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rarephloxes · 1 year

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A Feeling So Peculiar

Elain Appreciation Week, day 7 - Free Day

Hi friends! Long time no see:))))

I've been extra busy with life and med school, but this fic has been brewing for some time now, and what better moment than @elainarcheronweek to share it? This is part 1 of what I endearingly call the Healer!Elain story. It's officially my first fic with a Taylor lyric as a title and I'm very proud!!!

Anyway, here is this fucking thing <3

(1)

A ghost slides through the flaps of a tent into its cold, vacant interior.

The space is cramped, a rough bed of furs, a small table filled with piles of heavy tomes, ink-splattered journals, and clothing. The heavy smell of mold, grass, and candle wax permeates the air, almost tangible like dust through a shaft of yellow light.

There’s a slight tremble to the hands which reach for the half-burned candles sitting sadly on the far end of the table, lighting them with slow, feeble movements, the only survivors of a dreadful day.

Hands that are not blue and translucent, but pale and corporeal, numbed from the cold but filled with blood.

The ghost doesn’t contemplate any of it, set in her chore. There are things to be done, still. It is night and she’s gone inside. Yet it repeats, a loop inside her mind, there are things to be done.

A swoosh of breath sparks a coal-smudged piece of timber which quickly develops into a sickly fire. It barely warms the minute space. It’s necessary, nevertheless. Like her, it does its job.

Tent.

Light.

Wash.

Lay.

A book with its spine cracked allows a weary mirror to lean on it, a lonely figure moving through it. The specter in the mirror finds a copper bowl, frigid water inside, a ring of humidity staining the book cover used as its resting place. A smudge of soft pink and crimson reflects on the rust-speckled surface. A braid of what used to be bright brown hair lays limp on a tired, curved spine, brown eyes with deep purple half-moons underneath - the only hint of color on once flushed features.

Her face remains impassive as her hands dip a cloth beneath the icy surface tinting the water brown.

The amount is insufficient to wash away the grime and blood of the day, but Elain will not leave her tolerably cold tent for more, so she makes do.

Alone she lingers in her chair, the only creature inside, water dripping from her hands and drawing patterns in the dirt powdering her arms.

An image intrudes her mind, for a few seconds. Warm tan hands bringing a deep bucket of water they would heat themselves with a careful touch. She thinks of the thankful smile she’d give for it. She wonders, the thought whispered like a swish of butterfly wings, of what his face would say as he cares for her. Maybe his scar would reflect firelight just so, and she would forget where she is and allow herself to blush. She welcomes it, for the minute it sparks until the next when it fizzles.

As predicted, the water is only enough for her arms and face. Once, the disgust alone would be a reason to risk outside, maybe dare the nearby stream, or else sleep would escape her stench, running away with a hand plugging its nose.

Elain plops down on her pallet, fur covers warming her body, her tight muscles consoled by the rough structure beneath. It is in no way comfortable, only it’s reliable and quiet. One of the best tents in their camp, the one privilege the High Lady’s sister has, if only because it is the only one to be had.

Most importantly, it doesn’t die or spray contaminated blood into her face. It does its job as it is, with all its faults. It stays still through the night and belongs to her.

There’s sleep to be had. Poor, fitful sleep. But it does its job as it is.

Tomorrow, she knows, she’ll immerse herself in the unforgiving cold from the stream, and a faerie will emerge, dress, and present herself to her duties at the main healer’s tent.

There’s always work to be done.

(2)

The first time Elain sees a healer, there’s a woman screaming. Loud, painful bellows that have harried maids coming in and out of heavy wooden doors with buckets of steaming water, clean and in turn, bloody towels. Nesta holds her shoulders, small fingers digging absently into Elain’s clavicles through her pink cotton nightgown. Barely a year older than Elain, yet she sees such wisdom in her eldest sister’s eyes, as if Nesta knows all the secrets of the universe at the soft age of 7. There’s no place in Archeron Hall Nesta could go where Elain wouldn’t follow. They’re supposed to be asleep, but there are no dreams to be had during a storm like the one that has been pouring down, soaking the garden soil into swimming pools for frogs and threatening to bring down even the wisest and sturdiest of oak trees.

Soon, there will be a deafening quiet, quickly followed by a babe’s booming cries. Elain thinks it just like the noise that sounds right before one of her father’s ships is about to leave the shore, taking fairy dust and bright-colored jewels to the continent, where they will be sold to queens and wizards. She knows it because Nesta is always explaining the world around them to her.

It’s Feyre, born in the bleak hours of the night, lighting tearing down the sky like a claw through silk.

Their governess catches them, huddled by an alcove, spying on the birth of the smallest of them as if they are as inconspicuous as flies on a wall.

“Come,” she demands, a small smile on the tough line of her lips, “Your sister awaits you.”

It’s the only time a healer was the bringer of fortune and good news.

(3)

Madja had her fingers pressed around Elain’s wrist.

The ancient healer’s brown eyes were focused on the time counter ticking on the wall, steady knobby knuckles cradling Elain’s palm.

If Elain had feeling in any part of her body, if even a single inch of soft, hollow skin wasn’t as numb as a reflective glacier tip, she would have been able to feel her own heartbeat fighting against the High Lord’s favored healer’s fingertips. Her wooden eyes, however, remain filmy, like coffee sat still cooling outside for too long.

The bedding should have been the downiest she ever felt, the warm hug of a thousand sheep who only survive in the mountain range closest to Dawn Court. Called Woolen Peaks, because during spring one would be hard-pressed to find a stretch of land free of the bleating creatures, also known for secreting iridescent mucus from their blue snouts. A sea of endless white.

Elain should’ve loved to have known that, should’ve giggled, and maybe even requested to see such charming animals.

Once, she might have.

There were no sounds in the bed chamber but those of instruments being enclosed in a lovingly used leather bag, which promptly vanished into the fold between worlds for later use.

“I believe tea is in order” Madja said in the rough monotone of age, voice traveling through the air, her gaze watchful like a wise tree, leading Nesta and Feyre to exit the sunlit room.

Elain was profoundly grateful for the silence, the stillness of her mind, her whole being stripped down to understanding the heat around her, registering the passage of time solely through decoding the illumination, no previous knowledge guiding her thoughts, images of old folded into drawers, only an amalgam of threads in her mind, the fear to pull at any of them curbed, until any will was pressed so flat it vanished into particles. The effort, like stopping water with a barrage of hands, to tune out rhythmic drumming in her ears.

There were the dreams, of course. Sad. Unavoidable. Drenched in foreign sentiments that left her dizzy and breathless, trembling through the aftershocks of a rumbling earth no one else seemed to notice. Those came and scrambled her meticulous system of calmness. Elain, in her excruciating bouts of clarity, hated them with a strength her strange body found unfamiliar, hated how they made Nesta look as though she was watching a duckling swim into a waterfall through a looking glass. How they made Feyre’s face contort into hopelessness.

Hated how they made her see.

Those are not mine; she’d plead silently on particularly violent nights; I would know, I once would have known.

Elain closed her eyes and searched for the wall of dark swirling steel delimitating her mind. The ivy branches were nearly covering every inch of cold metal now, blooming in sleepiness. Her closed lids allowed the sun breaching the skin to paint her vision a newly comforting shade of red.

Red had always been Nesta’s color. Nesta’s dresses, Nesta’s fire, Nesta’s anger. Or the insubstantial maroon of the fire in her family’s frozen cottage, the violent crimson of the carcasses Feyre brought home. Those had never awakened thoughts of safety before. Protection, maybe, like a cage made of thorns and spikes. But never the safety of a hearth, of burgundy crackling fire.

Now, when her thoughts gently explored the unknown paths in her mind, red would forge itself into crisp Autumn leaves. Bergamots and warm skin

Elain buried herself deeper into the covers.

She left before contemplating any of it.

⠀

(4)

There is a house on a land that is surrounded by ivy-covered iron walls.

A wrap-around porch cracked open by vicious thorns that sprout from the ground, the rotten wood gouged open, foliage like teardrops on every crack, splinters shimmering on air, spores in the wind.

A felled roof, with a mighty willow trunk through it - a stab wound on a soft, white underbelly - warms the rain inside in a mother’s embrace, a shroud of dark green moss slipping from the gable into the stillness inside

The front door is open, a beckoning hand of wispy white smoke so thin one wouldn’t be sure whether it is only a trick of the pressing nebulous light.

If a breeze like the grey finger of an ancient hand were to curl around it and move the hinges in a half-moon motion, a woman would be seen on the inside.

She is tucked upon herself, sleeping on disintegrating wool and dye, the remnants of a beautiful rug. The slope of her waist breathes up and down like the rolling of a hill.

The room around her is filled to the brim, clocks covering an entire wall, some pointers spinning madly onto themselves, some turning with the patience of a grandfather reading a book to his lineage.

Rain, it reads on the chipped blue label of a numberless clock, a hand circling in a rhythmic tick, a mass of angry black clouds where midnight should be, the drawings changing around the wheel from April showers to jolly drizzle.

There are rusty gardening tools beneath a boarded-up window and opened sacks of humus bleed into the abandoned floors. Unnervingly arranged dead seeds form a stream towards the shadow beneath a hand-painted chest of drawers.

An open portmanteau rests on the wall framed by rays of moribund light squeezing through rickety walls; lavish ragged dresses and dusty stuffed bunnies swimming within; pink baby shoes and over-washed underskirts having a tea party at the bottom.

Lined-up novels on bookshelves lay on top of each other in the comfort of touch, interspaced with torn childish letters in alphabetic order. A tiny cloak made of velvet hangs on a chair as if a visitor dropped by for tea.

A precarious chandelier hovers watchfully over the lonely sleeping woman, unsafe chain links repaired with strong white threads that spread unevenly on the whole ceiling.

Guarded by an unnatural radius of clean floor, a white gown lies.

Sewn to perfection, beaded with gleaming pearls and the most delicate of laces. Impeccable seams, regal lines.

A dress made mindful of love, of promise. A dress fit for a future princess.

A rumble of thunder shakes the house as the pointer in the blue clock approaches woeful clouds.

Next to it, a black clock with eight bent lines shooting from the sides of its mechanism box moves from sleepy lids to the daunting indication of bug wide eyes in a resounding clang.

Come see, flurry black bodies with milky white eyes descend on long lines of silk hanging from the ceiling. Siblings, mothers, and children crawl over the mold, spidery legs fortifying supporting beams, the walls, covering memories in a shield of white.

Come see come see come see come see

I do not wish to open my eyes; she mumbles.

I do not wish; she rolls to her side; her nightgown catching in the shards beneath.

I do not want; she covers her face with a feeble palm.

I do not feel; she insists.

You must, the wind howls, rattles her clothes, scrapes down her skin. Your house is dying.

The hearth coughs soot, black and filthy like a diseased lung.

I do not see; she screams, eyes sewn shut, tears fighting to slip through the sutures, cracked fingernails pulling at the roots of her hair, weeds from soil. I am no longer this body.

The unstoppable hand of time reaches midnight.

Storm water slides down the walls in a furious current, washing away the grime and dislodging all the clocks. Those crack and splash onto the rising puddles on the floor with various clangs, cuckoos flailing madly in their springs before falling into final silence.

The bookshelf cracks under a stretch of ceiling that collapses, books losing themselves from each other, weeping in their solitude as they drown in now waist-deep water, loose papers with family drawings (Mum, Dad, Nesta, Me, and Feyre) soften and rip, the colors bleeding and blending into undistinguished blobs of ink.

Seeds of all shapes twirl wildly in whirlpools, and a window box of dead flowers floats aimlessly in the chaos. In the aquatic graveyard beneath them lays a dress of snow, pulled until it is trapped below the floorboards; a bunny covers itself in an old velvet cloak, lingering tragically hopeful underneath the hand-painted dresser.

Cobwebs are unwoven by each violent raindrop, supporting beams breaking like bones.

The woman stands limply in the midst of it all, eyes unseeing, unaware of the fatal torrent around her.

There is a cause to her silence, just as there is a cause to a collapsed house.

I am made of fear, she mulls under the debris, quiet in the wreckage, silent in the aftermath

There’s nothing else for me but forever.

