#and i've never harvested my own tea before

[ghostwithflesh]

What a beautiful flower the dandelion is, so soft, so sweet, and what a lovely tea you make 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

[marbl3z]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Maybe I've Fallen for you. . .

Lyney + GN!reader || modern au ;; romantic Fluff || summary :: You and Lyney stop by an Apple orchard that also grows pumpkins, there's a little festival going on for the Autumn season, Lyney is unsure what he's feeling for you... maybe he finally fell for you.

"so..." he starts, flicking a card through his fingers. "I've never been to one of these before, what should I expect?" He leans on your shoulder, the bumpy road on the bus makes the two of you rock a bit.

"hmm~ probably a lot of things, Ive only been to one when I was younger." You grab a card from his sleeve, attempting to flick it through your own fingers.

"is it fun?"

"I remember it being fun but to be honest, I was a child. So who knows?" You laugh a bit, glancing down at Lyney. "You look cold," you mumble, pulling his beanie over his ears. The tip of his nose dusted pink from the chill in the air.

"it is almost winter." He scrunches his face as he flicks his violet eyes up to meet yours. He studies your face as you turn back to look out the window.

strange... he thinks to himself, the back of his neck feels hot, luckily his hoodie covers his nape.

The bus comes to stop and you glance at your phone, "it's our stop, Lyney." You stand grabbing your backpack. Lyney does the same, following you out of the bus.

The pleasant chill of autumn passes through your frame, Lyney scrunches his face bringing his hands to his face to heat them up. He glances over at you, a gentle shiver goes through your spine. You glance down at your phone before grabbing his sleeve and continues to walk down a path, soon small wooden signs that say things such as "Apple Orchard - Harvesting." And cute pumpkin and apple wooden signs with a man sitting at the entrance, welcoming everyone who walks in.

"Ah, Good evening!" His face creases as he smiles nodding to you and Lyney. Lyney gives a small wave with a friendly smile as you also smile. "Enjoy your time!" He calls as you two past the decorated entrance.

"what do you think so far?" You glance at the blonde man next to you, the gentle crunch of leaves beneath your feet and the sounds of children laughing and screaming ahead of you fills your heart with joy.

"it seems fun, I've never been to something like this. I'm sure Lynette and Freminet would love going to a place like this..." he trails off, sending a text to them showing them pictures and even video calling them at one point.

You two are at the pumpkin patch, picking out pumpkins for your friends and his siblings. You pick up a small white one, Lyney is at another end of the patch, on the phone with Lynette. You decide not to disturb him but you put it in the basket they provided.

Lyney is showing Lynette all the apples you two picked along with some ciders to try and sweets the orchard sells, collaborating with small businesses.

"Lyney," Lynette starts, her voice is hoarse and wobbly. She has a cold and that's why she couldn't join you two, Ferminet decided to stay with her to help her feel better. "You know, when will you show your true feelings?" She sips her tea.

"Haha.. what could you mean, my dear sister?" He smiles as he glances over at you picking pumpkins.

"that." She deadpans, setting her cup down. She pulls her blanket further up her lap, she was wearing the sweater you got her before you two left for the harvest. "Looking at them like that,"

"like what?" He blushes, adverting his gaze as he turns away from the patch going up to one of the many makeshift shops. Lynette rolls her eyes. Lyney gets a hot chocolate from the lady working at the shop.

"you like them, don't you?" Lynette watches as Lyney coughs on his hot chocolate, burning his tongue. "Perhaps you're in love?"

"Not so loud, Lynette!" He whines, sticking his tongue out to cool off. You took notice of him coughing and quickly hurried over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"hey.." he turns to you, his tongue still sticking out like a cats. "Are you alright?— oh hello, Lynette!" You smile waving to his phone.

"Hello," she sips her tea, stifling a giggle as Lyney sends a soft glare at his sister.

"Oh! I'm okay.. just burnt myself on the drink... I wasn't expecting it to be so hot!" He smiles embarrassingly, "how was your adventure picking pumpkins?" He notices you have three small pumpkins in your basket.

