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winchesterszvonecek · 3 months ago

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I See Red 18+

Chapter 11 - There’s No Place Like Home

Word Count: 7418

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Ever since her birthday, Selina had done nothing but map out each and every square inch of the bunker she called home. She never knew just how big the place actually was, not until her treasure hunt had taken her all over it, showing her rooms she never would have dreamed lay within the walls.

For example, she’d found over a dozen dust-filled store rooms, each of them littered with scrolls and ancient artefacts, all beyond that which her mind could fully comprehend. She had no idea what most of them were. The Men of Letters didn’t, exactly, have a cataloguing system, and it wasn’t like she could go and Google them either, not when half of them appeared to be cursed in one way or another.

Because of that, Selina would now spend hours upon hours sorting out what she had uncovered, trying her best to muster up some kind of system in order to try and inventory everything. Meaning she was well on her way to having read every single lore book in the library. And it was totally notbecause she needed to be constantly distracted, otherwise she might call Crowley and take him up on the rain check from last week.

“Isn’t the whole point of… family time, or whatever, to actually spend time with your family?” Dean said, casting an accusatory glance towards Selina, who was standing on the other side of the room with her nose buried inside an old wooden box and her mind focused solely on her demonic addiction.

She really missed Crowley, and she didn’t even care that it had only been a week since she sent him away.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Selina fired back blankly, and without even looking in Dean’s direction as she was too busy admiring a black box with a red skull sitting pretty on the lid.

This would make for a great jewellery box, she thought to herself, and she subtly set it aside in the pile she’d mentally claimed as her own. Fingers crossed none of it was overly cursed.

“And besides, I hate that movie.”

“The Wizard of Oz is a classic.” Sam defended, his voice slightly muffled as he had just shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Only afterfeeding Kit a few tiny pieces of it because he wouldn't stop trying to steal some.

“Classically creepy,” Selina corrected, scrunching her nose up at the thought of having to sit down and willingly watch it. As much as she loved Henry, who had been the one to suggest it, and as glad as she was that he had stuck around, she wasn’t about to put herself through that nightmare just for him. “No offence, Henry.”

“None taken.” Henry chuckled, much to Selina’s relief. “But I have to say, with what you’ve seen in your life, I don’t quite understand how it can creep you out.”

A fair point, Selina thought, and for a minute, she pondered his words. They made sense, kind of. She hadn’t watched the movie in a good twenty years or so, and since then, she had seen far worse than anything The Wizard of Oz could conjure up. Wendigos. Leviathans. A Golem made out of clay and a bunch of Nazi necromancers… So, perhaps her opinion might change if she gave it a second chance.

Exhaling deeply through her nose, Selina turned towards the TV with the hope that she might be right. That maybe her mind could open and grow to enjoy one of Henry’s favourite movies as even though they were related, they didn’t have much in common besides the whole legacy thing.

But the second her eyes met the flatscreen, Selina quickly remembered precisely why that movie creeped her out. And it wasn’t the Wicked Witch or her flying monkeys…

It was the Cowardly Lion.

That’s right, the Cowardly Lion, because, well… Look at him. He was the epitome of creepy and disturbing. And his appearance alone was enough to send such a ferocious shudder down Selina’s spine that she dropped what she’d had in her hands — a large jar filled with a strange, murky substance.

The jar smashed on impact, sending shards of thick, dust-coated glass scattering across the floor and causing Sam to immediately scoop up Kit so he didn’t run through it and cut his tiny paws.

The guys stood up and a few seconds later, a wisp of grey smoke erupted from within the spilled contents, wafting up into the air and mimicking that of a tornado. But before any of them could do anything, let alone say anything, it vanished. Just not in the way they would have hoped.

Now, standing where that darkened cloud had once been, was a pasty, grey-haired old woman in a dark cloak, with reddened eyes and blackened lips. Those who were armed drew their weapons, watching warily as the woman glanced around her briefly and confused, before locking eyes with Selina and making her tilt her head curiously.

Everything happened so fast after that. The woman raised her hand, extending her long, boney fingers towards Selina and, quicker than she could pull the trigger, sent a blast of green light in her direction. Only, the light never hit Selina as it intended. It hit Henry, who had dived in front of her and taken the full force of the blast which sent him flying backwards, his limp body knocking Selina into the wall behind her, where her head collided with the bricks and everything went dark.

After God knows how long, Selina finally awoke to the softness of the couch beneath her sore and rigid body, rather than the cold, hard ground she was guessing she’d hit after whatever happened… happened. Her head was pounding as she slowly sat up, rubbing her temples and blinking rapidly in attempts to refocus her eyesight, as well as trying to remember what the hell actually did happen.

Only, she couldn’t remember anything. Not anything clear enough to ease her worries anyway. Her mind and everything in it was still a blur, and the only thing that she seemed to recall was finding that black skull box. Did that have something to do with it, she thought to herself? Did she release an ancient demon to wreak havoc onto the world?

Possibly. If anyone was to end up doing that it would probably be her.

However, something told her that wasn’t the case here as for starters, she was still alive. She didn’t think that would be the outcome had it been the supreme force of evil she was picturing in her aching head, so here’s hoping that whatever it was was relatively easy to deal with and that her brothers or Henry weren’t lying dead somewhere in the bunker.

And that’s when it hit her. When it all came flooding back. The glass jar. The old woman. The flash of green light. But most importantly, Henry.

Frantically, and with her chest tightening with each breath she took, Selina began to scan the room, her eyes first passing by the TV, on which the title screen for The Wizard of Oz was constantly repeating. She must have been knocked out for a while if the movie had finished, but she didn’t think much of it. Or rather, she didn’t get a chance to as the minute her eyes shifted left, it was as though her own house had come crashing down on top of her.

Lying on the couch facing her was Henry, his arm hanging limp over the edge and his eyes closed, appearing outwardly peaceful as though he were only asleep. But Selina had seen enough dead bodies in her lifetime to know that wasn’t the case.

With her heart pounding, Selina scrambled off the couch, not paying any attention to the throbbing of her shin when she smacked it off the coffee table in her hurried attempt to cross the room, her eyes already stinging with tears at the thought of having to burn another father figure.

“Henry?” Selina’s voice was nothing but a croaked whisper as she fell to her knees, instantly taking Henry’s hand that lay limp in the air and squeezing it tightly, as though hoping that would wake him. Though deep down, she knew nothing would.

Henry was gone and there wasn’t a thing she could do to fix it. Not when he’d made her promise, made her swear that should he die, she wouldn’t try to bring him back. And as much as Selina had fought him on that, told him it wasn’t in her blood not to try everything she could, Henry had been persistent, and Selina knew why. She knew it was hard for him here, in this time, with the family he knew dead, and the life he once had gone, which is why instead of calling Castiel to bring Henry back, she sank to the floor and did nothing but cry.

When her tears ran dry and her chest couldn’t take the sobs any longer, Selina pulled out her phone and, without even releasing what she was doing, called Crowley. She didn’t give a damn about what she had said last time, or how bad of an idea this might have been. She needed him. She wanted him. Not in the way she usually did, but in the way of comfort. She wanted him to hold her. Soothe her. Do anything he could in order to help ease the overwhelming pain and guilt she felt before it suffocated her.

And it was suffocating her fast so she really hoped he’d pick up.

The line rang for a few seconds longer than Selina would have hoped for before Crowley eventually answered, and despite his words, his voice alone was enough to spark an ounce of comfort in her otherwise aching chest.

“Selina, now’s not really a good time. Can I call you…”

“I need to see you.” Selina croaked, in a voice more hollow, more broken than any Crowley had ever heard slip past her lips, and for the first time ever, his heart clenched tightly beneath his ribs.

“What happened?” Crowley asked, worried. He stepped out of the room he’d been in, praying that Selina couldn’t hear the echo of damned souls that surrounded him as he was literally standing in Hell.

Talk about bad timing. And sure, it would have been easy to send her to voicemail, but he never could ignore her when she called.

“Please.” Selina whispered, her tone seeped in desperation yet at the same time, it was nothing. It was so empty that it broke Crowley’s heart, making him want to drop everything he was doing and go to her. Only he couldn’t, and part of her knew that.

I’ll always come when you call. That was the promise he’d made, yet the space next to her remained empty.

Crowley then went on to utter something about souls and needing an hour before he could come, which was pointless really as Selina wasn’t listening. Instead, she hung up on him and tossed the phone aside, hearing the faint clatter of it skidding across the floor as she pulled her knees up to hug her chest, never once letting go of Henry’s hand.

About five minutes later, Selina heard her name being called and her head shot up, part of her hoping that it was Crowley. That he had abandoned whatever he was doing and had come to her. But it wasn’t. It was only Sam, who was approaching her slowly, carefully, knowing fully well how she got when someone she loved died. He came to stand next to her, crouching down beside her and the second he did, she fell against him and another spell of tears poured from her eyes.

Sam didn’t know how long they stayed that way, and it wasn’t until Dean entered the room did he finally lift Selina to her feet, where she instantly went limp and fell against him again. He fumbled to hold her up before she slid back down to the floor, Dean rushing to his side and together they sat her gently on the couch.

The second Selina met the soft fabric of said couch, she sucked in a breath and slowly but surely, managed to calm herself down enough to ask, “What happened?”

Sam and Dean exchanged troubled looks, neither of them wanting to be the one to have to explain all the complicated details. How could they? Where could they even start in telling her that when she dropped that bottle she released the Wicked Witch? That she released Dorothy? That the movie she knew, and hated, was real and that it had killed their grandfather?

From the beginning, that’s where they could start. And they did. They told her everything, taking it in turns but only after Sam had turned off the TV. He didn’t want Selina to have to keep hearing Somewhere Over the Rainbow as they told her the tale that would ruin that song for her forever.

Selina wasn’t sure what to think about it all. Between learning that Oz was real, and that Dean had literally just watched Dorothy walk back down the yellow brick road after they’d defeated the witch, to realising that somewhere out there was a real life Cowardly Lion? It was all a lot for her to take in right now, which is exactly why she stopped Dean mid sentence and stood up.

“We should start building a pyre.” Selina said quietly, biting at her nails as she never once took her eyes off Henry. “He deserves a hunter's funeral.”

“Why don’t we wait until tomorrow?” Sam said softly, standing up and placing a comforting hand on Selina's slightly trembling shoulder. “You’ve had a rough day, you should rest.”

Selina shook her head and tried to speak, only her words became choked and her eyes started to sting with tears. For a second she thought she was about to break down again, but with enough deep breaths she managed to swallow her sobs just long enough to whisper, “I can’t.”

And so, they built a pyre.

The flames were still going strong when Selina decided to call it a night. They’d barely even begun to make a dent into burning Henry’s body, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t keep standing there, watching, wondering what she might have done differently for this moment to never have had to happen.

If only she hadn’t been so stubborn. If only she had sat down and fought through watching that god awful movie then maybe Henry would still be here. Or perhaps, if she hadn’t had such an irrational fear of a fictional character then maybe she never would have dropped that jar.

A jar she shouldn’t have even touched in the first place as it had clearly been stored away for a reason.

If only she hadn’t been so curious – so nosey, even, then maybe she wouldn’t have started exploring the bunker. Maybe she never would have started raiding old store rooms and rummaging through stuff she had no business sticking her nose into.

Maybe then that jar would still be sitting on a shelf somewhere where it belonged instead of in pieces on the floor.

If only she wasn’t so love drunk on Crowley to the point where she needed constant distraction, then maybe none of this would have ever happened.

No, that wasn’t fair. This wasn’t Crowley’s fault. He hadn’t forced Selina to fall for him or sent her away. She’d done that herself, and now, because of that, she’d have to live with the guilt of Henry’s death for the rest of her life. However long that may be as the life expectancy of a Winchester was growing shorter and shorter as the years went on.

Here’s hoping it was her next. She couldn’t handle another funeral.

Selina was heading back inside – whether to cry or continue to busy herself again; she hadn’t decided yet – when she came to a sudden stop, close enough to the fire that she could feel the heat of it on her skin. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the ground, not when the fabric they’d wrapped Henry in was beginning to burn away and she could see his body becoming charred beneath it.

Instead, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the DVD copy of The Wizard of Oz. She never wanted to see that movie, or hear that song, ever again, and she especially didn’t want a copy of it within the walls of her home where she would be reminded of this day anytime she looked at it.

So, without bothering to look at what she was doing, Selina tossed it into the flames, then went straight to her room.

Over the next few hours, Sam and Dean would periodically check in with Selina, just to make sure she was doing okay and wasn’t about to do anything stupid - like summon Death and force him to bring Henry back at gunpoint. Luckily for them though, all she had been doing was rearranging her bedroom.

Back when Bobby died she moved all the furniture in Rufus’s cabin around and started painting the walls, so it was no surprise that it was happening now. Just minus the paint. Thankfully.

“You think we should try and talk to her again?” Dean asked, after he and Sam had settled in the library for the night as they felt it was too soon to return to the Dean Cave.

“No, leave her be.” Sam shook his head, a soft sigh leaving his lips as his eyes drifted towards the general direction of Selina’s bedroom. “She’ll talk to us when she’s ready. For now, let her carry on.”

To Dean, Sam always knew best being Selina’s twin and all, so if he said that it was best to leave her alone, then it was best to leave her alone.

Dean simply nodded in response, taking a large swig of his beer as he leaned back in his chair, ready to relax for a little while before he made a start on tidying up the Dean Cave - mainly getting rid of the remnants of that jar so that Selina didn't have to see it again.

The moment was almost perfect, all things considered, until Crowley popped up in front of them, scaring the crap out of both of them and almost making Dean topple out of said chair. Although he did make him spill his beer all down the front of his shirt, so he'd count that as a win.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean grumbled, annoyed. He sat up, setting his beer down rather hard on the table before getting to his feet, lifting his shirt away from his stomach as the wetness of the material was making him uncomfortable. “Don’t you people ever knock?”

“I mean, we could,” Crowley said wittily, and with a slight grin rising on his face. “But where would be the fun in that?”

“Wait a second, Crowley,” Sam stood up, ignoring Dean’s rambles and earning the demon’s attention, “How did you get in here?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Crowley shrugged, and it was true. He had no idea how he’d been able to slip through the bunkers warding and it had surprised him greatly when he did.

Although he had an inkling it had something to do with Selina. And a certain necklace she wore.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked, growing annoyed already.

“Selina called me a few hours ago. Sounded upset. Wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help cheer her up,” Rather than a scoff like he’d expected, Crowley’s words gathered a rather worrisome look from Sam and Dean, and so, with his own worry blossoming in his chest, he pressed, “What is it?”

“We, uh,” Sam hesitated, running his hand over his jaw as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Like they hadn’t learned their lesson about shit like this, “We think we know why she called you.”

“She wanted to make a deal.” Dean said, before Crowley could even ask why. “For Henry.”