(5)

The House of Wind’s library was the biggest private collection Elain had ever seen. Rows upon rows of carefully curated stories, some ancient with cracking leather covers, tell-tale signs of use staining the spines, dented with the accumulated pressure of readers’ hands. Other books seemed new, the residual smell of press machine oil and ink lingering on the pages, spines unbroken.

Nesta had smuggled romance books from their old village’s dusty bookstore for years, kept them below a loose floorboard in their cottage, discreetly wrapping them in old, moth-eaten clothes to prevent damage. Nesta had cherished those books, had wished for them, and would come into a nasty mood when it was time to return them to the store to avoid the wrath of a deceived salesman with the law by his side.

Old habits die hard, Elain discerned, as her sister slipped a pocket-sized, pink-covered booklet into the folds of her dress. Even with permission to own the piece, Nesta still chose to take it for herself like a criminal. Never conceding, never compromising.

Elain eyes remained unmoving while she made her inspections, the unbending lids to the husk which sheltered her thoughts. She had been counting the organized shelves, internally categorizing books within her eyesight.

83 with single-worded titles, 6 – 12 letters.

102 with double-worded titles, the first being predominately articles.

329 with three words in the title, a maximum of 27 letters.

A small fold in her brow flattened into the clear glass of her forehead, all the muscles in Elain’s face relaxing as the shallowness of her research settled her bones.

Elain was perched on the window’s nook, manufactured lightness to her sentience, while Nesta was lounging straight-backed on a velvet armchair, both hawk-eyed towards their worries. Biscuits grew stale and tea turned cold in gleaming silver trays between them.

There was one volume, Elain noticed, with undisguised and not yet restrained annoyance, which clashed horribly with her elegant system of grouping books by minimalist names. There’s control in succinct titles. There’s calmness in brevity. No space for subterfuge, for mazes or threads leading to somebody else’s memories, eyes not of her own.

A raging woman made of flame, screaming screaming screaming-

One blink of cavern-like pupils.

514 publications with respectable construction.

Not that one, though.

Norton’s Concise Manual for Swift Diagnosis and Treatment of Battlefield Injuries

First, it blatantly lied. There was no brevity of title or length, the heavy-looking tome glaringly thicker than a closed fist. A deceiving book. Elain’s head moved to the side, instinctually, the skin of her neck folding into the unpracticed movement.

A deception not even attempting to remain cloaked. What a disagreeable structure.

No balance, no harmonious restraint.

11 words in the name, what indisputable distaste.

70 letters made tiny to fit into its obnoxious shelf back.

Elain wanted it gone.

(6)

The guest room was soft, like the lingering feel of worn leather.

There was light everywhere, reflecting from mirrors and vanity vials, bleaching the dark wood floors. It created the most delightful shapes under her eyelids if she gazed out the window just right.

Incandescent.

Perfectly blinding.

Elain could stay inside all day, motionless above uncreased bed linens.

Frozen in the armchair with a book resting in peace on her lap.

Unless, of course, it was night.

There was nothing uncovered beneath revealing starlight.

No cave, no shelter, only the stoic awareness of a seasick mind.

Melting snow; ethereal crestfallen swans; the breakage of a woman who would have never begged; a lake so deep it is bottomless.

Bottomless black eyes, all-seeing, swirling, a current so strong it is the hands that push you down, down into the whispering voice that loves you while killing you.

The shards of porcelain on the floor were still beautiful, if only someone mended them.

Elain grabbed each one and placed them delicately on a tray, using a finely made doily to sweep the warm tea spilled on the floor

She padded slowly down the stairs, nightgown dragging around her feet.

Broken china rested on the kitchen countertop, Nuala would take care of it, see to it with the loving touch of an artisan who was ageless and immortal.

Elain reached for the multicolored leaves inside a mason jar under the window, setting them inside the copper pan with boiling water over the stovetop.

Only her hands, if she blinked, started to wither with age, and a black box of fury appeared between them-

The coolness of the counter beneath her young, translucent fingers.

Her mind stalled for half a second, hesitating, unsure, then searched until it found it.

Anger for the unpalatable book.

Elain had something to do.

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

Libraries are known for their solitude. A place for reflection, for diving deep between words, for biting into a book and spitting out a seed-shaped thought.

Elain walked barefoot on the soft expensive carpet beneath her feet. Sangravah patterns, she noted, not quite sure of how she had known so.

The book still stood where it always had, after Navigation for Beginners (3 words, 23 letters). It was just… there. Like its existence wasn’t a disrespect to the Mother herself.

Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, clumsy and irritated hands grabbed the dark blue cover and, unprepared for its weight, let it fall with a muted thud.

The pages fell open, a warm invitation, into the carefully drawn figure of a lacerated spleen. ( when the pages fell open, her eyes couldn’t help but see)

Mindful of the spleen’s vascularization, a Concentric Mending Spell (page 278) must be placed using the middle, ring and little finger, pinpointing the magic into the gash and closing it quickly thus avoiding fatal hemorrhagic shock. The healer’s pointer finger and thumb must only locate the laceration, while the palm concentrates the spell, and the latter three fingers expel it. Previous use of whole-hand magic in repairing interior cuts has led to unwanted tissue adherence and is advised against when in treatment of internal organ damage (see Index for Whole-Hand Magic).

Elain blinked once, then twice.

Smoothness replaced the furrow in her brows and with a short tilt of her head, Elain brushed back her golden curtain of hair with an absent hand as she ran the pad of a curious finger along the lines, her knees completely pressed down on the rug.

Those instructions sounded nothing like the healing she had experienced from Madja.

The ancient fae had only felt her, placing her palms on either side of her head or using unfamiliar copper tools to measure some information she deemed important but escaped Elain’s logic. Madja had moved her hands over Elain’s body as she had once seen a Child of the Blessed do over a clear glass orb during a town square fair.

A quiet, expanding bubble of pressure grew from the pit of Elain’s belly until it lay underneath her skin, soft light shimmering behind once dulled, wooden eyes.

The intricate directives from the book were precise and sure, based on wisely curated knowledge and the pure need to guide those who could be good to others. Save them, even.

Elain held the book kindly in her hands, resting it on her arms as she skittered over to her room in fastened steps so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Under the shy rising sun of the following morning, a side lamp - a friend to a sleepless, captivated woman in a sunlit room – rested with its oil completely burnt.

(7)

The townhouse was empty when Elain woke up.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, most of the house’s occupants were busy, political figures with a multitude of urgent daily tasks.

Not that Elain was particularly aware.

She had been furtively reading every healing book she could get her hands on, and the more fascinated she became, the less she seemed to register the comings and goings of the routine around her.

She could barely help it, could she? It was an entire world she was becoming privy to. It had never occurred to her as a human to be curious about such things. In fact, she doubted anyone in the Human Lands had any notion of the delicacy and potency of Healing. The healers back home had to rely on herbs, cold or warm wet cloths, and wishful thinking to cure someone, if they were even able to achieve such a feat.

Not home anymore, she would think, instinctually, and remember the towering walls she longed to be housed within, of luxurious balls, of blue eyes so bright they were sapphires, of a simple band of iron on a delicate finger.

Elain turned to her books.

Mending charms, diagnostic spells, potions. Instruments with the most varied, peculiar purposes. Special needles could be used to draw blood, and expertly assembled lenses could reveal what lay within it. Armbands imbued with magic could indicate the strength of a patient’s blood pressure.

The body was made of such intricate systems, which worked together magnificently to perform delightful, orchestrated functions. She was mesmerized by all of it.

Elain had also taken to helping in the kitchens as well. Nesta and Feyre tended to worry and watch Elain much more closely whenever she stayed in her room too long, and it was exponentially harder to read what she wanted when they were around.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with these things, she feared they would say, the shadow of a winged male behind them. Maybe you should try reading something else, something with nicer pictures, or lighter stories to ease your mind.

Those kind words, seemingly thoughtful advice, and concern would dwindle her precious books one by one, and then she would have nothing again.

Elain hated it too, how they were always looking at her with disheartened gazes. Not only her sisters but of all the Inner Circle. They never understood anything of what she had to say, would never credit any of her thoughts. Even the fox twitched its nose and bent his head to the side with confusion - on the occasion his face wasn’t drenched in pain and longing.

But she had tried. She had told them of the changed woman with feathers set aflame. Warned them of the tempestuous owner of the onyx box, only for it to fall on seemingly deafened ears, her speech only another line added to Feyre’s forehead, another bolt of iron in Nesta’s spine, another worry for someone else had to deal with.

Only Elain could see, and for that, she remained invisible.

The dough flattened smoothly under the roller; Elain’s arms loosened into the motion. The floured surface of the worktable was crammed with little jars of sugar and jams, multipurpose cloths, and an open cookbook. She would finish her pastries, leave them resting on the windowsill then hurry upstairs. Hopefully, her sisters would see them and take much longer to search for her, allowing Elain to have the afternoon she was carefully crafting for herself.

With the soft ding of an egg-shaped time counter, Elain took out a tray of perfectly golden crusted squares and placed them on the cleared table.

There was, if she was honest, a soothing quality to baking. The gentleness of each step lulled her mind and made it easier for her to tune out external and internal frictions, focusing only on the motion of her body.

As she dried her hands in her apron, pastries gleaming with homemade poisonberry jam, Elain heard the soft padding of boots down the hallway, a slithering shadow curling around the doorframe and disappearing as quickly as it came.

With haste, she fled the kitchen and went to her room to find the singularity of calmness.

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

Dinner was a loud affair, as it always was, so Elain waited until they were all overtly satisfied and tipsy to approach her sister in the drawing room. The looming threat of war had yet to diminish the utter happiness Feyre’s return had on Rhysand and his friends.

Feyre was sprawled on the couch, the spot next to her newly vacated by a stumbling Mor, who had claimed the need for beauty sleep.

“How are you feeling today?” her sister asked, her long fingers dragging lovingly over Elain’s arm. A caress she is sure her sister would have never allowed herself to even try, if it weren’t for the drink-induced fog on her mind.

“Just fine,” Elain said, and then with the planned drop of her chin and the openness of seemingly unsure eyes, she continued “I was wondering if you could call for Madja again,”

Fey sat up in alarm, which could attract Nesta’s piercing, preoccupied gaze, so Elain hurried to add “She mentioned some sort of sleeping draught the last time, I believe I could make good use of it,”, watching the other side of the room with the corner of her eye to make sure Nesta was still in her hushed conversation with Amren.

“Oh,” Feyre visibly relaxed, and some of the tension harbored between Elain’s shoulder blades loosened. “Of course, I can send for her,” her youngest sister confirmed, and the tight fist of anxiety in Elain’s gut released its tight grip, replaced by tentative anticipation.

“I’m so glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

The calendar on the wall indicated the start of the weekend.

I believed it Monday still, Elain thought to herself.

She was sitting in the living room, having a late breakfast by the window.

An odd sight, the antonym of the barely acknowledged empty chair below early sunlight, collecting the friendly conversation around. There was no one else to notice so.

Feyre had told Elain the previous afternoon – while hurriedly moving down the hallway, rushing outside for some appointment she didn’t even consider explaining - that Madja would come to the townhouse at ten o’clock in the morning, and that she would try to join the appointment, but was unsure if she would be able to.

Nesta was, as she so often was those days, in Amren’s apartment, strengthening her magic. Elain thought she’d heard why that was but couldn’t remember.

Maybe a dream, then.

Distantly, something in Elain longed to also have that privilege. A tutor, someone to guide her in learning this well of uncharted territory inside, but that consideration was swiftly swept under a sodden rug.

A knock on the front door had Elain on her feet, shaking her head as if staving off an unseen fog.

It had been considerably hard, trying to maintain herself awake. She had reached and held so strongly to the absence of her mind that it had become nearly impossible to keep herself lucid on the rare occasions she had wanted to. There was a particularly interesting book on the history of Healing Magic, thankfully written in the common tongue – unlike a large part of the Medicinal Section in the library – that had Elain repeatedly dozing off, either proverbially or literally, in the same way, she had gladly done numerous times. Before it had been a welcoming state, the static of nothingness, but it was consuming her now in a way she hadn’t understood, glad as she had been for the reprieve from her life.

