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presumenothing · 4 years

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When Riza opens the front door of the Elrics’ flat in Central (which is nominally under their name but potentially occupied by any combination of a remarkable assortment of people at any given time, an alarming percentage of whom scorned mundane things like keys in favour of lock-picking and fifth-floor windows) it’s to find Edward sprawled facedown on the couch, golden hair loose in a veritable halo around him.

Sprawled so throughly, in fact, that he doesn’t even twitch at her entrance, lying still enough that a fainter-hearted person might’ve gone screaming for help.

Fortunately for all concerned, this doesn’t even rank in comparison to some of the histrionics Riza’s been front-line witness to over the years, so she merely closes the door behind her and returns the spare key to the hidden pocket in her purse. “Should I be concerned?”

The lump on the couch lets out a string of wholly intelligible noises.

Riza quirks an eyebrow. “I’m afraid only Alphonse speaks that particular dialect of couch.”

That gets Edward huffing something recognisable as laughter, before pushing himself up far enough so that he can flop over – backwards this time, glaring at the ceiling.

“Apparently I can’t just pull research all-nighters whenever I want anymore,” he says, in the same sullen groan that other people might’ve used for the doctor says no more drinking ever unless I’ve decided a liver is optional.

“Ah.” Riza doesn’t bother with outward sympathy like she might’ve done usually, because Edward’s never appreciated that, but the sentiment is genuine nonetheless.

As is her retroactive relief that she hadn’t badgered the General into coming along after all, since she can already imagine him ragging Edward about getting old, and. Well. She’s already suffered through more than her share of juvenile hair-pulling arguments after the demilitarisation council meetings today, thank you very much.

It’s why she’d decided to drop by and see the Elrics now instead of waiting for the weekend; at least when they descend into petty sniping at each other it’s entertaining to watch rather than a complete waste of time.

Though speaking of which – Riza’s just about to ask where Alphonse is when Edward’s low-level grumbling is interrupted by a meow.

He curses under his breath, and since it’s definitely not for Riza’s benefit (she had been present for the swear-off between him and Havoc and Breda, after all) she assumes it’s for the benefit of the smaller lump he’s now untangling from his hair, which resolves into a kitten-shaped bundle as Edward bellows. “AL!”

True to form, Alphonse chooses that moment to – for lack of a more dignified word – sail in through the front door with a paper bag of groceries in either arm. It lends further credence to the betting pool about the Elrics actually having telepathy; Riza’s not a betting person, so her concern is mostly about how many of Roy Mustang’s mannerisms Alphonse appears to have picked up on.

He smiles brightly as he makes a beeline past her to deposit the bags on the kitchen counter. “Hullo, Colonel Hawkeye.”

Riza nods cordially in return. Any reply she might have made would’ve been drowned out by Edward’s now-louder complaints about cats in his hair.

The feline in question looks fairly unperturbed despite being held like a beaker of flammable propellant (Riza supposes that’s what it’d take, anyway, to approach a sleeping Elric) and Alphonse seems to agree as he homes in on them like a magnet. “Aw, Brother, Cookies likes you! I think it’s the shiny hair.”

Edward holds it even further from his face – not very high, all told, since he’s not gotten up from the couch yet, but out of batting range from his hair. “It does not like me it just wants to make me bald why are you naming your cats after food now Al have you not been eating enough.”

“Not all food,” Alphonse says reproachfully, like this is a reasonable thing to be arguing about. “Some of them are condiments, and if there’s anyone here who’s not been eating properly it’s you. Have you been in the library this whole time since I went out?”

Riza decides to help put away the groceries. A good half of the cupboard labels are scrawled in Xingese, but after all the diplomatic missions she can manage that much.

Edward’s mulish scowl is practically audible anyway.

“I’m really not above persuading every librarian in this city to bar you from entering, y’know,” Alphonse threatens, though it loses much of the intimidation factor when he’s clearly cooing over the bundle of meow. “Don’t make me do it.”

“You wouldn’t have to if those imperial alkahestrists would stop using fucking Riemannian geometry in their arrays, including the extra dimensional variables into the calculations is a bloody pain.”

“Well, it’s far more intuitive if you can feel–”

“–yeah, the Dragon’s Pulse, I know, ugh. But that doesn’t exclude it from having to make sense mathematically, too, and mmmphf.”

Riza glances back into the living room to find that Edward has been derailed by virtue of his brother liberating Cookies to replace it with something actually edible instead, to which Edward’s response is as blessedly predictable as ever.

Alphonse must catch her looking, as well, or at least he realises that Riza’s not exactly free enough to drop by for a purely social call these days. “Was there something you wanted to discuss with us, Colonel?”

“Something we’d like you both to investigate, yes,” Riza confirms. “No one’s quite sure what’s happening, but it’s probably going to need alchemists to resolve – I’ll pass you the briefing later, but it’s probably easier if I explain first. Shall I make some tea?”

Alphonse nods, leaning over to set Cookie down on one of the cat highways transmuted into the walls of their flat. “Second cupboard from the right, bottom shelf.”

“But not any of the tins with Xingese on it,” Edward pauses in inhaling food to add. “That’s Al’s dead leaf juice collection, it’s vile.”

“Ginseng is good for you, and it’s not a leaf. I know you know this.” Alphonse unceremoniously clears Edward’s feet off the couch far enough for him to sit, earning him a hiss that’s not unlike a cat. “It’s the black tin with gold lettering, Colonel, you can bring some back with you to try if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you.” Riza glances through the labels until she finds something low on caffeine; powering through today’s meetings required enough coffee that she might not be entirely imagining the hum in her bloodstream. “I’d also suggest working out actual prices for your consultation work, since bartering favours isn’t going to be sustainable, if you’re planning to go into this for the long term.”

Or rather if they plan on consulting with anyone besides the one person who can be counted on not to forget such favours when it’s convenient, but there’s no need to spell it out with the Elrics.

She unearths a clearly-neglected tin of white tea in time to see Edward flapping a hand carelessly as he pointedly relocates his feet onto Alphonse’s lap. “Take that up with Al.”

Alphonse sighs, but doesn’t otherwise move. “I’ll be happy to listen to any suggestions you might have, Colonel.”

“I can draw up some tables based on what others have charged for similar services in the past,” Riza agrees, like anyone could really offer anything close to what the Elrics have. “Also most tea is dead leaf juice.”

“Exactl– hey!” Edward’s head pops up from the couch like a betrayed prairie dog with a bad hair day. “Whose side are you on!?”

“The winning one,” Riza answers mildly, and sets the kettle to boil while they argue over whose side that is.

(Cookies pauses on the nearest piece of highway to eye her hair clip, and Alphonse must be right: it does seem to like shiny things. Riza resolves to find out where they keep the cat treats.)

