#tree stump cauldron

[salty-almond]

A lil late mosstober ?

[starsreminisce]

This:

But Feyre, Cassian knew, had been aware of what she’d see before entering. And well aware that these ten minutes had only been the opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency.

Is compatible with this:

Gwyn crossed her arms, pale robes rustling. She winced and rubbed her shoulder. “Did you know shields weighed so much? I certainly didn’t. No wonder the Valkyries learned to use them as weapons as deadly as their swords.” She sighed. “They’d have been quite a sight in battle: cracking open enemy skulls with blows from their shields, throwing them to knock an opponent onto their backs before skewering them …” She rubbed her shoulder again. “Their arm muscles must have been as hard as steel.”

but it's not compatible with this:

Nesta wasn’t going anywhere. She could barely stay sitting. And Elain … Amren was holding Elain upright as she vomited in the grass. Not from the Cauldron. But pure terror.

as this is:

I looked to Lucien, but the color had blanched from his face, leaving a sickly white-green in its wake. “Lucien,” Tamlin said—a quiet command. But Lucien kept gaping at the faerie’s ruined back, at the stumps, his metal eye narrowing and widening, narrowing and widening. He backed up a step. And another. And then vomited in a potted plant before sprinting from the room.

however this:

Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

is similar to this:

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

which is different from this:

She smiled crookedly at Nesta. “I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.”

but is similar to this:

“Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Super duper rough version of Ceph’s story.

I am not proud of this at all/ but here’s some context: Ceph was asked to tell a story with a sad ending. He complied. >:/

Now then…like I was saying where our protagonist had lacked social class and power, he was fortunately able to make up in ambition. You see he’d set his sights on achieving a cruel goal that no other creature in the forest would dare to do...” The star paused, looking over his work as a small smile teased at his lips. His eyes met Asha’s.

Uh oh. She’d nearly forgotten who’d been telling this story.

“Which was to kill the young fairy who had more or less taken up temporary residence on the edge of his territory..”

___________________________________________________________

“You’re not very good at this whole ‘killing me’ thing are you,” the young fairy stifled a chuckle behind her hand as the boy angrily hauled himself from the bushes.

“Of course I am!” he huffed, yanking a few branches from his hair as he glared at her. “I was closer today than I’d ever been!”

“Really?” she grinned, gently pulling another tree branch from his hair as his face reddened. “Because announcing ‘surprise attack’ while initiating said surprise attack sounds oddly counterproductive to me.”

“To you maybe, but to a hunter like me, it’s perfect!” he snapped, quite certain that a pretty fairy who looked his age would know almost nothing about hunting anyway.

“Do you want to know what I think?” she politely asked as she’d taken her seat on an old tree stump. This had to have been his what, his 36th attempt this month hadn’t it? Property damage aside, she’d had to admire his tenacity. It had served to make things interesting during her stay out here. The cottage had been a sorry exchange for a castle, as she’d tried to grow accustomed to the dreary landscapes of the mortal plane that had filled her mind each morning.

But alas, none of it could compete with the sheer brilliance of the fairy world that she’d left behind.

“No,” he grounded out.

Well almost.

“I think you need to re-evaluate your priorities,” she continued, ignoring how the small child quivered in anger. “Why exactly do you want to kill me? You’ve given me so many reasons, but none of them ever seem to well ... .really motivate you.”

“They do motivate me!” he argued back as he stomped his foot. “Your stupid laugh and smile! Your hair, and your pretty wings are all reason enough for me to-,”

“You think my wings are pretty?” she asked. Her near translucent blue wings shivered as she smiled.

“Don’t change the subject,” he replied, his tone nearly scathing as he crossed his arms.

She smiled, turning her attention back to her small cauldron that had begun to boil over the fire. “Care for some soup? I have enough for you too.”

His frown wavered, as he glanced from her to the trees. “Fine. But only because you’ve wasted too much of my time today,” he grumbled as he took the bowl from her hands. After a minute or so of drinking, he nodded, “it’s pretty good…you’re getting better at this.”

“Really?” She smiled as he nodded. “Thanks! I followed that cookbook that you’d lent me a while ago, and it turns out human cooking isn’t so hard to do when you have instructions to follow!”

“Of course it’s not,” he scoffed, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand. “But I hope you don’t think that this will change anything. I’m still going to kill you, but I guess I can et you live for today I think.”

“Ah thank you, you truly are a wise and gracious hunter,” the fairy bowed. “Where would I be without such graciousness?”

“Dead that’s for sure,” he answered, pausing as he watched an orange leaf slowly fall to the ground.

“Oh?” the fairy picked it up, scrutinizing the leaf. “It seems as if winter will come early.”

“Winter?” the boy repeated in between coughs. “H-how do you know?”

“I suppose you could call it fairy instincts,” she replied, carelessly flipping the leaf over in her palm. “But there’s just something in the air you can only feel at times when winter is quickly approaching.”

He frowned, nervously staring at the leaf as another cough shook him. “Is it the cold? It hasn’t been very warm lately,”

“It’s a little more than that,” she chuckled. “But it has been feeling rather nippy lately, hasn’t it? Here, take this-,” she’d wrapped her cloak around his shoulders. “So you can stay warm. We can’t have you hunting me when you’re sick, now can we?”

“Sick? Ha! Hunters like me never get sick!” he scoffed as he stood up and adjusted the oversized cape. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him momentarily admire the cape.

“It’s nice isn’t it?”

He nodded, “It is…but don’t think this doesn’t mean that I won’t be back to try again tomorrow!”

“Should I expect to see you by eight, then?”

He shook his head, “of course not! Eight is way too early! Expect me at nine…or maybe…” he paused, watching as another leaf descended from the tree branches. She hadn’t expected to see the fleeting look of panic on his face before he’d shivered. “Noon…if I’m not here by noon then…” He shook his head. “Just be sure to be here, okay?”

“Alright,” she smiled. “I’ll be here waiting for you. Maybe after you fail, we can play another game together! How does that sound?” He scoffed, not saying another word before he set his bowl down and disappeared into the forest.

The next day had quickly arrived, and with it had come the beginning of the winter’s presence. The fairy had wrapped her shawl tightly around herself as she’d glanced at the clock that sat above her fireplace.

It had been an hour past noon and the boy had yet to appear. Perhaps he was just running late? From all the years she’d known him, he had a habit of being scarcely seen on the days where the winter’s weather had made itself known. At first she’d told herself that it was nothing to be concerned about, as he’d lacked the fur and feathers that would’ve made the cold more tolerable. But then she’d remembered just how frightened he’d looked as she’d announced the winter’s early arrival the day before, and as the minutes dragged by turning into hours, her worry had evolved into something else entirely.

If he hadn’t come to kill her, then he should’ve at least been out scouraging for food. But alas, it had seemed as if he’d disappeared entirely.

It was near sunset when she’d let her concern get the better of her, and had set out to find him.

Soaring through the dreary winter sky had been a blur as she’d neared the dilapidated castle that the boy had once told her was his ‘home’. Such a castle was no place for a child, but then again neither was the dark forest that he’d so proudly frequented.

“Hello?” she called as she pushed open the moss covered doors, and looked around. So many pieces of tapestries, paintings and furniture had littered the hallway as she’d made her way through, calling out for him.

“Hello! You promised me that you’d be there at noon!” her voice echoed into the dust filled hallways as she’d ventured further in. Frustration had filled her as she’d continued combing through the hallways, nearly about to give up hope when she’d heard it.

“Fairy?” The pain in his voice had sounded excruciating as she’d cried out in relief, following the sound to the room in the tallest tower. It had only taken her a second to fling open the door as she’d caught what lay on the other side. A gasp wretched itself from her lips as she took in the sight of the boy, lying there on the partially ruined bed, he’d looked so terrible that she’d feared he’d been dead.

A groan slipped from him as he’d weakly raised his eyes to hers. His skin was nearly gray, as his fingernails had now blackened and sharpened into something akin to claws. pillow and sheets that had been stained with the same black liquid that had been smeared around the corners of his mouth.

But the thing that had worried her most was his eyes. His once hazel-colored eyes were now completely black as midnight

It had taken her a moment to regain her senses. Were humans supposed to look like that?

It didn’t matter, he was clearly unwell, and with the way things had looked, he wouldn’t make it through the night, unless- She’d gritted her teeth as she’d thrown open the window, hissing at the cold air that had entered. Quickly she turned back to the bed, slipping her arms underneath his head and knees, slowly lifting him as she approached the now-opened window.

A weak cough slipped from him as he whispered again, “Fairy…is…that you?”

“Yes…it’s me,” she’d replied, her voice sounding far smaller than she’d wanted it to be as she’d turned her gaze to him.

“I’m…I’m dying…”

“No. Not tonight.” There was little she could do to save him on her own. She’d need help, and quickly. Her wings had unfurled themselves as she’d soared into the open night sky, trying to comfort the shivering body she now carried. The snowflakes from overhead now adorned her pale hair as she’d tried to ignore the nerves that had gnawed away at her from the inside out.

This was unquestionably foolish, but she was desperate.

“It happens every year…” his voice started quietly as he broke the silence of the snowfall. “I get really sick…as soon as winter comes…First I can’t stop coughing ... .then everywhere starts to hurt…finally I lose my sight…I’ve tried to do everything to cure it…but nothing works…”

“Nothing?”

He weakly shook his head. “No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“If my parents couldn’t keep me around because of it, then why would you?”

She couldn’t bring herself to answer as the cold bit at her eyes, causing tears to form. Just a little further she’d told herself. Then they’d pass the veil, and she’d be able to save him.

“Hold on,” she’d promised as the boy’s consciousness began to fade. “Just a little while longer…”

_________________________________________________

Consciousness had come in pieces for him. At first it was his sight that had returned, giving him the sight of the large shadows that danced across the bedroom’s walls. Then his hearing had returned, allowing for him to hear the crackling of the nearby fireplace as well as the faint conversation that had drifted into the room.

“You knew what the terms and conditions for your banishment were…” came a male voice. It was older, and unfamiliar, but undoubtedly carried authority. A larger figure appeared, adorned in fancy robes and a deer mask. “If word gets out about the princess’s return for a mortal of all things, the shame you will bring on us all will be irreparable! How could you be so careless?”

his fairy had been banished? He could hardly believe it given how perfect she’d been.

“I couldn’t just leave him! He was dying!” her voice had argued back with an anger that he’d never thought was possible. “He had no one to turn to, he was all alone…”

“For good reason,” the male voice had smoothly retorted. “An afflicted child like that is never long for this world.”

“He had survived well enough on his own. He’d been putting up with that anathema for as long as he could remember, year after year, he’d suffer in silence, and not once did he ever utter a word about it! Why does he deserve to suffer?!”

“You speak of him as if he is just a child…but you know what he really is, as do I. The dark blood that flows through his veins is strong. Nothing about that child is as simple nor as innocent as he appears. You know who truly owned that castle you found him in, don’t you?”

“...Yes…but they’ve been gone for years! You can’t make him suffer for the sins of his father-”

“Then you understand why he is the way that he is.” A sigh.

“I’ve always admired you for your heart Lorelai. Your kindness and passion towards others is second to none, but you must do your best to not let it get the better of you. Sometimes you must be selfish, if not for the good of yourself then at least for the subjects who deserve to have you as their queen.”

“How could I stand to call myself a queen if I-,” her voice trailed off as he heard her shift, moving around. “No...It’s not fair…”

“I know my dear, but it is simply the way some things in life must be….”

“No, it’s not! I’ve been with him for a while now, and I know that there is some good in him! Affliction or not! That child deserves to have a chance at life just as much as we! Please Father, I need you to heal him! Surely you must know of a cure for his affliction!”

“Of course, I know of a cure, but nothing in the world of Faefell comes simple. You of all its subjects should know this.”

“You want an exchange, don’t you?”

“Not necessarily,” he’d said as his staff tapped against the wooden floor. He’d silently glided past her as he began to pace the hallway. “Call it more morbid curiosity than anything else….” He halted as the green mist slowly began to drift behind the darkened eye sockets. “I’ll heal your little friend this time, but in return, I want your word that you will allow him to run the trial.”

“...What? The trial?! But father-”

“I think I’m being very reasonable here, my dear. For if that child is as good as you say he is, Lorelai, then you would have no problem choosing him to be the one for the trial.”

The panic was immediate, “No, I-,”

“You could, and you should. Think about it my dear, with his unique…’ composition’ he would be able to withstand it better than most.”

“I couldn’t! I-,”

“Unless of course, you truly don’t think there’s anything to be saved of him. Which would be a shame.”

“You’d let him die if I don’t meet your demands?!”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t want word to spread that your little rescue mission had been in vain. As I am anything but uncompassionate. No, I’d give him a cure, one that would only be good until next winter, that is, unless you agree to my terms. Wouldn’t that be nice my dear? A fully healed human boy your age running around? You’d be able to play all the games in the world!”

“What do you want?”