“Henry?” Crowley repeated, his brows furrowing, “Your grandfather? Why on Earth would she…” His words trailed off, his eyes widening as the realisation of why Selina had sounded so upset kicked in.

Henry was dead, he had to be, and it came as no shock to him that he was the first person she called about it. Not because of whatever feelings she may or may not have had for him, but because of what he could potentially do for her should he say yes.

And he would not say yes. No matter what he might have felt for her. He would rather have her heartbroken than ever make a deal with her that could potentially damn her to Hell for all eternity.

“Whatever she says to you,” Dean began, his tone as serious as the look in his eyes and he couldn’t refrain from pointing sternly at Crowley, “You do not make that deal, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Crowley muttered, offended at the insinuation, and before Dean could forbid him from doing anything else, he vanished.

When he reappeared he was outside Selina’s bedroom, as he thought it best to knock first rather than just pop up inside of it. He raised his hand, hesitating momentarily as even with his burning desire to see her, Crowley was a little nervous that she might not want to see him after he’d taken so long to show up.

But even with that, he pushed through and knocked.

A few seconds of silence passed in which he thought against this. Where he thought about leaving because he didn’t have it in him to see her reaction should she make him say no to a deal. That was, until a faint ‘ come in’ seeped through the wooden door, making his heart flutter yet offering him no relief as he was fairly certain Selina thought he was one of her brothers.

Still, Crowley nervously gripped the handle and opened the door, where his eyes were met instantly with the mess that was once Selina’s bedroom. There were boxes laying everywhere, most of which had been overturned and were now spewing all manner of objects all over the floor. The furniture was in complete disarray, her wardrobe at a funny angle and it was clear that she had tried to move her vanity unit but gave up halfway through as it was now abandoned in the middle of the room.

The real mess, however, was Selina herself, who was now lying on her bed, blank-faced and with enough redness in and around her eyes that she could challenge Crowley’s own. She didn’t even appear to have noticed him at first, until she glanced in his direction and let out the softest version of his name he’d ever heard.

As Crowley moved further into the room, Selina dragged herself out of bed and the second she was close enough to him she fell against him. His arms wrapped around her almost instantaneously, embodying her with the only comfort she could ever want to feel at a time like this. She gripped the front of his coat tightly, burying her face between the layers of his usual attire and simply breathed him in, not caring if he smelt a little like sulphur as right now, it was all she wanted to smell if it meant he was here with her.

“I heard about Henry,” Crowley said softly, bringing one hand up to gently stroke Selina’s hair, feeling as she nestled her cheek further into the gap between his coat and chest, as though hiding her emotions from him. “I’m sorry, darling. Truly. I can’t imagine what that pain must feel like.”

It was true, he couldn’t. He hadn’t had the unfortunate luck of experiencing death with his newfound ability to feel , and from Selina’s reaction to it, he hoped he never did.

“I never even got a chance to say goodbye,” Selina whispered hoarsely, which only showed exactly how much crying she had done, and made Crowley all the more annoyed with himself that he hadn’t gone to her the minute she asked him to.

Especially now, when a tiny sliver of relief began to blossom in his chest when he came to realise that she hadn’t called him to make a deal. He should have known that. Deals weren’t her style and she was often vocal about the stupidity of making them.

No, she’d called him for him . She’d called him because she wanted him here with her, and now that he was, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. At least, not until she told him to.

“Something tells me you’ll get another chance.” Crowley replied, continuing to stroke her hair and even though he wished to look her in the eyes, he didn’t dare let go. Not until she was ready. “You know as well as I do that death isn’t always the end.”

Selina said nothing. Instead, she just stood there, allowing Crowley to hold her as she basked in the strange sense of comfort he seemed to bring her. She wasn’t sure where she’d be if she didn’t have him, which was enough for her to realise that what she’d told him on her birthday was complete and utter nonsense.

And so she said aloud, “What happened to Henry… It made me realise something.”

“What’s that?” Crowley asked curiously, glancing down just in time to see Selina lift her head, and the second those gorgeous, yet deeply saddened, brown eyes of hers finally met his own, his heart all but melted.

“What I said last time we were together. About us not seeing each other for a little while…” Selina paused, dropping her eyes to where her fingers fiddled anxiously with the button on Crowley’s shirt as she chewed at her lip, before she took a deep breath and whispered, “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“No?”

Selina shook her head and met his gaze again, “I let Henry leave because I knew how hard it was for him here and I understood that. I got that he needed time to adjust to life without his family but because of that… I missed out on all the time I could have spent with him and now… Now he’s gone and I won’t ever be able to get that time back. But with you…”

“You have a chance to change things.” Crowley said for her, in nothing more than a shallow breath that had taken a life of its own.

“I do.” Selina smiled, raising her hand and ghosting her thumb along the edge of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his beard against her skin. “And I’m not talking about crossing that line. I know that’s still a bad idea but I just… I don’t want anything to happen that’ll make me regret letting you go too.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Crowley said softly, his heart hammering beneath his chest as he wouldn’t lie, he’d longed to say those exact words to her at one time or another. He lifted his hand, gently brushing her hair behind her ear before it settled on the side of her face. “If it brings you comfort, I will always stay.”

Selina smiled. A smile so warm, so genuine that something snapped inside Crowley’s chest and before he knew it, he was kissing her. Only this time wasn’t like all the others. It wasn’t hungry or lust driven.

It was gentle. Soft and slow, and in such a loving way that they didn’t hear any alarm bells or any voices inside their heads telling them it was a mistake. They didn’t feel any worries about it escalating further, or that they might reach a point from which they’d never return.

All they felt was each other. And in that small moment in time, everything was perfect.

“Thank you for being here for me.” Selina murmured against his lips, already feeling herself being drawn towards them again by whatever he had in them that made them so downright intoxicating.

How anyone’s lips could be as addicting as Crowley’s were, Selina would never know. All she did know was that no matter how hard it was to resist, she couldn’t kiss him again. Not when she was in such a weak and vulnerable state.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Crowley, as she did – with her life, and she knew he’d never take advantage of her when she was like this. It was more that she didn’t trust herself not to do something that might later get her into trouble.

Crowley said nothing in response to her thanks, too full of affection to want to risk opening his mouth should something he’d regret slip out of it. He dropped his gaze a touch, just to be safe, his eyes coming to land upon the familiar red necklace that still lay between her collar bones and part of him wished he could tell her the truth behind its meaning.

But that might be a little too much for her to handle right now, so rather than do that, he simply lifted the gem between his fingers and lightly brushed his thumb over it, his knuckles grazing across her skin in a way that had both of their stomachs flutter.

“You’re still wearing it.” Crowley exhaled, his lips rising into a soft smile as he shifted his attention back to her face.

“I haven’t taken it off since you gave me it,” Selina whispered, his presence alone able to render her completely breathless. “And I don’t plan to either.”

“Don’t you know how to make a demon feel special.” Crowley teased, making Selina chuckle as she forced herself to step away from him.

“I’m a woman with many talents.” she said playfully, flashing him an equally playful smile before a certain feline friend of hers came strolling into the room and proceeded to meow rather loudly until she picked him up.

“You have a cat?” Crowley questioned, his brow a little furrowed.

“As of last week.” Selina replied happily, hoisting Kit up into her arms a little better. “Sam and Dean got me him for my birthday. Or maybe it was Cas, I’m not sure who was fully responsible.”

Crowley edged his way towards her, carefully so as to not spook the cat as last time he’d shown up when she was with one, he’d scared it off. Luckily though, Kit didn’t seem to mind the demonic company, and happily allowed Crowley to give him a few chin scratches as he purred softly.

“Does he have a name?” Crowley asked, pretending not to notice the collar that bore a striking resemblance to not only the colour of Selina’s necklace, but the colour of his very own essence.

“Kit.” Selina said, immediately raising one finger to silence him when his mouth opened as she knew all too well what he was about to say. “Don’t you even say it.”

Crowley grinned, “Oh, but it’s too perfect not to… Kitten.”

“I hate you.” Selina grumbled, although she couldn’t help but chuckle as truthfully, she’d been waiting for this moment to come ever since she first picked out Kit’s name. “And I hate that damn nickname too.”

Could be worse though, he could call her Squirrel.

“Well, what would you have me call you instead?” Crowley asked, with genuine curiosity as he watched Selina do nothing but set Kit down on the floor, where he instantly scampered off. Probably to annoy Dean.

“Well…” Selina drew out, pressing her lips together as she raised her eyes to meet his, feeling a hint of embarrassment coursing through her at the thought of admitting this aloud. But that wasn’t about to stop her. “I like it when you call me darling.”

“Really?” Crowley mused, his eyebrow raising. “That’s not what you told me a few years ago when you not-so-kindly asked that I don’t call you it.”

“Times change.” Selina shrugged, “And besides, it’s not like you stopped.”

“Fair,” Crowley agreed, closing the small distance between them and lightly running his knuckles down the side of her face. “In that case, consider it done… My darling.”

My darling. Selina could have fainted. And she might have had Crowley not spotted a certain black box sitting on her nightstand, making him swear abruptly under his breath and shocking Selina out of the daze he’d so easily thrown her in.

“What?” She asked, her brow deeply furrowed as Crowley crossed her room in two quick strides, picked up the box and marvelled at it as though it were Pandora’s. “Crowley?”

“Do you have any idea what this is?” He breathed out, trailing his fingers across the three dimensional skull as he looked over at Selina, who shook her head. “This is the bloody Key to Death.”

“Death?” Selina repeated, stepping closer to him and tilting her head. “Like the Death? The horseman?”

Crowley nodded, “It’s said that this key can take you to him… To his library, to be precise.”

“His library?” Selina repeated, her brows still furrowed. Until a lightbulb flicked on inside her head and they shot up, her legs moving towards Crowley before her mind even told them to. “Let me see it.”

Crowley handed her the box the second she asked for it, watching cautiously as she ghosted her fingers along the seam. On second thoughts, maybe he shouldn’t have given it to her as she seemed a little too interested in it, and part of him couldn’t help but think she was about to do something even stupider than making a deal.

Selina sucked in a breath, her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. In one quick motion, she lifted the lid off the box, and inside, lying nestled between a red velvet interior, was the Key: bronze and intricately carved with a small skull sitting pretty on the handle.

If there were ever a key that could take someone to Death, it would be this one. And it was just Selina’s luck that it had ended up in her possession.

“There seems to be some kind of inscription on the lid.” Crowley pointed out. A bad move really as the second he said it, Selina’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lifting the key from within the box, Selina tossed the bottom half onto her bed and focused solely on the lid. Crowley was right. On either side of the protruding skull were two verses of Latin, an obvious spell of sorts that only made Selina all the more sure of what she needed to do. She knew Crowley wouldn’t like it, but luckily for her, he seemed pretty inclined to say yes to most of what she asked of him.

So here’s hoping he allowed her to do this and didn’t go and tell her brothers instead.

“Viator moratlis…”

Crowley cut her off, “What are you doing?”

“Something I have to do.” Selina whispered, her voice riddled with such seriousness that after a deep sigh, all Crowley did was nod, allowing her to carry on even despite his better judgement, “Viator mortalis, cave, quoniam scias Clavem Mortis pensare graviter. Il tamen desideres, ut introeas illum abyssum obscurissium artis, opus est tibi porta.”

The second the last word of Latin left Selina’s lips, the key in her hand began to glow and she half expected to be transported directly to Death’s library, as though the key itself was some kind of portkey. But instead, on the wall facing her, an outline of a door began to glow faintly from within the bricks and a large keyhole materialised right before her eyes.

Hopefully this wasn’t a permanent fixture, otherwise she’d have to move rooms and declare this one Death’s.

“Selina, are you sure about this?” Crowley asked, more worried than he’d been before. “It’s one thing to summon Death, but to walk into his library? It’s suicide.”

“I’ll be fine.” Selina replied, with less assurance than she’d hoped as truthfully, she had no idea if she would be. “Death likes me… I think.”

“Selina…”

“I have to do this, Crowley.” Selina cut him off, her voice a little shaky as she glanced towards him. “I have to.”

“Okay, darling.” Crowley said softly, approaching her fully and lightly brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

Selina smiled, “I promise.”

And after one gentle kiss to her forehead, Selina left Crowley in the safety of her room and entered Death’s.

Whatever Selina had in her mind about the decor of Death’s library – coffins, skulls, bodies hanging from the ceiling – disappeared the moment she stepped inside, the door shutting fully behind her and sparking a touch of fear in her chest as she really didn’t want to be stuck here.

Here being a vast, almost sci-fi looking room, filled with nothing but rows upon rows of grey shelves. Each of them housed a number of black books and every single one of them was assigned a letter. Coincidentally, the letter ‘W’.

“Hello?” Selina called out, her shoulders shrinking a little when her voice reverberated around the room.

Feeling like a sitting duck, or rather a standing duck, she began to move, walking slowly along the outside of the shelves until she came to an aisle wider than the rest, where she stopped and began to reconsider her life choices.

“Oh let’s take a little trip to Death’s library,” She mumbled to herself as she glanced around. “Whose genius idea was that?”

“I believe it was your genius idea,” said a bone chillingly familiar voice from behind, making Selina jump quite a bit and spin on her heels to see Death himself standing casually behind her.

“Right,” Selina chuckled nervously, ignoring the frantic beat of her heart after he’d almost scared her to death. Now that would have been ironic. “Well, um, hi. Nice to see you again, Death. Uh, sir.”

Smooth.

“If this is about your grandfather, I’m afraid the answer is no.” Death said bluntly, and suddenly, Selina wasn’t as scared anymore.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“By all means, ask. The answer will still be no.” With that, Death turned gracefully on his heels and began to walk away.

“I just want to say goodbye.” Selina blurted out, her voice shaky enough that it halted Death in place and he glanced over his shoulder towards her.

“Pardon?”

“To Henry. I never,” Selina swallowed, blinking fast in an attempt to not start crying again. Especially in front of Death. “I never got a chance to say goodbye and I was wondering if you might be able to help me do that.”

“To help you say goodbye?” Death repeated, and Selina nodded. “And why on Earth would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Selina mumbled, shaking her head and feeling like she was about three feet tall. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

But she was here now, so she had to try.

“But I have your Key,” Selina said, noticing the tiniest twitch of Death’s jaw. “And if you help me, I’ll give it back to you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll keep coming here,” Selina said bravely, crossing her arms over her chest, which was slowly filling with fear. “I’ll keep annoying you until you do. Just ask my brothers, they’ll tell you. I can be pretty annoying.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Death said, yet he didn’t seem overly annoyed. “Well, I guess you leave me no choice then.”

“Wait, really?” Selina asked, surprised to say the least.

Death nodded, “Really.”

Well, that was easy.

“You have one minute.” Was all Death said before he waved his hand and Henry appeared, wearing the same clothes he had died in and looking momentarily confused.

“Henry?” Selina whispered, her eyes welling with tears as Henry shifted his attention towards her, where his confusion quickly shifted to minor disappointment.

