye of Duck, whose backyard he had collapsed into, Indrid was more than happy to chat with Joseph. The feather had been a token of friendship, Indrid teasing that he had better see it in a place of honor in Joseph’s collection when he visited Kepler. 

As his home rises into view, Joseph tucks the feather safely back into his inner pocket. He already knows where to place it; his study has a special shelf for cryptid artifacts that were gifts from friends or acquaintances on his expeditions. Those items are flanked by rows and rows of his journals, the whole shelf framed by the photos he’s been able to take (or pay someone else to). 

He knows some cryptozoologists pride themselves on pieces they snuck across borders and past watchful eyes, or swiped from the rightful owners. If it’s not bought fairly or given freely, Joseph doesn’t want it in his house

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay huddles on the cramped canopy bed, the commotion through the door telling him that the day he’s feared is upon him. Joseph Stern, the real one, is home. 

When the expedition arrived in his village, Barclay was wary but intrigued; human visitors are a rare sight in Yeti territory. It’s even rarer for one to propose a marriage between himself and one of the Yeti as a gesture of goodwill. 

After two days of debate, the heads of his village asked if he would be interested. The marriage would primarily be political, and Barclay had spoken about wanting to travel and train in human kitchens. It was also painfully romantic, to him anyway, to be swept away by someone adventurous who could take him around the world. He agreed, and married the head of the expedition: Joseph Stern. 

It was all a lie.

The instant they arrived in Kepler he was locked into a spare bedroom and told to get comfortable. When, panicked, he asked Joseph what was going on, he was told that the man’s real name was Roger DuBoise. He’d forged his bosses signature and married Barclay for the sole purpose of bringing him back as a specimen. 

For two months, his world has been this room. His one attempt at escape led to a warning shot at his head and a week shackled to his bedpost. He’s cried, he’s howled, he’s bargained, he’s done everything he can think of and nothing changes, so when the knob turns he decides there’s nothing for it but to face what’s coming. 

Duboise is talking as the door opens, but the man beside him instantly takes all of Barclay’s attention. He’s tall for a human, with combed-back black hair and eyes the same, sharp blue as a clear, winter sky. His right hand rests on a silver-topped cane, while his left covers his mouth in shock. 

“Not a bad trophy, eh Stern?”

Barclay shrinks at the words but refuses to look away.

Stern drops his hand and says calmly, “In the hall. Now. No, no not you.” he holds up a hand to stop Barclay from coming closer, “You, Roger.”

The door closes and Barclay strides as quietly as he can to rest his ear against it. 

“...in the hell were you thinking?”

“Your instructions were to bring back things from the expedition-”

“That is not a thing, that is a prisoner you’ve apparently been keeping in my house without my knowledge or permission and who you brought down here as your husband.”

A third voice chimes in, “Technically he’s your husband. That’s what the signature on the documents says.”

Stern’s voice loses any trace of warmth, “Let me guess; you were hoping I’d take him on some sort of tour as a sideshow attraction, and use the legal standing to get him across borders without issue and take whatever money he made as my own.”

“Our own. For god’s sake, be sensible, most people outside this part of the world don’t even believe the Yetis exist, we’ll be famous, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“If that’s what you’ve taken away from my financing your expeditions, then our partnership is over. As is your stay in my house.” Stern raises his voice, “get out. All of you.”

“But we have-” 

“Fifteen minutes to collect your things and go  before I call the cops. I’ll have porters pack up and ship anything you can’t get in your bags to you within the week.”

Arguing voices grow further and further away. When fifteen minutes are up and there’s no sign of anyone coming to his door, Barclay retreats to the bed to wait. 

The noise in the house goes from clamoring under the door to a single voice pacing near the front door. Joseph doesn’t sound angry. All the same Barclay’s fingers itch to pull the curtains on the bed and hide for a while. And when there’s a gentle rap at the door, he jumps. 

“Come in?”

Joseph steps inside, leaves the door open as he slides one hand into his pocket, “I’m so sorry about this. I know you have zero reason to trust me, but I swear they didn’t bring you here under my orders. I already called the courthouse and they'll annul the shame marriage tomorrow."

“So…I can go home?”

