#amethyst (SoD)

[enneadau]

An Example:

Of how things can change between original planning and production. For example after what Otogi pulled, this version of Marik would not have worked:

Yugi smiled as she entered her bedroom to find, for the seventh day in a row, a bunch of flowers led on her desk with a simple white card. Dropping her school bag and moving over to the desk her smile broadened as she saw the same awful handwriting on it as had been there for the last few weeks but the words on it made her pause.

 “To Yugi, here's some beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl. Please make me the happiest boy in Domino by going on a date with me. Love Namu.”

 She tried not to giggle at the eye roll she could sense from her twin sister at their new friend's cheesiness. Namu was cute, she had to admit and it was nice to get flowers from someone. She had never had a guy truly interested in dating her before but the intern was nice, friendly, fun to play games with and he clearly wanted a date.

 She did not know if she should though. She had Anesan to consider before she said yes to his question. It was not fair for her to date anyone who did not know about the Spirit of the Puzzle. Especially when her twin regularly took over to play games and hang out with their friends...still...

 'If you want to go out with him, Imoto, then I'm not going to say no.' Oneesan spoke up as Yugi sat on the bed and considered what to do. 'You're allowed to date...we can always tell him about me later.'

 'Yes but...' Yugi hesitated. She liked Namu. She really did. She just did not entirely feel comfortable with saying yes without telling him everything. It was only fair for her to do so before they tried a relationship.

 'If you like him then I trust your judgement, Imoto. Go. Talk to him.' She felt her Anesan settle down to wait, 'If he's okay with what you tell him...he might be worth keeping.'

 Yugi laughed at that. Namu had been working in the shop since she had been hospitalised because of the fire. He was only on a temporary contract over the summer and it was due to end in the next few weeks. She and grandpa had been discussing whether to extend his contract and had not yet come to a decision. 'Alright, alright. I'm going...'

 She stood and headed down the hallway to the kitchen, where she knew Namu was heating up his food for his break and paused just out of sight of the doorway when she heard his voice. She frowned slightly as she realised he was on the phone, which to be fair he was allowed to be since he was on break and tried not to eavesdrop, something that suddenly because much more difficult when she heard, “Yes, sister, I know. I know. No, I'm not...I'm aware that I'm supposed to be getting close to her. Why do you think I've been courting her vessel...”

 Yugi suddenly felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart, her face paling as she backed up.

 He knew.

 He not only knew but he had been using her to get to Anesan...

 She could not handle it.

 She could feel Anesan's anger rising, but her own emotional pain and swirling thoughts kept the spirit from seizing control and shaking Namu until he started telling them the truth.

 Yugi put down the flowers and fled back to her room, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

---

Anzu frowned as she reached the top of the stairs in time to hear a door slam.

 Doors slamming in the Mutou residence was a rare occurrence. Neither of the Mutous displayed their anger that openly and when they did snap it was because someone had pushed them to their limits, in fact she had never seen Yugi lose her temper properly with anyone before. Jou was prone to fits of rage, though he was getting better on that front, but even he did not slam doors around here, especially not during the day when there would be customers downstairs in the shop.

 What worried her the most was that it sounded like it came from the back of the flat, towards the bedrooms, rather than the store room that had been converted to a bedroom for Jou when he had first moved in. Ojiisan would be working the shop right now, which meant that somehow, between Anzu pausing outside to answer her mobile phone and now, Yugi had been provoked into an incredibly rare display of anger.

 Concern flowed through Anzu as she made her way through to Yugi's attic conversion bedroom, noting the flowers on the side by the kitchen and Namu eating his breaktime meal in the kitchen as she went, and reached Yugi's room to find that yes, for the first time in pretty much forever, Yugi's bedroom door was shut.

 “Yugi?” Anzu asked, trying the handle and becoming relieved when the door opened, having half expected Oneesan to have barricaded it with magic or something. The door opened almost silently, not that the occupant of the room noticed. Yugi was curled up on the bed, back facing the door, her body trembling. Anzu could hear the faint sounds of her crying into a pillow as she approached the bed quietly and bit her lower lip as she realised her friend was hurting. She had a horrible feeling she knew why as she put her hand on Yugi's shoulder.

 The girl jumped a mile, the pillow going flying and furious ruby overtaking bloodshot, puffy amethyst and though under normal circumstances she had no fear of the spirit of the Puzzle any more, Anzu put her hands up and backed off to show she was not a threat, “Easy, just me. What's happened?”

 “Namu can go fuck himself.” Oneesan hissed out, her tone so close to the old days, when whatever Namu had done would have resulted in a Shadow Game that Anzu winced.

 “What's he done?” She asked, worried now. “Is Yugi okay?”

 “No. You know all those flowers and chocolates and games he's been leaving Yugi? And all the flirting he's been doing?” Oneesan's tone did not improve as she stretched and stood up, her body language reminding Anzu of a big cat on the hunt. When Anzu nodded the Spirit of the Puzzle continued, “Imoto finally decided she was going to take a risk and agree to go out with him...”

 “And he's changed his mind?” Anzu asked, wincing when Oneesan snorted dismissively and shook her head.

 “He's never been interested in her.” Anger rose in Anzu at the Pharaoh's words. “It's not Imoto he's been after. It's me. Imoto heard him on the phone, talking to his sister. He's been 'courting' Imoto in order to get close to me.”

 Anzu's hands balled into fists. Suddenly Oneesan's pure fury made perfect sense. Yugi had not entirely been comfortable with guys, except for Jou and Honda, since she had been kidnapped by Hirutani's gang. She had actively avoided any guy who had tried to flirt with her and kept herself well away from any potential relationship. For her to finally decide she liked a guy enough to make that jump and say 'yes' to him and hear that...no wonder Yugi was devastated and the spirit was fuming. Anzu wanted to smack him herself.

 “What's your plan?” Anzu asked, watching the Pharaoh pace the room like a caged animal and staying out of her way.

 “I'm too angry to decide.” Oneesan admitted with a grimace. “I want to Challenge the little...sod, but I shouldn't do that in the shop. And I want to ask him questions because he clearly knows about me, except I'm so pissed off right now, that I can't trust myself to listen to what he's saying properly.”

 “And what does Yugi want to do?” Anzu nodded, thinking.

 “Curl up in a ball and cry for a bit.” Oneesan sighed, closing her eyes so she could focus properly on how her other heart was feeling, “Then get whatever information he has for me before staying in here until his contract is up and she doesn't have to see him again.”

 “Can't you ask Ojiisan to let him go now?” Anzu's confusion caused Yugi to come out and shake her head.

 “N-No. I-If we fire him now, i-it's for personal reasons, not business ones...he could sue.” Yugi's voice shook as she went and sat on her bed, wiping her eyes and trying not to start crying again in front of Anzu, no matter how much her heart hurt. “And we c-can't afford a l-lawsuit right now. Not after the f-fire...”

 Anzu hesitated for a moment, then sat next to her and pulled her into a hug. Within moments Anzu could feel Yugi shaking in her arms and she rubbed the girl's back as she felt tears sink into her top. “He's an ass, you're better off without him.”

 Yugi did not cry for long but when she pulled away her shoulders were drooping, her head hanging low and her eyes showed how unhappy she was was. Anzu pushed her own anger aside to sigh, “Hey,” Yugi looked up at her, “We're going out.”

 “B...but...” Yugi started but cut off when Anzu shook her head.

 “No buts, I'm paying. We're going out and getting pizza. From that place with the all you can eat dessert bar.” She knew she had Yugi's interest when she saw the girl lick her lips, “No boys. Boys smell.”

[dresupi]

Adore Me - Dramione

for @evolution-of-magic​ Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger 1,556 words Rated T

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

I’d love to.

Draco had set a dangerous precedent.

Or at least, to him, it appeared that way. Nearly a year before, he’d been biding his time, working with Granger, and slowly showing her that he was a changed man. Or really, that he was a man with differing ideals from the snot-nosed brat of a child he had been.

Merlin, when he thought about himself in school, he visibly cringed. Never mind what happened when he saw the dark mark on his arm.  He wore long sleeves to cover it up, but sometimes, the very knowledge that it was there at all kept him up at night. He’d been working off an evil, fascist delusion, brought on by godlike worship of his father.  A father who rotted in Azkaban as he, himself, stood free.

A father who would likely never know his son’s heart. Or see his son truly happy. Draco was fine with that. Lucius deserved nothing of the sort.

But it was still there. Still heavily present as he approached Granger long ago, on that day, exactly one year before. He’d known there was a very strong possibility that she’d turn him down. But he had to try. She smelled so good, and she was so beautiful it hurt. He’d known it was imperative that he at least make the attempt.

So he’d asked Hermione Granger to dinner. Draco’s words hung stationary in the silence for what felt like ages before she responded. With a smile, she nodded. “I’d love to.”