“Selina…” Henry exhaled, edging his way towards her with the same amount of disappointment in his voice, “You promised me.”

“I know. But I’m not here to bring you back, I swear,” Selina said quickly, assuringly, “I’m here to say goodbye.”

Henry smiled and took one final step towards her, raising his hand to gently cup her face, “You never cease to amaze me, Selina, and I’m glad we got the chance to know one another.”

“Me too,” Selina whispered, feeling her cheeks begin to dampen as the tears escaped her eyes, Henry lighty wiping away those he could reach before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye, Henry.” Selina sniffled, then in a glow of whitish-gold light, Henry was gone, leaving her feeling less empty and more peaceful than she had been when she first stepped into the library.

Guess it was true what they say, humans really were wired to want closure and thanks to Death, Selina got hers.

“He’s at peace now.” Death said, in a surprisingly soft tone.

Selina turned to him, her lip a little wobbly as she flashed him as much of a smile as she could manage. She didn’t overly trust her own voice, and just because she’d gotten closure, didn’t make it any less easy to overcome the guilt she felt over getting Henry killed. But she’d learn to live with that, so for now all she could do was return home.

Selina thanked Death, for both allowing her to say goodbye and for not killing her for annoying him, before she headed back towards the panel of the wall she was pretty sure was where the door had been. Guess she’d find out once she pushed it as either she’d see Crowley waiting for her, or she’d be pushing on the wall and would end up having to ask Death for another favour.

And something told her he might actually kill her that time. Maybe she should open the door again later and slide a hotdog in or something.

“Selina,” Death called towards her, watching as she turned, her eyebrow partially raised and she was probably expecting him to tell her she was about to push the wrong section of wall. But he didn’t, as she wasn’t. Instead, he just smiled and said, “Do tell Crowley I said hello, won’t you?”

Selina blushed almost instantly, ducking her head away from him and using her hair as a way to hide from his intense gaze. How did he know Crowley was on the other side of the door? Had he peeked? Had Crowley? Who knows? But she wasn’t keen to find out and so she just mumbled under her breath, pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind her.

And thank God her wall returned to normal otherwise she most definitely would have moved rooms and sealed this one up.

“Selina,” Crowley breathed out in relief, lifting himself from the edge of her bed where he’d been waiting with enough worry in him to rival a child whose parents hadn’t arrived home at exactly the time they said they would. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay.” Selina nodded, smiling softly and feeling her heart tug over his concern.

“Where’s Henry?” Crowley asked curiously. It had only been about five minutes since she left and he never would have expected her to give up so soon. Or without a fight.

“He’s at peace.” Selina replied contently, making Crowley narrow his eyes a little, almost in question. “I never went to Death with the intention of bringing Henry back. I went to him so that I could say goodbye.”

Crowley’s face softened, “And did you?”

“I did.” Selina said, her voice cracking just enough that Crowley couldn’t stop himself from embracing her.

“It’ll be okay, darling.” Crowley soothed, lightly stroking the back of Selina’s hair, in a way he knew she was growing to like as he couldn’t miss the contented hums that left her lips. He angled his head down, placing a soft, lingering kiss atop her own before he asked, humorously, “Now, what do you say we put your furniture back where it belongs?”

Chapter 12 ->

#supernatural #crowley #supernatural fanfic series #crowley x original character #crowley x oc

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i-have-not-slept · 1 year ago

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Animalec Fest 2023

September 20: Storm

@animalecfest

Part 1 Part 2

Drifting gently in the underwater cavern where he kept his human artefacts, Magnus surveyed his collection with a feeling of deep gloom. The rock shelves of the cavern were lined with all the things he’d found over the years— pictures frames and metal goblets, wooden spools and glass bottles. There was every sort of jewellery, boxes and buttons, cutlery and plates. No one else knew about this place, not even Catarina and Ragnor. It had been Magnus’s private refuge for years.

Sighing, he removed the gold ring from his finger and hid it carefully inside a wooden box, carved with pictures of strange flowers. Then, with a last sad look, he turned and left the grotto. He didn’t know when he would next have a chance to return.

__________________________________________

The next few days passed in a sort of lethargy for Magnus. He felt listless, like he’d lost all sense of purpose from his life. His friends were sympathetic, but they’d never understood Magnus’s strange fascination with humans and he could tell that they thought this ban was for the best.

Twilight was falling, making the ocean darkest blue and cooler than during the daytime. Merfolk could see perfectly well in even the darkest water, and so Magnus, as he swam through an underwater kelp forest, wasn’t bothered by the approaching night. He swam slowly, weighed down by a creeping sense of melancholy.

A shadow passed overhead, darkening the water where it fell. Magnus looked up.

A ship was passing high above him, visible only as a dark oval shape on the surface of the water. Magnus’s heart twisted a little. He loved ships, loved watching them make their way over the waves. Ships were humanity’s answer to the cold expanse of the ocean, and Magnus had always been fascinated by their courage, venturing out over the water that could drown them. It was as brave as if a mermaid chose to live on land.

Magnus stared up at the dark shape, longing to swim to the surface and see it properly. His father had forbidden him, but….

Magnus looked around. There was no one nearby to see him, and he wouldn’t be long. With a powerful sweep of his tail, he ascended towards the ship.

He broke through the surface, feeling the rush of cool night air on his face. The water was almost black now, reflecting the dark sky, but with patches of bright colour here and there. Magnus was confused about these, until he realised that the ship was festooned with coloured lanterns, and the light from these was reflected on the water. He stared at the ship in fascination. It was one of the largest he’d ever seen, with three masts, and it was full of people, all dressed in beautiful clothes. There was a quartet of musicians on deck. It was the first time Magnus had ever heard human music. It was so different from the slow, keening songs of the merfolk. This music was bright and clear and lively, and people were dancing to it. To Magnus it sounded like music coming down from the stars.

He swam closer to the ship, staying low in the water so he wasn’t seen. There were large, lighted windows near the stern of the ship that showed the cabins inside. Magnus swam closer to one of these, and, lifted by the tossing motion of the waves, he was able to peek inside.

His heart skipped a beat, because inside the cabin was none other than the young prince he’d seen three days ago. He was standing in front of a mirror, putting on a richly embroidered jacket. He still looked so sad. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, yet there were lines of stress and misery around his eyes and mouth. Magnus’s heart went out to him.

The prince left his cabin and went out onto the ship’s deck. He went and stood at the side of a beautiful blonde woman, who smiled at him, but it was a tense smile. All the people on board were crowding around the couple and seemed to be congratulating them, but it seemed to Magnus that both of them stood stiffly, seeming to be uncomfortable with the attention.

In his garden, Magnus had a white marble statue, more ancient than he could guess at, of a young man with his head thrown back in a tortured pose. The prince reminded him of the statue— beautiful, but cold and sad. Despite the festivities around him, there was a shadow hanging over his face.

Magnus lost track of time, caught up in watching the revelry. At one point, the ship’s sailors started setting off fireworks, and he watched in amazement as the coloured sparks rained down on the water. Magnus was so captivated by the sight that he almost didn’t notice the dark clouds massing in the distance, until there was a low rumble of thunder that shook him back to reality.

Magnus felt a stab of concern as he looked up at the sky. There was a bank of thick, dark clouds moving overhead, and as he watched, a flash of lighting lit the sky. That meant a storm, which was always bad news for people on a ship. He could see the sailors on board pointing to the storm, see the party guests being shepherded into the cabins.

Within a few seconds the storm was upon them, enormous waves tossing the ship like a toy, rain beating down so thickly that Magnus could barely see a thing. He heard screams from the ship as the sailors battled with the wind and waves, trying to keep the vessel upright.

Then there was the brightest flash yet as a bolt of lighting streaked out of the sky, striking the ship’s middle mast and setting the sail alight. There were more screams from the people on board and Magnus watched, horrified, as the sailors rushed to the burning mast, hacking at it with axes and knives. He could see that they were trying to get the burning sail overboard before it crashed down on deck and set the rest of the ship alight. If that happened, the passenger would have no chance.

Then Magnus noticed something else. Although most of the party guests had gone below deck, the prince had stayed above, and he was helping the sailors cut the mast away, while showers of sparks rained down around them. Magnus edged a little closer, watching fearfully. The mast had been cut loose now, and the price was helping the sailors shove it over the side, clear of the ship. But just as it was going over the side, the prince’s arms became caught in a tangle of loose rope. He tried to jerk it free, but he was off balance, and Magnus watched in horror as he was dragged over the side of the ship, into the wild, tossing waves.

Magnus didn’t hesitate for a second. He dove under the water, swimming as fast as he could towards the prince. The water was a deadly mass of heavy timbers and rope, and Magnus was in danger of being crushed as he darted between them. He dived down to the prince, who was unconscious and sinking fast. Magnus seized his shoulders, thinking fast. The surface of the water was a roiling mass of debris, far too dangerous to swim through. So Magnus set off through the water instead, dragging the prince with him. Not far away was a submerged cave, which twisted around in such a way that part of it was above water, full of air.

Magnus swam faster than he ever had before, tail thrashing, the prince clutched in his arms. He sped through the mouth of the cave and up through the winding rock passage until they burst through the water into the pocket of air. Magnus held the prince’s head above the water, resting it on his shoulder as he swam wearily towards the sandy bank at the back of the cave. He dragged the man out of the water and onto the rough sand. Magnus bent over him, heart constricting in fear as he saw the prince wasn’t breathing.

His mind raced, and he remembered something he’d once seen one human do after another had nearly drowned at the beach. Magnus set his hands on the prince’s chest, pressing down hard. The young man spasmed, coughing up seawater. He shuddered a few times, then opened his eyes, blinking dazedly. A wave of relief went through Magnus, and he smiled down at the prince. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

The young man blinked at him, disorientated.. “What…” He tried to sit up, bracing himself on his elbows, looking dazed. “How…” He stared at Magnus in confusion, then his gaze fell to Magnus’s tail and his eyes widened in shock and terror. He scrambled backwards wildly, face a mask of horror.

Magnus should have expected it, but it felt like a knife to the heart all the same. He should have remembered that humans didn’t know about the existence of merfolk, and seeing one for the first time would of course be a big shock. “Humans find the sight of us repulsive”, he’d heard an older mermaid saying once, and the thought brought sudden tears to his eyes. He blinked them back and held up his hands in a reassuring gesture. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you, or eat you or anything.”

The prince blinked in surprise. At least he didn’t look quite so terrified now. “You can talk?”

“I can talk.” Magnus confirmed. Merfolk language was quite different from the speech of humans, but he’d spent many years observing humans and had managed to pick up quite a lot of their language. He spoke slowly, but with growing confidence. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The prince was still staring at him, eyes wide. “You’re a mermaid.”

“A merman.” Magnus corrected, smiling gently. He spread out his hands to show they were empty, hoping he looked nonthreatening. “I saved you when you went overboard. You were drawing and so I brought you in here.” He gestured to the cave around him.

The prince still looked wary, but his posture was slowly starting to relax. “You saved me?”

Magnus nodded.

The young man took a few cautious steps back towards him, before tentatively sitting down a few metres away from Magnus. “Thank you.” he said slowly. He looked up at Magnus’s face, then dropped his gaze again. “I’m sorry I…reacted like that. I’ve just never seen a mermaid— or merman— before.”

“We tend to keep hidden.” Magnus said. He shifted a little further out of the water, and was pleased to see the prince didn’t flinch away.

“What’s your name?” the young man asked hesitantly.

“Magnus.” Magnus said. It wasn’t really his name, more a simplification, but he knew the prince would never be able to pronounce a Mermish name.

“I’m Alec.” the prince said shyly. He held out his hand, and Magnus looked at it blankly. After a moment, Alec withdrew his hand, looking embarrassed. “I don’t suppose merpeople shake hands.” he said awkwardly.

“I don’t think so.” Magnus said. He looked up at the prince. “Why did you look so sad on the ship?”

Alec’s eyes widened and he paled. “Oh god. The ship. Was everyone else okay?”

Alec blinked. “That’s a very forward question to ask someone you’ve only just met.”

Magnus just shrugged. Merpeople tended to be straightforward. “I was watching you from the water, and you looked so miserable.I wondered why.”

Alec stared at him, then looked away, taking a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” he mumbled. “I can’t believe I’m talking about my problems to a mermaid.”

Magnus waited. The silence was broken only by the dripping water of the cave roof.

Finally Alec sighed. He looked at Magnus, then down at the ground, like he was trying to decide how much to tell him. “I’m getting married,” he said briefly.

“Oh.” Magnus said. He wasn’t sure why he felt a tiny stab of disappointment at the words. “Well….. congratulations.”

Perhaps he was imagining it, but Alec seemed to flinch slightly at the words. He looked away, blinking rapidly, and Magnus couldn’t tell if the dampness on his eyelashes was seawater or tears.

“Are you alright?” Magnus asked, concerned.

Alec gave him a weak half-smile. “I suppose so.” He looked away again and Magnus could see the tension in his jaw, like he was working to hold back the words he really wanted to say.

“Getting married hasn’t entirely been my decision.” Alec said carefully.

“Oh.” Magnus said again. He felt a flash of sympathy. Inching closer, he put his hand on Alec’s knee. Alec stiffened, but he didn’t pull away.

“Do you not want to?” Magnus asked.

Alec shrugged, with just a hint of bitterness. “It’s not a matter of what I want.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” Magnus said. “Do you want to get married?”

Alec stared at him for a long moment. There was something hunted in his eyes, something terribly afraid. His eyes darted from Magnus’s eyes, to his mouth, his throat, and back to his eyes.

Finally Alec looked away. “It’s complicated.” He was clearly unhappy with the subject matter. “Is there any way out of this cave?”

Magnus pretended he didn’t notice the very obvious subject change. “There is,” he began, “but I’d have to take you through the ocean, and we’re a fair distance from the surface. The safest time to go would be at low tide, so we have less distance to travel to the surface.”

“How far away is low tide?” Alec asked.

“About two hours.” Magnus said. He saw a brief flash of worry in Alec’s eyes at the prospect of being stuck underground for two hours. “We’re completely safe here until then. These caves don’t flood.”

Alec looked relieved. Magnus, looking at him, noticed that he was paler than ever and shivering slightly. Merfolk weren’t bothered by the cold, but Magnus knew that humans were. Alec had lost his shoes as Magnus dragged him through the ocean, and the cave air probably felt freezing to him.

“Are you cold?” Magnus asked

“A bit.” Alec admitted. He’d started pacing back and forth on the cave floor, trying to warm himself up. There was a bluish tinge to his lips, and Magnus was pretty sure human lips weren’t meant to be that colour.

“Come here.” Magnus said.