The human sighs, tapping one finger on the head of his cane, “I called the outpost. The pass closed two days ago. And unless I’m misunderstanding, even Yetis can’t get through that terrain in that condition.”

Barclay shakes his head, feeling like all his fears are piling up on him like snow on a roof.

“You’re welcome to stay here until spring, as my guest. I have lots of space, and the house is designed to accommodate all kinds of cryptids. But, um, if you’d rather put all this behind you, I can find you somewhere in town to wait out the winter. I know Amnesty Lodge still has beds.”

It’s the embarrassment running beneath his proud, calm exterior that makes Barclay say, “I’ll stay here.”

A dazzling smile renders the human painfully handsome, and he holds out his hand, “I’m Joseph.”

“Barclay.”

“Well, Barclay, unless you’re attached to this room-”

“I’d like to be literally anywhere else.”

Joseph’s smile quirks with sympathy, “I thought that might be the case. Follow me.”

The floor creaks as the human leads him to a new bedroom with warm yellow and blue wallpaper and a bed that will actually hold him at the center. Better still is the large, rectangular bathtub in the washroom. 

“Oh thank fuck. I’ve been contorting myself trying to squeeze into that horrible, tiny shower.”

The human shakes his head, “If they’d paid any attention to our conversations they’d have known this was the right room for you.” He glances at Barclay, eyes narrowing, “did you have luggage?”

“Yeah. They left me with, like, a few clothes and took the rest. For your collection.”

“Oh for–right, one sec, go ahead and make yourself comfortable and I’ll figure out where they put it.”

Barclay strips off his wrap and shirt, dipping his hand into the steaming water as it fills the tub. As he’s shutting the tap, Joseph returns. 

“I found two bags, is that-oh, um” he quickly turns his back, blushing so brightly Barclay hazards a tease. 

“I forget humans don’t all chill naked in hot springs together.”

“No, although some of us aren’t opposed to the concept.”

He sinks into the water with a sigh, “did they take any of my stuff?”

“It doesn’t look like it, but you’ll have to double check.” Joseph turns, and Barclay suspects it’s taking some effort to keep his eyes from dropping down for a peek, “I can get some towels, is there anything else you need?”

Barclay shifts in the water, “Do you have dried snow yuzu slices? We always put those in the springs.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“You, uh, if you don’t it’s totally okay. I don’t want to be a pain.

Joseph turns from the doorway, “You aren’t. Besides, I have to take care of my husband.” He winks and is gone. 

It’s a joke, but the thrill that goes up his spine sure as fuck isn’t. He reminds himself that Roger was charming too, that he’s not exactly doing great on the not-being-tricked-by-humans front, but Joseph seems so…sincere. Like under the charm is hiding something sweet instead of sinister. 

He’s been soaking long enough to actually relax when Joseph returns with a small box. 

“I couldn’t find any dried yuzu but” he holds up a teabag, “this is yuzu blossom and lemongrass. Will that work?”

“Worth a try.”

Joseph sets the box on the edge of the tub and Barclay drops three bags into the water. As a familiar, comforting scent fills the steam, his host moves in and out of the room, setting towels and soap in place and eventually depositing his bags near the corner of the bed. He’s straightening the mirror, a task that forces him onto his toes, when he hisses “shit” and braces on the sink, rubbing his leg.

“What happened to it? Uh, if that’s not a sore spot.”

“I wanted to see if a nest in my oak was a pygmy Roc, since they lay eggs in the fall. My guess was right, but I learned that when the mother Roc divebombed me and knocked me out of the tree. I broke my leg, which was why I wasn’t with my expedition. Not my worst injury but still.”

“Guessing you were still pretty fucking happy to see a Roc so close.” 

For a second he worries the teasing annoyed Joseph, but then the star-bright smile returns, “You got me, big guy. Up close the patterns on their feathers are stunning, and a few came out in the attack for me to keep in my collection.” He pushes away from the sink, “I’ll leave you to your bath. If you need anything, I’m just downstairs. 

Barclay soaks until the water goes cold, brushes his fur and oils his claws before putting on an outfit he hasn’t worn in months. He ventures downstairs at the request of his stomach and finds Joseph in the kitchen, frowning at an empty cabinet. 

“Would it have killed them to go grocery shopping?”