“Your peaceful cooperation. Make him run the trial on his own violation and I will save his life. Of course, you’re always allowed to refuse my offer. If you are so confident that he will be able to fair better next winter-”

“Wait!…you would have to give me some time to think about it..”

“Very well then. If you decide to proceed, then do let me know.”

And with that he was gone, leaving silence in his wake before the door to his room had opened and the fairy had stepped in. She look exhausted as she’d carefully stirred the contents within the bowl she’d held before looking towards the bed.

“You’re awake,” she smiled, as she’d sat at the edge of his bed, stirring the pudding within her bowl. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he replied. “I can see again.”

“I didn’t know it had a supernatural cause to it, my affliction I mean..”

“You were eavesdropping?” she frowned.

“A little,” he confessed. “It was hard not to when you guys were standing outside the door…Lorelai is a pretty name…”

“I thought you were asleep,” she hesitantly stirred the pudding before offering him another spoonful. Her hand shook as she resumed stirring. “But it’s not an affliction…at least not in the way he thinks it is, he was just-,”

“No, it is an affliction,” he interjected. “It has to be. The fact that it only occurs in winter, and it doesn’t align with any of the illnesses I’ve ever read people normally have.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read some books in the library on human illnesses.”

“You can…read? Who taught you to do that?!”

“Myself,” he’d frowned. “I can’t spend all my time on you, you know.”

“I see,” she smiled, allowing for the conversation to lapse into silence as she’d stared at the crackling fire in the fireplace.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a princess?”

“Because I’m not…at least…not anymore…” she answered, looking away as she paused, stirring. She’d rubbed her eyes before turning to him with a small smile, “would it have made you try harder?”

He shook his head, “I didn’t know you were living near me because you had to. I thought you just did it because you wanted to…You’ve always seemed like a goody-two shoes…what did you do to get banished?”

“As a princess, there were certain expectations that I couldn’t fulfill….and so I was given an ultimatum…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Pardon?”

“That trial thing, I’ll do it.”

“What?!”

“I’m the reason you came back after all. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have had to return…You’ve always been the only one to come back. Even after everything I tried to do to you, you were always nice to me. I can’t say the same about my parents…

How much do you know about them,

Not much…but you know something, don’t you…who were they…my parents I mean.”

“Not a lot is known about your mother, but I’ve heard some ideas floating around about your father. They think he was a member of our court.”

“A member of your court? You mean….he was one of you? But…if he was then does that mean?”

She smiled, placing the palm of her hand against his. “You’re one of us as well. I always had a feeling that there was more to you than what meets the eye.”

“Really? Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I do and now you’ll never have to be alone again.”

“But I’m not like you. I don’t glow, I don’t even have wings!”

“Which makes you look all the more handsome when you wear capes. Do you know how many nobles and royals of the court wished that they didn’t have wings that got in the way of their capes?”

“Now I know you’re just messing with me-,” he grumbled, listening to the sound of her laughter as he looked away. “But I was serious, you know, about doing the trial thing.”

“How about we focus on you now?” She’d offered him a small smile that hadn’t reached her eyes. “When you’re feeling a bit better, I’ll show you around the place. But-,”

“But?”

“You’ll need a name, or something to remember you by. Do you have one?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never needed one.”

“Alright…how about Peter? Adam? Eugene? Phillip? Florian??”

“Florian? Seriously?”

“Florian is a good name, although you admittedly don’t look like a Florian. Hmm how about Rayven?

“Rayven?” He repeated. “Alright. I’ll take it.”

“Wonderful!” She smiled. “Now finish the rest of this! You’ve got a long way to go if you wish to get better.”

He sighed, yet offered no resistance as she’d continued feeding him. True to her words, the road to recovery was long, but unlike before, it hadn’t been unpleasant. With her help, he’d managed to regain his strength rather quickly, and once she’d felt that he was ready enough, she introduced him to all of her other acquaintances.

Both parties had been understandably cautious of each other, but over time, Lorelai had managed to ever so slightly thaw the ice, and soon dinners had become quite the affair. Every meal he’d sit next to her at the table as she’d teach him the songs and words of the court and every night the pair had snuck out together, spending time exploring the night time and city life of Faefell.

It had taken him a while to learn to appreciate their way of life, but with each passing day he had learned to love their world and the princess who had once been destined to rule it.

It had been hard to admit at first, but with each passing moonlight rendezvous, they’d found that their relationship had become far more than either of them could have dreamed.

But like all good things, that too would come to an end.

It had been the eighth evening of that fall when the king had stood up, with a simple wave of his hand, he had quieted his audience members of faeries. “Good evening,” he started. “People of Faefell, I’ve heard your whispers, of the wither that has begun to spread about the corners of our earth, and how quickly it has devoured anything that stands in its path.”

“The wither?” Rayven whispered as Lorelai began to chew her lip.

“It’s a disease that used to riddle our forests, threatening to wipe us out,” she quietly explained. “It can only be kept at bay by the monarch’s power, but even that is only a temporary solution.” Her heart twisted as she paused, taking in her father’s next words, “I have done all I can to hold it off, but with every passing day, my power grows thinner at the edges. A reality that I’m afraid time will only worsen with each passing year,” He bowed his head, as a few fairies exchanged worried glances. “But fear not my children,” he spoke again as he raised his hand. “For with this comes new hope, hope that can be found none other than in the form of my daughter herself.”

“But she is not queen!” one elderly fairy spoke up.

“She has yet to complete the customs in order to ascend the throne!”

“Not yet,” the king sharply interjected. “But that will all change tomorrow. Won’t it, Lorelai? For you have found a champion. One that will be certain to succeed.”

“Is it true?”

“I….” her voice wavered, as she’d felt her throat dry. Sweat beaded itself on her brow as she’d searched for any answer, any excuse sufficient enough to give to the crowd full of desperate yet curious eyes. Her heart had nearly begun to race when she’d felt his hand rest over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze beneath the table as she’d felt tears well in her eyes.

Forgive me,’ her mind had whispered as she’d forced her eyes to meet her father’s. “Yes,” her voice had strained as the crowd erupted into nearly deafening cheers. Rayven gifting her a smile she’d never deserved as she’d turned her attention back to her plate, trying to ignore the unshed tears blurring her vision.

Tomorrow had come too quickly for her tastes as they’d stood at the dreary cliff of Fairfell’s deepest oceans. Her head was pounding as she’d felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“So all I have to do is go to the bottom?” she’d heard Rahven ask the king who’d stood nearby, staring off into the overcast skies as vultures circled overhead.

“Yes,” he’d nodded, his eyes narrowing as he’d adjusted his grip on the spear.

No. No one had ever returned from the bottom.The cursed waters of the ocean had seen to that.

“The objective is simple. You must retrieve an age-old amulet that has been placed on the bottom of the ocean, one that can only be held by one true heart. Once you do that, you must return to the surface as quickly as possible.”

“And why is that?”

The king chuckled as her grip on his hand had tightened. “Oh child, do you not know what the ocean does to the lost souls she refuses to give up?”

“She drowns them.”

“Usually,” the king replied as he’d made himself eye level with Rayven. “But not in this case. This ocean is not like your human ones. No, each drop of it is but a pathway, an interconnected series of tunnels in a never-ending labyrinth, not to trap people within its confines, no. But to keep whatever was put in there from getting out.”

“G-getting out?” Rayven repeated as the blood drained from his face. He’d looked from the ocean’s waters back to the monarch that stood in front of him.

“Even those who manage to escape never do so unscathed.”

“What do you mean?” He’d asked, looking over the king once more. “That I won’t escape unscathed?”

“It has long since been believed that The depths of the ocean are connected to the very threads of fate itself. If you believe it is your destiny to return and to be by my daughters side for all eternity-,”

“Rayven,” Lorelai interjected, unable to tolerate her silence any longer. “You don’t have to do this. Please-,” she’d pleaded as her words had died when she’d taken in the look on her father’s masked face.

“I will make it back,” Rayven said quietly, taking one deep breath after another as he watched the tides rise and fall. “Both for you and Faefell. I’ll come back to you.”

The king chuckled. “Then I’d advise you to look out for the monster, who is rumored to reside near the ocean's bottom. But you are in luck, for as far as I know, no one has seen the monster, much less think it exists.”

“But how would you know that if no one’s ever returned from it?”

“We have ... .other ways of seeing for ourselves,” the king replied, resting his hands on Rayven’s shoulder as he gave him a tight squeeze. “Nevertheless your contribution and sacrifices will be remembered and appreciated by our kind for generations to come.”

“T-thank you sir,” Rayven answered, offering him a lopsided grin as he winced at the pressure on his shoulders.

“Father,” Lorelai warned as The king chuckled, releasing the boy from his grip.

The smile Rayven had given her was bright as he’d called “What do you want to do when this is all over?”

“Anything you want,” she’d replied, unable to speak in a voice louder than a whisper. “I’ll do anything.”

“Wait for me.”

She nodded, unable to staunch the tears that had begun to fall. Words weren’t needed as the boy positioned himself, casting her one final smile before he’d dove dowanwards toward the ocean. “Rayven!” she’d screamed, watching as his face had contorted the minute his body had hit the water.

“No… NO!” she’d screamed, as she’d collapsed. Her body wracking with unheaved sobs as her fingers had clawed at the sandy soil of the cliffside.

“Lorelai.”

He was gone.

“Lorelai.”

All because of her.

Her body had felt light as she felt her father gently pull her to her feet.”Cry not my child. For you have done well returning that which was lost to the sea of madness.”

“How…how could you say such a thing?!” she spat. “He was a living being! A person capable of love and dreams!”

“He was a monster, just laying in wait to fully manifest himself when you least expected it. The death you gifted him here was far more forgiving than any other he would’ve been granted had he been allowed to live. No one expects the champion of a future monarch to return, much less one that was always destined to be chained beneath it’s waves.”

“No…” she sobbed. “Please…I can’t let him die like this-,”

“Oh my dear, he won’t die. He’ll merely be transformed into the part of him that was always meant to be. Surely you didn’t think the dark fairy blood coursing through his veins would only relegate itself to appearing every now and then?”

“You’ve ruined him…” she trembled, hatred coursing through her veins like poison. “You made me condemn him to a fate far worse than death!”

“We have ruined him,” her father sharply corrected. “A single life lost in exchange for the preservation of millions.” “I know you grew rather…attached to him during your time together, but such is the way of the life of a queen. You must always put your kingdom and its subjects above all else. That is why queens are not made. They are born, destined to be what they are.”

His voice had echoed, growing distant as she’d heard the sounds of the ocean’s surface break once more. The screams and sounds of thrashing filled the air as her father had staggered back.

“That’s not possible,” her father had whispered, panic hanging in his voice as she stood up. She’d barely remembered making her way down the cliff’s path to the gloomy shore below.

Nothing had felt real as the figure broke the water’s surface once more, not as the boy she’d brought to Faefell, nor had come to care for, but as a monster, who’s body was curved in dark fur and feathers as he’f clawed his way to shore.

She should run.

She would’ve run, had it not been for his eyes, the eyes that were still the same hazel as they’d been the day they’d first met. Silently, he collapsed, his claw nearing her as it gently opened, revealing the amulet within his grasp.

“Lorelai,” the voice that had emerged from the monster was terrifying, yet in the quietest echoes of it, she could hear him, still in there, talking to her.

“Rayven,” she whispered. The sounds of bone cracking and flesh ripping filled her ears as a scream tore from the monster’s throat. Bloodied wings emerged from his back, stretching and growing as he’d groaned, slumping over.

“Rest…I shouldn’t have let you go in. I wanted to tell you. To warn you-,”

“I heard them,” his voice replied, sounding far less human than before.

“What?”

“The ocean. It was talking to me.”

“It…it was? What did it sound like?”

“Voices…so many voices,” he’d groaned as his claws lengthened. From the corner of her eyes she could see her father’s advisors exchanging glances. There’d never been a mention of…voices before. “They tried to make me stay. They tried…to keep me from returning to you.”

A snarl tore from him as he’d hissed at the cautiously approaching guards. “Rayven please!” She begged, pulling at him as the guards had angled their spears ar him. It had taken all her strength to pull his eyes towards her, as she’d seen the darkness fill them, snuffing out the faint remnants of hazel.

She was losing him. To the darkness that had claimed his blood and to her weakness that had bended to her father’s commands.

“How did you make it back?” She pleaded, hearing his bones crack again as he’d roared in pain before collapsing.

“Lower your weapons,” her father had quietly commanded as the guards hesitantly complied.

Drawing in one deep breath after another he’d confessed to her, “I needed…to hear…your voice again..”

“You really did that for me?” She sobbed, pain tore at her heart as she closed her eyes. She hadn’t deserved him. She never had, no matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself, the end would always be the same. “I’m sorry Rayven,” she’d whispered, gripping a hidden blade within her robes as she’d plunge it forward. She’d tried not to focus on his screams as his body lay lifelessly in her grasp. His blood pooling and slipping through her fingers as it returned to the ocean, drowning out the sounds of her wails and cheers of the adoring crowd.