These epiphanies often came and went like waves. Sometimes she would allow the ships to go in with the high tide and return with small storytelling orbs of white light. Sometimes the boats would be swallowed whole by the tyrannical sea, drowned to the bottom until only a clear empty surface stretched on, the reflective glow of crystal spheres crushed in the sand below.

Now, she wanted something more.

There were things she wanted to know.

Madja stood on the front steps in her healer robes. The magic surrounding her was cool and soothing, the relaxing breeze on a perspired forehead. Elain wondered if the old fae is the type to enlighten a room simply by standing in it.

Elain ushered her into the already prepped sitting room, an open notebook, its pages organized in scribbles, sat on the arm of the host’s armchair.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Madja began once they were both comfortable sitting, pleasantries exchanged. “But I was called in to see the need to prescribe sleep medication.”

“I asked my sister for your presence, yes” Elain stammered. “I have questions, and was hopeful you could aid me in finding the answers,”

Madja sipped her tea with steady hands and eyed Elain with a look she had seldomly encountered directed at her.

Interest.

“My time is yours, Lady Elain.”

The leather-bound notebook was humid from the sweat in her hands, some ingrained sense in her mind making the back on her neck pinprick and her knuckles curl as if afraid of a straight ruler.

“Well,” she breathed in once, then blinked. “In most medical texts, there are numerous examples and experiments on healing fae bodies. I found in one of Joseph Norton’s books many references to the need for quick healing, done with moderate care, and modest effectiveness rates yet high survival chances. Practices are much more rudimentary than the ones from Annabelle Rite’s manuals. She maintains through all her works the extreme need for balanced, methodical, time-consuming procedures, which allows her to utilize whole-hand magic with minimal side effects, and it seems so curious to me that she would even attempt to do so with so many predecessors discouraging it so deeply...”

She shook her head again, blushing – truthfully! - in a fashion she hadn’t for years,

“But I am unsure of why would fae people even need healing practices, if there are entire collections dedicated to explaining the varied ways in which the body heals itself, at higher rates than any other known species. Wouldn’t the spells muddle the body’s own magic? It sounds unnecessary, why isn’t it enough?”

Madja settled her teacup down and laid back further in her armchair, eyes crystalline and lips tugging at the side for an aged smile.

“It would depend on what sort of injury we’d be discussing. Internal bleeding, for instance, if small enough will be dealt with by the body’s own magic. It is noticeable in the evolution of hematomas, as they change colors as the blood is reabsorbed and the blood vessels are restored. Now, when internal bleeding comes from blunt trauma – falling from a high distance, for example - the body would not be effective in healing itself quickly enough. The simplest reason for that is, as much as some try to state otherwise, faeries aren’t perfect. The healer’s job, in this case, would be to work with the patient’s own natural healing magic, potentialize and organize it to ensure they would be able to regain all their functions. It can often, in presentation, be much more complicated. Norton’s protocols would be a particularly safe choice, seeing as they prioritize promptness, and in high-risk situations, those are inevitably what a healer with a multitude of variables to solve will likely tend towards.”

“A stab wound, on the other hand, is much more critical, and with hemorrhage comes the diminishing of the natural magic. Then, suturing charms or manual stitching might be required with the danger of losing the patient completely if not done in proper haste.

Rite’s protocols, I’ve found, are much more appropriate for long-term care. You seem to have read her book, so perhaps you may remember that most of her case studies and examples center around lasting injuries or chronic illnesses. I’ve seen impressive improvements in previously immobile limbs, once from almost permanently dormant to near full range motion from her Wavelength Spells.”

“Mind Injuries, which differ greatly from both, are perhaps the most elusive sort of healing. It tends to be intuitive, and it takes considerable skill to allow the healer’s magic to run unbound in the patient’s body without any harm, and an even greater amount to ensure recovery.”

“I would add that Faeries, High Fae or otherwise, tend to see themselves as infallible due to their perception of immortality, but healing magic and healers came from the tested and true knowledge that there is much frailty in being fae, to the utmost displeasure of the others of our kind. A healer’s job, as I’ve discovered, lies in giving them a second chance.”

“Oh,” Elain said still flushed, and resisted the urge to press her palms to her cheeks.

She could barely believe she had dragged this female from her prior, likely much more important engagements to come and explain to her the seemingly most logical and obvious concepts she had ever heard.

No wonder no one took her seriously if even with the amount of literature she had consumed in the past days (weeks? or months?) she couldn’t make sense of the most common of concepts.

How could she think— How delusional she must have been to even consider herself able to understand such a complex subject –

“Thank you, sorry for taking up so much of your time.” She made herself say, prying her stiff knuckles from her notebook, five crescent moon shapes on the once plain black leather cover. Her teacup clattered mortifyingly on its plate as she moved to pick it up, brown eyes irreflective.

“That was quite refreshing, Lady Elain. I haven’t had a chance to mull over healing in such a long time… Most of my protocols are so inherent to me, I find myself doing them instinctually.”

Elain wouldn’t learn this about herself for many years, but her ears twitched most daintily, disturbing some strands of her golden-brown hair.

“That is very kind.”

“There is a Healing Program here in Velaris if you find yourself with time. It is mostly lectures and debates. There is a selection process, but from what I gathered, you’ll have no problem enrolling.”

“I want,” she whispered, half dazed, teacup clutched tightly in her hands.

“If you believe I could… Yes, Ms. Madja, I want it.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Thank you for reading! I would LOVE to know what you feel about it ;)

I'm working on part two, if you want to be tagged to find out what sort of crazy shit imma put my baby Elain through, let me know.

Special thanks from the bottom of my heart to @bittermuire and @sunlightsage for being the sweetest most supportive and most amazing beta readers I could have asked for! You mean the world to me :)

#elain week #elain archeron #elucien #if you squint #you guys i love this one ok #elain archeron fanfic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #acotar fic #ana writes #i went full nerd mode on this #elain archeron week

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xxx109bradpittfanxxx109 · 1 year

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Pot Stickers / Dumplings / Gyoza / there's too many names for this

To spread awareness of Camp Quality Hong Kong, a charity which supports children diagnosed with cancer, I decided to make vegetarian potstickers!

Camp Quality Hong Kong is a bit of a stretch when it comes to Brad Pitt's charity donations, but it's partnership to Kiehl’s as well as Brad Pitt makes for way for a delicious meal.

Now, I already had most of the ingredients in the recipe so I didn't bother to go out grocery shopping for the other ingredients. I just improvised with what I already had, and hoped for the best.

So no cabbage, no cilantro, no sesame or neutral oil (I already had olive oil). I subbed out sherry for balsamic vinegar instead, and for the soy sauce I just used my calamansi soy sauce.

INGREDIENTS

3 tablespoons neutral olive oil = to make more healthier

20 chives, finely diced = instead of green onions

1 garlic, minced

3 mushrooms, finely diced

1/4 red bell pepper, finely diced

1 carrot, shredded

Salt

Ginger powder = I ran out of actual ginger

Chilli

Pepper

2 tablespoons soy sauce = I used Calamansi soy sauce

3 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar = instead of sherry

1 teaspoon sugar

Gyoza wrapper

1/4 cup water (60 mL) for sealing

The garlic granule is a lie.

Its actually chilli.

And always had been chilli.

Preparation

I finely dice the vegetables and grouped them together according to the recipe. I put the onions, garlic, chives, and ginger powder in one bowl. I didn't have any green onions so I put in some chilli in the bowl instead. Then I prepared another bowl and filled it with the mushrooms and bell pepper. And a third bowl for the shredded carrot and sprinkled salt and pepper on it.

Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a deep pan or wok over medium heat.

Add the onion, ginger, and garlic and cook until the onion is translucent.

Add the mushrooms and bell peppers to the pan. Cook until the mushrooms are softened.

Add the carrots, salt, and pepper.

Cook for another 3-4 minutes, until tender, then remove the pan from the heat. Set aside to cool completely. Once cooled, I added the soy sauce, sesame oil, cooking sherry, and sugar. Mix well.

Add a spoonful of the vegetable mixture to the center of the wrappers. Dip your finger in water and run it around the edge of the dough. Fold the dough over the filling, pleating and pressing the edges together to seal. And for extra measure, I folded the pleats over to secure the fillings inside.

I was feeling lazy and didn't want to wash more dishes, and since I already had a steamer, I just put the pot stickers in there.

I steamed them for 20 minutes to really cook the wrappers.

And voila!

And just serve with any choice of dipping sauce.

Honestly? It turned out better than I expected. But I think I needed to steam it a bit more since the wrapper was just a bit thick and chewy in my opinion.

Overall, pretty good 👍👍

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averydavery · 5 months

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Photo Dump from Indy’s Very Own Popcon!

Just to be clear, this was not my only cosplay for this three day event! However, Saturday (yesterday) was the biggest day with the most events, so I did my best cosplay for it! On Friday I was John Marston and my friend was Arthur Morgan from RDR2, and today I just went in a simple gyaru makeup look!

But that’s not what you’re here for!

Here’s my Black Jack cosplay just a few months late of the 50th anniversary year of the series. I knew that since my face is very round and that I have a button nose I wouldn’t be able to do a “one for one” cosplay look that I think would do him justice. So instead of working against my body, I created a look that embraced it… I call it Drag Jack!

Please understand that this was my first ever time doing this cosplay so I ended up putting the skin patch on the wrong side of the face (it’s actually the correct side of the face the wig just is backwards and I forget to flip it), but also I didn’t do the scar on his chin either because I forgot as well, let alone any other scars on my body. Next time I did this cosplay I’ll make sure to fix it!

Full body shot, even though this was in the convention center bathrooms the tile gives that sterile hospital look so I mess with it.

Head shots, as you can tell I’m not good at choosing locations for my photos. I plan on redoing it with better photos and not gluing my brows, so stay tuned!

I really should’ve Got2Be’d those spike before I left house… the strands are everywhere.

Ai No Hoshi Maid Cafe! They were a lotta fun! If you’re in the Indiana, Ohio, or Kentucky area and plan on going to a con make sure to check if they’ll be there too! Highly recommend, one of the butlers was a fellow Doctor!

This shitty redraw of mine of Black Jack as Trixie Matel inspired this entire look!

Price and Advice for Future BJ Cosplayer’s:

Cost (with tax and shipping): about $73.31

Contacts from Uniqso x2: $28.62

Wig from Ezcosplay: $22.69

Fishnets from Five Below: ~$5

Translucent setting powder from Five Below: ~$3

Red Ribbon from Micheal’s: ~$3

Concealer & Brightner two pack makeup from Marshall’s: ~$5

Face Paint from Party City: $5

Lip/Blush pale pink cream stick from [a target resale/wholesale store that I won’t named for my own privacy reasons]: $1

Black Turtleneck Bodysuit from Target: $0 (I had a gift card, if not it was about ~$12 I think?)

Owned or Borrowed Items, many are optional items

Three different colored (black, white, maroon) gel eyeliner pencils: BORROWED

White Foundation from Sunset Makeup: BORROWED

Chrome Eyeliner: BORROWED

Brown Tights: OWNED

Boots: OWNED

Dickey Collar: OWNED, I cut up a white polo

Wig Styling Suppkies: OWNED

Rest of Makeup: OWNED

Advice for Cosplaying BJ

WET-DRY MAKEUP METHOD!!!! The Wet-Dry method of makeup is used in Drag makeup and many other makeup genres to set face paint or heavy makeup. For Black Jack’s face patch you’re going to want to start with a wet facepaint color and then set it with translucent setting powder so it doesn’t only stay all day, but also looks more matte and not porous. Next time I do this look, I plan to use more so my skin looks a bit flatter.

CREAM CONTOURS!!!! Use a cream based contour to contour your nose, cheekbones, and temples. If you use a powdered contour it will come off VERY easily and it will be hard to get a clean line with. I relied on these cream contours mostly for my nose since, again, I have a button nose so I really wanted to contour that to at least make it look a little thinner and longer.

SAFETY PIN YOUR BOW!!! If you want a bow that looks “cartoony” you won’t get that just by tying a red ribbon around your neck. I sewed and glued my bow then safety pinned it my collar to appear like it was standing up on its own. It’s cute!