“Think they did. But they also had a few parties. At least that’s what it sounded like?”

“Please tell me they fed you enough.”

“Only just. And they only did that much because they probably thought I’d eat them if they didn’t.”

“At this point you’d have been justified.” Joseph shuts the wooden doors, “will you let me take you to dinner? I can deal with the kitchen in the morning and I imagine you’d like to get out of the house.”

“So fucking bad.”

“I’ll get my coat.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Had it not violated his personal ethics and multiple laws, Joseph might applaud Roger’s decision to bring Barclay down to Kepler. The Yeti is fantastic company and, in the two weeks Joseph’s been home, has gone from a white shadow slipping around corners to sticking close to Joseph as he moves through his day. Joseph counts this as his proudest accomplishment to date. 

Having a seven foot tall, monstrously strong Yeti around the house is also a godsend when you’re healing from a broken leg. Barclay helps with the chores and runs the bulk of the errands. This arose from Barclay’s (correct) assumption that if Joseph injured himself again, the authorities might decide that the cryptid who’d been dragged into his house–and not Joseph’s occasional carelessness and frequent stubbornness–was to blame.

They’re spending this snowy afternoon in front of the fire, Joseph reading in his chair as Barclay reclines against the coffee table and mends a shirt that was torn when Joseph’s ex-partners rifled through his things. 

“Want me to see if I can fix the elbow on that robe?” Barclay folds the shirt and sets it neatly on the table. 

“Yes, thank you. I keep meaning to stitch it up but there’s always something more urgent that needs attention.” He slips the blue fabric from his shoulders and passes it to the Yeti, who uses a claw to pick through the sewing kit in search of new thread. Joseph wonders if he should change out of his simple, black shirts and the soft, grey pants he wears around the house, then decides he doesn’t mind Barclay seeing him like this at all. 

“I was going to take the train down to the valley next Monday. Do you want to come?”

Barclay looks up, “Seriously? It won’t, like, mess up your plans?”

“Not at all.” Joseph doesn’t add that the idea came to him after Barclay mentioned his desire to travel beyond Kepler.

“I’d love to.”

Joseph makes a note in his pocket calendar to buy tickets. The doorbell sounds and he goes to answer it, grinning when the delivery men show him the large, wooden box. 

He’s just closing the front door when Barclay joins him in the foyer, running a claw over the box. 

“You can open it, big guy. It’s for you.”

“Holy fuck, really?” Barclay wrenches open the crate, revealing the Yeti-sized chair and ottoman inside, “oh, oh Joseph this is amazing.”

“I found a woodworker in town who does both human and Yeti styles. I really had no idea how small all my living room furniture was-” he forgets the rest of his explanation as Barclay envelopes him in a hug. Their respective heights mean Joseph’s face is pressed to the white, faintly citrus-scented fur of his chest, and as he returns the hug he wonders if he can frame the sudden, overwhelming desire to see what sleeping atop Barclay feels like as anything even remotely scientific. 

“It looks just like the ones my moms had in our house.” A soft rumble enters Barclay’s voice (it never occurred to him that Yetis purr) “thank you so much, Joseph. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. It’s your house too, Barclay. I want you to be happy here”

The cryptid nuzzles his hair and murmurs, “I am.

—------------------------------------------

The snow is upon them, and as Barclay dresses for the day he knows he won’t see blue sky for some time. So he’ll content himself with stealing looks into blue eyes until spring. At which point he’ll….

He’s not really sure. The month he’s been with Joseph has shown him all his naive, romantic hopes for marriage aren’t so foolish after all. There’s someone he could see the world with, who he could live happily beside forever, who makes him feel like the most magnificent, interesting being in history. He’s just not sure if that someone feels the same about him. 

When he first arrived Joseph was kind and polite, the way one should be to a guest who’s spent the last two months scared out of his mind. But the longer they’re together, the more some new, tender feeling flits between them, twittering at Barclay to just admit what he wants.

A crash draws his attention, and he rushes to the library to find Joseph leaning against a bookshelf, hand on his injured leg and non-fiction strewn at his feet. 

“I’m okay, just overbalanced carrying all these and discovered I still can’t put much weight on my leg.” He inhales sharply, “and now the damn thing is locked up and spasming. Would you mind helping me to bed?”