Her coronation had been a joyous event, as all eyes had happily beheld the new queen, painfully oblivious to the way her fingers had clutched at the now empty seat next to her.

Faefell now had its queen, and she had now found her tragedy.

[willowwind78]

Animated Cauldron

Thank goodness this cauldron has an eye to see where it is going! What is that stuff? Acid? Polymorph juice? Oh, now how much fun would that be! Save versus polymorph! Animals? Objects? Other people? What does it change you into? If you're not writing a campaign right now with this enchanted cauldron in it, you better get on it before the fun, danger, and entertainment vanishes, or someone else buys this thing off my site before you get to.

Someone is turned into a tree stump, another party member becomes a candle... suddenly you need to buy this miniature too...

willowwind78 on eBay

This miniature is from the Wildspire Spellblades and Enchanted Objects Collection.

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 18: Love Will Find A Way

Discord sat sadly on an upside-down tree stump, his head in his hands.

Throughout the kingdom, disorder seemed to leech from every crevice. Cats barked, dogs hissed, flowers replaced clouds. the ground was every pattern possible, and marbles danced like ballerinas.

"First my wife," he uttered, "now my children! I should have known! They're too good. She raised them too well."

As he spoke, Zany appeared in the air before him, bringing a smile to the draconequus' face.

"Ah, my boy!" he exclaimed, taking the baby in his arms. "You missed your daddy? You should be with your sister!"

Had he not been caught up in his joy, he would have noticed the devious smile on the infant's face.

Mothball hiked through the forest, carrying the unconscious mare on his back. His ears perked up as he heard a group of changelings nearby and quickly dove into the bushes. Screwball let out a groan, which He silenced her with his hoof.

"She must be around here somewhere!" one of the soldiers said. "I smell chocolate milk!" It was Mantis, and he sneered.

"Mantis." The Queen declared, poised. "If there was any time to tell you, it is now. When I take over the empire, I will no longer be queen. And you will no longer be by my side."

"wha- that is abysmal! I have been here since the beginning! I have helped you more than the others ever will! Do not treat me like Mothball!-"

"SILENCE!" the Queen commanded, stomping her foot and shaking the earth. She glared at him like he committed treason to her very status, and he cowered before her. His face was screwed up in a display of terror

"you will reap your rewards for such loyalty. But you're not to question my decision. You will have the empire. You will be second in command, king, while I will reign over as empress of Equestria!" Queen Chrysalis cackled and sped off with her son.

As soon as the three were gone, Mothball picked Screwball up and moved as fast as his legs could carry them both. Mothball stopped at a grand hut, knocking gently at the door.

"Who is it knocking so very late?" a deep female voice called from inside. "I'm coming, I'll hurry, please, do wait!"

Zecora opened the door.

"Please, miss Zecora," Mothball pleaded. "You have to help me! My friend here, she is..."

The pony's eyes widened at the sight of the unconscious mare. "Screwball! Bring her in, place her on the bed, and tell me why she looks near-dead!"

She guided the prince over to the bed and helped him in setting Screwball down.

"Can you help her?" Mothball begged.

"I can, but it will take a lot. Tell me what happened, leave nothing forgot.

"my mother fed on her love, disguised as her brother. Really, it's my-"

"Do not speak!" the pony commanded as she examined her patient. "She is very weak. I can barely feel her heartbeat. I'll make a soup that will help her get well. When she will recover, only time will tell."

Mothball watched curiously as the mare searched her shelves of bottles and flasks. She poured the contents of the bottle into a boiling pot of water.

"you said you got her parents together?"

"That, I guess, you could say. Oh, I'll never forget that day." She was about to pick up another ingredient when she saw that Mothball was standing with nothing to do. "How rude of me. Would you like some tea?"

He was not a fan of tea, but he did not want to reject the zebra's hospitality. He nodded dumbly.

After mixing several more herbs and spices into the cauldron, Zecora muttered something in Swahili the prince did not understand. He sipped his tea with disgust, but it did not matter to him. All he could think about was how fragile his friend looked as she lay motionless on the bed beside him. While he held his cup in one hoof, he held Screwball's hoof in the other.

In a few minutes, the soup was ready. Zecora poured a bowl and approached the sick mare.

"Tilt her head back," she said to Mothball.

The prince set down his cup and did as the zebra said. As he gently pushed back Screwball's head, her mouth fell open. The zebra put the bowl to the young mare's lips and slowly poured the soup into her mouth. When she was done, Mothball carefully released Screwball's head and her mouth closed again.

"Is she going to be alright?"

Zecora sighed as she pulled the leopard print blanket over the young mare's body. "If it is a hex that drains her here, only magic will reverse its effect, I fear."

"her love is drained, her heart is weak." Mothball's eyes glazed over with tears as he laid his hoof on his friend's forehead. "Please get better, Screwy."

"How interesting," she murmured.

"What?" the changeling asked, facing the zebra.

Zecora smirked at him. "It was very noble of you to help Screwball, something I would not expect from a changeling, Prince Mothball."

He stared at her for a long while and then asked

"I could say I'm just as surprised as you are. When you found me on the forest floor, why did you help me if you knew I was dangerous?"

"you're not dangerous, that much is true. Rather than love," she pushed a bowl towards him. "You eat stew!"

He sighed and slumped to the floor. "Thank you for helping me but... I am dangerous. I sold her out." He turned his face away from Screwball.

"Yes," Zecora nodded. "You did it because you fell in love with the pony you were supposed to dispose of."

The zebra gestured for him to sit at the table. He hesitated at the thought of parting from Screwball, but he did as she requested. After a few seconds, Zecora joined him, a coal container filled with dry rosemary in her hooves. It burned a beautiful scent as she sat down.

"Well, your guess was only half right," Mothball claimed. "Changelings cannot love, let alone fall in love. I don't even have a heart."

"Are you truly sure?" Zecora asked, tilting her head. "After taking her for a cure?"

"She's the only friend I ever had. What was I supposed to do?"

She shook her head. "You are so blind to what made you betray. Let us see what the candles say."

She grabbed two candles and spread them on the table.

"one will be your mother, your kingdom and your brother. The other is you, your mind split in two." The first was red, the other green.

The candles were cleansed and wrapped together. The cord holding them together burned bright but refused to break. The flame spread from the red one to get green, and the green one dripped wax, putting the flame out only a little.

"This represents the hell of your past. You've been scolded and harassed. A demon took control of your mind, shaping you to be blind to your heart, quite cleverly. As a result, you have been treated unfairly."

"My mother."

The flame burned the green candle faster. The cord finally broke and latched itself around the green candle.

"You see yourself as a demon as well, a monster who belongs in Hell. You think that you are heartless, emotionless and bad. It is these very thoughts that make you sad."

"Your present involves Temperance," the zebra stated, "a symbol of balance."

"What does that mean?" the prince inquired.

The candle let the cord go, and refused to burn as hard as it should.

"You have given up your habits as a changeling and have let your true emotions take wing. All your life, you followed your mother. You left that mare for another. The pegasus' wings are red, representing 'desire,' but is white from hoof to head, representing 'purity.' You have combined both with maturity. You are a creature that feeds on love, but now you share it with that dove."

She added basil around the candles, to represent Screwball. The green candle burned bright, white smoke forming... Hearts?

She pointed to Screwball.

"Okay, so I've changed," Mothball admitted, "but I told you, I'm not made to love!"

"When it comes to love, your future is bright. Do you believe now that I am right?"

The red candle crackled black smoke, melting fast and toppling over.

Mothball seemed sad, scared. Almost relieved.

"you're good at interpretation, I can tell. Your heartbeat rings loud and well."

He paused. "My heart?"

"do you not hear it? It is loud and will not quit." She laughed, clapping a hoof onto the ground.

As he followed the zebra, Mothball realized something. He pressed his hoof onto his chest.

Something thumped wildly against his hoof in a way similar to the thumping inside Screwball. He had felt it many times before, but told himself it was nothing but the love he consumed pulsing through him. Then why was it in the exact same place in his chest as in Screwball's?

Where the heart should be?

Mothball looked up at the zebra. "There has to be another explanation. I'm not supposed to have a heart."

"That does not mean you cannot," Zecora stated. "What else could fill that spot? If you are feel nothing for it all, how do you explain your feelings for Screwball?"

The prince looked at the mare in the bed. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, giving her face a gentle glow. It made him smile to see this, but also sad that she was still not awake.

"I can't explain it," he admitted. "The moment I saw her, I was bewitched. Sometimes I wonder if she cast a spell on me, but the more time I spent with her, the more I was compelled to stay with her. I tried not to, because I didn't want to hurt her, but I kept coming back.

"I know she loves me. I've always known. I was supposed to feed off it, but you know something? No matter how much time I spent with her, she never seemed to wither, not in the slightest. I felt her love transfer to me, but her energy never diminished. I began to assume she was immune."

He hung his head. "That was clearly not the case, after what my mother did to her."

Mothball noticed Screwball shivering, so he pulled the covers back over her body.

"I can't stop thinking about her," he continued. "Everything about her: her laugh, her smile, her sense of humor, her hair, her eyes..." He sighed. "Oh, what I would give to see them again. Do you think she'll get better soon?"

When he received no answer, Mothball turned his head. The zebra was no longer behind him.

"Zecora?"

"Do not fear! I am here."

He jumped and she was behind him, bringing two heart shaped flowers together. She placed more into the soup, and it bubbled and glittered. Then, suddenly, it erupted into a prism of light!

"What was that?" the prince questioned, still in awe.

"That," Zecora replied, "is what happens when two become one, when they possess a magic more powerful than the sun. What you think as a weakness is not so. Strength is what comes with the glow."

He stared at her and then at Screwball.

"If nothing changes, I could make more stew," the zebra said, "but I'll need some ingredients, and help from you."

As Screwball gained consciousness, everything came flooding back: her father's mental breakdown, her unpleasant encounter with Dinky, her mother's supposed betrayal, her brother turning out to be Chrysalis...

Her brother.

"Zany," she murmurred.

She felt something cool on her forehead, causing her to slowly open her eyes.

"Zany," she said again.

"Shhh," a warm voice whispered. "Take it easy"

When Screwball's vision came into focus, she saw a zebra over her and pressing a wet cloth to her forehead.

"Zecora?"

"It is good to see you awake. Tell me, does anything ache?"

The young mare groaned. "My head."

Zecora left for a moment and came back with a cup of tea. "Drink this, but not too fast. You lack your strength, but the worst has past."

Screwball struggled to sit up. "How did I get here? How long was I out?"

"For an hour you have been here. It was one of your friends that brought you, dear."

"Really?" she asked, sipping the tea. "Who? Dinky? One of the twins?"

The zebra was about to answer when a voice interrupted her:

"Hey, Zecora! I think I got the things you asked for!"

A gray stallion carrying a saddle bag stood in the doorway. Not knowing Screwball was awake, he transformed into Mothball. The young mare gasped.

"YOU!"

The changeling turned in alarm, but then smiled. "You're awake! Thank goodness!"

Screwball looked accusingly at Zecora. "How could you let him in here?! Do you have any idea who he is?!"

"He is the one who saved your life," the zebra replied. "I do not know why this causes you strife."

"Humph!" the mare huffed. "Saved my life, my hoof! What happened, your highness? Didn't want to lose your primary food source?!"

Mothball's grin had faded. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb! You've been using me all this time! You told your mother all my secrets! You betrayed me! I thought you were my friend!"

The prince was confused. "Screwy, let me explain..."

"I trusted you!"

"Screwball, please lie down..." Zecora started to say.

"No!" she screamed. "I won't be in the same room with him!

Suddenly, the pillows flew off the bed and zoomed toward Mothball. He managed to duck in time.

"Screwy, please!" he begged.

But the mare was already up and running toward the door.

"you aren't okay! Come back and stay!" Zecora yelled.

Mothball moved in front of the mare. "The changelings are looking for you! It's not safe out there!"

Screwball scowled at him. "Oh, and I'm soooo safe with you?!"

She pushed him back and raced outside. She did not know where she was going. She just wanted to get as far away from him as possible. And yet, her heart was telling her to go back, but she would not listen. She did not trust her heart anymore.

It did not take long for her to run out of breath. She had gained some strength during her rest, but not enough to teleport. She panted with thirst and then spotted a river nearby.

As she knelt down for a drink, she caught her reflection, making her pause. The mare in the water looked just like her, only paler and...broken.

She sobbed. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so foolish, if I had listened to Daddy, none of this would've happened. I'd still be at home with my family, my friends...Zany."

Her little brother was her deepest regret. The poor infant had done nothing wrong, and yet he was paying the price for her actions. How could Mothball betray her all his time...?

If that was the case, then why could she not stop thinking about how hurt he had looked when she had rushed out? For that matter, why had he brought her to Zecora's in the first place? Why had he not taken her to Chrysalis?