Ever since that day Draco had felt as if he were living someone else’s life. Someone who was good. Someone who deserved to have this goddess of a woman to wake up next to every morning. Who deserved to choke down her awful pancakes that she refused to make with magic. Who deserved to have her forgiveness surround him like a warm blanket in the middle of a big freeze.

She felt warm. Her love was warmth, and he wanted nothing more than to give her something half as warm as she was.

That was why he’d planned this proposal. It wasn’t the way wix had done it, well… ever. They were usually small affairs, an agreement made in the company of both party’s parents. They’d agree upon marrying, set a date, and let their parents know all in one go.

It had become a sort of spectacle in its own way over the years, with one partner or the others’ parents trying to plan more and more opulent settings for the discussion to take place.

Pansy’s, for instance, had taken place at her parents’ holiday home in Maui. Which hadn’t necessarily won over Neville Longbottom’s grandmother, but he supposed they all got a nice holiday out of it at any rate.

But seeing as their circumstances were different than most everyone else, he had decided on a proposal to match. One that was decided more muggle in nature.

It was why he’d rented out the very same restaurant where they’d had their first dinner together exactly a year before. It was also where he’d stolen a kiss on the sidewalk outside while they said the world’s longest good night.

And it was where he was going to ask her to be his wife.

Every time he thought about it, he felt like he had bats swirling in his belly, flapping their wings and tickling him from the inside. His wife. Her husband. For the rest of their lives.

Merlin, it was a lot. Not too much, mind. It was something they’d both discussed in the way of the vaguely distant ‘someday’.  It was Draco who’d taken it upon himself to define someday as today.

He’d hired a band. Well, he’d hired a bunch of enchanted instruments to serenade them throughout the meal. It was just as good as a band.

Draco had even thought to order the same food they’d each ordered that night.

And he had a ring.

Another muggle custom that wix didn’t take part in. Well, there was a ring. But it was a ring with the family crest on it. The ring that indicated you were now under the protection of the other’s family. And both partners received one. It wasn’t anything old or antique usually. It was the trend now for the mothers to design crest rings for their child’s partner.

But considering his family were the Malfoys, he didn’t want to assume that Granger would be stepping under their canopy of protection. If anyone was being protected, it was him.

He couldn’t imagine his mother was too broken up about not designing a ring for Hermione. Not that she didn’t like her, because she did. A lot. Took her on shopping trips all the bloody time. On weekends when Draco would rather have his witch all to himself.

But his mother had gone back to her maiden name and started giving away so much of her family money left to her via inheritance, that the name Black now incited passivity, rather than heavy cringing.

Mum would likely agree with him that to place Hermione under the protection of either name would only tarnish hers.

So that left him with the ring he’d chosen from a shop in Muggle London. One he’d found thanks to Hermione’s best friend and his old nemesis, Potter.

The ring was done in rose gold, and Potter had said something about blood diamonds and wrinkled his nose in a grimace. And even though blood diamonds sounded fascinating as hell, Draco ceded to Harry’s judgment and opted for a different stone. He chose a purple one that glittered in the light, an amethyst, according to the jeweler.

He’d been very patient with Draco as he’d chosen the setting and the cut.  And now that the finished ring was in his pocket, he found he could scarcely breathe.

Hermione arrived promptly at seven but didn’t realise that he’d rented out the entire restaurant for the evening and thus, waited outside for him to arrive. The Maître-d’ informed him of this snafu, and once he went out to meet her and insisted that the restaurant was indeed open, they were swiftly seated at the table he’d chosen.

She looked around for a long moment. “You rented out the dining room.”

“You always were a clever one, Granger,” he deadpanned.

“This is the place where we first ate together,” she continued. “I obviously remember that. And since today is our anniversary, you decided to make it special?”

“Indeed.” He waited to see if she’d guess the rest of it, but instead, she took a sip of her wine and looked round.

“It’s rather quiet when there’s no one else, isn’t it?”

“Would you rather there be more noise?”

“Almost. I can hear your thoughts. I can’t make them out, but I can hear them.”

“That would make you the world’s worst legilimens.”

She peered at him but had no more guesses.  It was then that their food arrived at the table.

“Wait, I never ordered--” Her quizzical face broke into a grin when she saw what slid in front of her. “This is what we ate last time.”

“Is it?”

“It is, you romantic old sod.” She nudged him under the table with her foot.

He was going to wait until dessert arrived, but he just couldn’t any longer. He reached for her hand.

“Granger?”

“Malfoy?”

“You know you’re absolutely the best--”

“I’d love to,” she interrupted.

“What?” He frowned, looking down at her hand. What had he said?

“Move into your flat? That’s what you’re asking? I mean, I practically live there anyway--”

As much as he loved to wax poetic about Granger, she never failed to take flying leaps from the pedestal he placed her on and kick his arse on the way down.

Merlin help him, he adored her.

“You insufferable know-it-all, I’m trying to ask you to marry me, Granger.”

She froze then, looking down at their joined hands and back into his eyes. “What… here? What about your mother, and my parents? Isn’t this supposed to be--”

“A symbolic pile of garbage, yes. But instead, I thought the better way to do it would be to insult you and then propose. I nailed it, didn’t I?”

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You absolutely did, you horrible prat.”

“So will you?”

“Will I what?” Her smile was infectious and he pulled the ring out of his pocket, holding it out to her.

“Marry me?”

“Of course I will, bloody git.” She took the ring from him and slid it on her finger. It looked fantastic, glittering in the low light. “Can I kiss you now, or will that mess up the dancing flatware bringing out our second course?”

He stood and she practically leaped into his arms, wrapping hers around him as their lips found each other almost by instinct. “Hate to break it to you, but there’s no dancing flatware.”

“Damn it all, and to think this was almost a perfect evening,” she teased.

“I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you, Draco.”

He kissed her softly once more. “I could enchant the dishes to do a little dance for you at home.”

She chuckled. “I’d rather if you did a little dance for me at home.”

“I’d love to.”

[winters-tales]

Lesson

Stones are a witches tool.

They means crystals of course, when they say that. Quartz. Amethyst. Malachite. These are a witches tools. This lesson is not about those particular traditions, though they have their place. Gather closer.

Flint. Basalt. Hard-baked clay, red with iron. Salt.

These are my tools, though many a witches circle has tutted me out of their gathering with disapproving looks. They don’t see them as sacred.

But they are my tools, hallowed and revered and sacrosanct to those who know how to wield them.  

Flint is old, and the rage of ages are folded into its striations. Flint will hold ill intent, or self-righteous intent; be careful how you use it, although wiser heads than mine will tell you it’s easy to mistake one for another. It’s hard to know the difference between self-righteousness and maliciousness when you’re on the receiving end.

Good. Those on the receiving need not know; all they need know is that they have earned your ire, and Flint will not be subtle in its delivery of that message. Pack Flint into your slings and be ready. Practice your aim with sods of earth on dummies of Yew; the curses in the earth will break apart harmlessly.

Flint is sharp. Flint carries strong intentions well. Flint will take the payment for the curses it holds with each drop spilled from caster and recipient alike.  

Flint is brittle. If your intentions waver, your tools will shatter. Be sure of your cause before you take up these intentions.

Basalt is young, not yet hardened into granite. Basalt is potential, the path towards strong and unyielding. If you wish you be a shield, you start by keeping Basalt in your shoes to ground you. When you no longer get pushed back, a pebble of Granite may then take its place; pass the Basalt you no longer need onto someone who also wishes to become a wall. They too will harden into granite over time, ready to protect those who fling the Flint with sharp intent. Ground yourself to your core and stand ready. Enemies will respond with curses of their own; build your resistance by taking the place of the Yew dummies.

Basalt is strong. Basalt holds fast and lets its resoluteness be the message. Basalt takes only the payment of shoulders broad enough to be the solidity you promise you’ll be.

Basalt is rigid. It weathers and changes slowly. Make sure the cause you devote yourself to is one you are willing to stand fast in for centuries to come. You cannot deviate now.

Clay is a foundation, and can be moulded into anything you wish. You are not a God, although the Clay will ask you to be; be careful you do not listen to it too closely. Good red clay, laced with iron, will try to compel you less, but it will try to compel you regardless. You must be stronger than the iron it holds within it to shape it to your vision. If you cannot find iron in your clay then a nick of a finger will add it to the mix and make it pliable only to you, though you’ll always be tied to that wherever you lay that first brick. Throwing such a brick is the same as laying it carefully. Fire the moulds of the future and be ready.

Clay is life. Clay is the beginning of whatever you can dream. Clay takes the payment you can give, though it will try to wheedle more from you.

Clay is fluid. It moulds and forms into whatever you want, and if your mind strays while Making you can make something Wrong, but it will still be Yours. Any words you breathe into it will remain there to be spoken through the rest of time.