Alec looked at him warily, but he came and sat down at the water’s edge, next to Magnus. Magnus put a hand on his chest, and Alec breathed in sharply. Magnus was amazed at what seemed to be the heat coming from Alec’s body. He’d known that humans were warm-blooded, like dolphins and seals, but the ocean made everything feel cold. Out of the water, the contrast in their body temperatures was dramatic. Without really meaning to, Magnus leaned in, pressing his body against Alec’s. It was like lying on a sun-warmed rock on a hot day, only better, because this rock was alive and breathing.

For a split second, Alec’s arm pressed against Magnus’s back, as if by instinct. Then he seemed to realise what he was doing and jerked back, scrambling away even faster than when he’d seen Magnus’s tail. “What are you doing?”

For a second they stared at each other. Alec was breathing hard, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus said awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You were just…really warm.”

Alec glared at him. “I don’t feel warm.”

“Merfolk are cold-blooded.” Magnus explained. “We’re more sensitive to changes in temperature.” He slid into the water at the cave’s edge, looking up at Alec. “Just come in here, will you?”

Alec frowned. “Going back in the water will make me more cold.” he pointed out.

Magnus held out his hand. “Just trust me.”

Alec hesitated, but he took Magnus’s outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled into the water. The sandy bottom sloped down sharply, so that they were almost immediately in deep water. Alec was treading water, looking at Magnus suspiciously.

“Stop moving.” Magnus told him. “Hold onto me so you don’t sink.”

Alec’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I can warm you up.” Magnus promised. “Trust me.”

Tentatively, Alec put his hands on Magnus’s shoulders, then seemed to realise this wasn’t enough to keep him afloat and wrapped his arms around Magnus’s neck, holding tightly to him. Magnus was swimming upright in the water, his tail sweeping slowly back and forth to keep them both afloat.

“Alright.” Magnus said. “Hold on.” He closed his eyes, sending his consciousness out into the water around them. He felt the eddies and currents of the oceans, seeking out the tiny patches of warmer water, those places where the liquid molecules were moving slightly faster. Slowly, keeping his eyes closed, Magnus called the particles of warmth to move to him.

At first, there was no difference. Then, slowly, the water directly around them began to heat up, forming a barrier between them and the rest of the freezing ocean. Magnus heard Alec’s soft gasp as he realised what was happening. Magnus opened his eyes and smiled at him as the water continued to heat. “I told you I could warm you up.”

“Thank you.” Alec said faintly. “That’s a lot better.”

Magnus smiled at him. “My pleasure.”

Alec looked down curiously at the water surrounding them. “Can all merpeople control the ocean like this?”

Magnus laughed, and he saw Alec swallow as the vibrations went through his own chest. “It’s not really controlling the ocean. Just small stuff like altering the temperature around us. We use it when we’re going down into the deep sea, to keep ourselves warm.”

“That’s amazing.” Alec said softly. “It’s like there’s a whole world I never even knew about.”

Magnus studied him. The colour was coming back into Alec’s cheeks and he was no longer shivering. The bluish tinge had left his mouth and Magnus decided he liked it a lot better this way.

“Your lips are pink again.” Magnus commented cheerfully.

Alec’s head jerked up. He looked as shocked as if Magnus had hit him.”Don’t-” he began, and then he looked away from Magnus, staring at a point somewhere over his left shoulder. “Don’t say things like that.” he said in a strangled voice.

Magnus frowned. “Why not?”

Alec’s eyes opened slightly wider, but he continued to stare fixedly over Magnus’s shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. “Humans and merfolk are— quite different, I think.” he said, voice strained.

“I suppose so.” Magnus said, a little confused. He continued to hold them up in the water, which was now as warm as a rockpool in the sun. The position they were in meant Magnus was more or less slotted between Alec’s legs in order to keep them afloat. By accident, his tail brushed up between Alec’s thighs, and the prince gave a strangled gasp. Magnus looked at him in concern. Alec’s cheeks were red and his mouth was open, but he didn’t look as if he was in pain.

“What’s wrong?’ Magnus asked, and Alec suddenly flung himself away from Magnus, struggling over to the bank and up onto the sand. He scrambled back against the cave wall, panting as if he was being chased. There was panic in his eyes as he looked over at Magnus.

“Please.” His voice was ragged. “Please, you can’t… I can’t…”

“I don’t understand.” Magnus said, confused.

“I’m getting married.” Alec said, as if that explained anything, which it didn’t. “Magnus, please… don’t touch me, don’t…” His hands were gripping the wall either side of him, as if he were holding himself back.

“Alright.” Magnus said, still feeling puzzled. “I won’t.” He stayed in the water, giving Alec space but watching him closely. Alec dropped his head back against the wall behind him, breathing hard. He closed his eyes and his breathing slowly evened out until he looked calmer.

They stayed like that, in a slightly awkward silence, for some time. Then Magnus slowly pulled himself out of the water, sitting on the sand with his tail curled beside him. Alec stared at Magnus’s tail, looking— fascinated? Scared? Magnus couldn’t tell. He gave his fins a little flick, scattering water droplets. Alec flinched, and Magnus wished he hadn’t done it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Alec looked away. “I wasn’t scared. Just— startled.”

Magnus stared at the sand. “My father always said that— that humans think merfolk are ugly.”

“Nothing about you is ugly.” Alec said. The words seemed to burst out of him, and he instantly pressed his lips together as if he hadn’t meant to say them.

Something like a warm glow flickered to life in Magnus’s chest. Alec didn’t think he was ugly. Somehow, that meant a lot to him. He smiled at Alec and the prince gave him a small, hesitant smile in return.

After a while, Magnus slid back into the water. He closed his eyes, sensing the ebb and flow of the tides, how strong the currents were. He opened his eyes and looked at Alec.

“It’s low tide,” he said. “We should go now.”

Alec nodded. He stood up and squared his shoulders, then came over to the water and slid in beside Magnus. He hesitated a moment, then gingerly put his arms around Magnus’s neck again. “I’m ready.” He looked up at Magnus. “And I promise I won’t tell anyone else about merpeople.”

Magnus looked at him steadily. Their faces were very close, and he was briefly mesmerised by Alec’s eyelashes sweeping his cheekbones, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m not worried.” Alec said softly. His gaze fixed on Magnus’s face and Magnus caught his breath at the intensity of it.

“Take a deep breath.” Magnus said. He felt Alec’s chest expand as he breathed in, and then he dived under the water, swimming for all he was worth. Magnus sped through the cave system and into the open ocean, keeping Alec clutched tight against him. His tail lashed back and forth in powerful strokes, driving them up towards the faint glimmer of light far above them.

Up, and up. Magnus swam faster than he’d ever known he could, desperate to get Alec to the surface. He didn't know how much longer the prince could hold his breath.

The surface was closer now. Magnus felt Alec go limp against him, unconscious. He was running out of oxygen. Terror shot through him and he found a last burst of speed, propelling them up the final few metres. They broke through the surface and Magnus hauled Alec up, terrified that he might be too late.

Alec slumped against him; eyes closed. To his immense relief, Magnus saw that he was breathing. He let Alec’s head rest on his chest and swam slowly towards the distant shore. The storm had blown away, and the sky was the clear blue of morning. Seagulls wheeled overhead. On the shore, overlooking the rocky headland, was a white church, and Magnus swam towards it.

Magnus reached the beach, and a wave washed them up on shore. Exhausted, he laid Alec on the sand, bending over him. He brushed back the prince’s wet hair and put a hand against his chest, sighing in relief when he felt his heartbeat, strong and reassuring. Alec’s head turned to the side and he breathed out, murmuring something unintelligible.

Magnus would have stayed with him until he woke, but he heard a murmur of voices approaching them. He could see a small group of people approaching in the distance. He couldn’t risk being seen, and Alec would be safe once he was found.

Magnus kissed Alec’s forehead gently. Then he slipped silently back into the water, crouching behind a rock to watch. The next second, he heard an exclamation from the group of people as one of them spotted the unconscious prince. They hurried towards him, sending up showers of sand behind them.

“It’s the prince!” Magnus heard one of them shout, and then they were all around Alec. Magnus could see them helping him to sit up, hear their volley of questions. Alec was looking puzzled. He turned and looked out to sea, as if searching for Magnus. Magnus’s heart twisted, but he ducked lower behind the rock to avoid being seen.

“You have to be with your own people now.” Magnus whispered, so low that no one could have heard him.

Finally, Alec looked away from the water. He allowed himself to be led away, and Magnus watched him go. Then, with a single backwards glance, he slipped into the sea and slowly swam away.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #tsc #shadowhunters #cassandra clare #animalec fest #animalec fest 2023 #malec fanfic #the little mermaid #mermaids #merfolk #magnus lightwood bane #alec lightwood bane #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc fanfic #tsc fanfiction

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boxfuleventsau · 7 months ago

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years ago

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rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already.

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back.

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole.

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”.

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about.

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

#hazblogs #rescue mission #stories #long post #dana #exo #threeox #fake dana #mirrors #submission

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ranveer--singh · 4 years ago

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Dilbaro - O beloved (Henry Cavill x Indian Reader one shot)

A/N: So one of my friends got engaged last year and it got me in a massive wedding mood. So I decided to write this one shot of Henry marrying his Indian bride in Udaipur. Hope you all enjoy this, likes, comments and feedback appreciated.

3rd July 2019, on a scorching hot summer day Laila Kapadia and Henry Cavill were ready to tie the knot in front of their family and friends. Udaipur, India was where Henry proposed to Laila over a year ago and which also is the destination for the wedding. Laila was Indian, born in England and her soon to be husband, Henry, was English, born in Jersey and regardless of the two cultures and family backgrounds, the whole everyone got on like a house of fire.

Laila yawned, scratching her head as she was woken up by her best friend the maid of honor. She was shoved into the bathroom to brush her teeth and have a shower while the hairdresser arrived. Henry, on the other hand, was finally ready just adjusting his red and gold embroidered sherwani for the last time. He smiled into the mirror seeing how dapper he looked. The wedding was to start in three and a half hours, giving Laila time to get ready and put on her heavy lehenga.

The weather in Udaipur was unbearable, making Henry want to take his sherwani off, sit in his underwear with the AC on. Everything was pinned, tied and knotted together making it a chore to take of and then, later on, put it back on so Henry grabbed a jug of water and some ice and started to drink to cool himself down. Laila, on the other hand, had just stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed. She slipped into her underwear and applied her body lotion before sitting on the chair letting the hairdresser do her hair.

Laila smiled, her heart filled with joy as she was excited to finally be marrying her one true love. This past year had been a long stressful year with her losing her grandmother, moving from Manchester to London. Apart from losing her grandmother, moving to London was great and gave her time to decorate their new home the way they wanted it. Henry had a busy year also, finishing shooting hos latest movie, planning other business adventures and charities he loved to spend time with and help.

Henry downed another glass of water sitting with his brother, dad, best man and his close friends as they all started to eat breakfast. Since dating Laila he has been exposed to a wide range of indian food. Sweet, savory, spicy and bitter and he at first wasn’t sure but as the weeks past his taste buds grew. He ditched the morning coffee for an aromatic cup of Indian chai filled with cinnamon and cardamom. Henry had to explain to everyone what they were eating which was puri and shaak ( deep fried bread with hot potato curry) a famous dish from the Gujarat region which Laila made once a month when it was her time of the month and cravings were on overdrive.

The hairdresser finished Laila’s hair which was tied up in fishtail plait and showed off the brown highlights through her black hair. The makeup artist finally arrived to glam her up before she could put on her outfit and have some food. She was starving and hadn’t eaten much since 10pm last night, still sitting in her chair getting makeup done her friends and family put on some music. They all danced and sung along, Laila joining in singing a few lines trying not to ruin the makeup.

It reached the two-hour mark. At Henry’s household, everyone had finished eating and were all taking pictures and what not before the cars finally arrive. A white Rolls Royce awaited for the groom and his best man while the others sat in a limo heading to the venue first. Henry looked in the mirror one last time, taking a selfie to show his bride later, he downed yet another glass of cold water before leaving the house and stepping into the car with his best friend. Henry leg shook with nervous and excitement through the whole journey to the venue, he could wait to make Laila his bride.

Finally, Laila was in her red and gold velvet lengha, her mum helped her put on the jewellery while her best friend put on her gold encrusted heels on her. Few pictures, selfies and group shots were taken before Laila’s mum handed her a box. Inside was her mum’s wedding chain which she wanted Laila to wear today. They cried, hugging one another before her mum put the chain on her smiling happily, overjoyed with the fact her daughter was getting married. After everyone was ready they left for the venue, Laila and her mum rode in a horse carriage to the wedding, it was fairytale like.

The car stopped, Henry looked outside the window smiling at how beautiful and grand the venue looked. Finally, he was going to get married to the girl of his dreams. Stepping out of the car, he looked ahead to the place, it was stunning. He remembered Laila dragging him to the 15th venue they had seen while on the hunt to find the perfect place when they stumbled upon this one, they both fell in love with it in an instant. Henry put on his sunglasses as the sun shone brightly into his eyes, his best man took a picture of him outside the venue. Walking with his best man they passed a large water fountain, drums getting louder as they walked into the hotel where the wedding was taking place.

People had already arrived, having food, drinks and taking their seats. The guests talked amongst each other as music played in the background. Walking past the reception, dining area Henry was escorted out to the huge garden which was transformed for the wedding. It looked beautiful, gold and red chairs around, tables scattered with roses, and a band playing classical music. Henry smiled seeing the altar. It was a hand carved wooden altar dressed in white and red flowers. Inside was two golden chairs for the couple to sit and four other chairs for both sets of parents.

Smiling he took the scenery in, a tear ran down his face not believing in one hour he was getting married to Laila. Henry's parents walked towards him, giving him a huge hug, taking some pictures with him before giving him some last minute parental advice. Laila was still sitting in the horse carriage taking the long route to the venue, her mum talking to her, telling Laila how proud she is of her. They both had tears in their eyes as they hugged one another.

Laila finally arrived at the venue, everyone had now taken their seats. Henry was sitting at the altar waiting for the music to start and for Laila to walk down. Kuch to hai tujhse raabta ( There is some connection with you) started to play on the loudspeakers, signaling everyone to stand up. Henry was hidden by a long white cloth, as Laila walked through with her uncles next to her. Reaching the altar she stood in front of Henry who was still hidden and waited until the cloth was taken away. The cloth was removed and beaming smiles spread across both their faces. He couldn’t help but grin, mouthing ‘you look gorgeous,’ at her making Laila blush and everyone giggle seeing her face get red.

Flower garlands were exchanged between Laila and Henry before they sat in their seats waiting for the priest to carry on with the ceremony. Finally, it was time to go round the fire seven times. Henry’s dupatta and Laila’s were tied together as they walked around seven times as their family and few friends threw flower petals at them every round. The priest said some last words, making a little joke about keeping each other happy making everyone laugh including the bride and groom.

Now it was time for Laila and Henry to take blessings from both sets of parents. They went to Laila’s parents who grabbed them into a big hug crying at how beautiful they are together. Henry touched her parent’s feet for blessings letting them know he will be there for her no matter what. Then they slowly walked to Henry’s parents who hugged them Laila touching their feet for blessings.