Why did her heart still ache at the thought of him?

She looked at her reflection again and splashed the water furiously.

"I don't know what to think anymore!" she bawled.

She buried her face in her hooves, not hearing Mothball as he came out of the trees.

He looked at her with sad eyes, wanting to wrap his forelegs around her and assure her everything was alright. She had every right to be upset with him and he could not help but feel guilty.

He had to let her know how he felt, but he was not sure how. He was not disguised as a pony with nothing to lose. He was his changeling self. After what he had done, would she believe him?

He thought back to the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, when they had danced together. She had looked so beautiful. He then realized that at some point that night, he had fallen utterly and completely in love with her.

He started to sing: "In a very unusual way..."

Screwball's head shot up at the sound of his voice.

"One time I needed you."

She turned to him as he cautiously approached. Her instincts told her to run, but her heart kept her in place.

Mothball gulped as he continued: "In a very unusual way, you were my friend."

Screwball raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused about why he was singing. It was not the sweetest of voices, and there was nervousness in his tone, but it was not horrible.

"Maybe it lasted a day, Maybe it lasted an hour, But somehow it will never end."

He held out his hoof, but she turned away. Mothball was hurt, but he would not give up.

"In a very unusual way, I think I'm in..."

He choked on this word.

"I think I'm in..."

Screwball faced him again, her eyes wide. She remembered this song from the Gala, along with the next lyric.

Could it be?

Mothball was struggling so hard, he skipped the verse altogether, and the one after

"In a very unusual way..."

He reached out his hoof again. This time, she let him touch her.

"I owe what I am to you."

Screwball turned the rest of her body as he laid both his hooves on her shoulders.

"Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go."

She wanted to keep listening, but her mind took control and she wrenched herself out of his grasp. She walked away with her head down, but Mothball was determined not to lose her again. He sang louder and with more passion:

"Special to me in my life..."

Screwball stopped in her tracks.

"Since the first day that I met you."

She slowly turned her head back to him.

"How could I ever forget you Once you had touched my soul?"

She was now looking directly into his emerald eyes.

"In a very unusual way..."

They were so sincere, so sad, so desperate, in a way no creature could possibly fake.

"You've made me...whole."

She did not need her power to see the truth in them.

Screwball turned fully toward him. He extended his foreleg to her.

"I love you, Screwy."

The young mare could not contain her emotion any longer and did not hesitate to rush into his embrace.

"I always have."

[rysela]

Session 2 Notes

Ophelia, Narlik, Xinglu, Tristan and Preston head around back of the probably-a-witch-house where they see a large black cat laying on the porch in front of the back door, sleeping. The cat doesn’t seem to be magic. 

Xinglu go pspspspspsp to the cat because friend-shaped maybe

Cat opens one eye, looks at Xinglu, rolls it’s eye and goes back to sleep. Xinglu laughs. 

Ophelia identifies cat as possible familiar… but doesn’t tell anyone. 

Juniper, Ioxi and Talasi remain out front. Juniper and Ioxi debate breaking in and Juniper uses mage hand to knock on the back door, but there is no answer from inside the house.

Ioxi identifies the cauldron that is bubbling out front as a giant vat of Cure Light Wounds potions.

Xinglu watches the trees behind the house… there movement out there. Sneaky squirrel! The squirrel is shadowy and wrong. 

Narlik climbs onto the roof to look out.

Juniper, Ioxi and Talasi come around back to see what their friends are doing back here. Xing tells Juniper there are shadow squirrels - possibly shades? That’s weird.

Xinglu knows shades are very dangerous… but doesn’t tell anyone. 

Narlik, hiding on the roof, sees the light coming back through the forest that we’d previously seen moving away from the shack on our first trip out into the woods.

Ophelia reminds the cat that we were nice and didn’t break into the house. 

Xinglu hides in the shadows next to the house to watch and observe.

Ioxi and Talasi ready weapons.

Juniper says maybe let’s not just open fire on the random person who lives next to a giant probably horrible lake monster.

The person approaching is an old woman in a black robe leaning heavily on her staff.

We tell her that we’re looking for the crypt, but she says it’s a bad place. The village use to be called Cassian’s Calling but no one has lived there for 75 years. So we maybe time-traveled because they were definitely there and not ghosts (Ophelia nat 20 to know) when we went to the town. Since then the crypt has always been spewing out darkness and smoke which explains the unnatural darkness we’d been walking in previously. Says the crypt has been taken over by vampires and advises us not to go there.

Ophelia asks why the witch is implying that we aren’t strong enough to fight the vampires that live in the Crypt now… because we aren’t

We theorize that the woman can live here and not get eaten because she’s on a little island surrounded by water? Her name is Lyara and she’s been living here for 90 years - 70 of which have been in the darkness surrounded by vampires. She’s wearing a lot of magic gear. 

Time portal seeming more and more likely. 

Ophelia thinks we can take on vampires because we have Xinglu

Xinglu says I think the fuck not 

We decide to ask about possibly going back to our timeline because vampires are a big no thank you. 

The witch tells us that we should maybe consider looking into the Dark Flame Cult which apparently lives under a giant stump out in the forest. 

“I wouldn’t recommend taking on the vampires unless you have dreams of becoming a snack,” Lyara warned. Ioxi snorted, almost offended, “I am a snack,” they rebutted.

Lyara confirms that we are 70 years in the future, so we have definitely time-traveled, but since we’re going to eradicate her cult-pests she gives us each 2 healing potions of Cure Light Wounds. She also gives Xinglu a torch lit with the Eternal Flame. 

Ophelia remarks to the party in an aside that the potion is made of people who are red-heads with a pointed look at Juniper.

We get more information from Lyara - the cult apparently went into the tree 15 years ago and no one has seen them since, so that’s weird. Are they dead? Do they have exits she doesn’t know about? 

The cat is Salem. 

Ioxi was given a magic broach by the witch. 

Xinglu goes back around the house to pspspspsp at the kitty some more because he really wants to pet the smol hairy baby. 

The cat stretched long, “You really want to pet me, don’t you?” Xinglu nodded quietly, and the creature almost seemed to shrug, “I’ll allow it.” Beaming, the dhampir gave his new friend soft scratches behind his ears. 

Heading out into the forest, the group notices all the shadowy-shade squirrels and other forest creatures. Except for Juniper who fails 3 consecutive rolls including an assist from Xinglu and is instead cheerfully oblivious of the unsettling animals around them. 

The party comes across the giant tree stump in the forest without too much time passing, with the entrance to the cult’s lair carved into the base of it. In front of the entrance are two stone statues of winged humans. Their faces are hidden behind their hands and they face each other in front of the doorway. 

Wondering if they’re trapped in some way, Ioxi shoots one of the statues with their sling-shot, but nothing happens.

Ophelia leads the way, entering the tree and observes that the floor is itself a large door, which she fails to be able to open. Xinglu barely manages to pull the door open. It’s super loud so the cult probably knows we’re here by now! 

Narlik leads the way, but stays within line of sight. The spiral staircase goes down about 100 feet. We follow the corridor at the bottom 60 feet where it splits again; to a corridor going left, one going right, and continuing forwards. We decide to go law of left, and find a room with moon phases carved into the floor. Hereby known as Moon Room. 

Narlik, Ophelia and Ioxi enter the Moon Room and Ophelia casts detect magic - all the carved moons are magical. 

Tristan attempts to enter the room after Ophelia and cannot. Initially we think there may be a barrier against undead, but no one else can enter the room, and the three who entered cannot leave it. Objects, however, seem to be able to pass through. 

Sound also cannot pass through, so communication is limited. 

“That’s a small blessing,” Ophelia remarked, looking outside of the room at Juniper who was now talking animatedly to those outside the invisible force field. 

“What is?” Ioxi questioned. 

“Not being able to hear her incessant chattering.” 

When Ioxi steps over the halfmoon, it lights up, but otherwise nothing happens. Juniper, Xinglu, Talasi and Tristan are still outside the room. We turn back to see if we can find a way to get Moon Room Crew out, and discover upon doubling back that the winged statues have followed us down the tunnel and are now standing at the cross-roads. 

Ophelia tells Ioxi and Narlik they are Weeping Angels.

Confused and concerned about the winged statues somehow following them through an unknown mechanism or magic, Xinglu keeps a close eye on them, concerned they may be an unknown threat now blocking the only known exit. 

Juniper takes Tristan down the other hallway where they find a similar room with 6 goblets full of some sort of black water. Juniper suggests Tristan go inside and take a look around, just in case, so they don’t both get trapped… Tristan immediately becomes trapped in the room, and sound cannot escape. Writing in her songbook, Juniper suggests Tristan try drinking the water and see if that does anything.

“He can be the guinea pig, he’s already dead!” Juniper explained to Xinglu and Talasi, still waiting in the cross-roads. 

“Juniper, behave,” Xinglu replied with a tired sounding sigh. 

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” She retorted. 

It was with great internal strength that Xinglu did not facepalm. 

Tristan says he can see things that weren’t in the room previously.

He passes Juniper two of the goblets and she takes them to the Moon Room and passes them through to Ophelia and Ioxi, who drink them and immediately become White Girl Wasted, but fail to see anything in their room. They do, however, cheerfully break-out sausages and light a fire, because if they’re going to be trapped, they may as well be trapped with delicious food! 

Juniper went back to Xinglu where he waited, watching the winged statues at the cross-roads of corridors, “Hey Xing,” she stared, sounding sheepish already. 

“...what did you do?” He sighed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“I maybe got our companions a bit… drunk,” She admitted. 

“...what.” 

“Well, there were six goblets in the room down that hallway, and when Tristan drank them he could see things that you can’t see without drinking the goblets, so I figured they must be some sort of potion. I brought them to the other ‘cause I figured they might be able to see something in their room to help get them out if that were the case, I mean, that does make sense to you, don’t it? Of course it does. What else were we gonna do? It's like this damn place was specially designed for the number of people in our party. Ain't like we got a lot of options in that case.” 

While it admittedly did make some amount of sense, Xinglu still had to marvel at how he didn't really need to participate for his half of the conversation.

Juniper has Tristan hand her another goblet to take to Narlik, which she does. And Then she takes another one through the door and heads back to Xinglu and Talasi at the crossroads. She attempts to drink the potion, throwing back her head to chug it - except it doesn’t come out and stays swishing in the glass like it has an invisible lid on it. 

Xinglu couldn't stop the chuckle that he emitted at the look of utter confusion on Juniper’s face, and took a mental picture so he would able to recall this delightful bit of humor in the future when he needed a smile.

Deciding that they need three people in each room for the consumption of the six goblets, Juniper and Talasi enter the Goblet Room and drink the potions. They, too, can see the unlit braziers. It is at this point that Juniper realizes they need the Eternal Flame torch that Ioxi has in the other room. 

Shenanigans with paper airplanes ensue. 

While the rest of the party members struggle their way through solving the puzzles, Xinglu attempts to kick one of the statues, seeing if it can be knocked over - as that might reveal the cause of its movement. It doesn’t budge. 

Xinglu looked around to make sure his companions were all busy in their respective rooms, and no one was paying attention to him, then reached down and rubbed his shin where he’d made impact with the mysterious statue. “Ow,” he muttered beneath his breath - that had hurt more than he wanted his friends to know

Narlik lights his torch arrows with the eternal flame and fires them into Goblet Room, and we use them to light our own torch and then to light the braziers - which freezes each person who lights it in place momentarily. Once they’re all lit, it causes the Moon Room to spin fully around, and a glass sphere appears floating above them, full of water. 

They attempt to purify the water, electrocute the water, ect. Nothing happens until they use one of the braziers from their room to heat the water to boiling. 

Heating the water causes the temperature in Goblet Room to climb, while freezing the water causes the temperature to drop drastically. 

Upon realizing this fact, Ophelia uses it to intentionally torture Goblet Room for funsies.

Having solved the first puzzle, a new basin appears in Goblet Room, and when Moon Room freezes the water it begins to fill with snow. Goblet Room quickly help fill it as fast as possible with their hands as the temperature is very cold. Nothing happens when it’s full, other than the globe of water disappearing but Juniper notices that, unlike everything else so far, this basin is not attached to the floor. With help from the others, she pushes it to the door and outside the Goblet Room.

It turns into a human-shaped creature made of water and throws an ice javalin that impales Xinglu in the shoulder which knocks him down. 

Xinglu shot Juniper an if-looks-could-kill look when she pushed the basin out and it tried to kill him. A little warning would have been nice, at least. 

Xinglu hits the water-creature and takes a chunk out of it. The water falls back into basin, and he pushes it the rest of the way to Moon Room, where it turns back into a monster.

Watching the creature rise up to attack her companions for a second time, Juniper couldn’t sit by idly and let her friend get hurt again. The lack of a ranged weapon wasn’t going to deter her, and she grabbed one of the goblets that remained empty in their room - chucking it full force down the hallway at the monster. 