And then there is Salt. A simple crystal used for cleansing, pure and clearly defined. Salt has been romanticised as a cure-all but do not be sucked in by oversimplifications. Dismiss this crystal at your peril.

Have you ever been in a hospital? Cleaning a festering wound is messy business, and metaphysical wounds are no different. Hold your breath if you must, think of lavender if it helps, roll up your sleeves, and get to work.

Salt is older than Basalt, older still than Flint. The rage of Flint has dissolved away into forgiveness, the stoutness is something Basalt can only aspire to. Salt is comfort for every witch, and anathema for any enemy.

Salt is soothing. Salt tends to you gently and refreshes your purpose. Salt needs no payment, it just needs you to keep going, and it’ll be ready for when you need a moment’s respite once again.

Salt is sharp. Salt is an eternity of patience, of the oldest curse leaving offspring stationary, family trees withered, and lands barren.

And when all’s said and done, salt is just as effective loaded into shotgun shells for a brutal and efficient dispersal of negativity from your surroundings. Sometimes all you can do is cauterise a wound to stop the bleeding.

--

Inspired by @elsewhereuniversity and the Knights who may need weapons to wield as they patrol the halls and grounds. 

[mindareadsoots]

Limb enhancers for Amethyst?

That’s some full circle irony. Not only was Amethyst the one who threw away Peridot’s limb enhancers, she made it a personal project to help Peridot get over them in Too Short To Ride. And now some poor sod has the unenviable task of sticking a set onto her.

[mays70welsh-blog]

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[buffymidgey]

his hands are empty

there is a man who leads another man to a treasure he cannot possess.

the treasure chest stands in between them.

the poor man gives, he gives, and he gives, and the rich man takes, and he takes, and he takes.

his hands are empty, and his are full.

the one who is richer, who has seen the finer things in life and commits debauchery, is the face of many media.

but the first, the one who lives in poverty and shirks the idea of corporations, systems, and power, has a better story.

one dismisses the idea of taking a break, he has much to lose.

the other is not in absence of suffering but does not fear loss.

the poorer man sees the rich man open the hatch, and with keen eyes, observes him unraveling a jar of exorbitantly rare gems and jewels, amethysts that cost more than a house.

the rich man, with a brilliant smile on his face, dons the new rings and chains and comes home to gloat to his wife.

"i am rich," he says, his beaming smile never leaving his face. "i own many things, i own an expensive house, a lucrative business, and i'm married to a loyal woman who loves me."

the poor man, with sod between his fingers and toes, trudges to an alleyway that which he has made his home. after idling for 24 hours, he picks up his violin and plays.

eight dollars a day, he thinks.

that is my salary.

it was a subway sandwich.

sometimes it was a bag of chips and a hotdog.

he plays.

raspy but melodic, the strings buzz as he glides the bow across.

a man notices him. he sports a patronizing glow in his eyes. "sir, you're a wonderful violinist. here, have some money."

a woman notices him. she's graced with a smile. her contrasting sardonic tone rolled off her tongue; "is this your street? take your money and go."

the man takes half an hour. takes his yield and leaves.

today was a good day.

the rich man is in his office at home, his feet neatly resting on the ornate desk. "reservation for two, please," he says smoothly through the phone.

he hangs up.

it rings.

"yes, hello?"

the voice on the line tells him his business has been going through a rough patch, the public is losing interest in the industry.

his fingertips quiver.

"what are you talking about?"

he is losing money. he is losing fame, he is losing reputation.

his throat is scratchy from screaming.

the rich man wants control. he wants to control media, the masses, everyone below him and everyone above him.

his foothold has rewarded him with control over his career, social repertoire, and most importantly, money.

the instant he falls down half a yard, he's tumbling hundreds of miles.

the rich man's hair is gray, on its way to white.

he bunches hair on his scalp, eyes bloodshot. he grinds his teeth.

he sits there for a while.

he cries.

he is a character blurred between power and happiness.

the poor man has aspirations, he does.

but the poor man doesn't want money.

he wants to become better at the violin.

[amazythelsblogs]

Amazythel and the Seven Kingdoms

There was once a young girl, the sweetest little child of gentle purple eyes, who, despite suffering so, gave all her love to even the smallest of creatures.

Our little Florita, born of a magical flower under a Glorious Moon, bearing gifts the world has never before seen. A child who leaves a trail of stars everywhere she goes, and heals the darkest of hearts.

One day, on her way to school, Florita came across a funny little fellow, a bug named Veveren, frantically searching for his home. Florita, of course, set out to aid his search, but instead of finding this home of his, they found themselves in the most glorious little party! Dancing with the butterflies, to the music of a thousand twinkling bluebells, and they soared, twirled, spun and jumped themselves into a galactic whirl of purple, spinning into darkness.

Once they returned to their senses, they found that the darkness what intact the inside of a giant flower. The giant flowers of the Silver Moon Forest!

- yes finally! The three little princesses squeal excitedly

-

The flower opened its petals to reveal the sparkling jungle of the Silver Moon Forest, where silver trees twist into a whisky violet atmosphere and cast shadows with their purple leaves and flowers, where flowers sing, and where Silver Moonians swing from glowing vines.

Veveren tumbled from the flower in bewilderment, and Florita watched in shock as he transformed into a sweet little ivory cub, and-

- and as the magical purple swirls appeared in her arms! -

Yes, as she remembered that this was her home.

As the two took in their surroundings, a cluster of sparkling beings fluttered around them, and revealed them selves to be the Guardians of the Silver Moon Forest! Among them, the very same one who had looked after Florita when she was a baby.

- Huitipeka’a!

Who bundled the little Florita in her arms and gave her the Diadem of the Luamenakara

- the gift of the moon council!

The Guardians were delighted to finally find their leader, although Florita was a little confused, after all, she was only a little girl, how could she be a leader?

- she’ll understand soon enough, the Eldest stated excitedly

At once the Guardians whisked Florita and Veveren off to the -

- KNOCK BANG! A loud thud on the playroom door wakes the four girls from their dreams, accompanied by a loud, rough and gruff “Bedtime!”

“Oh that grumpy old sod” the Youngest says, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out towards the door.

“Amalie don’t be rude,” the Middle one says, soothing her little sister’s mass of curly hair.

Amazythel smiles,

“Tomorrow we’ll return to the SilverMoon Forest, and maybe we’ll find out something new. I suppose it’s a good thing, because you make Mama take us to the same part of the story every time.”

“Yes, and I was hoping to find out more about dear Huitipeka’a, how is it that she looked after little Flo, if she lives in the Silver Moon Forest?”

“And is it really called the Silver Moon Forest, Mama? Do they truly speak the language we do?”

“I’d like to see the school Florita goes to, I so wish to go to the one in the village, please Mama can we visit the children tomorrow?”

“And pick some blackberries too? How I’d love to make the Forest Fruit pie you told about once, I can’t quite recall which story we tasted it in”

“The Seventh Kingdom, the one with the Pirates of the Trees”

“No that’s the 3rd one, where Amazythel lived in a tree house and shot walnuts from a golden slingshot!”

“Perhaps so, that’s my favourite one, the most exciting I think”

“Mine is the one about Amazythel’s home, you know, the lost kingdom”

“That one makes me very upset, it’s such a shame that her beautiful home was destroyed so horridly, especially her enchanted garden, and the amethyst meadows, and poor little No’Oname”

“Mama, when will No’Oname return to her? It’s been long since you mentioned him, I think Amazythel must miss him dearly. I would. He’s the sweetest”

“I wish I could meet them all, every single one of these characters”

The Crown Duchess rose as her daughters chattered, dimming the lampions on the bedside table, and putting out the candles around the playroom, until the space was illuminated by the moon filtering through the tall crystal windows, casting gentle pinks and rainbows around the room.

After so, she climbed into bed and the four girls snuggled as little bear cubs do in the winter, allowing the sparkles of the moon to lull them into a sweet sleep.