Henry linked his hand with hers, holding onto her tightly as they walked to another part of the garden to take some wedding photos. The professional photographer followed them to the spot which was overlooking the pool and rest of Udaipur. They took a bunch of photos, each one Henry pecked her lips, over the moon he married his soul mate.

In the last photo, Henry wrapped his arms around Laila, his body on hers as they stared into one another’s eyes. Smiles appeared on there faces, eyes sparkling and Laila tiptoed to finally reach his lips and kiss them. Photos were done, now the couple had 30 minutes to breathe and be with one another.

“Hi Mrs Cavill,” Henry said, staring into his wife’s eyes with pure joy.

“Hello Mr Cavill,” Laila beamed giggling into Henry’s lips. It was nice the couple got away for a short time just to be with one another before going back to eat.

“Babe I got a surprise, here open the envelope,” he said, handing her a red envelope waiting to see her reaction when she finds out where they are going on a honeymoon.

“Is this where we are going,” Laila’s voice broke, eyes welling up as she slowly teared up the envelope. Inside were two-holiday tickets to Thailand, it was listed as one of Laila favourite destinations to visit. For three weeks they will be visiting Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Puckett, Henry planning every detail of the holiday.

He smiled, moving closer to his wife and wiped a few tears that trickled down her face. Leaning down Henry kissed her lips ever so softly, before letting it get heated, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. They rested heads against one another, overjoyed with happiness after years of being together Laila and Henry were finally married.

“Purple ranger, Henry where you been, people are waiting for you,” Laila’s best friend shouted, running up to where the couple were standing. She embraced them into a huge hug, Henry laughing at the fact his wife was called purple ranger since a little girl as she loved power rangers and the colour purple.

“We’re coming, just give us a few minutes,” Laila giggled holding onto her husband’s hand wanting to be alone with him a tad bit longer. She knew after the reception tonight they would be flying to Thailand for their honeymoon, but as a photographer she wanted to capture pictures of herself and Henry at this beautiful spot one last time before going inside to eat.

Laila waited until her best friend was out of sight before she kissed her husband roughly. They took some selfies together looking stunning in there Indian outfits. Henry kissed her again before looking down at her henna stained hands searching for his name among the intricate designs. He kissed her hands slowly exploring each finger, thumb, and palm to find where his name was. Laila giggled, watching him search sedulously. It took him awhile but he spotted it on the side of her first finger, his name, inside of a heart.

“I love your mehndi,” Henry spoke softly kissing her fingers, always fascinated with the intricate designs, he remembered his mother and sister having mehndi on their hands for a family wedding. “Wish you could keep it on all the time,” he said making Laila laugh

“Maybe I’ll need to keep an in house mehndi artist at home to forever do my hands,” she teased giggling at him biting down on her lip. Laila adored him for embracing her Indian culture, ready to have this giant Indian wedding and wear full Indian clothing. She embraced his English culture too by visiting his family for Easter and eating authentic British food from his mum.

“Can be arranged,” Henry chuckled leaning in to kiss her. Grabbing her hand in his they walked back inside to eat after hearing her stomach grumble the past few minutes. Henry and Laila walked inside the venue to the huge banquet hall where everyone was eating, talking and dancing to music from the live band.

They talked and hugged a few people on their way to the table every so often, one of them being teased and told an old story about their childhood making their faces turn red with embarrassment. Lunch was finally over, speeches had been said and a few group photos were taken before the couple finally walked out of the venue to the car waiting to take them to the place they were staying. Laila grabbed his face as soon as they left the venue and were long gone from family and friends. She kissed him hard, biting down on his bottom lip enjoying his stubble graze against her skin.

“We have hours before we have to get ready, let’s test the showers,” Laila giggled into his lips as she spoke, making Henry wink at her telling the driver to speed up so he wouldn’t have a boner forming.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x indian reader

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persianhandicrafts · 3 years ago

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railroad-migraine · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! How've you been recently? Good I hope! Remember to eat a cupcake and drink some water (or even better, tea) 💕

Wanna know something wholesome? I make dice for fun (mostly for myself/irl friends) for our DnD campaign, but I didn't have a dice bag. So my (extremely talented) bestie hand sew me a one!! And she did it specifically in Mollymauk colours because she knows he's my absolute favourite 🥺💕

(The bag has a rich purple inside and the outside is the most beautiful fabric I've ever seen, a light blue with large pink flowers and white lace!)

Sorry for the random ask lmao

But I figured you'd appreciate it since ✨dice✨

- 🌸

Oh hello, lovely! I've been up to my eyes in final semester assignments and such, so I've been a bit quiet on here recently. I brought a flask of tea with me to college today since the weather was terrible ^-^

You make dice? That's so cool!! And your story is indeed so wholesome!! Very lucky you have each other to craft such thoughtful DnD gifts! From how you described it, the dice bag sounds beautiful! The Molly colours and flowers and lace?? How sweet!

One of my best friends painted a small wooden chest (jewellery box sized) for my birthday two years ago, so that's where I store my ✨ dice✨ Heheheh

I love random things in my inbox; do not apologise or hesitate. I love hearing from my dear anons 🥰 It was a lovely surprise to find when I checked out my blog today.

~ Poet

#mod poet #anons #anon #🌸 anon

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prettypractical · 10 months ago

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witcherycottage · 5 years ago

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affordable witchy supplies~ uk edition 🌞

witchy supplies can be extremely pricey, and the only help i’ve seen on here is for the us, so i thought i’d share my go to places as a broke witch <3

1) the works

this shop is THE BOMB! here prices range from 50p to around £5 for the biggest hardback books. super affordable and good quality! you can get~

small glass jars with cork stoppers (spell jars! also storing herbs) 6 for £1

twig wreaths for pentagram making

seasonal craft supplies, eg flowers and eggs around spring, fake holly and wreaths in winter etc

wooden boxes, £1-£2.50! you can paint them or leave them as! great for storage or wish boxes

books!! here i’ve found “The Green Witch” “The Angel/Tarot/Crystal Bible” “wiccapedia” “The House Witch” “The Apprentice Witches Spellbook” and “Spells for peace of mind” all for under £5! there are so many spirituality books here

paints, ribbons, fat quarters etc

poundland

there’s more useful stuff here than you’d expect!

incense! packs of 50 sticks in lavender, vanilla, patchouli, sandlewood and myhr.

CANDLES!!! scented candles, coloured candles, tea lights!

candle holders

large glass jars! amazing quality

large glass bottles

notebooks! there is a A4 hardback black notebook that would be perfect for a first BOS

paints, glues, ribbons, glitters

table salt

TK Maxx

this shop is the home of the miscellaneous. you can find so much it’s amazing, and all at discounted prices!

CANDLES!!! they have isles upon isles of candles with all scents colours and styles you could ever ask for

glass jars and bottles

essential oils

pestle and mortars

i’ve seen a 15 piece spice and herb rack, for around £20. it comes with all glass bottles and a wooden rack! includes all your basics, basil, rosemary, thyme, cinnamon sticks etc

i’ve even seen beginner crystal sets here!

pink himalayan salt

rose quartz facial rollers! perfect for beginner glamour spells

notebooks, pens and paints

please bare in mind that every tk maxx is going to have something different, and it may be hard to find things due to their unorganised nature, but try your best and you’ll find some gems garunteed!

your average supermarket!

this is going to be your most accessible place, so i got you.

HERBS AND SPICES! every shop, even corner shops has these. sainsbury’s and morrisons do glass containers with around 15g worth of herb depending on the type. it’s a lot and will last you ages. £1 ish :)

flowers!!!! roses are surprisingly cheap if you buy a plain bouquet, but of course other types too. in spring they also sell plants for growing in your garden, like lavender.

seeds and bulbs! start your imbolc off by planting in your magickal garden!

craft supplies, ribbon, paint, glue etc

fresh herb plants such as basil, mint and rosemary! i presume if you take good care of them you can keep them for long term :)

travel bottles, spray bottles etc

glass jars and bottles

candles! limited selection and could be pricey but worth a shot

primark!

primark home has loads of cool things :)

candles candles candles! i’ve seen packs of 50 tea lights for £1.50! range of colours and scents

scent diffusers, for those that can’t use smoke

harry potters things! it’s cheesy but i think it’s so cute :) you can buy broomstick hair pins and things like that!

faux leather satchels! great for nature walks and foraging

boots!!! almost doc martin rip offs, not more than £15! seems pricey but compared to the <£100 of real docs it’s a steal! great for nature walks, hikes and foraging

seasonal! fake succulents and flowers for altar, cute little jars and fairy lights :)

online!

im gonna link some really affordable online witchy shops!

EBAY!!! i’m telling you! incense is insanely cheap here, you can buy spell candles, crystals and pendulums! tarot cards too! i’ve used ebay so much and it’s saved me a tonne! most shopping is fast and free there too! way better than amazon imo.

https://www.thepsychictree.co.uk is amazing for crystals! tumbled stones from as little as 50p! you can also buy tarot cards, jewellery and books! shopping is around £3 i belive but free over £30! honestly this place saved my life

wish! right, i wouldn’t reccommend anything too amazing here because lots of things are cheap rip offs, but you can get gorgeous tarot cards, jewellery, and tapestry’s here! be careful though loves <3

hobbycraft!

this shop makes my heart melt. so many amazing supplies here!

glass jars and bottles! i’m talking 6 jam jars for a pound!

ribbons, paints, glitter, glue and all craft things!

tiny jars!

decorative stones! great for creating rune stones!

floristry stuff! wreaths, flowers, fake flowers etc! i even bought moss!

essential oils! and soap/ lip balm making kits!

candle making kits!

sewing supplies!!!!

hot glue guns!

D R I E D L A V E N D E R! it took my friends a while to track this down! but i know you can get it here

scrapbook supplies= book of shadows supplies!

little baskets for foraging and nature walks :’) this will truly bring out your inner cottagecore witch

so so so so much more!

home!

this can be complicated when you live with parents, especially if they’re unsupportive but here are some ideas!

save ALL glass jars and bottles! i’m telling you they’re so useful. if you need an excuse, say you have a craft project in mind, you want to put fairy lights in them or you need them for school :)

go foraging! this doesn’t have to be crazy. collect things around you, like sticks (for wands) collect nettles! mugwort can be found by most roadsides! dry out needles, go to your local park or national trust area! collect rain water and stream water!

you can substitute all herbs for rosemary i’m pretty sure and all crystals for clear quartz! all candles for white ones and all incense for nag champa! all flowers for roses etc :)

crest alter pieces yourself! my amazing friend @ella-ruby12 made an amazing pentagram alter piece from sticks and string for my yule present :)

that’s all my loves! i have broken my right arm so it’s very hard to type with my left, please ignore typos :’) i hope you find all you’re looking for, and blessed be

#witchcraft #baby witch #witchblr #witchy #pagan witch #wicca #wiccan #pagan #witch tips #witch supplies #magical herbs #herbsforspells #book of shadows #2020 sabbats #crystals #uk witches

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deathbyvalentine · 4 years ago

Text

Character Bedrooms

Amelia

It was a small room, her bed and desk only a few steps apart, her wardrobe with just enough space to open the doors and stand in front of the mirror and no more. The walls were painted an inoffensive magnolia, the carpet dark and unremarkable. But she had draped her beds wooden headboard with fairy lights, the comforter a patchwork quilt, the pillows having a hint of frills.The curtains that hung beside the bed were floral (as was the delicate perfume in the air, roses and something else, something light).

The second hand desk was painted white, a stool tucked neatly in the alcove. On the desk, there’s in-progress projects, open sketchpads, pencils in caddies, paintbrushes in muddy water glasses. Above the desk, there’s a pinboard. It’s covered in postcards, small art prints, photographs, handwritten notes. There’s a forgotten cup of tea in a large patterned mug. There’s two lamps - a short one with an orange shade, apparently used for ambience and a white posable one, used for when she sketched into the night. Peeking out from under the bed were stacks of worn paperbacks, nearly all of them classics, some of them tea-stained or dogeared.

Cramped, but tidy. Safe, warm, hers. It’s seen best in the evening, when gold light pours in from the window, only momentarily dimmed by the lace draped across the glass. If there was just one word you could use to describe Amelia’s sanctum, it was ‘cosy’.

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Cherry Blossom

It had belonged to two boys once. Now it housed one, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the extra space. It was a bare little room, white washed walls and a concrete floor. There was no door, only a beaded curtain in the entryway. No curtains, only a pinned up sheet. A window looked out onto the bustling street - their flat was above a busy shop and peace was hard to come by. Cherry didn’t mind and usually kept the window open. He couldn’t stand silence.

His bedroll sat flush to the wall on one side of the room, pillow and blanket resting haphazardly on top. On the wall itself, several street posters and instruction manual pages were stuck up. Mostly they were from the Brocade Guard but occasionally there were instances of circuses or performers.

His clothes were (or at least, an attempt at) folded at the foot of the bed. A crate sat on it’s side, making a makeshift bedside table. Within it there were a few books, a notepad, some leaking inks, some tangled hand wraps and a first aid kit. Now, if you were particularly observant you might notice two things. One, a number of his belongings were very slightly scorched. Two, there were some papers tucked under his bedroll, one corner just peaking out to show a signature from someone called Duty.

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Astrid

An explosion of pink. A beacon of girlhood. An utter mess. It’s a room that is used and lived in and used as a staging area. Clothes are scattered far and wide, in shades of bright pink and blue. It’s tiny as all the rooms in the Tenements are, but she’d made it her own. One wall is blue, another pink, one is half painted violet. A custom neon sign flickers intermittently. On the floor, there’s a fluffy faux fur rug in (what else?) pink. The bed (unmade) is just big enough for two. There are no windows.

A chest of drawers sits impotently, mostly used for balancing a mirror, a selection of fans, perfume bottles and two jewellery boxes. One contains accessories, spilling out and glittering. The other contains some folded up credits and several small bags of white powder and bright pills. The mirror itself is layered with a hundred lipstick kisses. There’s one or two in a darker shade, indicating that Syn had been here and left her mark.

There’s a door leading to an ensuite bathroom where another mirror lives above a sink. The sink is splattered with make up in every conceivable shade, containers balanced precariously on the porcelain and a fine layer of glitter coats the taps. On the floor, with the wire trailing in from the bedroom, there’s a hair curler. On the back of the door, on a hanger, as if waiting for something, is a kimono.

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Sacrifice

Once the door clicks shut, it’s impossible to tell where it was. The walls and ceiling and floor are a slick, reflective black. There’s an odd sort of light, enough to make the place a room of mirrors. At first, you think it shows you yourself, standing alone in the echoing blackness. A little longer, and you might see other movements, far back in the fractals. It looks like someone you lost.