(more fics here)

#2 separate bits of this have been sitting in my mishmash drafts for ages #here is me gluing them together with like. 1.3k words of context. why #fma #fmab #fanfiction #mine #yes this is two posts in a day because i got halfway through this one yesternight before giving up to sleep #one more for the 'ed is okay post-canon' pile

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Just Leave Pt 2

Midway through the forest while you sat up on watch you glanced at Bilbo after another long day of muttered comments on how the Elf King would behave around Thorin and his kin. For a month you had stayed in Rivendell. First for your healing but then for a week of being praised and partied around celebrating the great victorious defeat of Sauron without having to cross to Mordor or risk a single drop of blood past the small scrapes you three got in the fall from the waterfall fawned over by the Elves until they had healed entirely. One birthday wish down. And with poor Bilbo, who had had his fill of complaints as well with a wish of his own on the horizon you subtly said, “You know, if you really wanted to get back at them you could make good use of that birthday wish of yours.”

Bilbo’s head turned to look you over asking, “Good use? Hobbits do not normally have birthday wishes, we give favors on our celebrations of birth.” At your lingering smirk he asked, “Why? What were you thinking of?”

“Oh, just something to force the Kings to learn to get along.”

A smirk now ghosted across his lips in a scoot closer to your side asking as if to learn a secret, “Such as?”

Echoing through the trees an ear ringing shriek led to arms being drawn and heavily from the chest you slammed into down into the leaf coated dirt you whimpered wavering, “Get it off-!”

Webs pulled off of your head were thrown away and between three warm Dwarves while you curled up with trembling hands lifting to your head with Bofur humming out, “You’re safe now, webs are off you.”

“Don’t let them touch me,” Again you shivered tapping your forehead to his shoulder, “Left me dangling, for days,” Clearly trapped in a flashback to a terribly cruel prank involving giant spiders switching the Dwarves to consoling mode.

Having followed the screams Elves circled the group only to be met with scowls and Bombur barking out, “Give the Lass a moment for Manwe’s sake.” Eyes shifted to you taking in your hyperventilating self surrounded by the Dwarves who uncurled your hands to gently squeeze to timed counts to breathe in and out until you calmed again. Clear view of your unique eyes however had those widening on the Elves who sheathed their weapons to guide you to the Palace.

Once inside however the smooth velvety voice of the Elf King washed over you while approaching his raised antler topped throne he was walking down its steps. “One might only imagine something grander than a stroll through my forest to be the goal, young Prince Oakenshield.” Earning a scowl from Thorin avoided in the glance your way, “And our Miss Pear, we are most interested in learning of how we may cater to your wishes. Hunger is obvious, any other demands past the supper already being cooked while we speak for your current comfort?”

“Could we have cake too?” His brow twitched and you added, “It’s Bilbo’s birthday, so it needs candles for him to blow out for his wish.” Luring a ghost of a grin across his lips.

To lovely apartments you were led allowed to bathe and change before the hearty dinner followed by the candle topped cake Bilbo smiled at enjoying his first selfish birthday gift to himself with a second slightly less selfish gift you might enjoy as well, his wish. The candle was blown out and it wasn’t until lunch the following day after a breakfast alone with the King and Prince off on a slew of meetings that his wish was enacted. Around the table you all settled and it all began with a question of why the Elf King should let them go.

Three hours you and Bilbo left the King’s locked in a dance duel, something Hobbitish in step close to a River Dance leaving the duo hop stepping around one another. Still arguing, refusing to allow the other to win verbally or in endurance steeping down to the unspoken loathing their races held for one another since the days of long dead Thingol’s slights to their distant Dwarf kin leading to centuries of war between them.

Post raiding and conquering of the kitchens you and Bilbo had amassed a hefty supply of cookies and mini cakes that upon a cart was wheeled back to the doorway of the Throne Room halting the argument leaving the still bounding Kings with sweat beading on their foreheads turned their heads to follow the tantalizing scents wafting their way.

Thorin muttered, “Is that chocolate cake?”

“Yup,” You said lifting a piece you popped between your lips leaning against the doorway beside a guard stealing a peek your way, “Too bad you can’t stop arguing to enjoy some.”

The pair narrowed their eyes at your finger wave saying, “Found a lovely garden that way, we’ll just lounge and, indulge I suppose.” Slipping from the doorway sneaking a cookie into the hands of the guards on either side of the door mentally planning their arm to inch up behind their shield and staffs to nibble on them.

Bathed and casually dressed the duo joined your mini tea party with lanterns to light it supplied by a slew of Elleths amused at your momentary coup on a small scale in the Kingdom grateful for something so scandalous to have to gossip about long after your group had gone. Stoically the duo tucked their legs in accepting their tea and cakes sipping between bites refusing to acknowledge how they had met the compromise or terms in said agreement.

Two note whistle, like that of calling a pet inside had even Bilbo flinching then clasping his hands over his mouth to the growl following. Flung into the treasury an enchanted book flew flapping wildly a few moments until the stunned Dragon, on whose snout it landed stood crosseyed staring at the book. Glowing suddenly, rapidly into the book Smaug was sucked leaving simply a portrait of the Dragon inside the book that flapped its way back to you like an awkward bird. Binding itself shut with the leather strip tucking itself into a sturdy knot like the one you had undid to let it fly.

Turned around you grinned at the wide eyed Company and Elf King among his selected guards and Son eyeing you and the book you showed them the cover of, “Dragon book, best way to transport wild Dragons from peaceful towns they end up in accidentally.”

Thranduil, “He holds a chance to escape then?”

“No, you have to know the incantation to let them out, and I don’t know the incantation so he’s trapped for good.”

Thorin, “How do you not know the incantation? What would happen if you got sucked into it? How would we release you?!”

“For one, the incantation card is extra upon purchase, I lacked the ten galleons to afford both. Two. Clearly the answer is in the title, Dragon book, if I was a Dragon you’d be toast you adorably flammable Teddy Bear King you.” The words were enough to make him blush but the simple gentle play pinch to his cheeks marking a subtle signed gesture of an endearment of sweet cheeks traded between lovers had his face shifting bright red to the chortles from his Nephews and muffled squeals from the rest of the Company watching his numb footed stomp into the Treasure Hoard.

Barking out of nerves he spoke hurrying Bilbo to his hired task, “Bilbo! Arkenstone!” Two words and he flopped down to sit dangling his legs off the end of the platform to watch the Hobbit scurry down to the gold he timidly toed his way then sank down to scour the hoard.

Amused beyond words with a hint of what you’d done Thranduil turned to see you tug your sleeves up after adding your book to your bag again. “Okay, let’s see what we can do with this dust bunny.” From the holster hidden in your pocket out your wand came as you muttered, “Bound to be lanterns somewhere,” a ball of light floated upwards and on an invisible tether hovered above your path out of sight of the still calming Company lost to their gossip. Simple sweeping spells and flaming orbs to light the lanterns and chandeliers Thranduil pointed out to you a good chunk of the level was cleared and in the kitchen you stopped leaving an army of mopping and dusting cleaning supplies to finish the new sparkle to this level.