[chiefbelieverstarlight]

“The Wizard Way” by Aleister Crowley

VELVET soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew Where its ray fell light as dew Lighting up the shimmering veil Maiden pure and aery frail That the spiders wove to hide Blushes of the sylvan bride Earth, that trembled with delight At the male caress of Night. Velvet soft the wizard trod To the Sabbath of his God. With his naked feet he made Starry blossoms in the glade, Softly, softly, as he went To the sombre sacrament, Stealthy stepping to the tryst In his gown of amethyst. Earlier yet his soul had come To the Hill of Martyrdom, {37} Where the charred and crookèd stake Like a black envenomed snake By the hangman's hands is thrust Through the wet and writhing dust, Never black and never dried Heart's blood of a suicide. He had plucked the hazel rod From the rude and goatish god, Even as the curved moon's waning ray Stolen from the King of Day. He had learnt the elvish sign; Given the Token of the Nine: Once to rave, and once to revel, Once to bow before the devil, Once to swing the thurible, Once to kiss the goat of hell, Once to dance the aspen spring, Once to croak, and once to sing, Once to oil the savoury thighs Of the witch with sea-green eyes With the unguents magical. Oh the honey and the gall Of that black enchanter's lips As he croons to the eclipse Mingling that most puissant spell Of the giant gods of hell With the four ingredients Of the evil elements; {38} Ambergris from golden spar, Musk of ox from Mongol jar, Civet from a box of jade, Mixed with fat of many a maid Slain by the inchauntments cold Of the witches wild and old. He had crucified a toad In the basilisk abode, Muttering the Runes averse Mad with many a mocking curse. He had traced the serpent sigil In his ghastly virgin vigil. Sursum cor! the elfin hill, Where the wind blows deadly chill From the world that wails beneath Death's black throat and lipless teeth. There he had stood – his bosom bare — Tracing Life upon the Air With the crook and with the flail Lashing forward on the gale, Till its blade that wavereth Like the flickering of Death Sank before his subtle fence To the starless sea of sense. Now at last the man is come Haply to his halidom. {39} Surely as he waves his rod In a circle on the sod Springs the emerald chaste and clean From the duller paler green. Surely in the circle millions Of immaculate pavilions Flash upon the trembling turf Like the sea-stars in the surf — Millions of bejewelled tents For the warrior sacraments. Vaster, vaster, vaster, vaster, Grows the stature of the master; All the ringed encampment vies With the infinite galaxies. In the midst a cubic stone With the Devil set thereon; Hath a lamb's virginal throat; Hath the body of a stoat; Hath the buttocks of a goat; Hath the sanguine face and rod Of a goddess and a god! Spell by spell and pace by pace! Mystic flashes swing and trace Velvet soft the sigils stepped By the silver-starred adept. Back and front, and to and fro, Soul and body sway and flow In vertiginous caresses To imponderable recesses, {40} Till at last the spell is woven, And the faery veil is cloven That was Sequence, Space, and Stress Of the soul-sick consciousness. “Give thy body to the beasts! Give thy spirit to the priests! Break in twain the hazel rod On the virgin lips of God! Tear the Rosy Cross asunder! Shatter the black bolt of thunder! Such the swart ensanguine kiss Of the resolute abyss!” Wonder-weft the wizard heard This intolerable word. Smote the blasting hazel rod On the scarlet lips of God; Trampled Cross and rosy core; Brake the thunder-tool of Thor; Meek and holy acolyte Of the priestly hells of spite, Sleek and shameless catamite Of the beasts that prowl by night! Like a star that streams from heaven Through the virgin airs light-riven, From the lift there shot and fell An admirable miracle. {41} Carved minute and clean, a key Of purest lapis-lazuli More blue than the blind sky that aches (Wreathed with the stars, her torturing snakes), For the dead god's kiss that never wakes; Shot with golden specks of fire Like a virgin with desire. Look, the levers! fern-frail fronds Of fantastic diamonds, Glimmering with ethereal azure In each exquisite embrasure. On the shaft the letters laced, As if dryads lunar-chaste With the satyrs were embraced, Spelled the secret of the key: Sic pervenias. And he Went his wizard way, inweaving Dreams of things beyond believing. When he will, the weary world Of the senses closely curled Like a serpent round his heart Shakes herself and stands apart. So the heart's blood flames, expanding, Strenuous, urgent, and commanding; And the key unlocks the door Where his love lives evermore. She is of the faery blood; All smaragdine flows its flood. {42} Glowing in the amber sky To ensorcelled porphyry. She hath eyes of glittering flake Like a cold grey water-snake. She hath naked breasts of amber Jetting wine in her bed-chamber, Whereof whoso stoops and drinks Rees the riddle of the Sphinx. She hath naked limbs of amber Whereupon her children clamber. She hath five navels rosy-red From the five wounds of God that bled; Each wound that mothered her still bleeding, And on that blood her babes are feeding. Oh! like a rose-winged pelican She hath bred blessed babes to Pan! Oh! like a lion-hued nightingale She hath torn her breast on thorns to avail The barren rose-tree to renew Her life with that disastrous dew, Building the rose o' the world alight With music out of the pale moonlight! O She is like the river of blood That broke from the lips of the bastard god, When he saw the sacred mother smile On the ibis that flew up the foam of Nile Bearing the limbs unblessed, unborn, That the lurking beast of Nile had torn! {43} So (for the world is weary) I These dreadful souls of sense lay by. I sacrifice these impure shoon To the cold ray of the waning moon. I take the forked hazel staff, And the rose of no terrene graff, And the lamp of no olive oil With heart's blood that alone may boil. With naked breast and feet unshod I follow the wizard way to God. Wherever he leads my foot shall follow; Over the height, into the hollow, Up to the caves of pure cold breath, Down to the deeps of foul hot death, Across the seas, through the fires, Past the palace of desires; Where he will, whether he will or no, If I go, I care not whither I go. For in me is the taint of the faery blood. Fast, fast, its emerald flood Leaps within me, violent rude Like a bestial faun's beatitude. In me the faery blood runs hard: My sires were a druid, a devil, a bard, A beast, a wizard, a snake and a satyr; For — as my mother said — what does it matter? {44} She was a fay, pure of the faery; Queen Morgan's daughter by an aery Demon that came to Orkney once To pay the Beetle his orisons. So, it is I that writhe with the twitch Of the faery blood, and the wizard itch To attain a matter one may not utter Rather than sink in the greasy splutter Of Britons munching their bread and butter; Ailing boys and coarse-grained girls Grown to sloppy women and brutal churls. So, I am off with staff in hand To the endless light of the nameless land. Darkness spreads its sombre streams, Blotting out the elfin dreams. I might haply be afraid, Were it not the Feather-maid Leads me softly by the hand, Whispers me to understand. Now (when through the world of weeping Light at last starrily creeping Steals upon my babe-new sight, Light — O light that is not light!) On my mouth the lips of her Like a stone on my sepulchre Seal my speech with ecstasy, Till a babe is born of me {45} That is silent more than I; For its inarticulate cry Hushes as its mouth is pressed To the pearl, her honey breast; While its breath divinely ripples The rose-petals of her nipples, And the jetted milk he laps From the soft delicious paps, Sweeter than the bee-sweet showers In the chalice of the flowers, More intoxicating than All the purple grapes of Pan. Ah! my proper lips are stilled. Only, all the world is filled With the Echo, that dips over Like the honey from the clover. Passion, penitence, and pain Seek their mother's womb again, And are born the triple treasure, Peace and purity and pleasure. — Hush, my child, and come aloft Where the stars are velvet soft! ALEISTER CROWLEY. {46}

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Preview 2

Idk... fuckin short chapters always take me longer to write. Also I’m just generally being a lazy fucking sod who isn’t feeling well and would very much like to die. So you know, business as usual. But I’m tryin. :P So here’s this, aka original stuff! Hooray: 

While Stan usually would have countered the white Gem’s condescending behavior with some kind of sharp, witty retort, instead he simply seemed to shrug it off and respond in a way almost no one had been expecting. “Alright then,” he said, his tone as calm and collected as his expression. “If this ‘mission’ or whatever it is is so important, then I guess I’ll just have to go with you guys.”

“What?!” everyone, save for Garnet, exclaimed in stunned unison at this sudden twist, their surprise only growing as the conman started to nonchalantly head towards the warp pad himself.

“You heard me,” Stan shrugged, hardly even phased by their shocked expressions as he addressed the twins in particular. “Its about time I go on one of these nutso Gem adventures with you kids. And considering what happened with that whole hand ship thing, I think I have a right to come along and make sure you two don’t get beat up by any more of those ‘Homeworld’ jerks.”

“Aw, yeah!” Amethyst exclaimed excitedly before any of the others could even react. “I’ve always wanted you to come on a mission with us, Stan! It’ll be just like a Revenge Trip, only with like, higher stakes, I guess. Still, it’s gonna be awesome!”

“Yeah, it will be!” Steven grinned, equally as enthused. “Finally, all seven of us, going on a mission together! I’ve dreamed of this day for so long now! We’re like one big, huge, super team!”

“We should call ourselves the ‘Crystal Pines’!” Mabel chimed in brightly.

“Whoa! We should!” Steven gasped, stars in his eyes. “We can make matching team tee-shirts and everything!”

“Please, no more tee shirts,” Dipper deadpanned, nodding over to the still plentiful pile of unfolded shirts still lying on the floor on the other side of the house.

“Now, hold on just a minute!” Pearl interjected hotly as the kids started to get carried away in their excitement. “Stan, you are not coming with us!”