It fell terribly short, clattering against the stone floor and sliding to a stop a good 15 feet away from the creature, which the others had quickly and routinely put down. Juniper wasn’t well-known for her combat skills, but her valiant attempt at saving him still earned her an amused smile from Xinglu. 

Defeated again, the creature turns back into a bowl of water. Ioxi pushes it to the glowing moon on floor and nothing happens. They push it instead to the middle of the room so it mirrors where it had been in the Goblet Room, and this seems to solve this portion of the puzzle, as the Goblet Room spins and a piano appears in the middle of the room. 

Excited about the musical development, Juniper plays the scales on the keys - but only the one note sounds like music and not noise to Moon Room. 

“Stop, that’s awful!” Ioxi shouted, and in their drunken state finally remembered they had message, “Hey go back. The 8th key sounds right, but none of the others do!”

Juniper’s head snapped up and she looked at Ioxi, throwing her arms up in exasperation. 

“Why didn’t you take message?! It’s only useful if we both have it! That was a poor life decision on your part wasn’t it?” Ioxi rambled cheerfully.  

This did nothing to temper Juniper’s vexation at the situation. 

Juniper’s player still doesn’t understand this puzzle. Please don’t ask her how it was solved. It just was. The correct notes were eventually played in the correct order and triggered the next puzzle; 3 orbs appear in the Moon Room, in the opposite pattern of the braziers in the Goblet Room. 

Ophelia creates water at the orbs and nothing happens. 

Ioxi makes electric at the orbs and an electric monster appears in Goblet Room. That’s not good. The Electric Monster is killed quickly by the party. All the lights go out, and we are freed from our Puzzle Prison on the new Moon. 

“Xing! Are ya alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’ know that was gonna happen, honest!” Juniper ran up to her friend, already apologizing for the water creature. 

He didn’t answer, save to affectionately ruffle her hair between her ears.  

The steel doors in the center hallway only open once Narlik finally drinks his potion. 

Ophelia suggests the cult must be related to werewolves because there are vampires nearby and Werewolves and Vampires are natural enemies. Thinking that doesn’t sound right, Juniper double checks this information and recalls that is not true. There’s no known correspondence between Vampires and Werewolves on Rysela. 

Behind the large steel doors is a massive room 60’ x 100’ - a long bridge passes down the center of the room while mysterious murky black water fills the space on either side. Ophelia casts light on a small object and drops it into the water and it disappears unsettlingly quickly into the murk. Ioxi electrocutes the water on the off chance that some creature is living in it ready to pounce. Nothing happens, but Ioxi is aware that the water is magic. Ophelia touches it and it singes her finger, she informs the rest of the party that it’s Necomancy water. 

Ioxi glanced down at the unassuming danger on either side of the narrow path nervously. As if sensing their anxiety, Xinglu reached down and gently took hold of the back of their cloak - a reassuring presence that he would not let Ioxi fall. 

Before the party leaves the doors behind, Xinglu opens them again to check on the winged statues, and they are now right up against the door. No one likes that, so we close the door again and continue down the bridge single file as quickly as possible. In this last room there is no other exit, doorway or window for us to leave out of. A massive, unlit crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the center of the room and a pedestal supporting a 6” red dome sits directly below it.

Ophelia attempts to lift the red dome, but it doesn’t budge so instead she presses it. Numbers light up around the top of the room, red and glowing, and begin to count down from 120 every second. 

No one is sure what to do, except Ioxi who took one look at the giant chandelier and said ‘I’m gonna wreck it!’ 

We smash the fuck out of the chandelier because we are all drunk agents of chaos at this point. 

Juniper tries looking through the crystal to see if, like the potion earlier, something hidden might unveil itself, but no luck. 

We let the timer run out, prepared for the worst, but instead we just hear the sound of water draining. After it’s quiet again, we slowly and carefully open the steel doors that closed behind us again, and find that the Doom Water has drained out of the previous room, revealing stairs that descend on either side of the bridge. 

Ioxi, Juniper, Talasi and Xinglu go down one side. 

Ophelia, Tristan, Narlik and Preston go down the other. 

[nvrcmplt]

❛ the less you know, the better. ❜ - sovann to galo! :3

Galo didn't know if that was the truth. To know more allows once to ready themselves for the future… To claim it'll be for the better was an arrogance that even he dared utter in such a place. Though, this being held something otherworldly barrier about them, his curiosity has already been piqued and sadly that was what kept his mouth moving with yet another question to their clear avoidance. "To whom, Sovann? Surely - not I. The more I know, the better I become at knowing what to expect of our outings together, the less, the more inclined I am to return to my forest roots and leave you in the cloud of my hooves." A tilt of his fine-silken hair, his gaze piercing in their need to know but an adults' ability to hold himself back, just a touch more.

"Do tell, odd friend… These trees will not whisper your secrets if you desire them not to share it." Galo adjusted his position on his tree stump seat, hand settling beneath his jaw as a foot hangs from hooking knee over knee. His free hand was gentle in moving over to stir his pot of vegetable stew, boiling away over open flame and in a blackened cauldron. "You are not to hide here in fear, Sovann. I promised you protection and you will get it."

[abellinthecupboard]

Orpheus Ascending

...like a penitent extending a flame In front of him and stumbling backward through A maze of tunnels, a miner rescinding his steps And muttering because the walls verge on collapse. He touches nothing, ne feels the gases seeping After him, acid yellows and sulfurous vapors, Menacing fires of heat and dust. Somewhere A doorway pulls and sucks him toward the light And then he is standing above the dirt trying To breathe the rancid air, smoke stinging his eyes, Flames bursting from the open mouths of cauldrons And furnaces. Is it night or day? Human shapes, vague soot-colored figures With fierce white eyes, are pushing wheelbarrows Through the ironworks and slag heaps, shrouded Forges and lime kilns, shafts and wheels... Vegetal death, avernal air—where has he come to? The ground has been gutted and ripped apart, Its entrails smoldering and strewn everywhere, Its skin pockmarked, covered with cinders. No one notices him wandering in silence Past deserted farmhouses and broken silos, Touching the skeletons of trees, dilapidated Stumps, pausing on the road to nowhere And then lying on the parched brown grass To think, to stare into a filthy haze and day- Dream about a dog growling in the distance, A vast explosion, and the deafening noise Of cave after cave collapsing underground. People are running and shrieking everywhere And he races toward the entrance, but The mine is sealed, there is no way down... Cavernous earth that has opened your lungs, Let him sink into another level of the dream; Let him return to the one he has betrayed And face her body fading before his eyes; Let him awaken to his own voice again— Inconsolable Orpheus, who cannot decide To sing, who never expected to find A world above so much like the world below.

— Edward Hirsch, Earthly Measures (1994)

[spanishskulduggery]

Spanish Vocab List - El bosque de la bruja / The Witch’s Forest

I started this list all “let’s talk about trees and flowers” and then it took a hard turn into “now say you meet Baba Yaga in the forest...” and I’m not going to apologize for the spoopy witchy vibes

la bruja = witch [also technically you can see/use el brujo for “male witch” or “warlock” though often “witch” in English comes across as distinctly feminine]

el aquelarre = a coven, a witches’ coven

la hora bruja = the witching hour la hora de brujas = the witching hour

la brujería = witchcraft

el curandero, la curandera = healer [sometimes santero/a which has multiple meanings - it can be “witchdoctor” but also a practitioner of santería which is a mix of religious and folk traditions]

el hechicero, la hechicera = sorcerer, sorceress

el mago, la maga = mage / magician

el encanto = enchantment, charm / magic spell

el hechizo = magic spell, charm, hex

la maldición = curse

el maleficio = curse

el mal de ojo = evil eye

la caldera = cauldron [or “caldera” of a volcano]

el ermitaño, la ermitaña = hermit, recluse

la escoba = broom

la magia = magic

mágico/a = magic, magical

el hado = Fate los hados = the Fates

el hada, las hadas = fairy, fairies el hada madrina = fairy godmother

el/la vidente = seer el clarividente, la clarividente = clairvoyant, seer

el/la médium = spirit medium

la nigromancia = necromancy el/la nigromante = necromancer

la rueca = spinning wheel

la manzana envenenada = poison apple

malvado/a = evil, wicked

malo/a = bad, evil

bueno/a = good

la guarida = lair, den

lanzar un hechizo/encanto/maleficio = to cast a spell/charm/curse

la poción = potion

elaborar = to brew, to create  [in other contexts it’s “to elaborate”, but in the context of food or drink it means “to make” in the sense of “to labor over” - the idea here is that it requires time and effort to fully make it and get everything right, so it’s used for “brewing alcohol” or any mixture that requires significant time or specialized creation, and potion making in a fantasy setting]

~

el bosque = the woods / forest / woodland el bosquecillo = small forest [sometimes “copse of trees”]

la selva = forest [often more wild] / jungle

el jardín = garden

el huerto (de fruta / de frutales) = orchard el huerto = vegetable garden, personal garden [el huerto generally means “a garden for growing food” and can be either “(vegetable) garden” or “orchard”, but in English an “orchard” is specifically more “fruit”; but it could be either]

la arboleda = grove, collection of trees

el sol = sun

la luna = moon

la estrella = star

la nube = cloud

la lluvia = rain

la nieve = snow

la tormenta = storm la tempestad = storm, tempest

el rayo = lightning / bolt, lightning bolt, thunderbolt

el trueno = thunder

el granizo = hail / hailstone

la niebla = fog

la neblina = mist, fog

~

el amanecer = dawn

la mañana = morning

el mediodía = midday, noon

la tarde = afternoon / evening

el atardecer = evening

el crepúsculo = twilight

la noche = night

la medianoche = midnight

la madrugada = early morning, the wee hours of the morning

la víspera = eve (of something), the night before

el ocaso = sunset

diurno/a = day (adj), daytime / diurnal, awake during the day

nocturno/a = night (adj), nighttime / nocturnal, awake at night [as a general example las clases nocturnas mean “night classes” which is literally “classes at night”... as opposed to las clases diurnas which would mean “daytime classes”; in the context of school you could say tengo una clase nocturna y otras diurnas “I have one night class and others during the day”]

~

el árbol = tree arbóreo/a = arboreal, related to trees

el arbusto = shrub, shrubbery

el seto = hedge

la madera = wood

el tronco = trunk / log [also in anatomy “torso”]

el tocón = stump (of a tree)

la leña = firewood, log (for firewood usually) el leño = a log el leñador, la leñadora = woodcutter, lumberjack

la corteza = bark (of a tree) [also means “crust” for bread or the earth]

la copa (de árbol) = canopy las copas = canopy (of many trees)

la rama = branch

la raíz = root

la savia = sap [sometimes it also means “lifeblood” or “vitality” or “vigor”]

la hoja = leaf [or “blade”, or “sheet of paper”]

la flor = flower

el pétalo = petal

la semilla = seed

el tallo = stalk / stem

la hierba = grass / herb [sometimes spelled yerba] el césped = grass, lawn

la hierba mala = weed [lit. “bad grass”]

la especia = spice

la vid = vine

marchitado/a = withered, shriveled, dried up

la espina = thorn espinoso/a = thorny

la baya = berry

la hiedra = ivy la hiedra venenosa = poison ivy

el hongo = mushroom, fungus la seta = mushroom, toadstool el champiñón = mushroom [idk if it’s used everywhere but you see this at least in Spain for edible mushrooms sometimes]

el moho = mold

el musgo = moss

el liquen = lichen

la zarza = bramble, briar

silvestre = wild, growing in the wild

comestible = edible

el veneno = poison, venom envenenar = to poison venenoso/a = poisonous, venomous envenenado/a = poisoned, having poison in it

letal, mortal = deadly

~

el roble = oak

el arce = maple

el sauce = willow el sauce llorón = weeping willow

el fresno = ash tree

la pícea = spruce

el acebo = holly

la haya = beech

el pino = pine tree

el corno / el cornejo = dogwood

el álamo = poplar

el alcornoque = cork tree

la adelfa = oleander

la secoya = sequoia / redwood

el mangle = mangrove el manglar = mangroves [a collection of mangroves]

~

la rosa = rose

la violeta = violet

el lirio = lily [sometimes la azucena]

el jacinto = hyacinth

la hortensia = hydrangea

el girasol = sunflower

la malva = mallow [malva can also be “mauve”; also el malvavisco is “marshmallow”... literally “sticky/goopy/viscous mallow”]

la malvarrosa = hollyhock

el botón de oro = buttercup [lit. “gold button”]

la digital = foxglove

el narciso = daffodil, narcissus

la lavanda = lavender

la lila = lilac

la nomeolvides = forget-me-not

el loto = lotus

la menta = mint

la caléndula = marigold

la belladonna = nightshade

el acónito = aconite / aconitum, monk’s hood, wolf’s bane el matalobos = wolf’s bane [lit. “kills wolves”]

el muérdago = mistletoe

el rocío = dew, dewdrop, morning dew

el ajo = garlic el diente de ajo = clove of garlic [lit. “tooth of garlic”]

la cebolla = onion

la calabaza = pumpkin / gourd

el maíz = corn [also el elote in some countries] la mazorca = corncob, ear of corn

el trigo = wheat

la salvia = sage

el jengibre = ginger

la canela = cinnamon

el diente de león = dandelion [lit. “lion’s tooth”]

la escoba de bruja = witch hazel [lit. “witch’s broom”] el avellano de bruja = witch hazel [lit. “witch’s hazel”]

la pimienta = pepper [spice]

la sal = salt rociar sal = to sprinkle salt espolvear sal = to sprinkle salt / to dust with salt