"it was good, I haven't found any good big ones to carve with everyone yet... I found one for everyone else though!" You mumble the last part in his ear, wanting to surprise Lynette when you two are home.

He blushes faintly underneath his beanie as your breath tickles his ear. Lynette rolls her eyes, snuggling under her blanket more. He nods sending you a knowing glance and a thumbs up.

"Also! Lyney, I heard there was a haunted house attraction we can go through!" You grin.

"what??" His eyes widen, taken back from your suggestion. "Don't tell me.. you wanna go through it?"

"why not? Lynette said you liked attractions like them!" Lyney gives Lynette a glare, Lynette smiles.

"... I, I mean.." he sighs, not wanting to disappoint you. "We can go if you want," he pretends to be excited.

"really?!" You smile excitedly, your eyes basically sparkling. He nods, dreading as you take him by the hand to the haunted house.

Lynette gives Lyney a wink before hanging up the video call. He blushes as he follows your lead to the over exaggerated haunted house, he sighs of relief... it doesn't look that scary. Yet your smile never seems to fade, he squeezes your hand as you two talk with the employees of the house, before walking in.

Cliche scary music plays, it's dark and he only knows your there by the squeeze of your hand. Suddenly a loud noise makes him jump and basically cling onto you. A zombie actor jumps out in front of you two, making him release a high pitched yelp. You scream too, but it was replaced with laughter and it was a game of clinging onto each other as the actors continued to jump out and make loud noises.

by time the two of you are out of the house, Lyney is holding your arm. His cheeks are flushed and his heart is racing. "That was terrifying..." he breathes out, you lead him to a bench nearby. He sends a quick text to Lynette, presumably one along the lines of "I hate you so much" in a loving way.

You smile as you notice the way he acts with his siblings, it's endearing. You catch your breath checking the time, "do you want to go pick out the giant pumpkins?" You lean over his shoulder, he shivers slightly turning to face you. The red streak in his hair looks out of place and his hair is messy.

You raise your hand to move his hair out of his eyes, faint blush is visible along his cheeks. He blinks a few times, the temporary tear tattoo on his cheek looks cracked. A faint smile tugs at your lips, despite the cold weather he made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He takes notice of the sweets shop behind you, an idea sparking in his head as he laughs, "do you want to go try the sweets they are selling? I'm intrigued by the 'Autumn's Delight'..." he smiles, still holding your hand.

You nod, coming to a stand, you two walk to the small shop. The lady operating the shop smiles as she notices you two holding hands, you look like a couple. Lyney orders the autumn delight and you order simple donut holes with pumpkin spice and cinnamon sprinkled on them.

You two go back to the bench you were sitting before, you offer one of your donuts holes to lyney and he opens his mouth as if asking you to feed him. It was a wholesome sight, honestly. The faint blush on his cheeks, his lips are red from the chill, you almost hold yourself back from doing something that may change the coarse of you and his friendship.

You smile, bringing the pumpkin spiced donuts to his lips. He takes a bite and his eyes basically sparkle from how the flavors melt on his tongue. "You did a wonderful job choosing, darl—" he stops the sentence short, pushing back the urge to call you an endearing petname. He takes a bite of the crepe he bought, it was covered with powder sugar, drizzled chocolate and cinnamon with slices of apples inside.

A huge smile grows on his face, savoring the sweetness of the crepe. He notices your looking at your phone in your lap, texting someone. He immediately turns his head, not wanting to read your messages.

"do you wanna try mine?" He says adverting his gaze from your phone, holding up the crepe to your face.

"sure!" You smile, taking a small bite of the crepe, your eyes swirl with stars and sparkles as you hum, kicking your feet back and forth. "That's so good Lyney!!" You smile, he notices a bit of powder sugar on your cheek and his eyes soften as he uses his thumb to wipe it away.