A shriek from you came after a muffled explosion turning the heads of the Company seeing you skidding coated in soap bubbles to your carpet bag to find a book you flipped through then raced back once returning the book muttering, “Forgot the toadestum.” Having snuck behind you Ori drew laughed at the massive bubble beard and star shaped hairstyle even making Nori envious luring the rest to try and play through helping you defeat your bubbly foe. Even the Elves had to laugh at being coated in bubbles while you finished mending the kitchen and before long a meal was prepped.

Thorin didn’t know this bubbling inside him, somewhere between your words and his lingering stare at the gold, that when fetching Bilbo you fired off a too late cleansing spell into the hoard to sweep through while you were eating, something had changed in him. Something was festering. Images kept popping up, you in tears in that fight, the storm off afterwards, that painful skirmish before Rivendell.

His mind lingered on that a long while even before this, you had fought not days prior and still you threw a cauldron and yourself between him and certain death nearly dying after having saved his heirs from the same fate. Never sharing why, not being asked to. He couldn’t understand it. Every night since the sight of you being blasted off that ledge in Rivendell and just a while ago hurling a book through the Treasure Hoard doorway.

You were a nuisance, a hindrance, a burden, he didn’t believe that, he never did. Even women outside of their own kin are treasures and meant to be guarded as such. Yet the stab to his gut hearing you were in pain, an illness later shared to possibly have been fatal had they not gone to Rivendell, had he not let you stop. He could have killed you, left you miserable to either painfully until the day you wouldn’t wake up leading to a regrettable burial and a life shattering waste of a precious life that could have been so wonderful had he only noticed what was wrong behind what he deemed laziness.

Something, something was wrong as halfway through the tasteless dessert as his kin laughed and spoke joyously across the candle lit table he caught your eye in a silent pause. He was scowling, locked in a firm glare at all set before him and unable to break it the expression held and in your eyes he could see the truth, something was wrong, and you knew.

That was the start of it, the Elf group had halfway missed their window to leave, remaining only at your hushed request to stay convincing the stubborn Elf King that the darkening gaze of Dwarf King barking again at Bilbo to ‘search faster’ for his stone ignoring the agreement to locate and hand over the gems.

Bilbo however like many creatures possessing a bladder required a break and in said break Thranduil again spoke his peace. “King Thorin, we have an agreement.”

“I would not-,” pressing a hand to his chest Thorin groaned luring his kin closer while you flashed a quick grin to the confused Elf King who glanced your way as if you could help him somehow. “Ever,” growling now in his ever mounting rage, glaring holes into the Elves all looking him over as he seemed to be shrinking into his heavy layers. “Hand,” again he groaned lowering to all fours in a struggle with something to the jaw dropping sight of his hair turning blonde with a tinge of red to it falling down into his face at his crown falling heavily from his shrinking head to the floor.

“Thorin!” Dwalin cried out dropping down peering into the mess of layers of armor and furs wondering what became of his cousin only to pause at the now tooth baring fennec fox in the mess of clothes growling up at Thranduil upon seeing him again.

“Temper temper,” You mused and after a squeak from Thorin in seeing his paws and snout he shifted using his polished chest plate to gain a wide eyed ear raised look at himself sending him sprinting for your feet.

“Change me back!!” Even Gandalf stared to his growls to the Elf King and reach up on his hind legs causing you to lift him to be tucked into your arms in front of your chest.

Deaf to his curses to the other stunned King understanding him clearly you replied, “I can’t change you back only you can do that.” That had his ears and lids dropping in a fierce growling glare to Thranduil trying not to smirk at this new development.

With a hand holding him your other settled it’s fingertips into his head and trying to fight the intimate action he didn’t give you permission for his growls staggered off to the start of a scalp massage. Steadily his head would droop to your bicep then lift again for another pitiful growl with half hearted curses for the other King now pleasantly joining you for another tea before bed calling it a day. On the cusp of another bad storm sure to darken the mountain by blocking the only natural light you had luring yawns from you deciding you were sleeping soon whether they agreed or not.

Sleep soon came and the grumbling arguments from the fox had Thorin scurrying after you following as you carried your bags to the room you had chosen, one of the finest guest quarters in the Royal Wing without runes etched into the door plaque for who had once lived there. All in purple and grey with speckled furs across the bed you plopped onto and burrowed in ready to sleep. Avoiding being left to the Elves’ watch or reach across the bed he hurried to dive nose first under the top fur on the pile bunched up behind your back. Even covered in fur still he wanted to hide knowing his now vulnerable tiny self could easily be killed if any deemed possible. He couldn’t leave it to chance so he slept with he person who rolled the least while they slept.

Dreams wracked with terrors of sinking into gold and memories of the sacking of Erebor flooded his dream only sending him from behind your back to hop over you. Too terrified to sleep without the embarrassing fact of needing to be held, behind you he was still in the open even hidden by furs, so under your curled arm he turned curling up nipping the furs higher and at the lowering of his head like magic when your head pressed to the back of his he was asleep again. No more nightmares, no more heart racing, at least until he opened his eyes and found your arm still around him, though now laying across his side as he laid out butt naked in front of you.

Something was different. For all the imaginations of nights with his future spouse he never imagined it would be like this. Dreaming of spooning and actually doing it were two different things, and even so vastly different than with his cousins to keep warm there was something about having another shaped so daintily to his boulder of a self melded against his back. Arm draped so carelessly around him yet assuring that the partner was still there with a chance at some beard teasing or stroking of chest hair or rubbing of bellies. Legs tangled with ease tangled up granting his trunk like thighs to feel the hidden muscle in your longer pair seeming more twig like at a distance for his liking.

So far from women he had grown with, both Hobbit and Dam, curves were there, with ample muscle hidden beneath them to sustain yourself. Surely you could use some plumping up, he mused to himself. Lost to plans of banquets and designs to fuel his marketplace to fill your bare pantry reminded to him by the faint growl of your belly causing you to burrow more into his back. A learned trait of refusing to allow your hunger to lecture what you would do, at first the growls were so loud and now it was as if the stubborn will of your belly had lost all hope of being full ever again lowering its growl to something closer of a huff at being found empty once again. Hunger shouldn’t bother him, months traveling for want of a home and a little hunger on the list of issues surely shouldn’t make it to the top ten. Eleven surely, but with Dragons to fight who wouldn’t expect a bit of hunger.

Ever so gently the fingers across his chest ghosted through the short raven hairs between his pectorals rising and falling between breaths that hitched at the motion. Sudden surge of blood south from what could only have been a graze of lips across his heated back found his hand timidly lifting your arm he used a pillow to prop up in his slide out. Off the foot of the bed he collected a spare fur to drape around himself on his scurry from your apartment back to his. Once the door was eased shut behind him soundlessly down the hall he tiptoed to sneak into his own apartment where his boots and clothes were waiting for him.