WEAR TIGHTS (if you’re doing this specific black jack look lmfao)!!! If I did not wear those tights way too much of my hip would be showing. I’m personally not comfort showing that much of my body, so I wore tights underneath my fishnets. But you do you! I like the darker color since it sorta looks like I’m wearing see through dark tights but matching your skin tone as close as possible can make it seem like you aren’t wearing tights at all even if you actually are! Highly recommend!

DON’T FORGET YOUR EAR!!! This isn’t required but I think it looks nice to put a bit of face paint on your ear to look like the skin patch covers that area as well as your face. It’s a bit more cohesive but also doesn’t matter too much.

DON’T BE AFRAID TO BE CAMPY!!! Black Jack’s character is over-the-top and exaggerated, so you shouldn’t be afraid to do the same. If I really wanted this to be Drag Jack, I would’ve done an entire drag makeup look and I think that would be PERFECT if someone better than I at that kind of makeup does it! The bigger the bow the better too! Get some props like a kids toy stethoscope or a mask or gloves! Monopoly money too haha!!!

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illiterate-goblins · 4 months

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Tips for my transfemme siblings <3

I've been transitioning for the past 4 years and in that time I've picked up a lot of tips and tricks that I didn't see many other people talking about. So, let me pass along a little bit of the wisdom that's helped me pass to the rest of you all. This is going to be a long post, so brace yourself :)

DISCLAIMER: These are things that I have found personal success with. All people are different, and not all advice is going to be perfect for everyone. Also important to note, this advice is coming from a white person who is ABSOLUTELY not makeup expert. I have specifically made notes below where my advice and recommendations may not be the best / most accurate for people of color. With that said, much of the advice should still be applicable to most people - POC or not.

A lot of the transfemme makeup tutorials I found early on were based in drag. I didn't like the sheer amount of products that were being pushed as *necessary* and had heavy looking final results. Over the past few years I've found a more minimal (and affordable) routine that gives passing results. My daily makeup routine only consists of four products: Concealer, Translucent setting power, blush, and eyeliner. Let's go through each of those.

TOOLS - You're going to want to get a set of brushes. You can find affordable sets online or in stores. I got a set of E.L.F. brushes and they've held up excellently the past 4 years. - Don't buy beauty blenders. Beauty blenders aren't going to be the best tool for us because of our skin texture. Skin that grows facial hair is more textures than skin that doesn't. Applying makeup to textured skin with a beauty blender won't look as good for as long. - The rest of the supplies I use will be listed in their respective sections. You really don't need a ton of tools or supplies, especially as a beginner. Stone rollers, face masks, serums, scrubs.... They're nice extras if you can afford them, but they're not essentials

CONCEALER - I use R.E.M. Beauty Sweetener concealer ($24). It comes in a small pot and will require a brush for application. This concealer comes in a wide array of colors (60, to be specific), provides high coverage, and doesn't look cake-y. - Cream concealer has worked better for me compared to liquid concealers. You get more control on the amount you're using and it should last you a good few months. REMEMBER, a little goes a long way! You don't need to lay it on super heavy. - I apply this just over the areas where I have facial hair shadow. Stipple the concealer on freshly shaven skin and blend those edges out until there's no visible edge. - Using a brush is crucial for trans femmes, especially when going over facial hair shadow. As I said above, the skin that grows facial hair is rougher and more textured, using a brush to stipple on the makeup will get it into the pores. - The concealer I've recommended is great because it can be built up in multiple layers if needed. R.E.M. Beauty is also cruelty free and vegan, if those factors are important to you.

SETTING POWER - I use a L'oreal Hydra Perfecte loose setting powder. Unfortunately, this product has been discontinued. - A great affordable / drug store option is E.L.F.'s High Definition Powder. It's only $6, comes in a sheer option for light skin tones and "soft luminescence" for some darker skin tones. - I don't know what kinds of setting powders will work best on dark skin tones. Light setting powders like this can (I think) leave an ashy finish on darker skins. - I prefer using loose powder, but that's mostly because just what I have experience with. They tend to have a more sheer and transparent finish compared to pressed powders. - Tap out a small amount into the lid of your powder and press it into your skin lightly instead of spreading it across your face. - You will want to use a setting powder on top of every layer of liquid or cream makeup. This will set the makeup and prevent it from smudging as easily and mixing with another liquid / cream product. (if you're applying a second layer of concealer, like I mentioned above, powder in between layers). - Setting powder, in addition to keeping makeup from mixing and spreading, gives the skin a matte finish. This will help hide the textured portions of your skin. - If you want a dewy finish you can add a setting spray at the very end. This will give your skin a little bit of shine without drawing attention to your textured sections.

BLUSH - I use Revolution Beauty Blusher Reloaded ($6). This one pan has lasted me four years and has approximately ten years left. (Seriously, I use this almost every day and the pan hardly looks used). - Blush is a very important step because it brings color and warmth back to your face. - There are two main methods I use when I apply blush: Dramatic and Classic - Dramatic: Place blush from cheek to cheer and across the nose. - Classic: Place blush on the apples of you cheeks (the part that rises up when you smile) - If you apply the blush too heavily just go over it with your bare powder brush. This will reduce the color and blend the edges. - I've found that you can get away with a heavier blush if you're going with the dramatic method (hence the name). Classic blush looks best when it's applied fairly subtly. However, it's still possible to go too heavy with the dramatic style.

EYELINER - The ONLY eyeliner I use is the NYX Epic Ink Liner ($10). - There are three main kinds of eyeliner: Pencils, Pots, and Liquids. - Pencils: Like the name suggests, they're basically really really soft pencils. These are great if you want to blend out and get a smokey look, but aren't great for crisp bold lines. - Pots: This style of eyeliner comes in a pot and requires a specific brush to apply. If you buy a set of brushes, you should be set. This kind of eyeliner is more versatile, able to be blended into a smokey eyeliner AND able to give crisp lines. However, I've found that it's got a steeper learning curve. - Liquid: This style is the best way to get clean lines and sharp wings. Liquid liners usually come in a bottle with a nail polish looking brush, which definitely also have a learning curve. But, that's where my favorite eyeliner comes in! - The Epic Ink Liner is essentially a brush pen. With a pencil form factor and an always sharp brush tip, you will get easy to control lines with just a little bit of practice. - This is my everyday method of applying eyeliner: 1) Start in the outer corner of your eye and extend the angle your lower lid makes. (You can make this wing as big as you'd like, but I would suggest beginners start with a relatively smaller wing (1cm or shorter). Repeat on the other eye. 2) Place the tip of the brush at the peak of that line and draw over in a straight line until you hit your lashes. Close your eyes slightly so the crease of your eye doesn't effect this line. Repeat on the other eye. 3) Move to the inner corner of your eye and apply an even line along the rest of the eyelid. Take a moment to soften the transition between this line and the straight line from the previous step. Repeat with the other eye. 4) Fill in any empty spaces - By doing each step on both eyes before moving on to the next step will help your eyeliner to look more symmetrical. Plus, if the angles aren't matching, it's much easier to remove one line rather than an entirely finish eye. - One additional step you can add is extending the line in the inner corner of your eye just a little bit. Follow the curve you made and don't go down too far. - NOTE: This is my method for non hooded eyes. Because hooded eyes are an entirely different shape, I don't know the best method to add eyeliner.

HIGHLIGHTER - I use Colorpop Super Shock Cheek highlighter ($9). As the name suggests, this is a SUPER highlighter. - I don't wear highlighter every day. It's a fun addition, but I don't find it necessary for days I'm just running errands or going grocery shopping. I reserve it for concerts, dates, or any other event where I want to look extra cute. - The main places to add highlighter are the top edge of your cheek bones, the inner corner of your eyes, the outer edge right below your eyebrows, and down the bridge of your nose and onto the tip. - Since this isn't going on any skin that grows facial hair, you don't need to use a brush. I use my ring finger to apply the highlighter, wipe off the excess, then gently blend the edges with my ring finger again - Blending your highlighter doesn't need to be taken that seriously. Just softening the edges is enough 99% of the time. If you think you applied the highlighter too heavily you can take your powder brush and hit those spots and little. Just like with the blush, this should tone down the pop a bit

FOUNDATION - I don't use foundation anymore. I prefer a minimal face of makeup, letting the natural variations in color and imperfections show. However, wanting a smooth and consistent color all over your face is perfectly valid, too <3 - If you are going to use foundation, you will want to apply concealer first. The concealer is going to do the heavy lifting for hiding your facial hair shadow. - When choosing a concealer to put underneath foundation, many people will say to pick a color that's a shade lighter than your skin. That advice is aimed towards people who primarily conceal their under eye bags, and the lighter color helps the eyes look more awake. If you're getting just one concealer, pick the closest match to your skin tone. - I highly recommend choosing a powder foundation. Powder products, as I said before, give the face a matte finish that hides the textured skin better. Unfortunately, powder foundations are less common and typically more expensive ($30+) - If you already have liquid foundation and don't want to waste it, apply it like you did with the concealer: take a small amount and dab it into the skin with a brush. - The order I would apply this makeup in is: Concealer -> Setting Powder -> Powder Foundation // Concealer -> Setting Powder -> Liquid / Cream Foundation -> Setting Powder. Not everyone agrees on which should come first, concealer or foundation, but I found that concealer first looked better, especially with powder foundations.

COLOR CORRECTOR - You might notice that no matter how high coverage your concealer or foundation are, there's still some noticeable discoloration over your facial hair shadow. This is down to color theory: your shadow is producing a different undertone than non shadowed skin. To cancel that out you need to cover it with its complementary color. There are generally 3 different tones that shadow comes in. - Brown tones: typically found in light to medium tan skin tones. This is covered by pink and salmon tones. The deeper your skin tone, the darker you'll want to go. - Blue/green tones: Typically found in olive skin tones. This is covered by peach and orange tones. Again, the deeper your skin tone, the darker you'll want to go. - Blue/grey tones: Typically found on dark skin tones. This is covered by orange tones. Medium dark skin will want a lighter orange, darker tones will want a more true orange. - DO NOT APPLY COLOR CORRECTOR HEAVILY!!! The heavier you apply the color corrector the more concealer / foundation you'll have to apply to cover it up. You only need the smallest amount to counteract the undertones that will show through your concealer / foundation. - Color corrector is also used to hide other skin tone variations like under eye bags or acne. Under eye bags are usually blue, so use a peachy CC on them. Acne is canceled out by green. - I have seen so many tutorials that recommend using lipstick as your color corrector. Don't do this. Lipstick is generally going to be more oily and prone to melting / smudging. Specially formulated color correctors will stay put much better.

MISC. OTHER PRODUCTS - Primers - A primer can be a good addition to your routine, but they're not strictly necessary for everyone. Primers can be used to give your full face of makeup a better initial layer to stick to, and there are some designed to fill in your pores (something you may want if your shadowed areas are more textured than you'd like after after concealer (and foundation if you use it). I'd say skip it on your first trip to the makeup aisle, but pick it up later on if you'd like. - Eye shadow - Eye shadow can be really fun! It adds extra color to your face and can really accentuate your eye color. It can be a fun addition to tie in with accent colors in your outfit. I just personally don't like the time and effort needed to get good looking eye shadow most days. And, because I don't do it much, I'm not that great with it. Luckily, it is absolutely not needed for an every day look. - Lipstick - I'm an anxious lip biter, so lipsticks don't always last very long on me. I do, however, LOVE one specific lipstick: Maybelline's Super Stay Matte Liquid Lipstick ($11). Once this bad boy dries you're going to have that color on all day. I like the look of matte lipsticks, but if you want a glossy finish you can add a lip gloss once it dries. This liquid lipstick is pretty east to apply, just try to keep a steady hand and work your way to the outer edges of your lips. Letting it air dry will take a little longer, but ends up looking better removing the excess with a napkin (no paper bits will get stuck to your lips). Just be prepared to scrub this off your lips at the end of the day. -NOTE: I don't like recommending people buy from Maybelline since they aren't cruelty free. This is the only product of theirs that I haven't been able to find a suitable alternative that works even a fraction as well. Luckily, one tube of lipstick lasts a long time, and since it stays on so well you won't have to be reapplying multiple times a day -Contour - Contour can be your friend, or it can be your worst enemy. This is one of the more difficult products to apply if you're going for a natural look. Most times that I've personally tried contouring it ends up way too dark. Subtlety is your best friend with contour. I would also suggest sticking to a powder contour pallet to start, liquid contours are much tougher.