Barclay offers his hand. When Joseph takes it, he gingerly scoops the human into his arms, taking care not to aggravate the injury. 

Joseph laughs in surprised delight and rests a hand on Barclay’s cheek, “Excellent service, big guy.”

Once Joseph is resting on his meticulously made bed, he begins massaging the sore spot before muttering, “It’s like trying to rub a brick.”

“I got an idea.” Barclay kneels by the bed, sets his claws against the muscles of Joseph’s calf and thigh, “if they start biting into the skin tell me.”

The human nods, then gasps as Barclay steadily circles his claws, coaxing the muscle to relax. He’s never touched him like this, where the smallness of him, the way he’s all smooth elegance wrapped around an ultimately fragile body that Barclay could snap in two, is so clear. 

He could, but he doesn’t want to. He wants him like this, warm and safe in a bed where Barclay can look after him until the sun returns and then walk with him in the world as it wakes up. 

A soft, grateful groan, “I think that got it. Thank you.”

“Any time.” Barclay means to stand, but Joseph has turned his head and is looking at him so clearly it makes him question whether anyone has ever really looked at him before.

He rests his shaking arms on the bed, leans forward, and kisses the human hesitantly on the lips. Before he can retreat, Joseph’s fingers catch his chin and hold his face steady as he a line across one cheek and then the other before landing an urgent one on his mouth. 

“Join me?”

Barclay scrambles onto the bed as Joseph sits up and then he’s kissing him over and over again, holding him close and running his claws through black hair until it’s messier than he’s ever seen it. 

“Excited, big guy?” Joseph pants up at him with a kiss-slicked smile and he understands the purrs and growls filling the bedroom all come from him. 

“Not my fault I’ve got a gorgeous human trying to get in my lap.”

Joseph blushes, traces his finger from one of Barclay’s shoulders to the other, “Tell me what you want.”

“I, uh, I…” his skin burns, “I’m not sure. I haven’t done this before.”

“I figured, given how few humans make it up the mountain.”

“I mean with anyone.” Joseph looks so surprised that he adds, “it’s a big deal! I, I just, I wanted to do it with someone…special.”

It’s so childish he’s expecting Joseph to laugh at him, not cup his face and say, “Then we’ll make it special.”

He growls hopefully, claws tiptoeing up Joseph’s thighs. 

“How would you like it to go?”

“Uh, there’s this thing that a lot of Yetis do their first time with someone. You get somewhere really dark, the idea is your eyes take a backseat while your other senses take in your partner.”

He can tell Joseph has questions, but his human simply asks, “Then how about you get the curtains on the windows while I get the ones on the bed?”

Barclay shuts out the light, then takes the chance to remove and fold his clothes. When he parts the bed curtains, the sight of Joseph having made the same decision makes him growl long and low. 

“You know, records from explorers really underplayed how charming Yeti growls can be.” 

“Think you might be the exception there, blue eyes.” Barclay scoots to the center of the bed on his knees, and Joseph sits up to mirror him. He dips his head and nuzzles the human's neck as curious hands rove across his back and sides. 

“It’s funny, I know you’re bigger than me, but this does make it seem so much more obvious.” A flash of smile in the dark, “I can see why this technique got popular.”

“Mmmhmm.” Barclay noses his way down to lick inquisitively at Joseph’s nipples. 

“Not much feeling there.” Joseph guides his head back up for a kiss, “but I’m sure we can find lots of uses for your tongue.”

For a time, the best use turns out to be slipping it between Joseph’s lips while his fingers discover every inch of his human and his human tugs and pets his fur until he whines with joy. It’s only when Joseph is in his lap that he pulls back to speak. 

“Christ, that is not what I expected.” Joseph is looking down at where Barclay’s dick bumps his inner thigh. Courtesy of some of Joseph’s library, Barclay knows his dick is a little shorter and much thicker than the average human’s. 

“Wanna see how it measures up?”

“Absolutely. Here, lay on your back.” Joseph nudges him backwards. 

“You sure you’re ready take it?”

Joseph takes Barclay’s left hand and guides it between his legs, “You tell me.”

“Fuck” he purrs as he runs a finger over the slick skin, “that’s pretty fucking flattering.”