“Oh, really?” the conman asked dryly.

“Really!” the white Gem reiterated harshly. “We’re going to track down a Homeworld Gem with intel and resources far beyond our own. This could be incredibly dangerous, and the last thing we need is for our attention to be divided because we have to keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me?” Stan repeated with a caustic scoff. “Oh, that’s rich. Maybe you don’t remember how I was the one who saved you three from that horde of zombies?”

“W-well… yes, but-”

“Or that you apparently had to be saved from those ‘dangerous Homeworld Gems’ by three kids?”

“Alright, b-but that wasn’t-”

“Seems to me like you three could use all the help you could get,” Stan concluded with an almost smug grin. “And luckily for you, I’m nice enough to offer that help, so you might as well take it.”

“Ugh, like we even need your-”

“You can come,” Garnet interupted Pearl’s bitter refusal, her expression alone showing that she was growing impatient with this ongoing debate.

“But, Garnet!” the white Gem protested amidst Steven, Mabel, and Amethyst’s shared excitement and Stan’s clear satisfaction.

“Hey, P, no butts except Stan’s up here on this warp pad!” the purple Gem quipped with a rowdy laugh.

“Yeah, you heard her,” Stan remarked triumphantly as he finally stepped onto the rather crowded warp pad. “Move over and make some room, Pearl.”

“I can’t believe this…” Pearl growled to herself, clearly quite displeased with this turn of events. Even so, she figured there was no use in arguing with it, seeing as how they had wasted enough precious time as it was. “Still, if we have to have one more along for this mission, I suppose its best to take the necessary precautions…” With a relenting sigh, her gemstone began to glow as she pulled a medium-length, thin, elegant rapier with a symmetrical, ornamental guard and a blueish tint to its glistening edge. “Dipper, here,” she said with a small smile as she handed this sword to her already amazed pupil, who was even more awestruck as she entrusted it to him out of nowhere. “That is the Ancient Sea Blade. I stole it off a Homeworld Gem during a fierce underwater battle back during the war. But I don’t have much use for it nowadays, and seeing as how this is your first real mission since you’ve been training under my tutelage, it only makes sense that you go in properly armed.”

“Whoa…” Dipper said in apt muted wonder as he held the stunning blade up for Steven and Mabel to get a better look at. “This thing is so… so cool! Thanks, Pearl! I promise I’ll be super careful with it.”

“I trust that you will,” Pearl nodded with warm approval.

[thetumblingdyspraxic-blog]

5/Let’s Fill Tumblr With DysprAwesomeness Today (Reblog and Share Your Positive Dyspraxia Stories!) CN s*x mention

POSITIVE THING #5: COLOURS

I <3 COLOURFUL THINGS.

I love really bright colours. When I was a baby, apparently I loved yellow things. When I was about 6 I liked pink a lot. When I was 10 I was enamoured by amethyst and turquoise colours. At 15, bright, electric blues and burning reds. As a young woman, I go for deep purples, fuscia, and lots of green. 

Really there’s no colour I don’t like. I like combinations of clashing colours like blue and orange, red and green, or purple and yellow (although this one has been spoiled for me somewhat as it’s the colours of a very racist and homophobic party that governs my home town). 

I’m very sensitive to light and it’s often unpleasant to walk down the street on a sunny day. But on a day when I’m in an open space full of different coloured flowers, or I can see the ocean and the sky, or a valley full of trees in autumn, or fields, it’s not so much like a sensory overload and more like a sensory orgasm (sorry to those who are sex repulsed but I don’t know how else to explain it!).  It fills me with such strong feelings like I want to cry, or laugh, or jump in the air and whoop. I feel like a dog or a rabbit when they get a burst of energy and run through the grass like a rocket. There have been times where I’ve been able to express these feelings, but not often. It’s not really “acceptable” for a grown adult to do these things, so I often photograph things I love or draw them later. Unfortunately, cameras don’t pick up on the intricacy of thne colours or their vividness, and I don’t really draw the thing, I end up drawing a massively exaggerated version of the thing because a line-for-line representation does sod all justice to the way it makes me feel.

My mum grows lots of different coloured flowers in her garden. That home has lots of negative associations, mainly because of her, but one thing she didn’t manage to spoil was the sight of marigolds and montbretia glowing as brightly as the sun itself. And my ginger cat who looked like he was made of pure gold when the sun caught his fur. My favourite photograph of him is him lying down under the montbretia bush like a little fluffy sunbeam.

When I see rainbows I don’t even want to blink because they don’t happen often. I sometimes wonder if they will ever appear again, or whether it’s the last one I’ll ever see. I get the same excitement as I did when I first saw one when I was three years old. It’s like a little cosmic gift. 

When I was on holiday in Cyprus with my boyfriend and his grandparents they found it slightly annoying how I was photographing nearly every Bougainvillea tree I encountered, but they all looked so stunningly beautiful in their own different ways and I didn’t want to forget any of them. They were every shade of pink and orange in front of a sky that was deeper than any blue I’d seen in England. I didn’t want to leave. 

I wear a lot of bright colours and brightly coloured eyeshadow, especially in the summertime. I suffer from depression a lot and it does nothing for me to contour my face and dress in something smart or form fitting any more. I find that I feel so much better in something loose and colourful and sparkly. It might make me look immature and childish but the wonder I felt looking at these colours as a child has not gone away and I don’t want it to either.  How do you guys feel about colours? Anyone react to them like I do? Reblog, comment, and share!!!

[pilawforhire-archived]

@spottedsoftpaws from [x] [x]

Law could not explain what had possessed him to ask Lucci such bold and risque questions. He had simply barged in on Lucci one fine afternoon armed with his phone and a list of naughty questions that he posed under the guise of doing a survey for some bullshit psychology class he did not have. Still, he hadn’t expected Lucci to oblige him so freely, which was a pleasant surprise… Law recorded all of Lucci’s answers keenly by entering them into a note on his phone.

Lucci’s preference of public sex over being filmed raised Law’s brows with curious interest. Being tied up over a blindfold had Law forcing back a smile as racy imagery flashed through his mind. The mention of bondage gear had Law biting down on his lip; Lucci speaking of biting had Law swallowing hard. Clothed sex wasn’t anything exciting but his heart raced anyway. It was becoming a challenge to keep his voice steady and his expression impassive.

When Lucci brought up a risky location, Law’s eyes flickered to Lucci’s face as Lucci pulled him close. Law flopped down onto Lucci’s lap and caught a whiff of the fresh scent of Lucci’s soap. Law’s gaze dipped to Lucci’s lips and lingered. However, Lucci had other plans, and proceeded to nibble Law’s jaw.

Law fought to concentrate on holding his phone tight and continuing with the rest of the questions. He scrunched up his face into a frown in a poor attempt to conceal any other emotion. Yet, as Lucci’s nibbles moved down Law’s neck, Law emitted a soft groan. It was becoming a challenge to keep up with his questions without risking a boner. Nevertheless, Law clutched his phone and pressed on, needing to finish what he started.

Lucci’s desire to watch him squirm had Law shifting in Lucci’s lap. He arched his neck and scooted closer to Lucci. If it weren’t for the inconvenience of the chair being in the way, he would be wrapping all his limbs around Lucci’s person. Law plastered a scowl as he finished the rest of the questions, in vain hopes of preventing himself from sporting an erection.

At Lucci’s expression of his wish for Law to dominate him, Law had to interrupt. “What, you think I can’t?” Law patted Lucci’s face. “Just you sit tight and wait.”

In spite of his attempts to remain relaxed, Law tensed up involuntarily when Lucci’s hand slipped under his shirt. Not in a bad way, but if Lucci were to tease his nipples, Law wasn’t sure if he could hold back any longer.

Lucci’s suggestion of binding Law to the bed and fucking a stranger before his eyes had Law jerking his head toward Lucci. Law narrowed his eyes. “Why… Why ‘m I bound to the bed for…? Oh, so I can’t join in? Like I’d even stay to watch,” he said sulkily. Oh, he totally would. In fact, he would film it all, unless Lucci actually bound him to the bed, rendering him immobile…

Law finished up all the questions and saved Lucci’s answers on his phone, only for Lucci to pose those questions back at Law.

There was a brief moment of hesitation with Law pressing his lips together and contemplating how generous and forthcoming he ought to be. Eventually, he caved – it was only fair, since Lucci had answered everything. Although Law never intended to divulge his preferences, he figured there wasn’t anything to lose…

[Amethyst: film themselves or have sex in public]

“…Pub—Huh, why not both?” Law said, returning Lucci’s smirk. He slid his hands over Lucci’s chest. Admittedly, the thrill of risking being caught was… exciting…

[Peridot: wearing a blindfold or being tied up]

A faint frown flickered over his expression. Both seemed unpleasant… While being tied up would be interesting to try, that would require trust in Lucci. It would depend, perhaps, on where he was tied up and how.