SKIN CARE -Okay I am the WORST person to talk about skin care, I neglect doing it so often. With that said... - Don't buy in to beauty youtubers and their 12 step skincare routines. They're super expensive, have so many overlapping products, and I have never met a single person who has the time or commitment to stick to that intense of a routine daily. - Bare minimum: Get makeup remover wipes and take your makeup off every night. Since we are specifically trying to fill our pores we NEED to make sure we take the makeup off. Clogged pores lead to acne outbreaks and ingrown hairs. Eye makeup, if left on, can lead to developing styes, which are painful, annoying, and can grow into a serious issue if not dealt with. Cheap walmart branded wipes will do the job, but they aren't the best. I really like Neutrogena's makeup remover wipes ($5). - If you do develop a stye you'll want to give it a hot compress once or twice a day. Soak a towel or wash cloth, wring it mostly out, pop it in the microwave for 20-30 seconds, and apply to the affected eye. This is opening that pore and letting it breathe. After a few days - a week it should be fixed. DO NOT TRY TO POP A STYE!!!! Styes are clogged pored that have developed an infection, if the puss from the infection gets out it can cause more styes. - If you want a better routine than just makeup wipes, here's my 3 step process (that I don't do nearly as often as I should): Simple Foaming Cleanser (now discontinued :( ) to remove your makeup -> CeraVe Hydrating Facial Cleanser ($15) to clean your face once the makeup is off -> Simple Replenishing Rich Moisturizer ($7) to keep the skin hydrated and soft. There is a bit of overlap here, and if you're on a tight budget I would just go for the CeraVe cleanser. - If you're a lazy bitch like I am, just use makeup wipes at the end of the day and keep your face wash in the shower and do that whenever you shower.

Shaving -If you want the closest possible shave or all day smoothness, you won't find a better answer than a 5 blade razor (or a straight razor but those have a steeper learning curve). DON'T DRY SHAVE WITH THIS KIND OF RAZOR!!! You've got to have something lubricating the skin or else you're going to end up with razor burn and irritated skin. Putting makeup on top of razor burn hurts and isn't good for the healing process - I don't like the time and hassle that a standard razor requires, so I shave every day with the Philips One Blade (~$40). This gives an incredibly smooth shave that lasts almost all day (at least with the rate my facial hair grows). The head replacements are a bit on the pricey side (a 3 pack is usually on sale for ~$30), but one head will last you around 3 months. The face will wear down and show an image when it's time to replace it, but I find you can typically get a good shave out of it for a while after. - They make a variant of the razor with a stronger motor that's designed for body hair, but I've have great results with the standard one. If you have thicker / coarser body hair the upgraded motor model might be the one you want to go for (it should work perfectly fine on facial hair, too). - They have also recently released special heads for "intimate" areas but that's another thing I think you can probably pass on. I just snap on the #1 guard and shave my pubic area down. It's not a perfectly smooth shave (and I don't recommend using the bare razor head on your pubic region unless you're EXTREMELY careful and/or don't mind the occasional small cut), but I find that it's more than good enough for me. That length actually bypasses the itchy phase of your pubes growing back in after a day or two (for me, at least)). And... I think that's everything! Those are all the makeup and beauty related products and processes that I can think of. Again, I'd like to reiterate that this is all stuff that has worked for me specifically, and it's information I ended up learning the hard way. I spent several months walking around with orange tinted skin so you don't have to. If you have any questions about anything please feel free to ask in the replies or you can DM me. And, if you have any extra tips that I didn't mention, or if you have tips for darker skin tones / hooded eyes / other non-white features, please add them! Our POC siblings deserve love and support too!

#LGBT #transgender #trans femme #trans feminine #makeup #make up #Lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer #trans support #trans woman #trans women #pride month #gay pride #queer pride #This turned out to be a lot longer than I expected it to #I just hope it can find its way to the people who need it

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elshells · 3 months

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Recently I've been getting back into playing DND, and since I'm also trying to get back into interacting with people on this site, I'd figure I'd share with y'all my new-ish hobby of making dice!

For about a year I've been seeing a lot of Instagram reels of people pouring resin into molds and inking the numbers of their homemade dice, and I've always been inspired and mesmerized by these videos. And it just so happens that right before the new year I was gifted the materials to make my own resin dice! So here's what I've made in the last few months (lots of info-dumping/interest sharing under the cut):

This was my very first attempt, done specifically as a test run without any sort of pressure to look good. I was going for an oxidized copper look, but the dye cured much lighter than I expected (though it's a translucent dye so I really shouldn't have been surprised), so in the end I got more of an amber color, which I'm honestly not mad about!

I also mixed in some green glitter, since that was the only other additive I had received other than the dye, and it looks alright, but a lot of the chunkier pieces did sink to one side, so I haven't used it since. The numbers are green to compliment the glitter, and I'm happy with how it turned out, although honestly I could have gone with any other color and they would probably still look good!

At the time, I didn't have a pressure pot to cure it in, so there are some pretty significant bubbles (if you look closely you can see a big chunk missing out of the top of the d4), but there honestly weren't as many as I was expecting! Overall, while these dice are nothing special and aren't very interesting visually to look at, for my first set I'm very proud of them! 6.5/10 dice

At this point, I had bought a pressure pot, so I was feeling more confident in my ability to produce more polished dice. This set was inspired by my first ever DND character (who I recreated as my first Tav in Baldur's Gate 3), a wood elf barbarian/druid named Thaedhel. This reminds me that I haven't talked about Thaedhel on this account at all, which is weird considered I even commissioned some dope art for her, so note to self that I need to make a post gushing about her at some point XD

Anyways, back to the dice. This... was my fourth attempt, and I'm still not pleased with the results. That being said, my goals for this set are lofty, so it's still just a work in progress. This attempt has the best color; I was able to achieve a deep forest green that the previous sets lacked, and the white plumes (meant to represent moonlight for a moon druid) turned out beautifully! The white dye is not translucent, so I had issues before with cloudiness, but this is the best result yet. There's even a pinch of glow-in-the-dark mica powder in the white, so the dice actually glow blue once activated by blacklight! Unfortunately I don't have a picture of that, but maybe once I've perfected them!

Now, for the gripes. For one thing, there's a small red flower in the center of each dice, which unfortunately got swallowed up by the dyes and are only visible from specific angles. I now know that I should have included a clear resin window to keep them from getting lost, so that will be fixed in the future. But for the most part, I was happy with them; I had bought a new mold that included a barrel and crystal d4, and once I took them out I thought they had cured nicely, especially since there were no bubbles to be seen. That is, until I inked in the numbers. I wanted to paint all of the numbers copper except for the highest number on each dice, which is a nice bloody red to represent barbarian rage. But once I started to paint them, I realized how deformed these dice truly were; warped, uneven edges and rough faces that made it impossible to cleanly ink the numbers. The picture actually hides it relatively well, but in person these are some messy dice. Oh, well. Looks like I've got some work to do. 4/10 for the color scheme and not much else.

This is my magnum opus, and it's only about two-weeks old. Inspired by my current character, a tiefling bard named Enyo, I was so pleased with how these turned out, both structurally and in terms of color, that I've actually used them in the last couple of sessions (the d20 is 'moderately lucky,' according to my DM). By far, they're my favorite set!

This was my first time using mica powder as a colorant instead of dye, and it looks sooo good in person. I chose the red metallic powder for her Infernal heritage, and the purple powder is for bardic magic. It's color-shifting powder, too, so in person there's greens and reds that pop out of the purple if the light hits in the right way! But imo, inking the numbers is what really brings the set together, and gold felt appropriately classy and regal, plus it pops like crazy! The pictures truly don't do it justice.

This was made with the same mold as the Thaedhel set, and this time I made sure to give the dice some extra time to harden before I pried them out of the mold (I'm guessing that's why the first set came out so misshapen, I am not a patient person lol). It's not a flawless set; there are still a couple of bubbles despite using the pressure pot, but luckily they're not noticeable. And while I wish the two colors had interacted better (I wanted more of a fiery-pluming effect but they ended up mixing and pooling more than I wanted), I still think they came out beautifully and I genuinely can't stop touching and looking at them whenever I see them. Truly some shiny goblin rocks if I ever saw 'em. It's a 9/10 for me.

#just one of the things I've been up to when I've been offline but oh boy is it a process #if you made it to the end thanks for listening to my silly dice rambles 😅#handmade dice #dnd #ella thinks

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adorpheus · 1 month

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Super Easy and Amazing Curry with Rice (can be gluten free, vegan)

Hello, tumblr family. Below is a repost of an article originally posted on adorpheus.com, and is being shared here for archival purposes. Original post date: Sometime in 2012.

Easy Delicious Curry

Serves 2 Ingredients:For the curry sauce:

2 cups vegetable broth or chicken flavored vegetable broth or bouillon dissolved in water (see note)

3 TBSP Cornstarch / Cornflour (UK)

3 TBSP Curry Powder of your choice (or more or less to taste)

1/2 cup cold water (optional, see note)

For the rest These are the vegetables I used, but feel free to experiment with whatever you like

100g chopped celery (about 3-4 stalks)

100g broccoli (about half a large bunch)

one medium onion, diced

4 cloves of garlic

1 TBSP of olive oil (or substitute nonstick cooking spray)

Optional: vegan "chicken" of your choice (I made homemade seitan, for a gluten free version I'd recommend using baked or fried tofu)

Method: Preheat a skillet over medium heat. Sautee the onions with the olive oil until translucent. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant. Add the broccoli and celery and cook until heated through and the broccoli turns bright green. If you are making with vegan "chicken" substitute or tofu you may want to add it to the pan or fry it separately now as well.

When I made this, I baked the seitan separately in the oven. Once the vegetables are heated through, remove from heat and set aside. Separately, heat the 2 cups of vegetable broth or water with bouillon cube/powder in a saucepan over medium. Add the 3 TBSP of curry powder and stir to incorporate. Add the cornstarch to the pot, whisking as you pour it in to avoid any lumps.

Note: You can also mix the cornstarch with the 1/2 cup cold water in a small bowl and whisk until dissolved, then pour the cornstarch/water mixture into the pot if you really want to avoid lumps. I just put the cornstarch into the curry directly, and there were some small lumps but I didn't mind. Raise the heat to high and boil the curry sauce, whisking until thickened into a gravy like sauce (for me this was about 5 minutes). Pour the curry sauce over the vegetables and serve with rice.

In my opinion, the best vegetable bouillon ever is Marigold Vegan Bouillon Powder. It tastes like chicken broth, even though it isn't even advertised as "chicken flavored". It is also gluten free! They also have a Reduced Salt version. Make sure you use a good brand of curry powder when you make this, and don't overdo it if you don't want it too spicy. I used a little over 3 TBSP of some that I had in the cupboard and it was very spicy but I loved it that way! This tasted just as good as I remember, but I wanted more sauce! Doubling the sauce recipe is a good idea for this one.

#AdorpheusArchive #vegan recipes

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braveclementine · 4 months

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Chapter 24

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖉 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖚𝖘 in my arms, standing somewhere near Hagrid as we watched (with many younger students) as a powder-blue carriage the size of a house pulled by a dozen winged palominos soared through the last afternoon sky, settling down near Hagrid's cabin.

I watched as the large door opened and Madam Maxine walked from the house, throwing herself into Hagrid's waiting arms. There was a polite introduction, though of course, she recognized me from sight.

Trang was quite stunned at the sight of her, the carriage, and the horses. "Is that Hagrid's. . . well anything?"

I chuckled quietly, shifting my wait so that I could hold Remus more favorably. "Dating? Something like that."

"Wow." Trang said and we watched the two of them walk off into the woods.

"Hospital wing?" I asked.

"Hospital wing." Trang said.

We walked back up the slope to go and see Bill. Fleur was chattering happily about Bill's newest craving: rare steaks.

"Eet ees lucky 'e is marrying me, because ze British overcook thier meat, I 'ave always said this." Fleur said, fluffing Bill's pillow.

"Hey Eliza, Trang." Bill greeted us. I handed over Remus because I knew that Bill liked holding him.

"Rare steaks are good." Trang said, taking a chair near Hermione.