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Tommy

Tommy technically had four rooms. The shrine to his childhood that his parents undoubtably still maintained, his bedroom at Jones’s, the apartment in Kos with Asclepius and then finally, this one. The one he used as an office and could hole himself up in for weeks at a time - if he didn’t make sure he was there for Jones, which he did. However, the one in Asshole Towers is the most interesting, so we’ll focus our gaze there.

There was technically a bed in there, making it a bedroom. It was a single one, with generic blue and white sheets. The walls too were a generic blue and white, painted by someone who knew his gender and little else. It was a pleasingly large room, being an attic conversion, though that meant the ceilings and angles sometimes sloped or sat alarmingly, waiting to cause a bump on the head. There was no wardrobe, no couch, nothing really adding any sort of comfort to the place. What there was was information.

The wall next to the bed was covered in papers. Pinned, cellotaped and blue tacked. There were newspaper articles, handscrawled notes, pages from books, odd photographs, postcards, maps, tickets and paintings and more. It spread up like mold, covering even the sloping ceiling above his bed. Pieces of string connected them, colour coded with a quick key of what the colours meant scrawled near the light switch.

Another wall was covered by a huge, dark bookcase. The bottom shelf was occupied by heavy leather tomes, the spines peeling with age. As the shelves went up, so did the relative age of the books, the top shelf apparently devoted to Penguin books of myths and basic fairytales.

There was not one, but two desks. One held a laptop, a desk lamp and a stack of books. The drawers were full of pens, notepads and other various bits of useful stationary. The other desk looks like a chemistry lab from the eighteen hundreds. A small iron cauldron sat, surrounded by test tubes and loose plant ingredients. The drawers belonging to that one were rather more chaotic. There was a filofax of untested spells, a calculator, yet more pouches, packets and tubes. The one below that held ritual daggers, old coins, various candles and colours of ribbon. The bottom one held... Medicine bottles and packets? It was almost full, Tommy’s full name printed neatly on the side of each, along with a date from several years ago.

There was one more set of shelves, opposite the desks. One held an odd mix of objects. Olive oil, a small carving of an owl, a waxen heart, a portrait of a peacock, a twist of vine leaves and a small metal snake. Standing aside from the rest, there was an ankh with ‘Ra’ engraved on it. There was also a krater neatly tucked to the side, holding a miniature bottle of wine and a clear vial of water.

The shelf below that had a stone carving from an asklepion, a triskele in ancient copper and a lightning bolt in steel, all set equal distances apart from one another as if in respect. The bottom shelf had several shoeboxes tucked in there. The first held letters, some impossibly old, some simply the age of a grandparent. The second box held more valuable magic items - a glimmering ruby, a candle holder shaped like skeletons and other, more mysterious things. This was his magic room and therefore his work room - sentimental gifts and photos adorned his room with Jones.

The final wall only had one thing to decorate it. Tommy had spray painted a sigil of a labyrinth right onto the wall, the black paint running just a little. Despite the room being busy, it somehow seemed to dominate, pulling the eye straight to it.

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Ash’s Childhood Bedroom

She shared a bedroom with her sister. Technically there were enough rooms in the house for them to have separate ones, but they had chosen to stay together. Luckily it was large. Two single beds lay against opposite, lavender walls. It was undoubtedly feminine, filled with soft pastels and frills. It is, however, abundantly clear who’s side of the room is who’s.

Violet’s side has a bed coated in teddies. There seems to be hundreds of the bright, fluffy objects. When she was asleep there, it was hard to see her amongst them, looking as doll like as she ordinarily did. There were a few picture books tucked neatly on the window ledge, along with a wind up music box and a selection of disney DVDs. There was a small chest of drawers opposite the end of her bed and a few pink toy boxes tucked underneath. Secreted under her pillow was a lipgloss and mascara she had almost certainly stolen from Ash.

The most obvious difference on Ash’s side was the band posters. They were pinned up beside her bed clumsily, slightly tilted. They were a little frayed at the edges, well loved or cut from magazines. Amongst them there were snapshots of her with girls her own age, usually laughing or pouting, posing for the camera. A laptop sat on top of a deep purple blanket, stickers covering the pink case.

Her chest of drawers was a little over-packed, the top drawer unable to close completely, shirts spilling out of it. There was a jumble of converse sitting at the bottom, kicked off and abandoned. On top of the drawers, a mirror sat, eyeliner and cheap eye shadow palettes cluttered around it. There were also childish pieces of jewellery, bright and plastic, or merchandise from various gigs. There was a small bedside table tucked flush to the side. Under the lamp, a family photograph was framed, and then one of just the sisters. There were books stacked in the alcove below the drawer. They were mostly YA novels, one or two schoolbooks mixed in with them carelessly.

The middle of the room was a jumble of objects. Toys mixed with schoolbags, Ash’s jackets mixed with Violet’s pyjamas. A wastepaper basket contained empty soda cans and screwed up childish sketches. It wasn’t quite enough to be a mess - their mother saw to that. But both of her daughters had the unfortunate habit of walking into their room shedding everything in their eagerness to be done with school.

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Horatio

His room is technically in the servants’ quarters, though everyone and their mother who works there knows he spends much more time in his master’s room than his own. It’s a simple place, two steps down into a stone room, scrubbed clean with pride. You might notice a slight looseness on one of the steps - inspect it and a stone comes away, revealing a gap where a swathe of letters sit, tied together with a blue ribbon. There’s one window, set high in the wall so it peeks out at the ground level of an impeccably maintained garden.

There’s a bed pressed underneath it, a wooden carved frame and a knitted blanket sitting on top, a sign of love from the cook or matron perhaps. It looks comfortable, though the mattress is no longer firm with age and the pillow poking out with a few feathers. But then, a bed in the servants’ quarters is always going to be considered comfortable. Next to the bed there’s a neat, if precarious, stack of books on magic.

There’s a shelf on the opposite wall above a mirror and basin. On the shelf, a few carved figures sit, momentos from a childhood he was apparently not entirely free from, no matter how long he lived in a manor. There were also a few withered, dried flowers and scorched unidentified objects. Early experiments. The only other object in the room was a wardrobe, oddly full compared to the sparseness of the rest of the space. There were outfits from plain white shirts and aprons for dashing about in the kitchen to lush evening jackets - though never quite as beautiful as his employers of course. No matter what, he was still a ward after all. Otherwise, he’d have a room upstairs.

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Matthias

Like everything Matthias keeps in his life, it’s beautiful. Walk through the west wing of the villa, open the end door and here you are. One wall is completely open, spaced out with carved pillars. The view looks out over the mountains of Kahraman and the small grove of trees that his parents have managed to cultivate here. For when the weather (rarely) turns, there are thick curtains to pull across between the pillars, turning it into a wall of sorts. The floor is tiled and shines brightly, reflecting the candles that light the room.

The room is dominated by two things: his bed and the pool. The bed is four poster with thin crimson curtains and soft red sheets, edged with gold fringe. It was piled high with pillows of every shape and colour, making it almost impossible to actually lie in the bed. There was a small, but still intimidatingly large, mountain lion asleep on the bed. The pool was at the far end of the room. It was shallow, the mosaic pattern (a flame, naturally) at the bottom clearly visible. It was his fancy to drink syrah on hot days, his feet resting in the cool water and perfectly angled to gaze out over the nation.

There’s a three chests in a row against the third wall, underneath a long stretch of mirror. They hold his clothes, once they were all mixed together but now one belongs to Flame, to Dust, to Glass. They look like treasure chests and to him, they are. There’s another mirror on a different wall, but this time a shelf stretches underneath it. On the shelf sits small coloured pots of paint and moisturiser, paintbrushes and flakes of gold. There’s jewellery too, chains to hang from his antlers and neck, jewels to sit on his fingers, twists of gold to serve as a bed. There’s also a small bowl that glitters beautiful, over spilling with mana crystals. In a much more official looking box, engraved with a labyrinth is some small bottles of liao.

There’s art dotted around, from blown glass vases to a painted mask from the League, a book from Highguard that has hastily been bound in orange fabric, a firmly locked display case for his coin and resources. Glass and metal lanterns hung from the ceiling and scented candles burnt. The most striking art though is the wall beside his bed. There’s portraits, dozens of them. Those with sharp eyes might notice such famed kohan from the Golden Harpies and an unsmiling portrait from Sol, perhaps a little tear stained. There’s others with very dramatic red crosses slashed across them. Matthias does not handle break ups well.

This was not his only room of course. He was a Freeborn. This place was a base, a place for his family to use as storage, to come and go, to arrange to meet. There were also the tents he resided in and that often formed around the villa to house every one of his relatives of which there were many. His sisters scorned permanent rooms altogether, much preferring their tents or the open expense of the sky - at least until it rained.

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Trick

Trick’s room was the smallest, bar the bathroom. He called it a cupboard with pretentions, fondly but with a more than a hint of truth in it. When you opened the door too harshly, it immediately cracked against the wardrobe that sat directly next to the frame. In order to make it so he could open the wardrobe, he had disregarded a bed frame and there was just a mattress and a tangle of blankets on the floor. There was a small metal radiator underneath the sliding window, painted white with flaking paint. The walls were not in better shape, condensation and heat causing it to curl at the edges. It was not an attractive room.

He had made it his though. Posters of The Smiths, The Cure and Blondie splattered the walls, along with a hundred Polaroids of him and the Burnouts in a hundred different poses and situations. Almost half of them were solely of him and Mel, arms around each other, pulling faces, talking, drinking. The offending camera sat inoffensively in the corner, along with a boom box and a bunch of cassettes. Trick clearly liked his music, it only over shadowed by his love of books. The room was filled with them. He had no bookshelves so he lined the walls with them, balancing one on top of another. King, Barker, Shelley - all the horror greats were represented along with the fifty p paperbacks you could pick up at car boot sales with terrible writing names. There was also a tottering stack of comics and a smaller stack of newspapers beside it. Pens and notepads were beside the bed, along with a lamp and a plastic typewriter. It was beloved even if it was cheap and he would not have given it up for the world. His wardrobe was not just for his flannel shirts and jeans. With a lack of storage space, it was crammed with other bits and pieces too. School bags, a skateboard, a eyeshadow palette, a bottle of vodka hidden in a boot, a single photo of his mother, a note signed with an F. There was all the debris he needed for his many jobs too, a heavy toolbox, newspaper bag and car manual amongst them.

It was a room that seemed too small to contain him as well as thee meagre belongings here and when he was in it, he did feel like it was a cage designed to hold him, suffocate him and keep him here forever. It was succeeding. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Once he gave up, perhaps it would stop hurting. This town was like drowning.

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Alexei

The child who had once lived in little more than a shack now lived in a palace. Sometimes they marvelled at how far they had came but mostly, it just felt like they were where they were always meant to be. They adjusted to royalty as if they had been born into it.

The room was huge and felt like walking into a cavern. The walls were painted pitch black, the carpet a thick, dark red, like drying blood. It was cold, almost enough so that you could see your breath mist in front of you. The western wall was dominated by huge, arching windows that let in the cold winter light. The curtains were swept to the side, the heavy velvet barely used. Alexei liked gazing out of the windows too often. They would sit up in their (four poster, naturally) bed, the silk red sheets and heavy black blanket pooling around him and with young eyes he would watch the snow, or rain, or dark. He only used the curtains in the summer, when sun attempted to invade his sanctum. There was no need for the sun - a candelabra hung from the ceiling and there were candlestick holders scattered on top of the surfaces in white, black and red.

All the furniture in the room was carved out of dark wood, ornately carved. The patterns were birds, flowers, figures, sometimes entire stories across the top of a chest or doors of a wardrobe. When a surface was smooth, it was polished to such a shine you could see your reflection in it. Not that you had to - on the south wall a large oval mirror hung, it’s frame curling with black leaves and vines. It wasn’t magic, but it may as well be. Alexei gazed into it fairly often and seemed to come away dissatisfied or glowing.

There were a few more recent additions to the wall. Stencils of crows, ravens, magpies on the strips of wall between the windows. That was not the most recent addition. The scarlet hand print placed over every one of them was. Alexei’s hand print, naturally. He couldn’t help but be a witch at times like this. Magic curled around him like smoke. Which explained the shelves of odd items and mementos - a lot of bones, a crystal ball, talons, feathers.

There was a door to an ensuite bathroom, black tiled and with a huge clawfoot tub placed in front of a crackling fireplace. There was magic here too, of a different sort. In front of the mirror there were pots of rouge for his lips, a shine for his cheeks. The truth was Alexei rarely used make up - his appearance was naturally a creation of extremes, but sometimes you needed a little ritual, for yourself. There was another place for rituals in his room.

There was a well worn desk, the inkwell full, a long black quill sitting and waiting. Pages and pages of parchment. There was a bookcase beside it, a small, unassuming one. It was filled with hand bound books, ones that Alexei had written. He could throw a scarf over it to hide it if the royal soldiers came a-knocking, but it would take a substantial amount of guts for a single one of them to step inside their territory. The entire place was doused in death and ghosts.

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Lance’s Childhood Bedroom

It is absolutely a teenage bedroom. The bed is still unmade, crumpled sheets in rich fabrics. The walls are covered in pictures of fighters, cross section images, propaganda shots. There’s a few bigger ships mixed in, but it’s clear where his heart lies. There’s an occasional pretty boy, girl or other gender pin up but these are few and far. The shelves at the end of the room hold a few (surely incredibly valuable) books. There’s also a few data slates, a few models, a few old dolls of knights and power armour. An empty hamster cage. A few picts of a very young Lance and his mother. More of him and his father. A couple of him and Astrid, painfully teenage and not yet into his confident phase.

There’s a desk covered in tools and bits of machinery, half made experiments and devices. It’s organised chaos, a notebook open with scrawled text and notations, bits of paper labelling a few pieces on the flat surface. Some of it looks alarmingly advanced. Between that and the books and dataslates, it seems Lance was slightly more nerdy than he cared to admit. There’s some drawers tightly shut.

There’s other random clutter of course, and a messy wardrobe with everything from formal clothes to boiler suits. There’s a hole in the wall suspiciously fist sized, a broken mirror, a stack of older notebooks left in a corner. Storage boxes under the bed, a las pistol tossed aside, something that looks like it might be some sort of ceremonial sword. A bedside table. There is not a single aquila in the room.

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Aeneas

He supposed it counted as a bedroom at this point. He’d been staying in it for almost a year after all. It was a motel bedroom, not quite the cheapest there was but not too far off. In the slow, unintentional way it often did, it had become personal.

A sheer red scarf had been draped over the ugly lampshade besides the bed, softening the harsh glare of the white bulb and bathing the room in a rosy glow. Next to it there was an ash tray, heavily used but often emptied. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter waited expectantly beside it. The bed itself was neatly made, though not by a maid - there was a sign hanging outside the door as it had done for months, warning staff to not disturb. Under his pillow, there was a knife. He didn’t trust so easily, especially now. There were people who would see him dead in a moment.