“…Mm, blindfolded.” After some difficulty and fumbling, he adjusted himself to sit straddling Lucci’s lap.

[Diamond: crossdress or try wearing bondage gear]

“Okay, that depends. What bondage gear?” He couldn’t agree to anything so quickly, obviously… “And are we in public? How long do I’ve to wear it for? Details are… very important.” Honestly, he wouldn’t mind either, if it was only for Lucci’s eyes… A little apprehension was expected, but he supposed neither could really do any harm…

[Topaz: get bitten or bite their partner]

“Bit—Both, I don’t know.” He leaned toward Lucci and gently brushed his lips over Lucci’s.

[Citrine: give a strip tease or have clothed sex]

Yeah, after the previous incident of him trying and failing to give a proper striptease, that was not happening again, not unless he was dead drunk or wished to make a fool of himself. Still, oddly enough, part of him despised the failure and wished for a second chance…

“…Depends. Are we in public?” He gave an impish smile and combed his fingers through Lucci’s hair.

[Quartz: a dangerous partner or sex in a risky location]

Well, one risked death, depending on how “dangerous” this partner was – a serial killer? A psychopath? The other option risked getting caught and most likely spending the night in jail. Any sane person would pick the lesser of both evils.

“…Hmm, we could pick a risky location and you could pretend to be dangerous – and then I laugh in your face because you’d be a terrible actor,” he snorted. He continued to play with Lucci’s hair, twirling it around his fingers.

[Ruby: having serious sex or laughing with their partner]

“Depends on what we’re laughing about, yeah? If I’m the topic of mockery, you can bet the mood’ll be shot to death in an instant.” He pulled a sulk. “So yeah, how about neither? Let’s face it. Have I seen you laugh? Have you seen me laugh? We’re not the happy-go-lucky, cheery sods, are we?”

[Aquamarine: someone with lots of tattoos or none at all]

“Lots of tattoos,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “’Bout time you got some matching ones.”

[Garnet: have a rough short session or a gentle long one]

“…Okay, these questions are actually dumb. I can’t believe I asked… Yeah, that’d depend, how many times… how often? How rough? How gentle? A mix of both…?” He paused in thought. “Rough, but not that rough… Not that short or long… Mo… Something moderate—Surprise me.” He was never able to answer questions without absolute specifics, it would seem…

[Emerald: dominating or being dominated]

“Yeah, you haven’t exactly let me try the dominating part, have you?” Law frowned. “I’m certain I’d like both.” At that, he started to roll his hips over Lucci’s.

[Sapphire: sleeping with someone younger or older than them]

“…Ol… Don’t know. Not too young. Older,” Law said. “But that doesn’t really matter, age…”

[Onyx: hatefuck a friend or sleep with a stranger]

“Both, both.” He continued the thrusting motion of his hips with his arms wrapped around Lucci, before he stopped abruptly when an idea popped into mind.

“…Hey, wanna… try… If we combine all your answers, that leaves us with…” He pulled out his phone and opened the note with Lucci’s answers from earlier. “…Sex in public, being tied up, wearing bondage gear… biting, clothed sex, risky location, gentle and long, me dominating you… ending with you fucking a stranger…” He raised his brows. “We can leave out the last one for now… About everything else, where should we go? The… public park?”

[ao3feed-stevenuniverse]

Snubbed Subs

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gPxBik

by Rivet

The final chapter of "Steven Universe's Futanari Follies".

Words: 1000, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Steven Universe (Cartoon)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Steven Quartz Universe, Jasper (Steven Universe), Lapis Lazuli (Steven Universe), Mayor Bill Dewey, Pearl (Steven Universe), Amethyst (Steven Universe), Doug Maheswaran, Jamie (Steven Universe), Greg Universe, Rose Quartz (Steven Universe), Sour Cream (Steven Universe), Peridot (Steven Universe), Temple Fusion (Steven Universe)

Relationships: Steven Universe/Jasper (Steven Universe), Steven Universe/Amethyst (Steven Universe), Steven Universe/Temple Fusion (Steven Universe)

Additional Tags: Femdom, Futa, dickgirl, Futanari, Girlcock, girldick, Feminine Penis, hermaphrodite, Intersex, Clod!, Sodding clod!, Submissive Male, Surreal humor, Absurdist Humor, Black Comedy, Dark Comedy, Humor, Satire

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gPxBik

[wallpapernifty]

The Worst Advices We’ve Heard For Dwarf Dogwood Tree | Dwarf Dogwood Tree

Q We absolutely admire your columns and are acquirements a lot about plants and agronomical in Northwest Arkansas from them. We’re in the Eureka Springs area, and these are a brace of photos from an understory timberline by our driveway. It blooms in backward May/early June every year, and we can’t amount out what affectionate of timberline it is. We accept a lot of copse on our property, but alone one of these. Could you amuse advice analyze it?

A You accept one of the beneath accustomed brand of dogwoods that are built-in to our state. I would say this one is the rough-leaf dogwood, Cornus drummondii. Best bodies anticipate of the beyond beginning dogwood as the alone dogwood, but there are several brand of dogwoods that are baby understory trees, and they accept clusters of white flowers like this one. The berries that your timberline produces will be white and are admired by abounding birds and wildlife.

Q I accept a bulb that I aloof articular as a rose campion. It is blooming now with a ablaze amethyst flower. This bulb backward blooming although the foliage was small, all winter. I am apprehensive if it will aftermath seeds so I can autumn them and alpha added flowers? I accept no abstraction area I bought this to activate with.

A Rose campion, or Lychnis coronaria, is a admirable pass-along plant. Don’t deadhead it (remove the spent flowers) because it can advisedly reseed. It tends to move about in the garden. You will apprehension the bond of argent foliage continued afore the blooms appear on. While the amethyst blush is the best common, there is additionally a white-

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[popularcultureshaman]

i'm watching anthropological reality shows

my hens get amethyst their omlettes taste like ornate cashmere throws when they come back from reiki massage their skin looser than sod i'm watching anthropological reality shows on canasta boats these eels are totes and ala carte i'm à la mode i'll eat that pie and that marmalade my car gets massaged in the supermarket parking lot right next to the calamar

i get into a bus converted to a small home drive thru forage forest jaguar conveyer belt cashew nut milk for the uggs tilt i get rugs still and they float like moonshine i wring out the flagrant foul purple potato monologue podium orchestral bodum pours artisanal connoisseurs and the carnosaurs that love them four gloves for the oven ten nails for the microwave one hammer for the grill a cedar branch for the nann cave

[serpantssiren-blog]

Damnit

I had barely made it down the path to the gate before the old man was out the door, drunken and deranged. Cussing like a sailor at the top of his lungs. He’d wake the neighbors at this rate. I raised my want just as he rounded the bend of the fence after me. I would curse the old fool if I had to, damn what the ministry bylaws on underage wizardry said.

I wouldn’t stay. Not another minute.

“Come back here this instant you ungrateful little queer!” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Oh, now he was trying to be quiet. Didn’t want the neighborhood knowing his meal ticket was a fruitcake huh?

“Sod off!” I cried turning on the balls of feet and storming off, pulling my trunk along behind me.

“I’ll jinx your fucking prick into your arse I swear dad! Then we’ll see who’s queer eh?!”

I finally made it to the end of the block, my house a lighted blot in the distance behind me. I pulled my hood a little higher over my head and down the bridge of my nose a bit before sticking out my want. A purple triple-decker bus materialized down the black driving up to a stop where I stood. The doors flung open and I got on without a look back. I was headed to Diagon Alley. I’d claim the money my mother and grandfather had left for me, get my school supplies and then it would be on to King’s Cross.  I’d be damned it I allowed the old man to ruin my first year at Hogwarts for me.

 Dad hadn’t always been crazy and deranged. But after mom’s death, he just got worse and worse. Being a squib from a pureblood wizarding family had always been a big burden on him but after mom’s death, it was like suddenly the buffer between him and all that was gone. He became almost cruel and hard. Constantly berating me for every little imperfection of which truthfully there were little. I was every pureblood family’s dream. Intelligent, quick-witted, magically talented for my age and though I didn’t wish to sound vain fairly attractive. Dad used me to try and reestablish himself in the higher pureblood social circles but grew jealous when I ended up being far better received than he was.

 I set on one of the many, small beds that served as seating on the knight bus, tucking my trunk away underneath. There was no one on the first level of the bus. I was alone and for the first time in a long time, I let myself cry. I cried for my mother, for my father, for myself. I cried for how angry and hurt I was and how cruel he could make me. I must have cried myself to sleep because the next thing I knew I was being roughly shaken awake. There was a rather red-faced man looking down at me.