I scoffed, "How would you know?"

Trang grinned mysteriously and I rolled my eyes.

"I have something for you Harry." I said, reaching into my shoulder bag and pulling out a set of seven drawings and handed them over.

"This is Tom Riddles diary. . ." Harry said slowly and then stopped talking as he shifted through the drawings and then looked up, "Thanks Liz."

I simply nodded. Bill and Fleur were deep in another conversation and I sat closer to the rest of them.

"You wouldn't happen to know who R.A.B. is do you?" Hermione whispered.

I nodded, "Regulus Black."

"Sirius brother?" Harry whispered.

I nodded but said nothing as Bill and Fleur had finished their conversation and I said, "You were going to find out after their wedding." I said this in barely a whisper, jerking my head to mean Bill and Fleur. "You'll know what I mean when they day comes."

The next day came as a mournful one. Everyone woke up at around the same time which was early, dressing in mourning dress robes, and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast that most of us would not eat.

I'd packed last night after leaving Bill in the hospital wing. Nearly all my things were in Severus' room so it was simple to pack and grab just a few things from the Hufflepuff common room. Trang picked up my drawings of swords and keys and bees and all the other things and places and people from the art studio, putting them into a folder but left all my other drawings there on the walls and tables and easels. If I came back, I wanted something to come back to.

I stood in front of the Great Hall, holding Remus in my arms, looking at the drawing across the room behind the teacher's chairs, confused.

I had never colored the drawing, but now, Dumbledore's character was in color, flawless color too. So was Quirrell's, which I did not understand. Professor Binns was also somewhat colored although he looked more shimmery than anything. Perhaps because the drawing would've been translucent as he was a ghost, I wasn't sure.

"I did a spell." Hermione's voice said at my shoulder. She came to stand next to me. Students passed us into the Great Hall. "When a teacher dies, their character on the drawing is filled in with color, giving them life in death."

"Thank you." I whispered. "It's wonderful."

"I wished only Dumbledore's was colored but the spell stuck, so unfortunately Quirrell will be standing out today as well." Hermione said.

"And so many more will be colored in in the next year." I whispered sadly. Professor Moody, Professor Burbage. . . Professor Snape. . . Professor Lupin. I smiled grimly and then headed to the Hufflepuff table to stare at food on the table.

Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting where Severus should have been sitting. I noticed that Hagrid was not at the table either. I assumed he couldn't have faced breakfast, not today.

Some of the students were talking amongst each other, making the Great Hall seem as though more people were talking than there really were.

Ernie stared down at the bacon and Hannah was picking at a muffin.

"Eat something." Susan said, pushing food in front of me.

"None of you are eating." I protested.

"I feel nauseous to say the least." Justin said. He did look a little green.

Ernie scowled.

"Something wrong Ernie?" I asked gently, biting off a piece of bacon. I knew Susan was making me eat because of Remus and that was alright.

"Smith." Ernie scowled, apparently to disgusted with Zacharias to say his first name.

"Ah!" Rose piped up from Justin's other side. I hadn't seen her.

I shook my head, "Zacharias. . . has. . . well there's really nothing that can be said to defend his actions. He didn't want to fight and his father took him away. He'll do the same thing the next time a fight comes."

Ernie scowled deeper. "He's a coward."

"I think he uses the word self-preservation." I said lightly. I wasn't really sure why I was defending him but I was. Perhaps I just didn't want someone to not be defended for their actions, no matter how wrong. "How was the battle? I missed some of it."

"It was boring on our end." Justin said, eager apparently to tell his story. "We waited in the entrance hall, you know? Around midnight we heard loud noises and shouts and we got ready but the Death Eaters didn't appear for almost thirty or so minutes after the first shouts. The battle seemed really one sided, they were more trying to get away than fight us."

I ate more food in silence while the others stared morosely at their plates. I wished for more details like what had happened to Katie and Dean and the Patil twins and Hannah and Terry and Anthony, but I asked no more. What I didn't know didn't hurt me.

"When did you color in the drawings?" Hannah asked suddenly.

"I didn't." I said, giving the credit where it was due. "It's a spell of Hermione's. When a Professor in the drawing passes away, life is brought to the drawing."

Ernie chuckled, "Smart girl."

"Only wish I'd thought of it." I said, smiling.

Professor McGonagall rose to her feet and the talk in the Great Hall died away at once. "It is nearly time, please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

Professor Sprout rose, wearing clean robes of yellow. There wasn't a speck of dirt, dust, or patches on any of her clothes. I'd never seen her look so clean and it was like looking at a walking, talking character from the opposite Professor portraits I'd drawn what seemed like years ago.

As we passed through the entrance hall, I saw Madam Pince standing besides Mr. Filch. I remembered a conversation that had to of been at the start of the year about a possible love between the two of them. Hermione and Harry had been part of that conversation.

We stepped out through the front door and light hit our faces. Remus held a tiny hand up, trying to grab the sunbeams. I had shaded his head with a small hat and I angled him in my arms so that he couldn't stare directly into the sun.

There were hundreds of chairs, set out in a row by the lake and forest. There was an aisle down the center, like a wedding rather. There was a marble table standing at the front which I knew was probably the coffin because all of the chairs were facing it.

The weather was to beautiful, to wrong.

There were many people already in the front half of the chairs.

Kingsley approached, much to my pleasure, to give me a hug and say hello to Remus, taking him from my hands and holding him above his head.

"Careful." I chastised.

"I won't drop him." Kingsley said, giving me a large smile. "His name?"

"Remus Sirius." I said. I didn't know what Kingsley did or did not know but he clarified for me, giving a low chuckle.

"Snape let that name slide?"

I grinned reluctantly but said nothing as Uncle Moody stomped over to say hello.

I recognized many other people. Tonks hair was back to pink, sitting with dad and holding hands. Fred and George were there too, who also greeted me and took interest in Remus. I noticed there were many shopkeepers from both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother sat there, anonymous, simply known as the bartender of Hog's Head.

Outside the windows, nearly invisible in the sunlight were the Hogwarts ghosts. I could pick out Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, Moaning Myrtle, and the Bloody Baron amongst many, many other ghosts. All of them were somber.

Even Peeves had shown up, slightly more visible than the ghosts. For once (and I'm sure it would never happen again) he looked somber. There was no smile on his face and there was nothing in his hands that suggested he would make a prank. He was simply sitting on a windowsill outside the castle, looking down on all of us.

I made my way to stand next to Firenze who was standing by the water's edge.

"Elizabeth Kane." Firenze said softly in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Firenze." I said.

"That is your child?"

"Remus Sirius Snape." I whispered.

"He's handsome." Firenze said. He seemed sad and another emotion I didn't recognize on his face. He seemed. . . almost. . . jealous? But perhaps I was reading his face wrong.

"Thank you."

We watched as Cornelius Fudge walked by. He looked miserable and I knew that he, for one, regretted that Dumbledore was dead. Some of the other Ministry wizards and witches had only feigned looks of sadness.

Rita Skeeter was here too, though I wasn't nearly as upset to see her than to see that Dolores Umbridge was here.

Yes, I had drawn her into the photo but that didn't mean I liked her. I hadn't liked Quirrell or Lockhart either, but there were certain respects you had to pay. But the fact that she was here at Dumbledore's funeral when she'd done nothing by try and get rid of him pissed me off. It made my blood boil.

She nearly sat down near dad and then when she saw him, hurried away. Even funnier was when she caught sight of Firenze and me and looked at Remus and nearly fainted. I snorted with laughter.

"I think," Firenze said slowly, "She believes the child to be ours."

"Yes." I said, slightly amused. "It was quite a lovely reaction."

Firenze chuckled and grew solemn again.

"I'm sorry." I said suddenly.

"For?"

"Dumbledore was the one who pulled you from the forest, from your home. I know you were doing him a favor, but in a way, he's the reason you were exiled from the forest. In a way, you might be mad Dumbledore died only a year later." I said slowly. "I don't mean to offend you though, if I am wrong."

"You have never offended me." Firenze said in a quiet voice. "You understand far more than the average wizard but then again, there really never was anything average about you."

I smiled a little bit and then he continued, "I suppose I am a little bitter, but I do not regret the decisions I have made, nor do I blame Dumbledore for me making the decision. It was my choice of course. I would have served Dumbledore to my death. I still would."

We fell silent as everyone became seated. I wondered briefly if it was even possible for a human and a Centaur to have a child and what the result would be. I fancied myself with Firenze for a moment, imaging what our child would look like. It kept my mind off other things.

I was one of the only people left standing, and though Trang and a few other people had obviously saved seats for me, I preferred standing here next to Firenze.

A strange music started to float through the air. At first, I thought it might be Fawkes again, but it came from somewhere else. I turned and slightly nudged Firenze and pointed to the water. The merpeople were singing below the surface.

Remus looked at them, probably not really able to see them for what they were. I was suddenly worried he'd start crying. Could silencing charms be used on babies or was that bad? And did contemplating that make me a bad mother?

But Remus did not cry and simply continued to stare on in curiosity, or maybe just in nothing as the Merpeople sung about loss and despair.

They continued to sing as Hagrid walked up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying silently, his face gleaming with tears. There was a large object wrapped in purple velvet that was embroidered with golden stars. It reminded me of one of the cloaks I'd drawn at an inn from the secret drawings with the sun and the moon.

I started to cry, tears falling down my face. Looking at many of the girls and women here, they were all doing the same. I reached out and took Firenze's hand for comfort, squeezing it. He squeezed back gently.

Hagrid placed the body carefully on the table and then walked back down the aisle, blowing his nose loudly. The noise drew scandalized and annoyed looks, almost all of them from the Ministry officials. I smiled a little. Dumbledore would've liked that. He knew how soft Hagrid was.

Grawp was in the very back, though some yards away from where Firenze and I stood at the waters edge. Hagrid sat down and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, the chair legs of Hagrid's chair sank into the ground.

I laughed quietly under my breath.

The merpeople stopped singing.

There was a small tufty-haired man in plain black robes that had gotten to his feet and moved to stand in front of Dumbledore's body. He couldn't have been much taller than Professor Flitwick. His voice must've been high-pitched and squeaky like Professor Flitwick's too because from where we stood, we could not hear much of the speech.

Firenze probably heard more with his hearing.

There was a soft splashing noise and I looked over to see that the merpeople's heads had broken above water to listen. I smiled briefly at them before turning back to the small man up front as though I could hear his words.

Dumbledore had known Mermish. I wondered where he had learned it, how fluent he had been in it, and if he had ever taught it. I wondered if I could ever learn it.

"The centaurs are coming." I whispered up to Firenze, letting go of his hand carefully. If they saw us, I did not want them to see him holding my hand- the hand of a human. I smiled up at him gently.

"Yes." He said softly, giving me an understanding look, "They are in the trees."

Indeed, there seemed to be movement in the trees, though none of the Centaurs showed themselves.

I felt as though someone was watching me and I looked across from where I was standing but no one was looking at me. The hot air was just shimmering on the grass. I moved Remus Sirius to my other hip.

Finally, the small man stopped speaking and resumed his seat. No one moved, not even Professor McGonagall, who I thought would make some sort of speech, or the Minister. But no one moved an inch.

Then, bright white flames erupted around Dumbledore's body. A couple of people screamed. They were probably the Muggle born students or the parents of the Muggle born students. The ones who weren't expecting a body to catch on fire.

The flames also lit the table he was laying on, on fire too. The flames rose higher and higher. White smoke started to spiral through the air, making shapes. For a moment, it seemed as though a phoenix flew from the smoke into the blue but the flames were out a moment later and there was no phoenix in the sky. There was now a white marble coffin that Dumbledore was laying inside.

A shower of arrows soared gracefully through the air in neat, symmetrical arcs and landed a few feet from the coffin. It was the Centaurs' tribute. I saw the briefest glance of Ivagio's face before the Centaur's turned tail, heading back into the forest. The merpeople went back down into their lake.

People started to stand, talking to people they hadn't talked to prior to the funeral. Hands being shaken, conversations starting.

Firenze took my hand and squeezed it. "Until we meet again Elizabeth Kane."

I hugged him tightly before letting him go. He ran a hand over Remus' head before moving away from us.