Arguments and insults melted between swirling notions of being yours. Onto his bed he sprawled unable to fight the fire in his body demanding a release triggered by that innocent path of fingers and lips. Just a Wizard. He was a King. No need for a Queen, that thought stunned him. Surely Fili and Kili were his heirs and technically he didn’t have a need for heirs but it would still be his people’s hope to marry and have a child one day, especially since he was King so young to his people. But why did Queen pop into his head. Surely it must have been the reaction to the touch of another while naked. Nothing more. There was too much damage to bear should he ever consider possibly courting you, not that he wanted to.

Again he sat across from Thranduil not listening to the nonsense tale he was sharing, clearly aware the Dwarf King was not paying him any mind at all and merely was entertaining a question from young Ori. Every inch of you was detailed, clad in sweats and a baggy tank top with low dipped sleeves under an open cardigan his eyes dipped to the barely visible ink on your side. Your shirt was bunched up in the sideways tucked position you held in your chair along the wall by the roaring fire sketching away once again. Narrowing his eyes out he barked through another slurred hiss of arguments in Smaug’s voice the Elves were not to be trusted along with his kin, “Miss Pear, what is that you are doing?”

Up your eyes turned and you replied, “Sketching. Trying to remember exactly how a hawk is decorated.”

“Why hawk? There are ample raven in this peak for you to sketch.” The tale had halted a moment granting the others a glance between you.

“True, but I’m making a sketch of a knight who has a messenger hawk, little face mask and all.”

Fili, “Hawk aren’t nocturnal. And what would a mask have to do with the two?”

“No, a Knight, it’s, back home when a soldier reaches a certain peak in their career for a noble act or simply out of benefit for a task requiring a title they are Knighted by the King and they are dubbed Sir, Such and Such.”

Kili chortled, “Such and Such, nonsense title.”

You sighed and Gloin said, “Clearly she means had you been Knighted you would be Sir Kili.” Earning a nod from the young Prince while Gloin looked to you, “We have similar ranks for soldiers, however, your Sirs are masked?”

“No, the mask is for the hawk.” Turning the Elf King’s head to face you, “I think it’s like putting blinders on horses, keeps them focused. When the Knight rides he keeps the hawk masked and when he takes the mask off and secured the note in its bag then he lets go of the leather straps around its ankle and it flies back off to the castle where the King’s messenger will take the message to the King.”

Thranduil asked, “Why hawks?”

“They also use pigeons.”

Fili muttered, “Pigeon?” causing a few of his relatives to shrug.

“Small birds can only fly so far, most eagle breeds are hard to domesticate and train. Hawks are smaller.”

Thorin muttered again, “Masked Hawks, ravens would be a finer touch to any artwork.” Then once Thranduil had turned to speak to Ori again Thorin said, “In the morning you will sketch my portrait. Surely our guests would not mind sending paint supplies for you. Take it as a sign of respect.”

Thranduil said, “My artists are gathering paint supplies as we speak, Miss Pear’s artwork is quite unique and we cannot wait to see more of it in the future. Including what she might make of your portrait.”

Stationed dramatically around the throne with Arkenstone above them glowing the Durins stood while Thorin sat dramatically in armor and furs. “Stop moving!” he growled to Fili whose nose twitched at a firefly landing on it.

“They keep landing on my nose,” he said wiggling his nose.

“Do not move again. Miss Pear requires perfect stillness.” He said with eyes darkening revealing his souring mood as Smaug’s hisses picked up again that his kin were spoiling his moment and didn’t respect his claim as King. Each would try to take his crown and stone causing him to growl to himself in thought.

“No growling Thorin,” you said snapping his eyes to you, “Makes your forehead wrinkle. Again he growled but this time lower making you reply, “I heard that,” finishing the sketch off.

To a bug flying up his nose Kili doubled over in a hard sneeze his eyes watered in fighting against. “KILI!”

“Oh you’re fine!” You barked back snapping his eyes to you in a dark glare earning a glare for him in return he would have swooned at if he hadn’t felt a sharp stab in his chest. Hard his hand clapped to his chest plate at the ripple of hair from black to blonde with hints of red in it before his body dropped in the pile his clothes and armor made. Deep in your memory you locked the image of fennec Thorin climbing out from the center of his crown to glare at everyone before hopping out muttering to himself to go and find somewhere to hide and calm down. Silently you giggled to yourself nodding your head to the guys saying, “You can take a break. I can always come and check for coloring and whatnot, I could draw you all in your sleep.”

Off they went and once they were gone you smirked summoning a second easel to start sketching the clothes and crown filled throne to be centered by the glaring fox to complete the painting for your own amusement, and hopefully one day Thorin’s. If he ever grew a sense of humor from that temper of his.

Unable to sleep you sat up painting the portrait that halfway through you had to stand from the painful stool offered to you as the tallest they could find to match the easel. Onto his throne under your watch Thorin had slept in his pile of clothes waking just as infuriated as he was upon falling asleep. Stretching however he hopped off the throne scurrying over to your side standing on his back legs trying to see, “I can’t see it.”

Up you lifted him into your arm and with a far kinder expression you sat Thorin in the center of his far more relaxed kin around his throne for the grin inducing portrait just sending him muttering to join the others in waiting for breakfast. Smirking to the Elves you finished drying your brushes and sent them to your room and left the painting to hover as the easel and spare canvas were off to your room as well to be finished later. “You truly captured his glare,” Thranduil teased at the fox sketch making you smirk to yourself, “The other was masterfully done. A regal yet relaxed expression. Perhaps I might gain one from you as well.”

“No problem, and I think I’m wearing him down on his temper.” Making the King’s brow arch up curiously in your turn for food. Seven times he had turned to a fox and back again with no sign of improvement for anyone else but you. Surely those from the Iron Hills would be along soon enough and something would have to be done to ensure the King would keep his throne from any usurpers.

The portrait had been framed by Bifur and Bofur using gold from the forges with it hung up in the hall of Kings portraits you had restored to its former glory before the fires stirring another tug in Thorin’s chest. So much you had done for his kin and still nothing seemed to be good enough to repay you. Another early morning naked sneak back to his rooms had begun his day and to breakfast covering the table he joined the others who saw clearly without your cardigan in the warm dining hall you were in an open sided tank top revealing all your artwork above the waist. Fili broke the silent stare of his uncle by asking, “Miss Pear, any plans for today?”

Glancing up at him you said, “Thought I might draft up a few more ideas for how to color my jackalope tattoo. Had half a thought on trying to re-pierce the top of my ear but I keep chickening out.”

Gloin asked, “You have had it pierced before? That is a marker for a lost parent.” His head shifted conforming the other was pierced as well, “You were an orphan?”