~

la hoz = sickle

el arado = plow

la hoguera = bonfire / campfire, fire pit

el hogar = home / hearth

la guadaña = scythe

la cosecha = harvest

el arco = bow / arch

la flecha = arrow

el mortero = mortar el molcajete = mortar [some countries, especially Mexico]

la mano = pestle [otherwise it’s “hand”]

el mortero y mano = mortar and pestle

moler = to grind molido/a = ground

el molino = mill

la tabla / el tablón = floorboard, wooden board

la viga = beam / rafter

el umbral = threshold

el muro = wall, outside wall, boundary line

la cerca = fence la valla = fence

la ciudad = city

el pueblo = town / people, population

la aldea = town, small town

la frontera = frontier, border

el claro = clearing (in a forest), glade

la choza = hut

la casita = little house la cabaña = cabin / cottage

la granja = farm

la finca = plantation, estate, farmhouse

la paja = straw el tejado de paja = thatched roof [lit. “straw roofing”]

el taller = workshop

~

la cueva = cave

la caverna = cavern

la gruta = grotto / undercroft

la roca = rock

la piedra = stone

el monte = hill, mountain / wilderness, forested area

la montaña = mountain

la sierra = mountain range [or a “saw” as a tool]

la colina = hill

la falda = slope [in clothes la falda is “skirt”]

el pantano = swamp / bog / mire

la ciénaga = swamp / bog / mire

el lodo = mud lodoso/a = muddy

el fango = mud / silt fangoso/a = muddy

el río = river el riachuelo = little river, stream

el lago = lake

el estanque = pond

el arroyo = stream el arroyuelo = brook, creek

el mar = sea

el océano = ocean

la orrilla = shore

la marea = tide

la arena = sand

~

el ciervo = deer, stag la cierva = deer, doe

el venado = deer [can exist in feminine as well... this word also sometimes gets translated as “hart”; also sometimes venado is the word for “venison” or deer meat]

el lobo, la loba = wolf [la loba is sometimes “she-wolf” in some contexts]

el oso, la osa = bear [la osa is sometimes “she-bear”]

el búho = owl

la lechuza = owl [thing barn owls or snowy owls; the owls with a flatter looking face; a Lechuza is also sometimes a witch or evil spirit who snatches children said to be bird-like]

el cuervo = crow la corneja = raven [in general, el cuervo is used for both “crow” and “raven” even in literature, though el cuervo and la corneja are different technically]

el murciélago = bat

el sapo = toad

la rana = frog

la serpiente = snake, serpent la víbora = viper, snake la culebra = snake [more literary]

el conejo = rabbit la liebre = hare, rabbit

el gato, la gata = cat

la rata / el ratón = rat, mouse [largely interchangeable]

la mosca = fly

el mosquito = mosquito

la luciérnaga = firefly, lightning bug

la libébula = dragonfly

la pluma = feather

el diente = tooth

el colmillo = fang

el ala = wing [technically feminine; el ala, las alas]

la lengua = tongue

el hueso = bone

la calavera / el cráneo = skull

el cuerno = horn

el asta, las astas = antler, antlers [technically feminine]

la piel = skin / hide, fur [also piel can be “leather”; also the word el cuero is “leather” though not always as common]

el caracol = shell, seashell

el caparazón = shell, carapace

el polvo = dust

la ceniza = ash

la sangre = blood

~

el enano, la enana = dwarf

el elfo, la elfa = elf

el fantasma = ghost

el gigante = giant

el ogro = ogre

el trol = troll [creature and internet troll]

hermoso/a = beautiful apuesto/a = handsome, good-looking

bello/a = beautiful [more intense than hermoso/a]

embrujado/a = bewitched / haunted

la casa embrujada = haunted house la casa encantada = haunted house

la fiera = fiend, beast, wild animal fiero/a = wild, ferocious

feroz = ferocious, wild

la bestia = beast

el monstruo = monster

el castillo = castle

la torre = tower

la mazmorra = dungeon el calabozo = dungeon [in modern Spanish el calabozo is the word for “holding cells” in a police office or a place where someone is detained; in older Spanish it can be used as “dungeon”]

el don = gift

el poder = power, ability poderoso/a = powerful, mighty

el truco = trick

la moraleja = moral

encantar = to enchant / to delight

convocar = to summon

conceder = to grant, to bestow / to concede

bendecir = to bless bendito/a = blessed

maldecir = to curse maldito/a = cursed

[thevegancauldron]

Another day, another stump cake.

[autocrats-in-love]

Hey i was wondering if you could do part 2 for "a mile in your shoes"

Part 1

Witch doctors are pretty hard to come by in the modern world. Personally, the hero hadn’t seen one for a while. But the villain seemed to know where they were going, so they followed their enemy through the rain and wind, into a pretty ominous-looking forest.

“This feels like a we’re-going-to-get-murdered type of place.” The hero said. They stared at the spindly trees in the growing darkness.

“We are super powered Demi-Gods,” the villain replied ahead of the hero. “I think we’ll be okay. Aside from my back, which is really bugging me.”

They turned left at a tree stump.

“You’ll be fine. I fight you with it every day.” The hero replied. “But I was talking about how we don’t have our own powers.”

The villain pointed to a bush. A little light in the centre was making it glow. “That’s her marker.”

“Is this really safe?” The hero asked nervously.

“No idea.” The villain was already stepping into the bush.

They reached a hand out to the hero. “Let’s go. Your body sucks.”

The hero sighed and grabbed the villain’s hand, stepping into the bush too.

“What’s the password again?” The villain mused. “Uh. . .oh, I got it. Peaches.”

The bush opened up. The hero and villain were sucked into a portal that appeared beneath their feet. Before the hero could blink, they were in front of a cottage. It was completely white, sticking out against the dark foliage surrounding it. There were flowers growing along the perimeter, but none like the hero had ever seen. They glowed every colour of the rainbow, and swayed even though there wasn't any wind. Even though the home appeared bright, something about it scared the hero to their core.

The villain didn't appear shaken. They calmly led the hero up the walkway, to the wooden front door. They then turned to the hero.

"Listen," they warned. "She doesn't mess around, okay? Be clear with what you want, and don't mention her hair."

The hero felt sweat gather at their collar. "Uh-huh."

The villain knocked. The door swung inwards, revealing a woman. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with blue eyes and a look of boredom. She appeared human. Aside from her hair, which appeared to be thousands of bees resting on her scalp. She also smelled strongly of honey. She looked to the hero and smiled.

"Oh, hello. Back again?" She said. "And who's the friend?"

"Actually. . ." The villain said, raising their hand. "They're the friend. I'm. . .me."

The witch snapped her fingers, nodding. "Body switch."

She moved to the side, clutching the door. The bees followed. "Well, come in. I don't have all night to return you to your bodies."

The hero gingerly stepped inside behind the villain, still holding their hand. The place had shelves on every wall. They were filled with animals in jars, eerily glowing liquids in vials, thick, dusty books with ominous names, various mixing utensils, and countless other things the hero couldn't describe. There was a long table with tools spread across it, lit by an overhead bulb. In the middle was a cauldron floating over a fire--already bubbling with a blue liquid.

The witch pushed past the hero and villain. She was already grabbing a book. She threw it over the cauldron. It automatically righted itself and opened to a page. The witch skimmed the writing and turned to her guests.

"Okay, first off. How did the switch happen?"

"Lightning strike." The villain said.

The witch nodded, muttering to herself. She took a jar filled with yellow powder and emptied it into the cauldron. She pushed a wooden spoon into the mixture, and it began stirring.

"Nature of your relationship?" The witch asked.

The hero felt themselves blush. The villain's body reddened so easily. the honesty that the villain was an infatuation yet to be crushed was something they were not ready to face. They subconsciously unwound their hand from the villain's.

"Sworn enemies." The villain answered.

The hero watched as the witch asked questions, the villain provided an answer, and the witch ran to a corner of the room, took an ingredient, and plopped it in the cauldron. The bees buzzed angrily. After a few minutes, the liquid was bubbling bright green, and the witch looked worried.

"I have my worries with this one." She said.

"Why?" The hero asked nervously.

"Well, you aren't related, so switching will be hard." The witch explained. "Not to mention all the secrets you two are keeping from the other. Identities, feelings, names. They might come out in the switch."

The hero and the villain exchanged a glance. Oh, hell no was the general consensus.

"But what can you do? Stay in the other's body forever? It's the only way."

The witch shrugged as she scooped up some liquid in a jar. She walked over to the villain and hero, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you ready for what's to come. What will be revealed?"

Neither of them were, but they both nodded.

"Alright. Stick out your arms, both of you."

They did. The witch tied them together with string, and held the jar over the knot.

"Now, close your eyes and imagine you are in your body. No one else's."

As they did, the hero felt the warmth of the liquid dribbling down their hand. Then they felt their soul light up. It zipped around the villain's body, to their own, and back again. It danced along the string, and shot to the hero's head. It had secrets. It seemed to drop them, and they fell to the hero's tongue. Before they could stop themselves, they were blurting it ou.

"I'm in love with you."

Part 3

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I finished the Baba Yaga hut!

LOOK AT IT

It’s a 4.8x4.8″ wooden box on a 9x13″ base. It’s all crocheted save what was hand felted and the tiny firewood.

Shall we tour the details??? YES WE SHALL

Tree stump! Made from a little cardboard tube from inside a skein of Knitpicks Curio. I crocheted around the tube with Caron Simply Soft, then worked the hemp yarn (Lion Brand Just Hemp [it’s awful]) in the round. I shoved the top of the stump through the tube from the bottom to get the look. 

Chicken feet were made with a 2.0mm hook and a Rowan DK yarn. I worked three, single crochet rows, then folded the long ends over 22 gauge floral wire and stitched the ends together so the feet could be adjustable.

The cauldron was made the same way as the stump, crocheting size 10 thread around another cardboard tube. The crossbar is made with Caron Simply Soft with wire inside. The fire is a mix of Knitpicks Diadem and Cascade 225 Fingering. I made a pom pom, brushed it out with a wire dog brush, then hand felted to make the flames.

The firewood is a couple of wooden dowels I snapped into various pieces. 

The windows are granny squares made with a 2.0mm hook and tiny red yarn. 

Happy little trees! And bushes! The overall base of the piece and the trees and bushes were made with Lion Brand Wool Ease. I just single crocheted the base, then brushed it with a wire dog brush to give it a mossy vibe. I hand felted the trees and bushes, then used a little bit of white acrylic paint to try and put flowers on the bushes.

88 roof tiles, all made with a 2.0mm hook and a handspun laceweight I rediscovered in my stash. The sides of the house are done in Lion Brand Just Hemp [so terrible] and done up as individual shingles that I layered free hand. 

You can’t see it (because that’s the point) but I also did a single crochet base chain for each side of each corner and put them down first so there wouldn’t be any coverage gaps on the corners. 

The chimney is a bunch of 1″ wooden hoops that I crocheted around like I did the stump and the cauldron. I then stacked and glued them together. You can see the contact cement, but if anyone asks, come on, chimneys are always a little dirty, right?

So, yes, the roof comes off so you can store stuff in the box. I made the roof base with floral wire, masking tape, felt, and hot glue. I stuffed it with polyfil, then attached all the crochet pieces over it. The polyfil gives the roof a bit of weight so it stays in place.

The door is Caron Simply Soft with more of the tiny red yarn for the rune. It’s a protection rune.

So, that’s the Baba Yaga house! It’s a belated birthday gift for @templemarker​, and I’ve had an absolute blast making it.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind! 

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying​ , @draconisxcaput​

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good. 

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up. 

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself. 

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins. 

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened. 

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him. 

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-” 

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure. 

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard. 

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least. 

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books. 

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well. 

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever. 

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain. 

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least. 

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily. 

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do. 

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you. 

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you. 

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop. 

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it. 

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far. 

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life. 

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours. 

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet! 

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning. 

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

[willow-salix]

Why hello there

Is there anything you would recommend a babi witch like myself studying that has been missed from my list :>

Mah list (so far):

○ Witch vs Pagan vs Wicca

○ Types of witches

○ Grey witch

○ Black witch

○ Crystals + Properties

○ Sacred geometry

○ Pentacle + Pentagram

○ Sigils

○ Protection

○ Moon phases

○ Sabbats

○ Types of salts

○ Respecting nature

○ Graveyard etiquette

○ Spirit guides

○ Divination (runes, Tarot, Coins, etc)

○ Casting a circle

○ Candle magick

○ Colour magick

○ Closed practice appropriation

○ Herbs

○ Astrology

○ Tree of life

○ Auras

○ The five clairs

○ Energy/visualisation magick

○ History of starseeds

○ Astral projection

○ Methods of meditation

○ Grounding

○ Plant magick

Ooh OK! Here goes.