“you were headed to Diagon Alley right?” he asked.

I nodded rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Well, that’s where we are, kid. It’s your stop. BLIMEY! Are those eyes natural? Are they some kind of jinx?” said the young man getting a bit too close to my face.

I had the same eyes my mother had and her mother had. The greyish purple color that was a startling contrast to my dark skin.

I shoved my way past him, tapping my wand on my hip to summon my trunk and have it trail behind me.

I got off the bus with neither a word no backward glance. The leaky cauldron was directly across the street where the bus had stopped. Stepping out onto a muggle street required I drop the enchantment from my trunk, and cast a quick charm to darken my eyes a bit. Didn’t need some stray muggle catching sight of them beneath the hood of my cloak and asking questions.  My eyes were an oddity to wizards and witches alike but to muggles, them downright frightening.

 Inside the Leaky Cauldron was a complete shift from the muggle world outside. Witches and wizards went about their activities in complete open.  No one spared my presence much attention as I moved to the back of the tavern into the small back area outside faced by a large brick wall.

I took my wand and sighed.

“Ok let hope you remember the pattern.” I breathed out

I tapped a selection of bricks and stepped back. The wall began to shift and roll and fell away to reveal the entry into Diagon Alley. I let out a sigh of relief. Stepping out onto the crowded street I was quickly swept up in the hustle and bustle of witches and wizards going about their shopping before the school year began their shopping. I enchanted my trunk to fallow me once again and made my way to Gringotts. As I went I passed by the window display of the magical menagerie and stopped. There in the window among a rather large litter of kitten of blinding white and peach was a single dot of darkness. It was a small black kitten, with tufted ears and piercing purple eyes, almost as vibrant as my own. She seemed just as disinterested in her brothers and sisters as they seemed in avoiding her. I made my way to the shop and up to the display. Our eyes locked and she uncurled herself from where she had been resting far from the others and came right up to the glass wall of her display to me. I ignored her companions who had noticed their sister’s attention had begun to mewl and meow for my attention as well, and reached in and picked her up, which I had the impression she normally wouldn’t allow.

“Oh, my!” cried a voice over my shoulder.

A tall thin woman came over to me, a shocked look on her face.

“That damned beast has never come to anyone let alone allowed her to be held without scratching the bloody hell out of someone!”

“How much is she,” I asked looking back at the cat holding in my out starched arms.

“and why are your eyes purple? Is it hereditary?”

“actually we aren’t sure. She was just born like that. My husband thinks she’s part something else. ( galleons but are you sure you want her.”

I ignored her last statement and paid her the money plus a little extra for food, a cage and the prettiest collar she had.

“come along Amethyst. Let's go get the money grandfather left us.” I cooed to my new familiar.

 My cart was loaded down with everything I needed for school as I stared down platform 9 and 3 quarter. Plus few things bought simply because I wanted.

Amethyst mewled from her posh carrier

“I know. I know” I quieted her as I prepared to make the run needed to break through the barrier.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pushed myself forward building up a good speed and rushed forward.

The first thing I perceived I perceived was the shift in sound. The chatter of the platform wasn’t as ruckus as it had been a second ago. I opened my eyes and gave a sigh of relief.

“We made it” I breathed leaning heavily against the cart.

I’m not sure what I was really afraid of. I knew the barrier would let me through.

“Excuse me, young sir”

I turned to find a station worker peering down at me

“Where are your parents?”

 Crap! I had forgotten the ministry had put a law in place stating that all minors had to be accompanied to the train station. I instantly began to internally panic. What would they do if I told him I was here alone? Would he not let me board the train? Would he try to contact my parents? Put out a call to the ministry to try and locate my father? That alone was more terrifying than not making it to Hogwarts. So I would have to do what I did best. Charm and lie.

“Oh, they’re muggles, and can’t pass the barrier. I’, sure if you just pass through you’ll be able to find them right on the other side.” The lie was bitter on my tongue, being a pureblood wizard was a source of pride. Though I had nothing against muggle-born saying it was like swallowing dirt, even if it was a simple lie.

“Oh, they usually send have people waiting for a muggle born. Someone must be slacking on their job, probably Jameson.” The guy grouched.

“Ok just tell me what they look like and I’ll escort them through.”

I pulled my hood down and stared up at him; batting my thick lashes around my purple eyes.

“Look for a woman with long pitch black hair and eyes just like mine. You won’t be able to miss her.”

He stared into my eyes then blinked a few times as though trying to clear his head then nodded and dipped through the portal.

I didn’t wait for him to return. I hurried onto the train not looking back, hood back in place and tried to find an empty train cart. There was a girl with bright red hair already sitting in the cart staring out the window. Her entire demeanor screamed, “sod off!”

I pulled into my cart not bother to ask if it was taken of giving a single fig for her standoffish demeanor. Robinsons didn’t ask for things. Inquire? Sure, if the need called for it but never outright ask. I shoved my trunk into the overhead compartment along with Amethyst and her carrier and set down in the corner close to the door trying to be as unnoticeable as I could, a crime I assure you.

At some point, another boy joined us. Tall and long-limbed with feathered ear length hair. We all seemed consent not to introduce ourselves, so with a raise of my eyebrows, I went back to dozing in the corner.

The abrupt stop of the train woke me sometime later as I heard my car mates begin to move about. I quickly pulled my trunk down, set the cat carrier atop it and followed them out into the throngs of students making their way down the train aisle

We all exited the train onto the platform where we were greeted by the biggest man I have seen. He towered over us by at least a good 4 or 5 feet.

His long hair and beard were a grizzled graying mane akin to an old lion’s and seemed to grow into his warn, shaggy brown  trench coat

“Come along first years!” he bellowed in a deep gravelly voice.

“Come along first years! Is that all of ya? Good now, this way. Make sure not to fall behind you lot in the back!”

I followed as much as I disliked being oared around, how could not.

We were lead down a winding path stopping only when we came to a vast black lake covered in pretty little boats holding golden lanterns or perhaps simply orbs of light. In the distance glowing like a magical megalith was Hogwarts castle. It took my breath away. Imposing and welcoming all at once.

“Alright first years into the boats and watch yur step!” bellowed the large man clearly impressed with how awestruck we all seemed. I quickly schooled my face not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

One by one we stepped into the boats, 6 or so of us to a boat. Some of the kids stumbled, others were on unsteady. I heard a splash and sure enough, someone had fallen into the lake. I simply strode into the boat like I had been around them all my life, which in a way I had. Grandfather had owned many many boats, though by the time I was born he had retired them to a yard.

The boats began to move, tugged forward by some invisible force. Once int eh center of the lake, I chanced a look into the water and held back a scream of terror.

There were faces in the water.  Floating alongside the boats. For a single solitary moment I feared them dead bodies, infri or zombies then I noticed large almost luminous, almost fish-like eyes and grey skin speckle din silver and bluish/green scales.

Mermaids, Scottish merrows to be exact and they all seemed to be following my boat alone. The other 5 or so kids on the boat were in a state of shock and awe, pointing and leaning over the sides to get a better look. Strangely enough, however, the merrows seemed far more interested in me. They ignored the outstretched hand and fingers of the other children trying to get their attention, in exchange for keeping their glowing yellow eyes on me. Startled and unnerved  I turned my gaze back forward towards the castle, resolute on the school looming ever nearer and ignoring the sudden urge lingering at the back of my mind to dive into the water with them.

We finally made it to the castle and were quickly hurried away from the boats and up a long winding path into the castle. I pushed the strange little incident with the mermaids out of my mind. We were met by a short portly woman. She assisted a rather tall boy who seemed to be the one who’d fallen in the lake by drying his robes with her wand.

“Alright children, fallow me and stay close.” She said after sending the boy back into the ranks of students with his friends. She marched off and we all followed up the stairs and into the castle. She started in with some speech about the journey we were about to begin and the illustrious history of the school but I was far too distracted by the grandeur of the castle. Stone shoulders and hourglasses and suits of armor adorned everywhere with images of the houses emblazed on most walls. Portraits fallowed us from one frame to the next. We came to a pair of large doors and the short lady told us all to make two even lines. When she was satisfied she tapped the doors and they slowly inched open revealing a grand hall where throngs of students set at long tables under banners representing their houses.

All the kids around me seemed nervous but I was nowhere near as easily shaken. I held my head high and lead the few other braver and more in the know students down the aisle behind the women till we reached the front of the halls where there was another long table filled with adults who I figured were our new professors. Infront of them was a small stool with an old ragged hat atop it. suddenly just as the last of us had filed in and the doors to the grand hall have closed the seam near the front of the hat ripped open and the thing began to sing!