He trotted back up to the castle, careful to pass by Dolores Umbridge, who jumped back with a shriek. I smiled.

Hermione and Ron joined me, Hermione taking Remus from my arms. I hadn't realized how sore they were. Her face was glazed with tears, Ron's arm around her. There were tearstains dropped all down the back of his dress robes. Hermione had obviously been crying all over him today.

Harry made his way towards us, to make a circuit around the lake. He got close, though not close enough to talk to us yet when behind him came Rufus Scrimgeour. "Harry!"

Harry turned, though not before we saw the briefest flash of annoyance cross his face.

"I've been hoping to have a word... do you mind if I walk a little way with you?"

"No." Harry said shortly, continuing on his way towards us.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy. I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I-"

"What do you want?" Harry asked, having finally reached us.

"You are, of course, devastated. I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favorite pupil ever. The bond between the two of you-" Scrimgeour said, ignoring the rest of us completely. I saw over his shoulder that Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Dad were eyeing us with curiosity.

"What do you want?" Harry asked again.

Scrimgeour stopped, leaning on his walking stick, glancing at us. Professor McGonagall slowed to a stop near Kingsley.

"Say what you have to." Harry said, "But you'll have to say it in front of them."

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that he died."

"Whose word?" Harry asked.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

"Glad to hear it. Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know." Harry said flatly.

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course, but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone."

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him." Harry said, smiling.

"My dear boy. . . even Dumbledore cannot return from the-"

"It's what Harry said before killing the ghost of Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets." I said before I could stop myself. "It's what Dumbledore said before he was taken away by the Governors. Dumbledore's spirit lives on whether you believe that or not and so Harry will always be tied to that loyalty of him."

Harry and I exchanged a knowing glance, a good one. We were always going to stick to each other's sides now.

Scrimgeour hesitated and then said, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service-"

Harry laughed which startled even me. "Voldemort wants to kill me himself, and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"And you?" Scrimgeour asked, looking at me and then Remus in Hermione's arms. "You do have a, ah, child now."

"Like Harry said, Voldemort wants me, a few Aurors won't stop him. I can take care of myself, I know how to disappear off the grid." I said confidently.

"Because your father's a werewolf?" Scrimgeour asked.

My face flushed and I took a step towards him. Harry grabbed my arm, "Take that back!" I snapped. Tonks squeezed Dad's hand. Uncle Moody was now leaning on his walking stick, having stopped by Kingsley's side, eyeing Rufus with dislike. Professor McGonagall looked rather nervous, watching my face.

Scrimgeour seemed unfazed. "It was a comment, not a criticism." He turned to Harry. "So, the request I made of you at Christmas-"

"What request? Oh yeah. . . the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for-"

"-for raising everyone's morale!" Scrimgeour snapped. He'd finally lost his delicate, sorrowful tone and I bit my tongue to keep from commenting.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?" Harry asked.

"I see you are-"

"Dumbledore's man through and through. That's right." Harry said.

Scrimgeour stared at the four of us for a moment and then stomped back to where Percy and a few of the other Ministry delegation, waiting for him near Hagrid and Grawp.

"Let me go back and hit Percy." Ron said.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "No!"

"It'll make me feel better!"

Harry and I laughed. Hermione grinned a little, her smiled faded though, looking back up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back. How can Hogwarts close?" she asked.

"Maybe it won't. We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen." Harry said.

"I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?" Hermione asked sadly.

"I'm going back to the Dursley's once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to. But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good." Harry stated.

Remus started to fuss and Hermione handed him over.

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?" Ron asked.

"I though I might go back to Godric's Hollow." Harry said. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

"And then what?" Ron asked.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" Harry asked. "I've got a list of them right now. That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right- and I'm sure he was- there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them, and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if-" Harry stopped and cleared his throat and said nothing more.

There was a long silence, many of the stragglers were finally starting to make their way out except for Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Dad who were still watching us.

"We'll be there, Harry." Ron said.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"At your aunt and uncle's house. And then we'll go with you wherever you're going."

"No." Harry said quickly.

"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" Hermione asked softly and both Hermione and Ron looked at me.

I shook my head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Why?" Ron demanded.

"Because. . ." I said softly. "Remus. I can't leave him, not now and. . . and. . . I see all the people who. . . who die next year and. . . and let's just say. . . say I'm close to a few of them and I. . . I'm going to try and prevent them from dying. . . formulate a plan, make more Felix Felicis. And if I'm. . . not successful. . ." I drew in a deep breath, more tears falling down my face, "Then at least I spent time with them, you know?" My voice cracked.

"I understand." Harry said. "And I'm glad."

"I believe your words would have been, 'No parent should leave their child if they have a choice'." I said with a smile.

"I said that?" Harry asked, seeming surprised.

"Yes." I said. "Or, you will."

"Well," Ron said, "You're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?" Harry and I both asked.

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

I stared at Ron for a moment and then started to laugh and the other three joined in with me and when we were finally able to stop laughing Harry said, "Yeah, we shouldn't miss that."

⬅️➡️

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shoku-and-awe · 2 years

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Fried rice to use up the last couple bites of kimchi and wilting fridge veggies! Delicious, will absolutely make again. I wasn't sure about the cold avocado topping or the celery, but both turned out great. Also, the best possible version, I think, would involve pork of some kind, but this is great vegetarian too. Recipe below.

Mince onion and whatever veg you have (I had carrot, bell pepper, and celery, which added a surprisingly good texture). Stir fry onion until translucent, then add veggies and cook.

Cut half an avocado into cubes (smaller ones than I did), and season with lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Beat an egg with a bit of oil. Set both aside.

To the pan, add leftover rice and season with salt, pepper, and powdered chicken stock. Add kimchi and kimchi liquid (optional: chili flakes and a few drops of fish sauce) and toss to coat.

Once everything is mixed, create a well in the rice and scramble the egg. When almost solid, break the egg into tiny pieces and mix thoroughly. Remove from heat, and top with sesame seeds and avocado to serve.

#make again #fried rice #kimchi #rice #onion #egg #sesame #everything else is optional

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fortheloveoflaury · 1 year

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y are you so pretty!?!?!?! Girl what are the makeup details because I’m trying to achieve the soft look.

so sweet, thank you! 💗

these are the products i use:

• Laura Mercier pure canvas primer hydrating

• Milk hydro grip hydrating primer

• Too Faced born this way super coverage concealer

• MAC mineralize skinfinish natural face powder

• Anastasia Beverly Hills powder bronzer

• Laura Mercier translucent loose setting powder

• Dior rosy glow blush

• MAC brow set

• Anastasia Beverly Hills brow wiz

• Charlotte Tilbury airbrush flawless setting spray

• Refy lip sculpt liner & setter in the colour sepia

• MAC lustreglass lipstick in the color thanks it’s mac

• MAC lipgloss in the oyster girl

what works best for me when it comes to a soft look or makeup in general is using products as little as possible because you want to make sure your skin looks natural. skip the full coverage and go for something more sheer coverage that you can build up!

now, i personally don’t wear foundation unless i’m getting a full beat (which i actually hate on me) and i also don’t contour my face because i naturally have a defined face so adding contour on top of it can easily make me look crazy lmao i use bronzer instead, it’s more subtle and less sharp!

this is my makeup routine when i do wear makeup and all i ever use on my face is concealer, powder, bronzer & blush with all the products listed. hope that helps! 💕💗🩷💖

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mildmayfoxe · 7 months

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post the beans!!!!

ok slow beans! it's not a real recipe so much as just a set of loose ingredients and a dream. but here's what you need:

canned bean of choice. anything you'd put in a chili. usually i do black beans but this time i did pinto bc that's what i had

onion

pepper of some variety. i like poblanos but bells work just fine

tomato of choice. usually i do real tomato but this time i did tomato paste bc i didn't have any tomatoes. you can also use canned tomatoes (crushed, diced, whatev) but you probably don't want a full can

spices (cumin, paprika, chili powder, chipotle powder, chili flake, garlic, oregano, basil, etc. again: anything you'd put in chili) (use fresh garlic if u feel like it bc it will be better that way but i'm lazy & badia garlic parsley is my best friend) (salt & pep also obvi)

nutritional yeast & soy sauce!

citrus juice of choice. lime is ideal but lemon is also good

water/stock

it's been a while since i made this properly but i seem to remember that generally i do a half onion/half pep per can of beans but i think it's a full plum tomato? half a tomato? i don't know do whatever you want. i've also used cherry tomatoes for this. but this time around i did a full onion and full pepper and just one can of beans and as noted above tomato paste. i also added corn to my batch today

OK so dice up your veg. throw the onion in a pot with some oil or butter and let it get a little translucent & then put in your pepper (and fresh garlic) and let that cook a little. then if you want you can add your dry spices now so they can toast a little on the aromatics before you add wet stuff. now you put in your beans and tomato and some water! probably about a half cup to a cup of water. see how you feel. OH PUT IN CHICKEN STOCK HERE INSTEAD OF WATER! i forgot to do that this time!!!! i can't believe it! anyway you want it to be a little soupy bc it's gonna cook down. now you can add soy sauce and nutritional yeast. this is for UMAMI! it will help you make "meaty" beans. this is one of the best cooking tips i've ever learned, i put soy sauce in almost every bean thing i make. it's awesome. don't salt this until after you taste it with the soy sauce in. and don't forget the lime juice. taste it again to see if you need to add anything else. now you're just gonna let this simmer for a while, the longer the better. it's gonna cook down so if you need to add more liquid you can! usually i let this go at least half an hour. if you don't have a long time to let it cook probably go for tomato paste bc it incorporates quick- ideally your fresh tomatoes will break down nice over the long simmer. (this is why i call them "slow beans.") after you're tired of letting it sit around/when most of the liquid is gone (you still want SOME) go at it with a potato masher or the back of a spoon and get it mostly squished up until its kind of paste-y. these can be kind of wet or kind of dry, both are good. ok! it's done! you can use this in tacos, quesadillas, nachos, rice bowl, mix it in queso for dip, whatever. ENJOY YOUR BEANS!

#i got to the end and then remembered the chicken stock..#food tag #chatpost #asks #i have no clue if this is anything similar to refried beans because i've never looked up how to make those #i can't imagine it's especially dissimilar #remembering times ive made this made me remember the times ive made carnitas ive GOT to braise some pork STAT #this took me so long to write bc it's been sooo long since i made them properly. i feel like i haven't cooked for real in 700 years

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bestproductslist · 7 months

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The "best" skin powder can vary depending on individual skin types and preferences.

However, some popular options include mineral powders, setting powders, and translucent powders from brands like Laura Mercier, Maybelline, and BareMinerals. It's essential to consider factors like coverage, finish, and ingredients when choosing the right powder for your skin.

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#beuty #healthyfood #skin health #light skin #skin products #skincare

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sabraeal · 9 months

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Age of Reason, Part 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for PurePassion, the other half of @traditional-with-a-twist, who also won the Obiyuki Madness Kitty! I am not often asked for more of this fic, but I am all too happy to oblige!

The thing is, the ambiance— it doesn’t add up.

Country nights run black as pitch, and the shadows here stretch deep in the stuff, dragging across the marble floors like a tiger’s stripes. The sort of inky darkness so thick a mind might trick itself into think it could leave streaks on a man, that it might even be solid enough to reach out and swallow given half the chance. The kind of endless deep that really gets the small animal of the soul shivering, wondering what might be on the other side— or if there is an other side to find. Toss a dir down a well like that, and you might be more surprised to hear it hit bottom.

That alone could have a man jumping at his own footsteps, thinking he sees ghouls and demons and worse around every corner. There’d been more than a few grifts where Obi had the dark do the heavy lifting, letting a moonless night press in around the kind of men who had more pride than sense. The kind that were eager to prove there was no vengeful spirit lurking around the village hall, or no vampires stalking through their forests in the dead of night. Convincing the shepherd went a long way in convincing the sheep, after all.

But tonight is no moonless night— no, he’d picked an evening where the old lady sat fat in her velvet bower, molting moonlight the way birds might their feathers, so bright there’d been no need for candles, even in the deepest bowels of the manor. No need for any casual passerby to know someone had been poking around the old pile, not when a ghostly princess would soon make her debut. Last thing he’d wanted was folk around here wondering if the ethereal princess had a more earthly in origin.