“Yes, no family waiting for me back home. I had to take it out last time I saw my doctor and it healed over. I don’t think the guy who did it set it right where it would heal.”

Moving closer Gloin raised a hand asking, “May I?” You nodded and he gently eased a stray strip of loose curls hanging from your messy bun to see your ear with two piercings already at the base and one in the middle underneath the scar bearing top with an edge with a slat edge in the rim. “Yes, you have a blade scuff. He should have shifted it higher a notch. Rather easy to mend, if you might allow me the right to the ceremony.”

In his step back you asked, “You do piercings?”

His smile puffed out, “Yes, my father’s line bears a long lineage of aiding skin painters with the piercing rituals that go along with other forms of our skin adornments. Should you choose to aid our kin by becoming our skin painter I would be honored to take up the mantle so to speak.”

Glancing Thorin’s way you asked, “I could have a tattoo shop here?”

Thorin gruffly replied, “We could not guarantee your safety were you to leave. Skin painters are sacred roles to our kin. Where else would you go?” Palms smoothed over faces behind you with pointed stares to the Dwarf King who asked, “Was it not so in your former lands?”

“No. I chose tattooing because it let me work with my art every day to my own schedule and be able to pay for my brother’s care and schooling.”

Kili asked, “You have a brother?”

Fili, “He must miss you terribly!”

“He died,” you said turning back to the kitchen to fetch the water pitcher, “Just me now.”

Bilbo followed you to claim more of the food, “Not just you. You have us now.” He eyed the bunnies on your side asking, “Does it hurt? Your markings? They are quite unique,” he said getting a better look at your turn sideways opening the slit there more for a clear look of the owl clouds and cloud bunnies underneath.

“Certain spots hurt more than others but more for the position to get the artwork done all the other artists wanted to change the bunnies but my brother drew them for me on a birthday card, didn’t want to change a thing.”

Bilbo’s brows inched up, “You did this?”

“I do all my own tattoos. Just ask for help on piercings, nearly passed out on my naval one watching the needle. Had to lay down for a bit.”

Legolas, “Understandably, to push heated metal through ones skin, must be painful.”

Your brow arched up and Thorin barked out, “We shall find the proper location for your shop once breakfast is through. Come, eat. Gloin will ready the preparations after we have settled you in and then we might arrange our markers in your schedule.”

You looked his way moving to the chair he eased out for you trailing your path the whole way, stealing a closer look at your art in the chance putting you on his left, “Your markers?”

Thorin, “Yes, each of us has faced quite the victory, I shall be requiring a victorious battle marker as well as one for my crowning while Dwalin shall be Master at Arms and Balin Chief Advisor.”

“Don’t you have a brother?” you asked and the table hushed a moment when he sat looking at you, “In the books it says you have one, F-R-E-R-I-N, is the first R silent? I could never understand how to pronounce it correctly.”

Thorin wet his lips eyeing the water pitcher hovering to fill his glass then yours on its way around the table, “Frerin,” he lowly rumbled back, “He is lost wandering with my Father, Thrain.”

“I’m sorry, the book just mentions you have one, not what happened to him.” You glanced at him and asked, “So, who do you get the eyes from?” That had his brow lifting up, “Plus I always had the notion there’s a bit of Hobbit blood in your line, but that’s just me. Others assume that the Durin line wouldn’t take Hobbit brides or husbands to taint the noble Longbeard bloodline.”

That had his head tilting slightly in a prop of his arms on the arms of his chairs, “Who would claim to know what taints our bloodline?”

Bilbo muttered, “Some Hobbit blood would do the clan some good.” Making you and some of the group smirk.

Thorin cleared his throat and you answered, “Monarchies are always about bloodlines. Respectable clans and best chosen mate for babies and whatnot.”

“How would Hobbit blood-,”

“I don’t think that, but some would assume that Dwarves would want to be ruled by a full blooded Dwarf.”

Thorin curtly rumbled back, “A sliver of Dwarf blood makes anyone a full blooded Dwarf.” He let out a breath seeing the anxious nip at your lip to calm yourself assuming you’d insulted him and added, “My Father and Mother are half Hobbit. And they both have blue eyes, however I prefer to imagine I have my Gran’s shade of blue and Thror’s dark hair.”

“Well, I can always check my textbooks later and see what I can wrangle up on a locator charm. Even if it backfires again the green hair only lasts three months.”

Balin, “Green hair?”

You nodded, “It’s a pretty finicky charm, but the shade suits my eyes I think.”

Near to a growl Thorin rumbled, “Do not risk your hair. Eventually we shall find them.”

“I can manage something.” Pointedly he looked at you again making you huff and shift in your seat to fill your plate.

“This is our old skin painter shop.”

“And I can decorate how I want?” You asked about the charred husk of a shop with a chunk of the wall missing from a tail blow.

“However you find comforting to work.” Thorin rumbled back.

Fixing the wall with a wave of your hand the natural stone coloring came back and across one wall you coated the built in benches with plush cushions and Gloin showed you the piercing section of the room you summoned some painted screens you had gathered from your bag along with curtains to divide the back private section for tattoos on more sensitive body parts. A full bath in the back wall spruced itself up while the cupboard for supplies fixed its shelves and cubbies again. Along the walls artwork you had gathered along with trinkets and décor filled the walls of cubbies to go with the vast supply of candles to fill the crystal ship chandeliers secured by enchanted chains bound to the beams above replacing whatever the old ones used to be. Mirrors hung up randomly in lines like bubbles helped to scatter the light around the room to brighten it comfortably, namely for the waiting area with couches near the display for artwork books you had done for others.

Warmly Thorin’s hand patted on your back in an affirming motion. One lingering gaze over your face and your focus turned to Gloin who grinned motioning you back to his station. Names of your parents were gathered and to candles lit and incense burned he hummed and sang a deep throated lullaby of a tune while readying the needle to add the cuff earring he had forged for you through the night. Closing your eyes a slow exhale later and the sting came and went followed by one from the retraction and placing of the cuff to go with the second to replace the stud in your other ear.

In front of your open planner each Dwarf drew out the markers they would want to size and where they would want them. “These aren’t that bad I could finish them today if you would want?”

Balin grinned kindly saying, “It is custom to do this alone and to prepare for them. Is there any preparation you would require from us?”

Shaking your head you said, “Past eating and drinking before coming I can shave the spot and handle the rest here.”

Fili, “Shave?!”

You nodded, “Even with me everyone has tiny hairs that have to be shaved off for the needle to work properly or the ink won’t set.” Bringing over his sketch you showed him, extending fingers just a bit bigger than the sketch, “It would just be a strip this big, and it should grow back fast after, the tattoo heals in a matter of days and the hair already should be growing back by then.”

Thorin, “Days? The marker heals in days? Ours take weeks to heal.”