He lays back with his hands behind his head as Joseph straddles him, then quickly corrects to make sure the human doesn’t put too much weight on his leg. Warmth surrounds his dick as Joseph moans and sinks down. When Barclay bottoms out they both groan and Joseph actually laughs. 

“That good?”

“Incredible, big guy.” He experimentally rolls his hips, making Barclay squeak, “ohmygod, I’m canceling all my winter plans so we can, can do this every day.”

“Awww, you’d clear your schedule for me?” Barclay bucks his hips, growling when Joseph yelps adorably. 

Joseph lifts Barclay’s hand from his hip and kisses the palm, “I’d do a lot of things for you. However” he nips Barclay’s thumb, “one thing you won’t be doing is cumming in me. There’s, ohgod, not enough information on whether it would produce anything for me to risk it.”

Barclay can’t stop the pleading, horny growl that slips from his mouth. 

“I see” Joseph rocks his hips more firmly, setting off fireworks in Barclay’s brain, “do you like the idea that it could? That you, fuck, you could breed me like a good mate?”

“Uh huh, so bad, wanna be your mate so bad.

The human bends down, kissing his forehead, “You are. Or do you mean” he grinds hard and slow against him, “you wish I’d been on the expedition and instead of coming down here you, you’d kept me up there. Had me all to yourself and kept me warm all winter by trying day after day to see if you could breed me successfully?” He sits up, doing his best to bounce and Barclay’s cock while rubbing his own, “I’ve been told I look good tied up, and we both know you’d have to do that to keep me from going off to do some research.”

“I’d just fucking tie you to the bed so I could fuck you whenever I wanted to and, and I’d be so good, treat you so well, my perfect human-”

“Shit” Joseph hunches forward shaking, then smiles, “well, make, making me cum like that sure as hell makes you a good mate. I wonder how good you’ll be if I blow you?”

Barclay barely manages to pull Joseph off him before cumming with a howlgrowlpurr up the human’s stomach and chest. His limbs go limper than overcooked noodles, but luckily Joseph has already rolled off onto the bed, resting his head on Barclays bicep and petting his chest. When his muscles finally listen to him, Barclay turns his head and kisses the human softly. 

“Hey, Joseph? If I wanted to stay past the winter, could I?”

His human intertwines their fingers, “Nothing would make me happier.”

[circledotdesigns]

Christmas tree wine gift bag | Secret santa drawstring gift bag for wine bottle, winter Host/Hostess gift, Holiday pot luck, Christmas gift by CircleDot

http://dlvr.it/T4bmnB

[lauragirl53]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SNOWMEN WINTER WIMSY DEB HRABIK FOR DEMDACO 2004 4 PLATES RED BACKGROUND.

[msbarrows]

Dec 23 - decided to take a break from scanning photos. Played some NMS (to finish the Cartographer's Expedition), ran kegs at the winter fest in LotRO, and briefly played TS4.

Nephew and I collaborated on supper; I made a meatloaf while he did mashed potatoes and steamed mixed veg to go with it.

Dec 24 - finally did the snack shopping this morning that I've been procrastinating on all week. And then, of course, realized in mid-afternoon that I forgot to grab something as a host & hostess gift for when we go over to my brother & SIL's for Christmas dinner tomorrow, whoops. Popped out a second time in order to grab a gift card, Christmas card, and some chocolates for them.

Got through a few envelopes worth of photos for scanning today; some hundred-odd photos done. Also more NMS and LotRO; the keg running for Yule fest is something I can do in bits between scans.

For supper the nephew made a giant bowl of salad with chicken strips, grated Parmesan, and pecans for protein.

[usalivemovienews]

Ina Garten Just Shared the Most Delicious Salted Caramel Nuts Recipe – SheKnows You’ll be snacking on Ina Gar... https://dev-usalivenews.pantheonsite.io/ina-garten-just-shared-the-most-delicious-salted-caramel-nuts-recipe-sheknows/?feed_id=28886&_unique_id=6581180c3bcc3 #movie film movies

[the-blackorchid1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: BLACK SPARKLY SEQUIN & LACE TOP BLOUSE sz 14 goth Christmas holiday cocktail NEW.