Picked the first night of the full moon too, just in case he needed to move fast— these Clarinese were always so quick to fall back on reason, once the fear had its time to settle, like water sinking below oil in a flask. There were ways to make skin glow and sigils flare if an enterprising person knew the angles the moonlight would slant through the window and the sort of unguent and powders that would use it to its best effect. The real could become surreal in the right man’s hands, and Obi— well, he’d made himself the right man long ago.

But standing here, staring at this apparition’s ghostly pallor, so translucent he can see where her veins run along the length of her forearms and snake up the column of her neck, blood soaked and flaking from the linen of her nightrail, and well—

It just doesn’t lend itself to the word con man. Or the way her hip cocks, unimpressed, as she cradles that bundle in her arms.

“Ah, miss!” He presses a hand to his chest, sketching the barest bow. She’s no sleeping princess, that’s for sure, but it always pays to be polite. “Con man is such an ugly term. I am a helper of man, a hunter of the unknowable, a—”

“A scoundrel, then.” She sets her bundle against her shoulder, the wailing cutting off with a hitch. It turns to a whine, the blankets squirming in strange, jerking movements. “Or perhaps you prefer ne’er-do-well?”

His hand drops, boneless under that dubious stare of hers. “I’ll have you know I do quite a bit of good.”

“I’m sure,” she says, too polite to be sincere. “I am curious though— what’s the grift, here? The house is closed for the season, but you’ll hardly be able to convince the townsfolk that there’s ghosts in the basement, or werewolves in the orchard. And when the guard find out you’ve snuck past them…”

There’s a doleful little warning in the glance she gives him, one that promises a tour of whatever dark corners the royals like to keep their undesirables in. But it’s hard to feel the threat of it when Obi hadn’t seen so much as a single petal of Wisteria blue since he stepped into town, and he doubts he’s about to see more. “Grift? Miss, I was sent here. Asked— no, begged, really— to come investigate the goings on here at the manor. There’s supposed to be a girl here, spurned by her royal lover and left to sleep for—”

“Ah, you’re a monster hunter.” Her smile’s almost fond when she shakes her head, as if he were a child dressed in his father’s maile, declaring himself a dragon slayer. “I haven’t seen one of those since I left Tanbarun. I never thought one would try their luck here.”

He wouldn’t have if sleeping mistress hadn’t seemed like sure money. “Is that so.”

“I thought germ theory sent all of you scampering back over the border.” Hand rubbing in soothing circles over the bundle, she peers down the hall. “So where is your partner?”

“Partner?” This girl knows far too much for those doll-like eyes. “I’m alone. Why would you think I had—?”

“Because someone has to be the monster, don’t they?” She takes a step, glancing through one of the open doors. “What was it supposed to be? Tragic young maiden, wrongfully killed before her time? Scullion who got in the family way and chose to take her own life, rather than suffer the dishonor? Oh, or perhaps a vampire—”

“With all due respect, Miss,” he blurts out, impatient. “I believe it was supposed to be you.”

“Me?” She doesn’t so much speak the word as shape it, mouth rounding as her gaze drops, tracing the eerie trails of blood winding down her gown. “Oh.”

If Obi thought it had been a pain sneaking out, it’s somehow an even bigger pain sneaking back in to Torou’s room. The window’s loud, for one, grunting and groaning as he tries to swing the pane from the sash, nearly slamming back in on his fingers once he does get it open. The company, for the second— and third, since the young lady balks when he offers to hold her blankets and give her a boost, and in the process of strapping it to her back, he discovers it isn’t an it at all.

“That’s a baby,” he hisses, nearly dropping the thing in panic.

“Of course he is.” She turns her head over her shoulder, mouth matching the baby’s disgruntled pout. “What did you think he was?”

Evidence of a mental illness, he doesn’t say, settling instead for, “There, all snug now. Now will you let me boost you up?”

And for the fourth, well…there’s something left to be desired in their reception, too.

“What are you thinking?” Torou squeaks, fingers tights as iron bands where they grip his arm. “You meet a girl covered in blood, and you think we should bring her in on the take?”

“I think we should hear her out at least,” he says, watching the girl linger by the kitchen fire. “Let her warm up a little. Maybe get her a new dress?”

What’s she’s got clings to her in all the wrong places, too stiff and crusted to seem like a second skin, but molded to her in a way that suggest it’ll feel like one when she pulls it off. Torou doesn’t miss it either, a breath huffing out as her arms cross over her chest.

“Fine. One dress.” She casts the girl a long look. “And one night. We can hear what she has to say, but if I don’t like it…”

Her thumb hitches over her shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

“Oh…” There’s a chair drawn up before the fire— he’d dragged it there himself while he waited, not quite sure why he bothered. At least, not until the girl sinks down into it with a sigh, stretching out her legs until the joints crack. “Feels like I haven’t done that in ages.”

The baby’s still in her arms, sleeping now, small face tucked up against her chest. It— he grunts every breath or so, little frown furrowing deeper with each one, an old man’s face writ in smaller lines. It doesn’t seem possible for someone to be that tiny, to be that new and be out in the world with only a few scraps of cloth to keep him safe.

“Ah, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” Her head tilts back to look at him, hair shining penny-bright in the firelight. “Do you happen to have some…something to eat?”

Torou glances at him, unimpressed, before telling her, “There’s some stew I can warm up. Bit of bread too, if you don’t mind it’s a bit stale.”

“Oh!” Her breath hitches. “That…that would be quite enough, thank you. I don’t have anything to pay you, but I’m sure I could, um…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi tells her, feeling the weight of the purse at his belt. “It’s on the house.”

There’s not a drop of noble blood running through Torou’s veins— neither of them; if he knows one thing, it’s that for sure— but she could give the finest countess a run for her money with the arch on her brow now, a look so loud he practically hears, ‘Oh, is it now?’ echoing in his ears. He gives her a charming smile, his best, and only budges that brow a bit higher.

“On…?” The girl’s cheeks flush, not perched all pretty on the apples of her cheeks, the way a prince’s mistress should, but splotchy like a farmer’s daughter. Not ideal for running this grift, but beggars can’t be choosers. Not like vengeful ghosts were given to be bashful anyway. “The kindness is appreciated, but I couldn’t presume to…” Her head shakes, though he doesn’t miss her glance toward the pot, all hunger. “This is a place of business.”

Between one blink and the next, Torou changes; stubborn giving way to surprise, then gives way to a different sort of stubborn. She’s already reaching for a trencher when he says, “Seems a fair exchange to me, miss…for a name.”

She hesitates now, one arm squeezing tighter on the babe, shoulders hunched as if her slight body could protect him from anything more substantial than a breeze. “…Shirayuki.”

He mouths the name, oddly familiar on his lips. A nice one, even if it doesn’t come with a last name to match. Not all do, where he’s from. He certainly doesn’t have one to give. “And him?”

She’s more eyes than face— probably even was even before that babe of hers pulled every last scrap of life from her it could— and all of it glances down to the bundle in her arms, a pink, wrinkled face pouting out from the swaddle. “I…” Her voice is so soft he hardly hears it over the scrape of the ladle. “I don’t know yet.”

Torou bustles over to her, thrusting the bowl between them. “Not going to name him after the father?”

It’s a cheap ploy, but an effective one. The sort they’ve made their bread and butter on for years, spooling out reason and rumor alike from the townsfolk they fleece, using every last thread of it to weave their grift. Except on this girl— this Shirayuki— there’s no crying or raging, no nothing. Just a tightening of her mouth and a small furrow carving itself between her brows.

“I don’t think,” she says, so carefully, tightening the makeshift swaddle around him, “that would be a good idea.”

Torou’s mouth goes a little pinched too. “You can’t eat and hold that thing. Here,” she says, holding out her arms. “Let me take him. Just for a minute.”

The girl shrinks back, eyes measuring the distance between Torou’s outstretched hands and the door. Whatever number she gets can’t be compelling.

“Listen,” Torou sighs, cocking a hip. “If he’s going to eat, you got to too, right? Can’t do that without both hands.”

Obi’s mouth twitches. “Unless you want me to feed you, Miss. I’d be happy to serve on bended knee, if only you said—”

The girl can’t get the babe into Torou’s arms fast enough. “Thank you.”

Her mouth twitches, meeting the babe’s eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

“Tell me you aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Torou mutters, jogging the baby boy up on her shoulder. He’s fussing quiet-like, not enough chest to make the full-bodied shrieks a bigger babe could, but he’s grunting— whimpering, really— nosing around Torou’s neck like if he roots hard enough, he might find his mother.

He holds up his hands, the picture of innocence. “I’m not thinking anything.”

“You don’t got to tell me that.” Her gaze darts over to where the girl sits, digging into her stew slowly, methodically even, but still— there’s an intensity to it. An urgency. Probably can’t remember the last time she ate, but she’d rather die than give that away. He’s seen it before— hell, done it before. “But I mean under all that not thinking. Tell me you’re not going to…”

There’s no need to say the words, not when they both know— “She’s perfect.”

“Are you nuts?” she hisses, so close to shrill he nearly shushes her. The baby does it instead, whining into her shoulder, little limbs jerking where he rests. A hand to the back soothes him, but Torou still glares, so tense that mane of hers nearly stands on end. “We don’t know anything about her.”

“Come on.” His charm might be wasted on Torou, but reason wouldn’t be. “This isn’t like our other jobs. These people actually knew the girl. We can’t just stuff you in a nightgown and hope for the best.”

“And what’s to say she’s got the look anymore than I do?” she sniffs, chin taking it most stubborn angle. “Sure, you found her in that creepy old pile. Sure, she was covered in blood. That’s doesn’t make her…her…”

She glances down at the kid, strangely pale— and even more strangely silent.

“Look at her. She’s so thin you can practically see through her. Put her under the moonlight with that bloody dress and even I thought she could be…” He clears his throat. “Red hair too. Not easy to find in these parts.”

Though he could have sworn he saw it recently. Not as apple-bright as this, but still, something close. Kissing-cousins. Family.

“You can dye hair,” Torou mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. No conviction. He’s got her hooked, now he’s just got to reel her in.

“To that color?” His shoulder bumps her, drawing a gurgle from that sleepy baby throat. “Come on, it’s not like we have better plans. What’s the harm?”

Torou stiffens, a palm absently rubbing over the baby’s back. “What if you’re right?”

He blinks. “What?”

“What if…?” She licks her lips. “What if this isn’t a coincidence?”

A scoff escapes him before he can catch it, which means he has to commit. “You can’t really think she’s the mistress, can you? Torou, you—?”

“I know what I saw,” she growls, voice pitched low. “She was cursed, Obi. And no one knows why! What if…what if they find out she’s awake and—”

“Torou.” His hand weighs heavy on her shoulder, trying to ground her, to recognize it’s earth under her feet. “We make up all our grifts! There’s never been a vengeful ghost, or a werewolf, or a…a cursed princess. They’ve all been parts you play!”

She shakes her head, all eyes when she looks up at him. “But the best lie has a grain of truth in it. What if…what if we’ve finally found ours?”

Obi frowns down at her, a strange sense of dread knotting in his gut. “We know what this world can do, don’t we? And if it could do something like that…”

Then maybe it wouldn’t be just the two of them. Or maybe they wouldn’t be here at all. A little bit of magic could change everything, once a body started to believe.

“We’ve made a mint making other people fools,” Torou says finally. “But I’m telling you, Obi. If we get involved with this girl, we’ll be the bigger ones.”

He’d love to get the last word in on that one, to tell her she’s just being as gullible as their marks, but he can’t get a peep out, not when the little man on her should rears back his head and wails.

“Oh!” There’s only the trencher left in the girl’s hands when she turns back, already half-eaten. “He must be hungry.”

It’s Obi that lifts him from Torou’s shoulder, letting a grin tilt his lips. “Hey, Miss,” he starts, patting the little guy on his back. “Tell me if you’ve heard this one before…”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #sleeping beauty au #my fic #age of reason #ans #okay this was supposed to be 4/4 with a potential for more #but it looks like it's more like 4/5 with a potential for more #but we have finally reached the end of the fics I owe for this year #well except the do-si-do stuff #almost onto the ones for next year. OH BOY 🤣#no rest for the wicked

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