“Depending on how large the piece is. And sometimes I may have to split the process into chunks, outline and coloring separate or the major piece and background later,” showing him your owl tattoo you said, “I did outline first then color for the vines, the background was next with the actual owl last to contrast the night sky just right. The lower half came three months later once the top had healed and the bunny tracks on my thigh came a month after that.”

The last sentence had Thorin’s heated gaze fixed on your thigh wondering what else your lower layers were hiding and just what sort of naval piercing you had gotten to know what sort of a partner you were searching for, uncertain of why, he merely had to know. Absolutely had to without care to the thoughts of anyone who might object.

“Do your skin painters display their body art or would I have to cover up? Because it does get warm depending on how long I am working sometimes. Nice to wear less layers to work in.” Thorin didn’t fully hear the question, merely took notice of Dwain’s hand tapping your arm to get a better look at your jackalope tattoo.

Dwalin, “Wear what you are comfortable in. The rank of skin painter is a sacred one, no social standings will be forced upon you. Everyone no doubt will enjoy witnessing the final product of this, creature.”

“Jackalope, very rare to find, bring patience and kind thoughts to those who befriend them.”

Ori asked, “Kind thoughts?”

“They tend to stumble upon people who aren’t very kind to themselves, the ones who need it most.” A groan from Thorin came in the culmination of the hissing thoughts in his mind and his clothes dropped with his fox self scurrying over to curl up halfway sitting on your foot after knocking his head uselessly into Dwalin’s ankle. “Mom hoped by naming me after their Queen in an old children’s tale they would show up around the house. Like that old myth you paint leprechauns in the yard and they bury their gold on your land assuming it’s their own territory.” You said bending to pick up the King as his clothes folded themselves and flew back up to his rooms following the enchantment you had set on them.

Kili, “Did it work?”

Fili, “Did they come?”

“I thought they did, but my parents couldn’t see them.”

Thranduil, “That does not necessarily mean that they were not real. A great many creatures chose who cannot see them. Some are merely unworthy.” His eyes sank to Thorin in his fight to not turn over for belly rubs in his close eyed squirm at your hand rubbing down his back beginning to relax him again.

Nori, “Just need to find you some bells for your hair and everyone with know who you are.”

“Bells?”

Dori, “Not large ones, quite modest and lovely for the end of a braid secured on a woven strand we will craft for you.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, “It is an honor to aid in dressing a skin painter. Thank you. The gift you have is immeasurable.”

Pt 3

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Fallen to Middle Earth #Dragon Sickness

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psychogirlfriendandsupervillain · 5 years

Text

Colored lights in broad daylight

Inspired by The Other Side and The Greatest Show

Pairing: Jefferson x Reader (mostly platonic)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,5k

(Reader doesn’t really have any pronouns so...)

A/N: My other The Greatest Showman!AU, which has taken me forever to finish. I still think that AU should be a thing. (I really don’t know about titles, I’m bad at them.

Summary: Jefferson didn’t know that much about you, only that you were a mystery he liked. But you have other plans than to stay mysterious.

———————————

Jefferson couldn’t remember how the two of you met. You had been friends for a few months, talking through texts and only ever meeting up at coffee shops to hang out. You were strange, and he liked it. Whimsical in a way that made him sure you’d run up a wall and do a backflip off it at any given moment should you feel like it. You wore black slacks, a red blazer and a black top hat, which always gained strange looks as you dropped yourself down on the chair opposite of him.

“Sorry I’m late.” You broke him out of his thoughts, setting your hat down on the ground beside your chair. Taking the spoon you stirred the drink he had ordered for you. “Got held up.”

Jefferson also picked up his spoon to stir his drink, shooting a look at the clock on the wall, then pulled his pocket watch from the pocket of his black coat, popping the cover open.

“You’re barely a minute late.” He squinted at you and shut the watch again with a snap.

“Felt like more.” You tapped your spoon against the cup and put it on the saucer, lifting the cup to drink.

Thinking about it Jefferson didn’t know what you did on your days. He had talked about what he did, vaguely, of course, since his past wasn’t something he was too keen on sharing with others, but your daily doings never came up.

“I thought you didn’t like chocolate?” You motioned to his plate with your cup before taking another sip.

He looked down at the piece of cake on his plate. Chocolate cake covered in white, with a single mint leaf on top hinting at the flavouring.

“I don’t like white chocolate. This is iced white.”

“Ah.” You broke your cookie in two, leaning down to take a bite of one of the pieces and placing the other on your plate.

You asked him about his week so far and he answered, the conversation moving on to an article you had read. When you both were finished you wiped your hands against each other and got up, holding your hand out to him.

“Come. I wanna show you something.” Jefferson got up, pulling his coat so it wouldn’t get stuck somewhere as he rounded the table to walk with you to the door.

“Where are we going?” He asked after a while, having followed you without question from the café. The two of you were walking through a green park Jefferson hadn’t crossed before, you leading half a step in front of him.

“Patience, Jefferson dear, I’ll tell you in good time.”

Soon you stepped down from the gravel path to the cobble stone of a street. Jefferson couldn’t remember having been to this part of the town before. It looked older, Victorian, and the houses looked like they would have suited the docks if there had been any in this town. Sort of opposite the end of the park’s path was a huge what looked like a rundown factory, that took the space of three neighbouring houses and it seemed to be the direction you were leading him.

You took the three steps to the black front door, swinging a set of keys on an iron ring before picking one out and sticking it in the lock.

“People fear don’t the darkness because they don’t know what they’ll find if they look closer.” You didn’t turn to look at him but turned the key with a loud click. “They are afraid that they’ll like it.”

Jefferson didn’t have time to respond, only to wonder what the hell you were talking about.

“And you” You continued, turning around to him. “are itching to dive head first into it.” You gave a gleaming smile and pulled the massive doors open with a loud noise of the latch slipping against its metal frame.

He followed you in from the sunlight on the street, the shadows creeping in towards him, enveloping him in an embrace. Despite it he could see you walking backwards in front of him, swaying, like a cat focused on its prey.

“Come on, Jefferson.” You smiled, something just too sharp and glinting about it. “I know you’re intrigued.”

You approached a second set of similar doors, framed by the flickering light of wall candelabras. These you simply flung open, exerting an amount of strength he couldn’t tell if he was surprised you possessed, with seemingly the effort with which one flicks long hair over the shoulder.

It was dark on the other side, but in it color, blues, reds and gold, and suddenly Jefferson thought he maybe understood what you meant by that some will be pulled in once they dare to glance. There was movement along the walls, on the large floor and in the air, an orchestra of practised movements, and he felt watched. A pull awoke in his stomach, something like a moving dragon in it’s cave, and he didn’t know if he should shy away from it.