There was a cheap table that had been treated as a desk. A huge amount of newspapers lay scattered upon it, certain pages torn out or highlighted, articles cut carefully out and placed aside. They all appeared to be about Zeus, the massacre in the Trojan district or Helen. A notebook lay amongst them, full of notes and theories. There were a few cheap books from the library exchange downstairs, crime novels or dry historical non-fiction. He had to while away the evening hours somehow. The half empty bottle of whiskey resting there too showed that much.

He had unpacked his few clothes, each neatly placed in a drawer in the bureau. He didn’t have enough clothes to fill it even half way. Consequently it looked a little lonely whenever he got dressed. He had managed to sweet talk the desk downstairs into giving him an iron so at least the clothes were clean and pressed perfectly. It was in these small ways he felt like he had a modicum of control over his life. He needed that right now.

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Dimitri

He slept in a dormitory. He didn’t mind. And besides, it’s not like his particular Light temple managed to bring in a whole lot of revenue so grumbling wouldn’t have done much good. There were ten beds in this particular dorm, five on each side, neatly spaced out and with a trunk at the bottom end and a bedside table carrying a candle at the top. Dimitri was especially in luck as his bed was underneath a window, allowing him to use the sill as a smidge more storage space. Not that he had much to store. He used it for his symbols of the Light, letting them bask in the morning sun, making them warm to the touch when he picked them up and put them around his neck each day.

The trunk was merely full of clothes and weapons polish. He had arrived here only with the clothes on his back and despite the years passing, the only other objects he had gained had been a few weapons and the trappings of a paladin of the Light. He took great pride in both these things. His tabard was always clean, his blades shone in the sun like diamonds. He tried to be a good example in all things, not just the heroic or exciting stuff. The little things mattered too, like praying every day and practising the magic that flowed through him just as much as his weapons.

The only other things he owned were in his shelf in the bedside table. A collection of small bottles, glimmering green, red, and blue. Healing and magic restoration potions of various types. Then a silver knife rested, waiting.

#prose #characters #descriptions #ocs #bedrooms

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ozai-the-bonsai · 5 years ago

Text

Seiðr, Ragnarøk - Fjor Jutul

[7/7/2020 Edit: The full fanfic is being posted on Wattpad. Currently I have updated it with Chapter 24]

Foreword:

•We only get a little glimpse of Fjor in this chapter since this is the first one. He’ll be more active in the second one.

•I’ll keep the story on Wattpad, I’ll post the first few chapters here therefore I attached the story link (I am posting the chapter first on Tumblr so do not get confused if you just see the cast on Wattpad).

•The main characters Rosalinde and Sven are German, hence there are/will be some dialogues in German in each chapter with a given translation of course.

Enjoy :3

(Wordcount: 3134)

*1* Home Sweet Home, I Guess?

/2nd of March, Sunday/

"Wach auf, meine Liebe, wir sind fast gekommen." (Wake up, my love, we are almost there.)

Rosalinde Griebel opened her eyes slowly upon hearing her mom calling her from the driver's seat. She had been sleeping on the back seat since their last stop –it had always been easy for her to sleep while travelling with the car, especially when she felt annoyed and grumpy. After rubbing her eyes, she straightened and sat the middle seat with a yawn.

"All those language shifts from German to Norwegian still confuse me," Rosalinde muttered as she leaned forwards to turn the volume of the radio up. Then she sat back "I'm still having mixed dreams."

Her mother, Astrid, nodded as she casted a look at her daughter from the rear-view mirror "I know, sweetheart, it is the same for me, too. But when it's just the two of us, speaking German is like an instinct, you know?"

"Of course, we are German, after all. It is only our fourth year in this country." Rosalinde responded while reading a sign they passed by. Edda Municipality. She rolled her eyes in annoyance "In which we had to move for the second time because of you, Mutter." (-e Mutter = mother)

Her mother took a deep breath; it was as if she was sick of Rosalinde bringing up this very topic all the time "Do you really want to do this in the car? Argue with me for the fifth time today?" she asked, her voice was tired.

"Whatever, I'm still mad at you." Rosalinde spoke angrily as she crossed her arms on her chest and moved to the left seat, leaning the door. In fact, this time it was not her mother's fault –the hospital in Oslo, in which her mother worked as an anaesthesiologist, wanted her to be transferred to the one in Edda due to the doctor shortages. Still, Rosalinde was carrying a grudge against her mother because of forcing her to move to Norway when she was 14 and turning Rosalinde's life upside down. Therefore she was using this second moving as an excuse to remind her mother of that thing she would never forgive her for.

Not once she asked about my opinion, whether I wanted to leave my life in Germany behind. It was always about her, about her life. I never understood how she acted that selfish against her own daughter.

If it were up to me, I would have never moved to Norway –not that I do not like it here, Norway is an amazing country but I deeply loved my life in Germany. I loved every bit of Aachen, I loved my friends and I loved my dreams. And then one morning, the woman whom I call "meine Mutter" shattered all those dreams to pieces.

Rosalinde pushed her ginger hair away from her sight as her icy blue eyes focused on a large factory complex. The buildings were emitting too many gases, upon realising that she grimaced "Are they even allowed to emit all those gases? They seem pretty poisonous to me."

Her mother, who had ginger hair just like her daughter, frowned "I am not quite sure." she responded "But I rather not think about that."

Rosalinde shrugged "Have it your way." she murmured while she took her phone from her pocket. As she made the airplane mode off, a notification from WhatsApp appeared on her home screen.

Sven: Hey, sleepy head, are you up yet?

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow as her gaze drifted to the woman driving the car "Mom, how does Sven know that I have been sleeping?" she asked in a suspicious way.

Her mother chuckled while she took a left. They were starting to get close to the city centre "He called me to check up on you when you were sleeping –seems like your phone was off."

"You know I put it on the airplane mode when I sleep." Rosalinde said and turned back to her phone. Her nails with black nail polish were shining as she wrote the reply.

Rosalinde: Yeah, got my beauty sleep.

Sven: How do you find our new home so far?

Rosalinde: Idk, we shall see.

After five minutes, the car stopped in front of a small, blue coloured, triplex house. It also had a small garden, which was separated by the gardens next door with high bushes. Rosalinde and her mother got off the car and started carrying the boxes to their new house, during which another car stopped right after theirs. The first one to leave the car was a blonde, teenage boy. Rosalinde smiled as she saw Sven on her way back to the car to take the last box along with her luggage.

Sven approached her with a smile similar to Rosalinde's "Hey baby boy, you have arrived right on time." Rosalinde called Sven as she took the last box.

Sven rolled his eyes "What do you want this time, Lin?" he asked. It felt like he was coming across with similar scenarios a lot.

Rosalinde sent him a big, fake smile "It is your turn to carry my luggage."

After dropping the things at Rosalinde's house, the duo went outside to the garden. It was near 5pm and the weather was getting colder "It does not seem so bad, does it?" Sven asked, causing Rosalinde to look at him. His blue eyes were on her.

Rosalinde nodded "Well, for now, yes. The view is beautiful actually." she said, then smiled warmly at him "At least I have you with me here –I do not know what I would do if I had to leave my best friend behind once again."

Sven hugged her tight "I am glad you're with me as well. I would not want it any other way. We are lucky that both our mothers were transferred to the hospital in Edda." he said as he caressed Rosalinde's chest-length, straight, ginger hair. Sven's mother was an orthopaedic surgeon "Plus we left all those toxic people back in Oslo."

Rosalinde took a step back, leaving his arms "Toxic people are everywhere, dummy."

Sven rolled his eyes "Just for once, be a little more optimistic." he murmured "You do not have to be as black as the clothes you wear."

Rosalinde stuck her tongue out at him "I am being realistic; you can go live in your little utopia if you want."

Before Sven could snap back at her, the duo heard Sven's mother calling him "Sven, darling, come help us with unpacking!"

Sven smirked at Rosalinde "See you soon, neighbour." he said as he turned back to leave. The wind was messing his blonde hair.

Rosalinde rolled her eyes while she shouted behind him "Saved by your mother as always!"

"Go help yours already, Lin!"

***

It was past 7pm when Rosalinde and her mother were finally finished with unpacking. Rosalinde was lying on the grey couch in the living room, which was together with kitchen, as she scrolled in Instagram while her mother was searching for something in the kitchen. A few minutes later she called Rosalinde.

"Lin, do you want to hear the bad news?" asked the short, ginger haired woman.

Rosalinde didn't even lift her blue eyes from her phone "We have no food in the house and you want me to go get something, right?"

She heard her mother chuckle "Sometimes you make me think that you can actually read my mind." she said "Can you go to Spar and buy us some pasta?"

Rosalinde locked her phone as she slowly stood up "Nope, it does not work on you and you know that pretty well, Mutter." she said while walking towards the stairs "Any wishes as for the pasta?"

Her mother thought for a second "Penne could be nice. Oh, and buy a bottle of red wine as well."

Rosalinde nodded as she climbed the stairs "Can you take out my bike and unfold it? I'll change into something more appropriate –I can't go shopping with my pyjamas."

Arriving at the second floor, Rosalinde went for the second room in the row. There were four rooms on the second floor: the first one was her mothers, right next to it came Rosalinde's. At the right end of the floor was the so-called "hobby room", which was mainly used by Rosalinde when she practiced with her guitars –she had one acoustic and one electric guitar. On the parallel of Rosalinde's room was the bathroom and right next to it were the stairs leading up to the attic.

Opening the white, wooden door she entered her room. The walls were beige for now, she was going to paint them lilac later that week. In her room the first thing to see was her desk, which was at the corner, leaning the parallel wall. It was white, just like the door. On it were her laptop, a grey table lamp, some notebooks, a pen holder and a little cactus in a blue pot. On the wall, which was on the left side of her desk, three wall-mounted, white shelves could be seen. She had placed the snow globes she collected on the highest shelf, then came her candles on the middle one. The last shelf mostly contained random things that she couldn't find a better place to put.

Right next to the desk, a white bookcase with five shelves stood to its left. Only the upper two shelves were full, for that moment. Between the bookshelf and the bedside table was a window. Then to the right of the window she had her bedside table along with her bed, which was leaning the right wall of her room. The bedside table was light blue and had three drawers. In the first drawer she had her jewellery boxes and her hair pins, in the second one came her underwear and socks. The third one contained her pyjamas. On the bedside table she had a picture of her 14-year-old self, graduating from primary school in Germany. There was one other picture which was taken in Oslo the previous year, in which she was with Sven. Other than that she a clear jar that had an amethyst, a pinch of unused ground coffee and a handful of pine needles inside –which kept the negative energies away.

The quilt cover set of her bed was in a darker shade of purple, in addition she had hanged a dream catcher right above her bed. To the right of her bed was another window. Lastly her wardrobe was right next to the door, to its right. Yawning loudly, Rosalinde headed towards the grey wardrobe and took off her pyjamas, throwing them onto her bed. Then she wore a thick, maroon coloured sweatshirt and black, skinny, ripped jeans. As she took a look at herself at the mirror which was mounted on the outside of the wardrobe's right door, an unpleasant realisation hit her.

Argh, I have school tomorrow. And I am going to be the new girl. Again.

Putting her ID and some money in a small purse, Rosalinde took her phone and went downstairs. Her mother was waiting for Rosalinde at the door as she passed her daughter a black leather jacket. Placing the phone and the purse in the pocket of her jacket, Rosalinde wore her black Harley Davidson boots "Well, I'll be back soon." she told her mother.

"Sei vorsichtig, Liebling, wir sind noch ziemlich fremd in dieser Stadt!" her mother shouted behind Rosalinde as she mounted her bicycle. (Be careful, darling, we are still quite foreign to this town.)

Rosalinde did not bother looking back at her "Ich weiß, Mama!" (I know, mom.)

The ride to the supermarket was quite calming in fact. It took her approximately fifteen minutes and the weather was rather cold but she had always liked cold weather, it always made her feel alive and cleared the traffic of thoughts from her head. The streets were mostly empty, she had seen some cars here and there but it wasn't much. As she arrived at Spar, Rosalinde dismounted her bicycle and locked it to a nearby street lamp.

The supermarket was almost empty as well; the red-head quickly took a package of penne and a bottle of Chianti and headed to the cash desk. The cashier was an old woman with curly, grey hair and sharp blue eyes, which made Rosalinde feel uneasy in an unusual way. Upon seeing the blue eyed red-head, the old woman smiled as if she had known Rosalinde in person.

Not bothering to hide her frown, Rosalinde placed the things on the desk as she took out her purse from her pocket. The woman didn't ask for an ID while Rosalinde placed the pasta and the wine in a plastic bag "That's 237 krones." said the old woman. While Rosalinde was handing her 250 krones, their hands touched each other for a moment. The red-head gasped as the familiar feeling of being drawn into a vision surrounded her.

"You are a good kid." said the old woman to a tall, blonde boy wearing round glasses. As she smiled in an odd way, she raised her right hand –on her little finger she had two golden rings –to caress the boy's forehead. The boy gasped for air, his pupils widened for a moment, then returned to their regular shape. At the same time whispers in a different language could be heard.

"You are the chosen one, boy."

"Tor, God of thunder!"

"Innocent blood shall spill!"

"What was prophesised by the Völva thousands of years ago has come to occur –Ragnarøk!"

As the vision slowly let Rosalinde go, the red-head abruptly pulled her hand back. The old woman was eying her in a mischievous way. Quickly shaking herself, Rosalinde took the plastic bag and put her purse back in her pocket "You can keep the change."

Not daring to take another look at the old woman, the red-head left the supermarket at a trot. When she was outside, she took a deep breath in order to steady her mind and her heart, which was beating like crazy.

What the hell was that? And what is wrong with that woman? Argh, this town is beginning to annoy me already!

Should I tell mom about the vision I had?

No, not yet. First I have to see if I can interpret what I saw.

What brought Rosalinde back to reality was the sound of a whistle. After placing the plastic bag in the basket, which was attached to her bicycle, she turned back to look at the source. There were three boys leaning a black, 4x4 Volvo a few meters behind her. The one standing on the right had fair skin with brown hair and from what Rosalinde could make out, he had an attractive face. Next to him stood a blonde boy with his hair reaching his shoulders, he was slightly shorter than the brown haired one. The third one had dark brown dreadlocks at a level with his chin, he had dark skin.

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow in their direction.

The one with the dreadlocks called at Rosalinde "Hey, darling, are you from around here? 'Cus I ain't seen you before."

The red-head rolled her eyes at them as she showed the boys her middle finger and mounted her bike. She could hear one of them saying "Well, Oscar, seems like you've found a tough one here." while she drove away.

***

It was past 11pm when Rosalinde's mother came to her daughter's room, who was chatting with Sven "Meine Lieben, es wird spät und ihr geht zur Schule morgen. Ihr müsst schlafen." she said. (My dears, it's getting late and you have school tomorrow –you must sleep.)