First and foremost, as a witch of twenty plus years, the most important thing I can tell you is to be yourself. If this is a belief system and way of life that you want for life it has to fit in with you and your personality.

Forget everything you see on Instagram, tictok or Pinterest, it's not about the aesthetic, it's about you.

There is no room for witch shaming on my blog.

And by that I mean that EVERYONE works in different ways, at a different pace and to different levels. Never compare yourself to anyone else or how they work. Never think that you aren't doing enough or that you aren't progressing enough.

You are on your own path and that is the right one for you, so you do it your own way. You want to stop and smell the flowers? Do it. You want to dip your feet in that stream? Go for it! You want to stop and rest for a bit? Best idea ever!

You should never feel pressured to do anything that you aren't ready for or aren't comfortable with. That includes such things as blood magic, working with deity you don't feel a connection with, working skyclad, doing any kind of sexual magic or anything that makes you feel off about it. It's YOUR craft.

Be kind to yourself, don't have expectations and don't ever think you aren't good enough or worthy.

This includes making your craft unique to you. Visualisation is one of the witches most poweful tools, the magic doesn't come from the expensive athame, insence or candles, its in the heart of the witch. The power comes from you. And visualisation is your key to that but so is choosing how to make it work for you.

Take me for example, I'm this loveable thundernerd witch, so that reflects in my craft.

In circle (mediumship development) we did a meditation and I was directed to the beach. So what beach did I go to...

"There's a lovely beach, I can feel the salt water on my skin, I can smell the salt in the air, there's a light breeze that's rustling the leaves on the palm trees all around me and in the distance I can hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano."

Hell yeah I was there. That's my happy place!

I need to ascend to a higher level of consciousness? Am I taking that golden winding staircase or am I calling John for the space elevator? What do you think I'm gonna choose?

I need to go lower, below the earth to go into trance? Hell I'm taking Alan's seat down.

Make it work for you.

Working with charms, that's a very important thing for me. I have lucky charms, trinkets and things everywhere. And they don't have to be pagan. I put a spell on my car to keep me safe and the car safe. Then I charged up a little TAG John and Virgil, they live in my car, Virgil is my co-pilot John is my navigator. They help me feel calm and safe.

Energy weaving is a big thing, I always do it that any energy I raise for something that doesn't already have a predetermined purpose, say for example it's full moon and I'm bouncing around outside, everything I raise I direct out to the earth as healing. I'll raise my arms to the heavens and say : I send this energy out to anyone or anything that needs it right now, I send my love and healing into the wind and trust that it will be taken to where it can do the mslt good.

Talking to other witches about how they do things and how they work is sooooo important. That's why I'm not in a tradition ( alexandrian, gardnerian etc) because I don't like having just one way to do things. That doesn't work for most people, they just won't admit it.

Trying different things to find a way that works for you is so much nicer and healthier than struggling to work the one way that you've been taught. So read, a lot, watch a lot of reputable youtubers (I recommend Tylluan Penry, she's amazing, a grandmother witch and a good friend of mine) and make your own choices. And remember that nothing is set in stone, we are ever evolving and every changing, if you feel the urge to try something new and work a different way, do it. You don't have to stick with it.

An astral altar, sooo important but something I don't see many people talking about. An astral altar is something you build in meditation.

You have your happy place, somewhere you feel safe and calm and protected (Tracy Island and the beach for me or my Nan and Grandads house as I remember it before they passed away) but it could be anywhere, a woodland, a house, a stream, a playground you used to love. Anything or anywhere.

Here you find a nice place that you like and you dream up /visualise your altar base, like a nice table, a tree stump, and rock, anything. And here you place all the items you might need, all the things you've dreamed about that you can't afford or the things you have in real life. And you place them all there. You keep that space, you charge it up, you spend time there and then, any time you are away form home or can't get to your altar in the real world for any reason, you have somewhere to go, somewhere to work and some where to commune.

Tools, I didn't see that on the list but might have missed it.

Anything can be a tool. That's the biggest lesson of all. Our pagan ancestors would have used whatever they had to hand, no tools were single use or bought for the purpose of their craft. A cauldron was cooked in all week, a knife is used to chop everything and then used to direct energy.

These days we have the resources (and don't have to hide) to be able to have specific tools that we use only for our craft, but they don't have to be expensive. Go to a thrift store or buy cheap on eBay, a letter opener is an athame, a single wine glass can be a chalice, a pretty bowl is your offering bowl, a single plate is an offering plate, mismatched candle stick holders. All valid and will work just as well. The tools are a focus, they are NOT the source of our power.

Another tip, make witchcraft part of your every day life. Make it as natural and normal as everything else you do. It's part of your life and should be treated as such.

Making coffee in the morning? Set your intentions for the day and focus on it as you make it. You want to draw positivity? Stir doesil (clockwise) that's attracting. Want to rid yourself of the bad mood you had yesterday? Stir widdershins (counterclockwise) that's banishing. Not got anything? Stir a pentagram and call it good.

Sigils, doodle them everywhere (if you want a quick lesson on how to draw them and make up your own, let me know). Charm the shit out of everything.

Whisper a food blessing before you make food or eat. Bring that abundance in.

Trail your fingers along a wall or bushes to feel the energy as you walk.

Everything is magical to a witch.

Read mythology stories, it helps us learn and helps us connect to the stories of our pantheons and deity.

And heres the biggest thing I can tell you. Don't worry about getting things wrong. It's how we learn and honestly there is no such thing as wrong as long as your intentions are right.

Wording of spells doesn't matter, the intention and feeling behind them does.

You can do a cleansing by saying : Blessed spirit, Father God, mother goddess, I ask that you bless this house/tool /space and help drive out any negativity. Spirits that reside, if you're good you may stay, if you wish me halm, then please leave.

Nothing wrong with that.

Or you do a me: Mother Goddess, Father God, I'm back. Help me out here please, I need to cleanse this shit. Yo, spirits, good guys, ya chill, bad shit, get the fuck out! I'm the witch I'm in charge, do as you're told *claps hands all over the place and follows up with a cloud of vape smokes because my intention is in my breath and I'm blowing that negativity away*

And last but not least. I'm sure you've heard "Ever mind the rule of three, what you send out comes back to thee" That's very true, try to only send out good if you can. But you're human and it won't always happen, you'll have bad thoughts and negative emotions, that's normal and fine. Just don't do it with nastiness in your heart.

"and if it harms none, do what you will."

There's a line here most people don't know... "do no harm. But take no shit."

Because the one person most witches forget to look out for is themselves. Being good, doing good and being positive is great, but not at the expense of yourself. If it harms you, don't do it.

Love and light, and bright blessings to you. X

[kobithedragon]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i love your blog but please change your icon it scares me. i know it's annoying to hear from someone else but maybe think about it, not just for me, maybe it's time for a change? a new era?

Your icon kinda scares me too...

A mysterious grey orb with sunglasses? Why must it hide behind its shady eye veil? Is that a tuft of hair? A beard? Sideburn? Or a haunting shadow caressing its cheek...

And what of its featureless face? Is it merely an orb pretending to be human? But orbs are balls of light, so why must it have a shadow? What is it trying to hide behind those striking spectacles, the striking strike of white light punctuating their bleak blank blast of blackness...

Is it grey... Perhaps because it is a descendant of the grey aliens? The greys...

Perhaps it escaped from the Roswell UFO incident of 1947, and has been roaming tirelessly throughout the deserts and oceans, streets, villages, mountains, lakes and biomes, until it found a public library with a single internet explorer window open, and the website "tumblr dot com" open to this very blog.

I suppose the entity in my icon must have reminded u of the transcendental ghost of 1947 which I salvaged from the crash. It was also very grey and shadowy, with similar spectacles as the orb. However, once I fed it a healthy dose of petroleum, uranium, and Mr Ping's secret ingredient from Kung Fu Panda, all mixed together in a cauldron shaped tree stump, it lept up 500km into the sky. As if to honour it's rejuvenation, the very clouds and oceans turned a brilliant gold and soothing violet, some of which formed a bridge across which this entity glided into what can only be described as the next plane of existence. The icon I display on this blog is an artist's interpretation, I don't take any credit for it, I simply found it online randomly, and remembered what I had seen.

But perhaps it is this very occurance which the spectacled shadowy grey orb in your icon is expecting to undergo, yet however has never experienced the sweet nectar of petroleum, uranium, and Mr ping's secret ingredient from Kung Fu Panda mixed together in a cauldron shaped tree stump. Well, my friend, I'd be more than happy to help. Just give me a call. My number is scattered in the wind, listen to what it says, and translate it from the tongues of the old descendants of the ancient land.

If however that isn't the reason as to why it scares you, I apologize, and I pray that the fear leaves you, as this image I use on my icon means a lot to me. I'm welcoming of any explanations as to why it rouses fear in you. This era is eternal, it oscillates rejuvenation indefinitely. I'm sorry I can't help you dear traveller. I am as much kobithedragon as I am the icon, as I am the taobao advertisment in my banner, as I am the plastic pinocchio gifs in my pinned post, as I am the ridiculous story I just made up, as I am very thrilled at this ask as an opportunity to share some words from my mind.

I bid you farewell now, and I wish you a wonderful and fearless journey across tumblr, a journey free of fearful icons, a journey enriched with the beauty and ambiguity that thrives on this world wide web of wonders, a journey of the soul, the spirit, and the mind. Have a nice day.

[the-crows-typist]

Here’s the fourth installment of your Valentine’s event (Yes, I know it’s March but IRL stuff happens y’know? This time we have Kalim paired with the word ‘Flowers’ requested by @opalmaplehibiscus .Enjoy!

CW: Hanahaki AU (Non-lethal variant), Angst with a happy ending, potential OOC, Minor talks about death

Word count: 3656 

Other works: Chocolates Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd, Kiss Feat. Vil

A Heart From Me to You

Kalim loved to look at flowers regardless of where he saw them. He loved the way the petals touched his skin and the many scents, whether sweet or strong, he breathed into his nose. Visiting the school’s botanical garden was one of his ‘hidden favorite things’ to do, he puts it as hidden as Jamil and he was glued to the hip since birth and while he never minded that Jamil was close by, there were moments he wished to be alone.

It was a very selfish want, he admitted to himself.

“Phew.” He breathed a relieved sigh, finally able to enter the garden without much of a problem. The sound of birds is what calmed him and the familiar scent of stored water was what brought him a sense of renewal. Taking one of the watering cans, Kalim began watering the flowering plants with not much thought going into it.

The flowers were beautiful, they truly were. They were very lucky to be this beautiful and to be held in such high regard for it. Yes, the flowers were indeed lucky contrary to his being; he never thought of himself the way he viewed the flowers and while he enjoyed some perks of his life thanks to his family’s achievements, it came with the same amount of misfortune and realities usually too dark for people his age to perceive.

Many people get hurt or even die for his sake, his siblings don’t get as much attention from their father as they liked because he, the eldest, is in the way and deep down he knew and felt the boiling resentment many had for him.

He doesn’t blame anyone for thinking that. It was a hard pill that Kalim was used to swallowing.

Perhaps had he been born a flower, life would have been easier for everyone including him.

He continued his watering until the can was empty and only then did he go back to the hose to refill it. The foliage on the way there was thick, he figured it hadn’t been cut for a while and made a note to himself to find some hedge clippers. He wasn’t allowed to hold knives, that’s true, but hedge clippers don’t count, right?

Lost In his internal debate, a quick set of feet ran and collided with his side harshly, Kalim and the unknown student losing their balance with a collective sound of surprise. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” You held your hands to yourself, as if hurt when Kalim slowly inched forward. “A-are you hurt? I can take you to the clinic if you—!” He was suddenly pushed out of the way, your hands only touching him for a moment before running off.

Kalim watched in confusion, blinking when the door slammed shut. The smell of lavender hit his nose and his eyes loomed downwards to see that the area you had touched had been taken over by the flowering buds of lavender. “This wasn’t here before.” He whispered to himself and attempted to pull at the flowers carefully out of the fabric.

When he finished his resting time, Jamil was waiting outside the botanical garden looking very upset. “You ran off again.” He said in the most seething voice Kalim was used to hearing. “Look, I can explain.” And back to reality it was, playing as the happy-go-lucky person people knew him as. While he enjoyed the time to himself, he hated how short it lasted. But now, he has to keep face, he has to be what he was expected to be.

Jamil takes his hand but Kalim’s smile only wavers a little bit. Here we go. “No amount of explaining will change the fact that you were alone. You should be more careful, Kalim. What if—?”