He caught your gleaming smile in the corner of his eye. You were watching the people in the air, some five of them on three trapezes, in fluttering navy dresses and trailing purple coats, catching golden light, as they spun and jumped to catch each other. Below them was a fighting dance of heavy punches, sweetened and rounded out in the edges by the velvet in the dancers’ clothes. Two of them boosted another to jump and flip mid air, teal coat tails reminiscent of peacock in flight before they landed on heavy shoes, creaking the floor boards.

The outside of the building had slipped Jefferson’s mind, the dark between him and the street like a soft heavy something. All he could think of was the wooden floor, the chains he just then noticed hanging from the ceiling, and that the clothes the people, that gathered in the middle of the room and stood easy, wore didn’t belong there.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You turned to him with a casual smile, like you just showed him the sunset once again, not a factory’s empty shell holding a theatre company that shouldn’t exist there by all laws of what was normal.

“Who, wh-?” Jefferson was unsure what the question was here. Was it who are these people or how are you keeping them here undetected - how can you afford the building? Was it yours? How had no one noticed, not that he had ever heard of this building just standing there unused.

“Oh” You touched your nose and winked to him. “Plausible deniability.” As you walked closer to the gathering it opened to let you in, moving around you with reverence and group instinct.

He was allowed to follow, surrounded and slowly seeing the answer in the faces around him. Inked skin with pictures and numbers, nasty scars across eyes and cheeks, a sadness in eyes that asked for understanding, he picked up on who these people are.

“We’re a circus.” You answered his not yet asked question. “We do shows at night, when the darkness is used to wipe the line between right and wrong. Surrendering to their darkest dreams. What happens at night isn’t spoken of at daybreak.”

You stopped and looked back at him, serious for maybe the first time Jefferson had known you.

“The house doesn’t exist to them, during the day. They shield their eyes and walk quicker.” Your shoe kicked aimlessly against the floor and your eyes sought up at something intangible. “Like they don’t come here, seeking out the dark, the thrill, their sweat soaking through the floorboards. They only see what they want, performers. Who they are they don’t care to know. Which is our luck actually.” The mood shifts and you smile cheerily at him.

And he knew then, who they were and what you were. Maybe he wasn’t surprised.

“Why am I here?” Jefferson managed to not stutter when he said it, but his throat was a bit thick.

“Because you belong to the dark, and aren’t afraid to admit it. There’s an ache in you that you can’t ignore, a breaking of the walls that hold you back. You know in yourself that the normalcy is a lie.”

You didn’t know the half of it, Jefferson thought to himself. He might have left Story Brooke, but his hat stood on a shelf and wouldn’t stop reminding him that he didn’t belong here. The lies of everyday life, the rules of what wasn’t spoken of were holding him hostage, the refusal of regular people to even talk about magic. Like saying it out loud would mark their soul with tar. A disgrace that they were all above. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to be with you, he thought. You had magic written all over you, even if you weren’t it, and maybe that was why he was pulled to you in the first place, subconsciously seeking it out.

“So tell me” Your voice pulled him back to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go into the darkness?”

#jefferson hatter #ouat jefferson #jefferson x reader

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ofcloudsandstars · 7 years

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✧ *.🐇Ostara Solitary Rituals🐇*✧

As fresh green sprouts spring from the earth and crocuses bloom, the Vernal Equinox is arriving! Melodic sounds of birds whistle in the air, buns emerge from their burrows, the earth is awake and life resumes again! It's time to celebrate the start of a new cycle and sow seeds of personal growth for the cycle to come! The symbolism of the beginning and child is strong with this sabbat for it's also the start of the Zodiac season where Aries the Ram charges into the new season ready to begin again!

A lot of us witches practice alone and have our own solitary rituals for each sabbat that we observe (or the ones we’ve created just for ourselves that we observe alone!) Like any solitary eclectic witch I do things my own different way but some of these things might line up with others practices. I do refer to some of the equinoxes/solstices/crossquarters by their celtic sabbat names but I celebrate them in a secular animist way and treat the wheel of the year I celebrate as more of an agrarian cycle and celebrating nature. I use sabbat names as a point of reference and also people that do celebrate these witches sabbats more traditionally might find value in my personal practice! Here is my personal correspondences post and my personal Ostara tag!

When I am alone and casting spells a lot of it is visualization/intent so my solitary rituals are more like activities I like to do then specifically casting a spell. If I am doing a spell with an activity based on it a lot would be listening to music to get in the mood and focusing on a candle while visualizing for a period of time! Eves are also important to my celebration as I like to stay up until midnight and cast a spell then!

Spring Equinox’s Eve

Monday, March 19th 2018

Rain Cleansing Rain water is a common magic ingredient in some witches spell and especially with the passing Pisces season and winter’s end bringing a lot of rain, often this time of year there is no shortage of rain water. Use some collected rain water in a spray bottle and spray the air and yourself visualizing the spring rains washing away what's left of winter. Open your window to let in fresh spring air and use the rainwater spray to energetically cleanse the space inside. Optional but you can add drops of eucalyptus fragrance or lily of the valley in it. (I prefer to have it plain since rain smells plain).

Spring Cleaning Clear the last of what you don’t want in your space. Dump old things you’ve been holding on to but don’t necessarily need. Refresh your home. Light incense like rain, green tea or sweet grass as you clean.

Eggshells Save eggshells and clean them out. Make a quiche for Ostara and save all the eggshells as much as possible. Try to make a small hole on one side (preferably the narrow side) to extract the yolk and clean the eggs to keep them handy. With cleaned eggshells you can:

Make eggshell candles You can assign each candle an aspect you’d want to grow or something positive you’d like to manifest by ‘hatching’ into your life such as: prosperity, new friends or new connections. Examples: 1 , 2

Make seed starters By sprouting some seeds in the eggshells you can cultivate herbs/plants you’d like to have for the year. Herbs for the kitchen are probably the easiest and once the plant exceeds the space of the shell, it can use the nutrients of the shell as food. It’s a personal tradition of mine where I enjoy repotting plants or planting things in general for Beltane so by Beltane the sprout would have grown large enough to be planted in it’s own pot or into the ground! Here’s a link on how to make seed eggshell starters.

Spring themed snacks Enjoy some snacks while doing crafts such as pepita seeds, candy eggs, jelly beans, wasabi or snap peas, edamame, sour cream and onion chips and rice krispy treats or rice krispy bird nests if you want to be very festive lol.

Decorate Cleanse and redecorate your altar and space with moss art, (they sell fake moss mats too at craft stores which make pretty centerpieces), egg candles, pussywillow, bulbs, crocus and sprouts. Use images of the march hare to invite energy of vitality, motivation and drive to inspire you to reach your goals for the upcoming cycle!

Egg Tree Create an ostara tree by getting a vase and collecting any branches you find on the ground. Thank the trees for their offerings. Decorate eggs with symbols or whatever has meaning to you and what you’d like to attract to your life and tie them to the branches. Here is a DIY.