Rosalinde was sitting on her bed crossed legged whereas Sven was sitting on the purple rug, leaning the bed "Mama, wir sind nicht fünf." the red-head spoke in an annoyed way. Sven chuckled. (Mom, we are not five.)

"Meine Mutter erwartet mich in einer halbe Stunde, Astrid, mach dir keine Sorgen." Sven responded with an understanding voice. The woman with ginger, shoulder-length hair smiled warmly at the teens and closed the door. (My mother expects me in half an hour, Astrid, don't worry.)

Rosalinde fell backwards onto her bed "I don't want to go to school!" she grumbled "The new girl process bores me."

Sven pushed a strand of blonde hair away from his face "I am not fond of it either but since we have no choice, just try to enjoy annoying everyone around you, Lin." the boy spoke "Except me, of course."

Rosalinde chuckled as she straightened, once more sitting on her bed "You know me way too well, Sven." she said while she messed his soft, blonde hair.

Sven pushed away Rosalinde's hand "Hey, hands off my hair." he muttered as they heard a scratching sound coming from behind the door. Sven laughed "Well, this was your call, cat mom.”

Rosalinde stood up reluctantly and headed towards the door. As she opened the white door, a grey Scottish Fold entered the room "You just could not stay downstairs, could you?" Rosalinde said and took her cat into her arms, heading to her bed once again.

"Is Valkyrie happy about moving to Edda?" Sven asked while he patted the cat. Valkyrie started to purr.

Rosalinde shrugged "I have no idea, she had been sleeping the whole day –including the car trip." the red-head responded as she raised the cat into the air to level its face with hers. Then she left a kiss on Valkyrie's nose, which in response jumped from Rosalinde's hold and fell on its four feet onto the floor.

Sven smiled "Somebody does not want to be loved tonight." he said while standing up. He moved to Rosalinde's desk and took his coat from her chair.

"Ah, it's just Valkyrie being grumpy like her owner." Rosalinde murmured, then raised an eyebrow at Sven "Leaving already?"

"I am tired, Lin –I wasn't the one who slept straight for two hours in the car." Sven said after wearing his coat "Meet you at eight?"

Rosalinde nodded as she watched him leave "Gute Nacht, kleines Mäuschen!" she shouted behind Sven. (Good night, little mouse!)

"Ich bin kein Mäuschen, Lin, hör schon auf!" Sven shouted back in response from downstairs. Rosalinde laughed, she had been calling him little mouse since they were sixteen to annoy him whenever she got the chance. The biggest reason behind it was the fact that Sven was afraid of mice. (I am no little mouse, Lin, give up already!)

I am so lucky to have a best friend like him.

•

Well, how was it? Was it worth your time? I am literally dying to hear your feedbacks!!!! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter (:

Do not forget to give me feedbacks ((:

Take care ^-^

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lokifarrington-blog · 4 years ago

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Facts To Bear In Mind Before Buying Your Next Jewelry Box

If you aren't a collector including me, purchasing your following jewelry box should be considered a lifetime purchase. You can find very few individuals that should purchase new jewelry boxes frequently unless they would like to. However, unless you please take a few important items into account before making your new purchase then it is possible that you'll not get the right jewelry box so you will need to purchase a different one before your current jewelry box has reached its end of life. Following are one of the issues that you should take into consideration before you make an order. Size Matters: As long as you have jewelry you might need a jewelry box. Which means you're going to require a jewelry box for the rest of your lifetime, unless you intend on eliminating your jewelry all night sans jewelry. Therefore, before you make the following purchase take the following thought into consideration. If you're going to make the next jewelry box go on for the rest of your living days this must be large enough to simply accept your overall collection as well as the jewelry which you supplement your collection in the future. Calculating approximately what number of additional pairs of earrings, rings and necklaces that you're going to purchase and receive as gifts each and every year while simultaneously estimating the number of years you will likely be on earth will help you to figure out how large your jewelry collection will probably be and subsequently how big your new box must be to accommodate all of this jewelry. If you don't take this exercise seriously then you are going to have to replace your overall jewelry box in the foreseeable future with a larger one or consider having multiple boxes to accommodate your collection. Construction & Craftsmanship: The previous adage you will get that which you buy applies here also. Obtain a cheap jewelry box and it's likely that good that you'll want to get new belongings quickly. Spend a little more money to acquire a quality box and it'll likely work for a lifetime if properly looked after. When it comes to a jewellery box, study its quality and craftsmanship. Is it glued together or possibly it put together with sturdier construction methods? Could be the hardware real brass or perhaps is it fake brass that's more likely to tarnish quickly? Could be the lining secured well and neatly done? Carefully examine these items and don't hesitate to invest more to get a quality box. Quality jewelry boxes need not be overly expensive; however, they may not be going to be the cheapest on the shelf. With respect to the sized the therapy lamp, it wouldn't be uncommon for the quality crafted jewelry box to cost $150 - $300 or even more for even larger boxes.

Color, Style & Design: This might appear to be a simple thought however it is none the less important: Should you choose no purchase something that you like, matches your personality and matches using your decor you happen to be ultimately not going to be very pleased with you buy the car and you will probably find yourself wanting something new. So before you go an investment a new jewelry box take the time to take into account what style you need. Are you wanting a thing that is vintage giving the impression of a box that's Victorian in style or are you searching for more modern and contemporary? Looking for something that is ornate with numerous intricate woodwork or are you searching for something simple, clean and minimalistic? Color is definitely an important factor and you ought to put some thought into this. If you're looking for a wooden jewelry box, would you like the wood to fit furniture and stay stained with the same color or looking for something which is painted with bright colors or maybe a design? Having some thoughts at heart before going looking will assist to restrict your alternatives and may simultaneously make certain you end up having something you will enjoy and never immediately regret and even replace. Since the majority jewelry boxes find yourself becoming an integral part of your bedroom decor, it is essential that you set some thought into i would love you want and not make an impulse buy. Consider the Lining: Creating a jewelry box is all about protecting and organizing your jewelry, however, without the proper lining you might not be offering the security to your jewelry that you just originally intended. The linings that you need to look for include suede, faux suede and felt. Additionally, when you have lots of silver jewelry that is certainly susceptible to tarnishing you may want to think about a tarnish resistant lining. When considering a tarnish resistant lining attempt to avoid ones that are chemically treated because chemicals could ultimately wind up on your jewelry and subsequently on your skin. Anti-tarnish linings that employ specks of silver to get the sulfur naturally given off by silver jewelry which in turn causes tarnishing would be best. Additionally, attempt to avoid silk, it's too slippery and can give your jewelry to slip around or velvet mainly because it will dent easily and small fibers from your velvet may ultimately fade away and collect inside the crevices of the jewelry. Jewelry boxes not only serve a practical purpose but they're also supposed to be enjoyed. Through some time to set a bit thought into the next purchase you will be much happier and certain find something last a lifetime. Carefully chosen, a jewellery box may become a fundamental piece of your property decor while also serving to guard and organize your jewelry collection and ultimately may be the following family heirloom. For more information about Hop Dung Dong Ho Tphcm resource: click for info.

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welcometoaucklandtatum-blog · 5 years ago

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Everything You Could Possibly Need To Know About Auckland

It’s no easy feat making a move to a new city. But never fear, we’ve rounded up a local’s guide of the best things to try, buy and eat around town so you can live your best life here in Auckland!

Food

We’re happy to report the foodie scene here in the city of sails (it’s a nickname, just go with it) is thriving. Whether you’re looking to get dumped by gyoza or the best fried chicken in town, check out the below for tried and tested local gems.

The Coup, Takapuna – Dare we say it, The Coup puts the colonel’s 11 secret herbs and spices to shame. Don’t pass up a chance to give one of their game-changing Po’ boys a try.

The Blue Breeze Inn, Ponsonby – Any Aucklander will tell you The Blue Breeze Inn is one of the best in town. Featuring a pan-Asian inspired cuisine, head here for a legendary Mai Tai (or two). While you’re at it, order a round of dumplings, pork belly bao and XO noodles. We warn you this spot is addictive!

Eden Noodle House, Mt. Eden – Speaking of dumplings, Eden Noodle House is legendary among locals for a cheap bite. Often with lines out the door, you can’t go wrong with anything on the menu – they’re that good.

Rude Boy, Freemans Bay – Offering classics done right, head here for ultra gram-worthy dishes and sprawling cabinet food that’ll make your mouth water. We recommend the mixed creamy mushrooms or if you’re on the go, a sourdough doughnut from the cabinet.

Sugar, Northcote Point – Take a day and head out to the Chelsea Sugar Factory to Sugar. Their high tea is a must for special occasions and is complimented with some of the best views in town.

Winona Forever, Parnell – Another café doing good things, the Eton Rifle French toast is not to be missed. The big breakfast plate also hits the spot.

Oh Calcutta, Parnell – Serving the best Indian in town, once you try their butter chicken and tandoori salmon, no other will compare.

De Setti Soldi, Epsom – A small but mighty family-run Italian spot offering fresh classic pasta and pizza. You’ll fall in love at first bite.

Prego, Ponsonby – Another fabulous Italian spot offering excellent Italian cuisine. Their spaghetti agioli is a must-try.

Wu & Yu, Mt. Eden – A whacky and wonderful blend of East and West, Wu and You’s menu boasts dumplings, soft shell crab tacos and a dessert menu to die for.

Garden Shed, Mt. Eden – The closest a café will come to a garden picnic, The Garden shed keeps things classic and focusing on flavour and presentation. Their burger is one of the best and not for the faint-hearted.

Giapo, CBD – You’ve never seen ice cream like this before. Prepare for your mind to be blown.

Dr. Rudis, Viaduct – To finish off those big work weeks look no further than Dr. Rudis. Featuring an in-house bowling alley, micro-brewery on-site and live music, see out the week from their rooftop.

Headquarters, CBD – Another after-work favourite, head here for a cold beer, lounge in the sun and boogie to Dad music.

Miann, Morningside – For handmade chocolate creations. BYO stretchy pants.

Lowbrow, Queens Rise CBD – Southern American foods at its finest.

Bars

Deadshot, Ponsonby – Tucked away on Ponsonby Rd, Deadshot is a table service bar where bartenders come to you and whip up a concoction based on your preferences.

Caretaker, CBD – Same as above but in Britomart underground.

The Churchill, CBD – A rooftop gin bar in the Four Seasons on Queen Street. At an international standard, head here when you’re wanting to impress.

Talulah, CBD – A tiki bar with strong neon hues and even stronger cocktails. Our advice, tell the bartender to surprise you, you won’t be disappointed.

Chapel, Ponsonby – Not a destination but a stop along the way on any big night out.

AV Club + Saturdays, CBD – A one-stop spot for when you’re in the mood for a quiet one and a boogie. Saturdays keep things mellow while AV blasts house music at its finest.

Family Bar, K Rd – A hub for the local LGBTQ+ community, head here for non-stop Britney and Beyonce all night long.

Beauty/Hair

We’ve already made the questionable choices, so you don’t have to!

Spring Spa, Ponsonby – From facials to pedicures they do it all! Pro Tip: Ask for Kushbu when booking, she’s a threading genius.

Dry & Tea, Newmarket – For when you want a little more sparkle for a night out.

Rose Quartz Hair Studio, Parnell – One of Auckland’s best kept secrets, owner Michaela’s hands are magic when it comes to hair. And her chat is great too!

Blaze, Newmarket – Masters of their craft when it comes to hair colour.

Health

Sweat up a storm at these spots.

Box Fitness Studio, Newmarket – A boxing class like you’ve never seen before!

Westward Cycle, Newmarket – A spin class by candlelight. Think of it as a dance party on your bike.

KCore Pilates, Victoria Park – Feel the burn at one of the best reformer Pilates classes in town.

Body Tech – Offer curated fitness programmes backed by research, not claims.

Morning People – Pre-work rave? Keep an eye out for weekly pre-work raves at local bar Cassette.

Shopping

Key malls to check out are Sylvia Park Shopping Centre and Westfield Newmarket. Expect to find classics including H&M, Zara, Kookai, David Jones and Decjuba.

K Rd, CBD – Head here for thrift shopping. Check out Stalgic Society, St Kevins Arcade and The Army Shop.

Ponsonby – A hub for local designers including Ruby, Lonely and Deadly Ponies. Head to Tatty’s for pre-loved designer treasures.

Things To Do

Waiheke – A hop, skip and ferry trip away, Waiheke is a wine-lovers paradise. Vineyards to checkout include Cable Bay, Casita Miro and Mudbrick.

Beaches – Classics include Mission Bay, Kohimarama, Takapuna, Piha and Red Beach.

Staycation - For when you want to get away without getting out, head to The Hotel Grand Windsor. You’ll find yourself immersed in olfactory hospitality with lush rooms, a spa on hand and flowing cocktails from Cooke’s Restaurant & Bar. Dreamy!

Day Trips – Just over an hour and a half away, locals escape to Matakana and Omaha at every chance they get. Matakana’s weekly farmers market is legendary as is Omaha’s expansive range and surf.

Night Markets – On the hunt for local up and coming foodie trends? Look no further than the Auckland Night Markets, where many of Auckland’s hotspots have started.

Rangitoto – Another short ferry trip away, you aren’t an Aucklander until you’ve done the trek up Rangitoto at least once.

Auckland War Memorial Museum – Learn all about basically anything with a stroll around the Auckland Museum.

Cornwall Park – Our answer to a central park, Cornwall makes for the perfect running route and picnic spot.

The Capitol – Level up your dating game and book a movie at The Capitol, a hidden boutique cinema that’s equal parts intimate and magical. And within walking distance of your house!

Stream – While we’re sure you’re missing Stan, we have a killer slate of streaming options. Check out Neon for the latest and greatest movies and HBO drops, Lightbox is only good for The Handmaids Tale, and TVNZ OnDemand, home to The Bachelorette, Grey’s Anatomy and is 100% free!

Creative Mornings – A free series of morning talks from local creatives and industry leaders; topics vary but you’ll only leave having learnt something new. Tickets are limited so be sure to register on creativemornings.com to be in the know!

A Guide To Speaking Kiwi

Guilty of merging and switching vowels and ending every sentence like we’re asking a question; us Kiwis sure do make it hard for newbies to fathom exactly what we’re saying.

Instead of nodding, smiling and acting like you completely understand this unique accent, find an empty room, say the following words out loud and soon enough, you’ll be convincing everyone (and yourself!) that you are a true-blue Kiwi!

Dick: A wooden platform outside a house. Usually enjoyed in the summertime.

Tin: One more than nine.

Iggs: Laid by chickens and often enjoyed with evercardo on toast.

Chups: Chips.

Fush: Found in the sea and enjoyed with chups.

Why-poo: Small seaside town.

Tiddy Beer: Your cuds favourite stuffed toy.

Cud: A young person or goat.

Beer: Large mammal often found in forests.

Beer: Not clothed or covered.

Beer: A cold beverage enjoyed in the summer.

Rung: A piece of jewellery worn on a finger.