There was a biting sensation on his skin, the two boys looking down and on Jamil’s skin sprouted small white blossoms and enticing black berries. They both reeled from each other, Jamil holding his hand and Kalim his wrist.

He suddenly remembers you, bumping into him during his internal discussion.

“Kalim…” Jamil’s eyes were wide in fear. “Your…”

The nightshade flowers withered under the sun, its poisonous berries drying and falling to their feet in clumps.

Wearing gloves in warm weather wasn’t the nicest feeling but it had to be done. After the confirmation that Kalim had indeed been cursed, Jamil had become vigilant and stricter with his role as protector. There wasn’t a time he was ever alone in one room. His selfishness has come to bite him back, Kalim thought to himself.

He looked to his hands with a huff. The curse didn’t seem harmful, just inconvenient…And the one who gave it, You, didn’t seem like it was intentional. The meeting between you two was brief, only lasting a few seconds and a few shed flowers.

“Kalim, let’s go,” Jamil said, tugging him along and walking by his side every step of the way.

Ah, how would he know anyway? He’s not good at anything like Jamil nor does he have the physical capabilities as he does. The only thing he’s probably good at is flying a magic carpet and the drums.

“Yeah.”

Kalim was quiet on their walk and until he sat down in the classroom, he kept silent. Class started without much trouble, he took notes but couldn’t listen much, his mind wandering back to you in the botanical garden.

Lab classes had a sort of freedom to it. Kalim was able to work around a bit more his gloves and Jamil would often be paired with someone else…Usually Azul. Kalim noticed that despite their different interest, Jamill and Azul had grown closer in the past months. And while he was happy for them both, there was a sting that never wanted to leave.

He and Kalim were born around the same time and since then never left each other’s side. He was there when Kalim needed him and he was his friend, probably his only friend. That was, at least, what he wanted to believe but even during their childhood, Kalim had already noticed that Jamil was with him because he was told to. Had Jamil been given the choice, he could have played with someone else other than him.

“Excuse me, would you like to start?” His partner asked and he blinked, nodding his head and smiling the way he always does. “Yeah! Let’s work hard.”

He stayed in the corner, eyes looking at particularly nothing. He and his partner finished up early and got a good enough score for it…Which is good, he’ll take a passing grade than a failed mark any day. He looked over to the side of the ceiling and his hands intertwined with each other. In the back, Jamil smiled at Azul’s demise after hot smoke bellowed from the cauldron and out to their face.

It had been a while since he saw Jamil looking that happy. There was stinging itchiness in his hands that went with the heaviness in his heart. The gloves grew tighter and less comfortable and Kalim wanted to take it off, but showing he had been cursed meant showing others he was vulnerable.

The itchiness and the cold warmth of fear felt were too great. He needed a change of environment, he needed alone time. He took one last look at a laughing Jamil then slinked off and out of the lab, almost running to a place he knows he’ll be safe.

The botanical garden was silent and unchanged, its flowers blooming in different colors and hues, the temperature a mix of tropical and temperate. He smiled upon seeing Leona rest against a tree and soon walked deeper and deeper into the gardens to a place where he could relax. Discarding his gloves, he let his hands touch the tree stumps, flowers of Helenium growing on the bark and providing color in an otherwise dimly lit landscape with the trees acting as a canopy.

Kalim sighs, letting his thought leave whichever way it can. The flowers bloomed under his palm and he reveled in its beauty, just by being born it was able to bring a sort of happiness to those who choose to look at it.

His shoulders droop slightly, his line sight dipping to a tree’s roots. His hands begin to scratch and he begins to scratch on the skin of his palms, begging his body and the curse to stop. He rubbed his palms together, the tattered stems and petals falling to the ground in a heap. “Please stop.” He begged to himself. “Please make it stop.”

He closed his eyes, brows furrowed and shaking. The flowers crept up his skin over his hands. “Please stop.” Hunching over, he brought his hands to his chest. “Please…”

“Please,”

“Calm down.”

Picking the flowers out of his skin was an odd experience and even more that someone else was doing it. Your hands were wrapped with bandages and eyes searching for even the tiniest blossoms on his skin. Kalim sniffed, rubbing his eyes with a now flower-free hand. “That’s it, just let it all flow out.” You said and pick the last flower from his hand.

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” You explain. “You have to let it out or else the flowers will consume you.” He takes his gloves out of his hand and slips them back on and you sit up straight, an embarrassed smile formed on your lips. “I suppose I should its high time that I introduce myself—.”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.”

You nod your head. “Yes, and you’re Kalim Al-Asim, dorm leader of Scarabia.” With a voice gentle, Kalim felt at ease but what his eyes saw betrayed the feeling immediately. “Please forgive me, I didn’t know that it would pass onto you so suddenly.” You bowed, forehead touching the ground in your position.

You waited for a reaction, anything, but as time passed you never heard anything nor did you feel any anticipated touches. “It’s a little embarrassing seeing you like this, raise your head,” Kalim said and you did what you were told. He looked down at his hands, a few blossoms stayed on his skin.

“How long have you had it?” Kalim asked, placing a hand over yours and the touch making you twitch. “This curse.” He clarifies, your eyes holding the quivering vulnerability only presented to him alone.

“For a long while now.”

Kalim didn’t know how long he had spent in the gardens just talking to you, knowing what the curse had to offer. You always made sure none of your skin ever touched anything or peaked out of your uniform. While you were gentle and kind, Kalim saw fear in your actions.

“The curse only latches onto anyone with festering feelings…Perhaps,” Kalim looks at his hand while you pause as if what you were about to say would sound very mean-spirited. “Perhaps that’s why it latched onto you, too.”

It was near evening when he got out, his heart not as heavy but speedy knowing that he had to face a very upset Jamil for being selfish and unguarded. He walked down the steps, already seeing the familiar figure at the bottom; Jamil’s brows were furrowed and expression angry.

The two of them stared at each other and Jamil turned his back. “Let’s go home.”

You had told him prior that you lived inside the garden, in a special cottage that was hidden from view. It must be nice, he thought to himself. Jamil took Kalim by the wrist and pulled him close, walking to his stride.

“Is there a way to break this curse?” He asked and your smile deflated but only for a short while. “I wish I could tell you,” You say. “But I don’t know, either.”

From the evening setting of Night Raven, Kalim was welcomed to the familiar home of the Scarabia dorm. The two walked to the entrance quietly and soon Jamil let go of him, turning around. “Is there something I need to know about?”

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” He remembered you explaining to him and suddenly his palms began to itch. He shook his head, giving him the happy-go-lucky smile he was used to seeing. “You were having fun so I thought it’d be best to leave you alone.”

“Just…” He could hear the frustration in his voice before the eventual sigh of exhaustion. “Just don’t run off by yourself. It would spell bad things if you’d gotten hurt.”

Jamil shook his head and went on his way, leaving Kalim alone. Now that they were in the safety of the dorms, he could rest…Both of them could. Kalim quickly takes off his gloves and pressed his palms together, breathing in deep and for the first time in a while let the tears fall from his eyes.

His breathing was slow and steady, his walking slightly shakey and laborious but his palms no longer itched and the flowers halted in their growth. When he entered his room, he plopped his face into his pillow and letting it soak up all that he had felt.

Flowers were beautiful and revered for just being alive. Flowers were born lucky and he wasn’t. He breathed in deep and moved away from the pillow to breathe, his thoughts went back to your face with a smile so delicate like thin glass.

“There are moments I wanted to be born as a flower.”

Evading Jamil and regrouping with you was a new normal for him, waiting for the right moment that Jamil is busy or focused on something or someone before bolting. The botanical garden was immediately a no-go after he had caught you there twice so the two of you decided to set course for a place no one normally goes to.

The fields blew, the tall sunflowers dancing in the wind and keeping both of you hidden from sight. You huffed a small laugh. “What kind of flower would you have wanted to be like?” Kalim touched the fibrous stem of the sunflower.

“Maybe a sunflower. People like them and they give really tasty seeds.” Bringing his knees together, Kalim’s expression shifted to one of deep thought. The sun cast a soft light over them, his eyes almost glowing like rubies under it.

The brief silence between you harbored no negativity but one of understanding. You and he had bonded with the small time together and Kalim knew very well that you wouldn’t run away from these kinds of conversations. You listened and you replied with what resonated with you.

He liked your honesty and he didn’t spare any effort to show his appreciation to you.

“What about you?” He asked, looking over to you as you thought about it.

“An osiria rose. They look really pretty and the petals are white with red tips.”  Smiling to yourself, you look into your hands. “It’s a rare flower and takes a lot of breeding mixes to perfect. I really like it.” Kalim hummed and looked up to the sky as the wind crashed against them.

“Flowers are really lucky, huh?” He said, leaning back with his palms flat on the ground. “No matter how dangerous or how defensive a flower is, people still like it just because.” You never mentioned it to him but Kalim was good at hiding. His eyes, to his lips, and to the very voice he used with you; there was never a time you actually saw his grief that way he saw yours.

“The very first time Jamil was poisoned back when we were young I didn’t know what to do with myself.” His fingers shook and removed his glove and letting his bare skin grow flowers on the ground he touched, allowing flowers to grow where he touched. “He didn’t wake up until weeks later while I was escorted around by different people.” You blinked, leaning your head towards him.

“I’m sure his family was worried, his sister tried her best not to show it but I knew better.” Feeling your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the action with a small laugh. “That was probably the time I realized how unlucky my origins were.”

“Kalim.”

“It’s a stretch, I know.” His smile morphed into a frown. “I don’t like asking for much knowing how much effort people have to make to get it done.” Your hand held his and soon, your fingers closed onto each other. “I’m fine. I just wanted to vent—.” He said but you only shook your head.

“It’s okay to cry, Kalim. I won’t say anything.” And he did, he continued looking forward yet the tears betrayed neutral expression. He sniffled when you continued to hold his hand.

“I met someone special back then. They made me very happy.” The both of you needed to move hiding places when Jamil caught wind of your meeting without him, the two of you opt to go to a field behind the school. A place not a lot of people go to, the flowers were not bountiful where you sat and the air was cooler.

While the bluebells were scattered in patches, coloring the meadow blue and green. “But I was young and stupid like most people, I thought they’d be with me for a long time.” You smiled at him, chuckling. “It’s silly but, I was really sad when they left.

“They meant a lot to you, didn’t they?” Kalim wondered.

“The meant the world to me.”

The both of you smile and your hand brought itself to your lip, a finger hooked under it. “It’s silly, really. It’s nothing like what you went through. I was so hung up on it that I ended up getting hit with the curse.” Kalim places a hand on your back as you laugh with a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s silly, I know. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Still, losing someone important hurts a ton. Especially when you couldn’t get to say goodbye.”

Nodding your head, you lean against Kalim’s shoulder and he does the same by leaning against you. The bluebells flutter into the wind, your nose sniffling and eyes carrying a lingering sting. Kalim’s hand goes to your shoulder, rubbing it.

You hold your palms, scratching at it through the wrap. “Thank you for listening, Kalim.” You say, rubbing your eyes slightly. “I really appreciate it.”

Kalim stared into the distance, holding you close to him and not minding what little tears you chose to let out in front of him. “You did the same for me.”

The tendency to be clumsy often comes at the worst times, Kalim and your hands were wetted with some nice fruit juices he managed to snag when Jamil wasn’t looking. Both his gloves and your wraps lay soaked on the ground in front of you.

“I…” Kalim sighed and you shook your head. “Those things do get hard to wear after some time. It’s nice to feel the air again.” You rub your hands together, palms soft after being confined for so long. Kalim sits on the ground across from you. “I’m sorry, I’m sure we can find something to wrap your hands with.”

“Yup.”

The both of you looked at the items before you in silence, both of your hands to themselves and never touching at all. “Do you ever…Do you miss being able to touch things?” You ask him and he nods his head. “I do. I miss being able to feel brooms and the blankets I have. I try not to mind it much.”

You ball your palms together, interlacing fingers over each other. “I see.” Suddenly you bring out your hand to his, palm open for him to take. “But…” He hesitates but his hand comes out slowly. “It’s alright to ask for things.” You say. “Go on.”

He took a breath in, his hand inching towards yours. He thought about his first meeting and the many times he evaded Jamil just to be with you.

“I trust you.”

Did he really deserve to be able to ask for this? After all the things he’s caused?

“I do too.”

Your hands touched and mirrored each other; the itchiness he expected to feel was no longer present. The silence was tense and his shoulders and breathing were shaking yet your hold on him calm with a knowing and relieved smile on your lips. Your eyes met one another and Kalim smiled, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you into him into a hug; his laugh tingling beside your ear.

Your hands feel the softness of the fabric and your nose breathed in the scent of his clothes. You closed your eyes, burying your face into his shoulder, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new as you imagined a new life ahead of you. A pot of olive flowers blooms not too far from your position as you two shared an embrace long-awaited.

Peace had been found between two kindred souls. Finally, after so long.