Midnight:

Ostara is the ideal time to focus on what you’d like to grow in your life. Focus on what you’d like to nurture for the cycle to come. Prioritize things that will help you reach your goals.

Hatching and Manifesting You can write spells on your saved eggshells symbolizing things you'd want to grow and plant seeds in them. A lot of green witches do magic by tending to sprouts and plants as a link to their manifesting spell to help bring it to life! If planting seeds is not an option then make an eggshell candle and light it while visualizing your intent.

Seeking a new direction Ostara is about life beginning again. If you feel like you need a fresh start, use a tarot deck and shuffle it a few times concentration on a new path. Once you are satisfied, look through it for the fool card. On the card next to it should be the direction you should go towards. If the fool is reversed and looking at the card behind it then it might symbolize you are on the wrong path and focused perhaps on something in your past. The one next to it (technically the one that comes after it in the deck) should be the direction you should focus on.

Birds of a feather! Spring is definitely a time for finding your match whether it be new friends, new connections, new network or a new lover! People are more out and about. An animal that marks spring time to me and also socializing are spring birds especially like the robin or bluebirds. Use feathers in your spells to attract your kind or your mate. (March hare symbolism works too with attraction spells but in my opinion it’s way more sexual than it is about socializing or romance/friendship). Some ideas could be making a charm with a feather to keep on your person that you’ll use when you go out to meet people. The ideas for attraction glamours and spells are endless so I won’t ramble on here lol.

Ostara Day

March 20th 2018

Wear bright greens!! (it's funny cause it also kind of coincides with the green theme of march cause of st patricks day but I don't really celebrate st patrick yet I wear bright greens for spring equinox to symbolize plants sprouting and reviving!) If green isn't your thing wear pastels! A lot of my witchy friends and I LOVE the color Robin Egg Blue for Ostara so that soft blue is my second go to!

Food ‘Growth’ Spell You can prepare a ‘Dragon’s Egg’ bless it with the intent that you’d want it to give you power of determination, courage and drive for the season to come and eat it (like consuming it’s power). I like to make these eggs by hardboiling a regular egg, preparing a sandwich bag of food coloring of your choice (reddish gold is great), add some chili powder and peppers and put the egg in (still with it’s hardshell on) and crush it up while it’s in there. Let the egg soak in the coloring and spices and once you peel it it’ll look like this. If you don’t eat eggs, a great alternative are lima beans. They are big green seeds! I also like to use pepita seeds in a food spell to manifest self growth. You can take a seed and put intention into it then swallow it after.

Green Tea Such as the way pumpkin is the season-long flavor of autumn for me the seasonal flavor is green tea. I think it’s the combination of the color, it’s herbal earthy freshness and it’s ability to wake you up and energize you. Especially if you are on the go today and don’t have time for anything enjoy a matcha latte or a green tea. Savor it’s earthy flavor and feel it making you more awake and alert for the new season!

Whistle to bring in good energy I find the sounds of light flutes and whistling to be the preferred music and or instrument of Ostara. To me it symbolizes the return of the birds and the lightness of spring and also the soft breeziness of the season (also in Wiccanism it's ruled by Air which is interesting). If you are familiar with intoning you can try to cleanse your space with a light and powerful whistle.

Ostara Music I have a few music links on my digital grimoire for each sabbat and some playlists. Flutes is the primary instrument I associate with this sabbat. I like to pick one of the flute sound tracks and open one of the white noise sound tracks and let them play together.

I made a coherent music post here with instructions on how I listen to the music. (I like to layer sounds ontop of each other- usually a natural white noise soundtrack- in this case singing birds for Spring, and then play instrumental music over it).

Connecting with your inner child Ostara is a playful holiday that also honors children. Be extra kind to children close to you today and also get in touch with your own inner child. Make art to welcome spring like watercolor outside or use crayons and don't judge whatever you create. Or treat yourself with things your childself loves such as candy, cookies, blowing bubbles, swinging on swings, jumping on a trampoline. If it's raining or too cold to be outside make a magical pillow fort to do magic in. Make a cream soda float, watch ghibli films. Do shadow work to connect with your inner child. Focus on this next cycle to come by satisfying your inner child's dreams.

Be Outdoors If the day is nice take yourself out for a bike ride or a picnic! Go on an ostara scavenger hunt for magical items for your craft such as a stone you might find and like that you could paint or a four leaf clover, a fresh bird’s feather or a blossom. Remember to ask the plants permission before you take and to leave offerings for gratitude. Seeds edible to animals or local wildflower seeds would be the nicest!

Spring Showers Usually spring equinox has been gorgeous for the past few years but if the day is rainy collect the first spring's showers! It has it’s own magical significance! Spring Showers brings growth for spring blossoms and plants and it is very reviving. If it happens to snow, spring's first snow/frost is magical too but for curses.

Flower Channeling It’s been way too cold for a while to be outside but if it’s nice take yourself to a park or your back yard, find a patch of crocuses or snowdrops and spend a moment to be barefoot on the earth. Feel their gentle energy pushing through the earth to start with fresh optimism. Find that energy within yourself to begin this new cycle.

Rain Channeling If the weather is too unfavorable to do that then find a space in your home by a window and take a moment to channel the energy of Spring’s Shower to your body. You can either put your back against the window if possible or even open the window and let your palms out upright to capture the rain. (Bonus if you want to be that dramatic witch bitch and stand under the rain to really let it cleanse you but I don’t want to give advice that might get people sick if they aren’t careful lol.)

Evening

Feast!! I love making food for Ostara! I always go for spring produce like onions, chives, spinach, butter lettuce, asparagus, carrots, parsnips, peas, sugar snap peas, sprouts and turnips. If I’m making food for myself I go for a nice quiche with a butter lettuce salad and simple dijon vinaigrette. Some dishes I love making are like the cucumber dill yogurt salad, split pea soup, chicken with spring onions and pastel colored deviled eggs. Even if you don’t feel motivated to make anything too complicated for yourself you can make something easily spring themed like ostara ramen lol. [Get a ramen packet and boil and egg in another pot. Top your finished ramen with chopped chives and sesame seeds and a boiled egg. Bam. (Bonus if its green tea ramen noodles).] For desserts I love things that are matcha, praline, pistachio or almond based. I love floral nutty flavors for spring. Getting a simple carrot cake to enjoy should be easy or you could enjoy a simple custard! Years ago I made an Ostara fantasy feast you can check out if you’d like some ideas!

Leave offerings for the Spirits of Spring!

Spring Birds are also always wonderful to work with and fun to leave offerings of food like seeds for! They will help you with socializing and making connections!

It’s always lucky to befriend some stirring plants and leave them something as well. Especially if you whisper to them your secret wishes they’ll try to help them grow!

#Ostara #solitary witch #spring equinox #ostara rituals #ostara ritual #ostara activities #ostara recipes #pagan #wiccan #wheel of the year #spells #blog ostara

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