You and him blush as he turns away, the tips of his ears burning from how close he got with you. "S-sorry! You had sugar on your face.." he mumbles continuing to eat the dessert.

You blink a few times before you respond, "it's alright, thank you," he nods his head shyly. A soft ding emits from your phone which makes you both jump. "Lynette said Freminet wanted to know if we were having fun" you mumble showing him the text.

"Tell them we are! And to be prepared for when we come home" he grins, he eyes sparkling. You nod sending Lynette a quick text In which she responds by sending a cat with it's thumbs up.

"ahh, we should get going, hm?" He sighs, finishing his crepe. He stands helping you up, you carry the pumpkins to the bus stop, after picking out some trinkets and other goodies for everyone at home.

"today was fun," you yawned, holding the pumpkins close to your chest. Lyney sat down next to you on the bus, his violet eyes softened at the sight of how sleepy you were.

"it was very fun, thank you for taking me," he bumps his forehead against yours, it was a silly thing you two started doing, you both saw a cat doing it to another cat and it stuck ever since. "I had a lot of fun," he purrs.

You smile tiredly, leaning your head against his shoulder, he rested his arm on your shoulder as he texted Lynette and scrolled through social media. The soft rumbling of the bus as it made it's way back to home kept you close to him. He twirls your hair through his fingers, holding back the urge to brush them away and give you a gentle kiss. Your eyes were closed and you looked so comfy at his side.

The bus pulls to the stop, he gently shakes you awake. You groggily carry two pumpkins and Lyney carries the other two. Stepping out of the large vehicle to the cold air sends a shiver down both of your spines, a soft "Brrr" noise comes from both of you. You quickly make your way to Lyney's home, you were spending the night so it didn't matter how you stayed.

Lynette opened the door as you two hurried inside and walked to the dining table, both of your hands were crisp and cold. You placed the pumpkins and your bag down and ran over to Lyney to place your cold hands on his face.

"AH!" he squeals like a girl, his eyes widen as you giggle chasing Lynette to do the same. Lynette runs up the stairs and you don't chase her, Lyney comes up behind you and places his hands underneath your shirt at the base of your neck.

"EE—!" you jump watching as Lyney laughs and rubs his hands together, something in you churns. Your heart flutters as you grab his hands, placing him over your mouth and you breathe, rubbing them gently.

His laughter calms and he looks at you with curious eyes as you warm his hands up. If it wasn't for the cold his face would've been ten times more red. You hear Freminet come down the stairs.

"Oh, you're back..." he gives you a soft smile and you let go of Lyney's hands.

"OH! We have gifts!" You basically jump up and down as you slide off your hoodie, now wearing the thin sweater you stole from Lyney. Freminet and Lynette follow you to the dining table as Lyney stays behind.

He has a smile on his face as he recalls what you did, "Lyney?" Lynette calls.

"Oh, sorry! I'll be right here! Lemme go warm up," He gives her a convincing smile and climbs up the stairs. His slides his beanie off, his normally styled blonde hair, askew and messy. He throws it on his bed as he walks to the bathroom.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his cheeks were flushed and his nose was dusted red. He looked silly, and it made him smile. He can hear your laughter downstairs and he feels warm and fuzzy inside.

His eyes flutter close as he turns the light off, opening once more as he realizes the flutter in his heart from hearing your laughter, wasn't because you two were such good friends... it was perhaps something he wasn't used too,

Maybe it was love.

--

RAAHHH I'LL MAKE A PART TWO MAYBE, PROBABLY—

[kitorin]

journal.

in which, itoshi rin's midnight writing exposes what he's kept concealed from you.

contents. itoshi rin x reader, 2.878 k words, fluff, angst (in the past), itoshi backstory spoilers (mixed with a few headcanons), 1st person rin pov for a bit (journal entry), regular highschool au

a/n. is this my best? no. but is it the best i have for today? yes. happy birthday to rin <3 after assignments are done i'll definitely rewrite this (i gave up on proofreading)

10 / 09 / 2023 : SUNDAY, 12:04 am - 3:21 am

Solitude has never been a foreigner.