Another year has come around

Another season passed

Another troupe of wide-eyed youths

Before my stand; amassed

Come and place me on your head

Come and let us see

I’ll sort you now into your house

The place you deserve to be

In Gryffindor where bravery is valued most of all

Or Ravenclaw where quickest minds harken to the call

Perhaps in Hufflepuff where loyalty rings true

Or maybe in Slytherin where they’re ambitious

Through and through

So come and place me on your head

Let me what I can find

I know just where you ought to be

It’s all there, in your mind

The woman, who had led us into the great hall, produced a long roll of parchment as she smiled down at the hat. She thanked him for his lovely song and commenced to begin calling out names of students  

One by one the children around me ascended to the sorting hat and with thunderous applause were sorted into their houses. Finally, it was my turn

Dad had said on multiple occasions that Robinsons hadn’t been in Europe for very long and with him being a squid none had ever attended Hogwarts. In Livermorny our name was legendary but here I would be the first.

So with my head held high, I lowered my hood and took my seat. I could hear the murmuring among the students about my eyes I was sure but the moment the hat was placed on my head everything fell silent.

“oh. Oh!” said the voice of the hat. Was he in my head or actually speaking?

“I know just where to put you, my boy. Slytherin!”

The table clad in green and silver burst in roars of applause and for a singular brief tick of a moment, I thought how proud dad would be.

[chiefbelieverstarlight]

The Wizard Way

[Dedicated to General J.C.F. Fuller] Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew Where its ray fell light as dew Lighting up the shimmering veil Maiden pure and aery frail That the spiders wove to hide Blushes of the sylvan bride Earth, that trembled with delight At the male caress of Night. Velvet soft the wizard trod To the Sabbath of his God. With his naked feet he made Starry blossoms in the glade, Softly, softly, as he went To the sombre sacrament, Stealthy stepping to the tryst In his gown of amethyst. Earlier yet his soul had come To the Hill of Martyrdom, Where the charred and crooked stake Like a black envenomed snake By the hangman's hands is thrust Through the wet and writhing dust, Never black and never dried Heart's blood of a suicide. He had plucked the hazel rod From the rude and goatish god, Even as the curved moon's waning ray Stolen from the King of Day. He had learnt the elvish sign; Given the Token of the Nine: Once to rave, and once to revel, Once to bow before the devil, Once to swing the thurible, Once to kiss the goat of hell, Once to dance the aspen spring, Once to croak, and once to sing, Once to oil the savoury thighs Of the witch with sea-green eyes With the unguents magical. Oh the honey and the gall Of that black enchanter's lips As he croons to the eclipse Mingling that most puissant spell Of the giant gods of hell With the four ingredients Of the evil elements; Ambergris from golden spar, Musk of ox from Mongol jar, Civet from a box of jade, Mixed with fat of many a maid Slain by the inchauntments cold Of the witches wild and old. He had crucified a toad In the basilisk abode, Muttering the Runes averse Mad with many a mocking curse. He had traced the serpent sigil In his ghastly virgin vigil. Sursum cor! the elfin hill, Where the wind blows deadly chill From the world that wails beneath Death's black throat and lipless teeth. There he had stood - his bosom bare - Tracing Life upon the Air With the crook and with the flail Lashing forward on the gale, Till its blade that wavereth Like the flickering of Death Sank before his subtle fence To the starless sea of sense. Now at last the man is come Haply to his halidom. Surely as he waves his rod In a circle on the sod Springs the emerald chaste and clean From the duller paler green. Surely in the circle millions Of immaculate pavilions Flash upon the trembling turf Like the sea-stars in the surf - Millions of bejewelled tents For the warrior sacraments. Vaster, vaster, vaster, vaster, Grows the stature of the master; All the ringed encampment vies With the infinite galaxies. In the midst a cubic stone With the Devil set thereon; Hath a lamb's virginal throat; Hath the body of a stoat; Hath the buttocks of a goat; Hath the sanguine face and rod Of a goddess and a god! Spell by spell and pace by pace! Mystic flashes swing and trace Velvet soft the sigils stepped By the silver-starred adept. Back and front, and to and fro, Soul and body sway and flow In vertiginous caresses To imponderable recesses, Till at last the spell is woven, And the faery veil is cloven That was Sequence, Space, and Stress Of the soul-sick consciousness. "Give thy body to the beasts! Give thy spirit to the priests! Break in twain the hazel rod On the virgin lips of God! Tear the Rosy Cross asunder! Shatter the black bolt of thunder! Suck the swart ensanguine kiss Of the resolute abyss!" Wonder-weft the wizard heard This intolerable word. Smote the blasting hazel rod On the scarlet lips of God; Trampled Cross and rosy core; Brake the thunder-tool of Thor; Meek and holy acolyte Of the priestly hells of spite, Sleek and shameless catamite Of the beasts that prowl the night! Like a star that streams from heaven Through the virgin airs light-riven, From the lift there shot and fell An admirable miracle. Carved minute and clean, a key Of purest lapis-lazuli More blue than the blind sky that aches (Wreathed with the stars, her torturing snakes), For the dead god's kiss that never wakes; Shot with golden specks of fire Like a virgin with desire. Look, the levers! fern-frail fronds Of fantastic diamonds, Glimmering with ethereal azure In each exquisite embrasure. On the shaft the letters laced, As if dryads lunar-chaste With the satyrs were embraced, Spelled the secret of the key: Sic pervenias. And he Went his wizard way, inweaving Dreams of things beyond believing. When he will, the weary world Of the senses closely curled Like a serpent round his heart Shakes herself and stands apart. So the heart's blood flames, expanding, Strenuous, urgent, and commanding; And the key unlocks the door Where his love lives evermore. She is of the faery blood; All smaragdine flows its flood. Glowing in the amber sky To ensorcelled porphyry She hath eyes of glittering flake Like a cold grey water-snake. She hath naked breasts of amber Jetting wine in her bed-chamber, Whereof whoso stoops and drinks Rees the riddle of the Sphinx. She hath naked limbs of amber Whereupon her children clamber. She hath five navels rosy-red From the five wounds of God that bled; Each wound that mothered her still bleeding, And on that blood her babes are feeding. Oh! like a rose-winged pelican She hath bred blessed babes to Pan! Oh! like a lion-hued nightingale She hath torn her breast on thorns to avail The barren rose-tree to renew Her life with that disastrous dew, Building the rose o' the world alight With music out of the pale moonlight! O She is like the river of blood That broke from the lips of the bastard god, When he saw the sacred mother smile On the ibis that flew up the foam of Nile Bearing the limbs unblessed, unborn, That the lurking beast of Nile had torn! So (for the world is weary) I These dreadful souls of sense lay by. I sacrifice these impure shoon To the cold ray of the waning moon. I take the forked hazel staff, And the rose of no terrene graff, And the lamp of no olive oil With heart's blood that alone may boil. With naked breast and feet unshod I follow the wizard way to God. Wherever he leads my foot shall follow; Over the height, into the hollow, Up to the caves of pure cold breath, Down to the deeps of foul hot death, Across the seas, through the fires, Past the palace of desires; Where he will, whether he will or no, If I go, I care not whither I go. For in me is the taint of the faery blood. Fast, fast its emerald flood Leaps within me, violent rude Like a bestial faun's beatitude. In me the faery blood runs hard: My sires were a druid, a devil, a bard, A beast, a wizard, a snake and a satyr; For - as my mother said - what does it matter? She was a fay, pure of the faery; Queen Morgan's daughter by an aery Demon that came to Orkney once To pay the Beetle his orisons. So, it is I that writhe with the twitch Of the faery blood, and the wizard itch To attain a matter one may not utter Rather than sink in the greasy splutter Of Britons munching their bread and butter; Ailing boys and coarse-grained girls Grown to sloppy women and brutal churls. So, I am off with staff in hand To the endless light of the nameless land. Darkness spreads its sombre streams, Blotting out the elfin dreams. I might haply be afraid, Were it not the Feather-maid Leads me softly by the hand, Whispers me to understand. Now (when through the world of weeping Light at last starrily creeping Steals upon my babe-new sight, Light - O light that is not light!) On my mouth the lips of her Like a stone on my sepulchre Seal my speech with ecstasy, Till a babe is born of me That is silent more than I; For its inarticulate cry Hushes as its mouth is pressed To the pearl, her honey breast; While its breath divinely ripples The rose-petals of her nipples, And the jetted milk he laps From the soft delicious paps, Sweeter than the bee-sweet showers In the chalice of the flowers, More intoxicating than All the purple grapes of Pan. Ah! my proper lips are stilled. Only, all the world is filled With the Echo, that drips over Like the honey from the clover. Passion, penitence, and pain Seek their mother's womb again, And are born the triple treasure, Peace and purity and pleasure. - Hush, my child, and come aloft Where the stars are velvet soft!

-ALEISTER CROWLEY