In fact, he's quite a familiar individual, an old companion that never seems to leave.

Even before Nii chan left for Spain, solitude was still there for me. During class I wouldn't utter a word to anyone else unless necessary, and contrariwise for said classmates. People still spoke to me; just not to the extent that they'd know what my favourite foods were, or what I liked to watch in my free time, not even bothering with it. I've never been invited to hang out with anyone after school, or been to someone else's house (not that I particularly cared, I was just sure that I was the only one).

But I was okay with it. I didn't want, or need anyone else when Nii chan bought me ice blocks, giving me the bigger piece as we'd watch the sun's warm hues bleed into the sky; the saccharine iciness contrasting how warm is was to be swallowed by sunlight together. Dad took us fishing a lot, he's always been well acquainted with the sea, taking us to locations well populated by bream; my favourite. On our way home we'd harvest kelp (Nii chan likes it in rice, salted) and take photos together on our yacht, admiring how the sun greets the world farewell, sinking into the aquamarine. Mum makes amazing food, I'm constantly astonished at how she manages to memorise every preference, from my love for ochazuke to being able to pour the perfect amount of tea; the rice never becomes too soggy (even I can't pour the exact amount I like). Solitude was close to me, but my family were closer.

There's a lot I could say about them, they've done more than remember what I love and ensuring I was happy; I'm thankful they've delivered the right for me to be comforted, to have a shoulder to cry on, to be able to freely ramble on about whatever fascinated me.

I've always been happy, even if I'm alone outside of the walls I call home. Because whether I laughed my heart out or sobbed to the point I couldn't form a coherent sentence, I'd always come home running to my family. Nothing can beat dinner; where we all relish mum's food, ask each other about our days' and offer solace or advice when necessary.

I miss that. Terribly, to the point my heart aches.

I knew that Nii chan's departure to Europe (Spain, to be exact) would change a lot. I'd have to score without his guidance, walk home alone and buy my own popsicles. Dinner time would have one less soul to laugh with, and home would have one less to embrace.

I just never expected it to be painful change. I never predicted that his return would result in losing us entirely. I didn't think his homecoming would cause my immortal resentment towards the snow, or how my eyes prickle a bit at the mere thought of an ice block. I'd say it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, separation from him following it on the list of my worst experiences.

Solitude avoided me at home, but wasn't enough.

One time on the way home, I was overhearing the team's conversations (nothing particularly new really) and it was a discussion about the future. It was honestly surprising to find out only some of us intended to become soccer players; Nagi would rather stream or compete in professional gaming, Kurona wants to study marine biology in uni, and Yukimiya wants to give acting a go along with his modelling career. Even Isagi has a plan for if professional soccer isn't an option. He said he wanted to help others achieve their dreams if he fails to do so himself.

I remained silent as always, but had a lot more thoughts racing through my mind. Retreating to my room immediately that night, my first thought was to lie in bed, to neglect the clips I planned to analyse, to ignore muscle training for today and to slack off a bit. That's when I realized how sad the life I was living. I was sad because I was reminded of my reality.

I'm a mere myriad of distinguished achievements, though a hideous attempt of replicating genius Itoshi Sae. I'm a collection of formidable accomplishments, basking in the spotlight of glory and honour. The trophies and awards adorning my room prove it, standing tall with pride and flaunting my hard work.

That didn't mean anything. I had remained in a constant cycle of training, eating, and sleeping. My teammates were just as ambitious yet still worked hard on other things; Yukimiya enjoys modelling and Reo has a passion for economics, That must've been where I was lacking.

That's how I ended up writing again. It was an attempt to break out of this cyclical torture of constant training and sports.

I don't know how I remembered it, but I found my notebook from primary, all the stories messily scrawled yet legible. Scarlet adorned narratives birthed from child-like imagination, eulogising the prose, even though I almost flinched out of embarrassment.

Flipping through the pages, I had found the paragraph my teacher left me, insisting that I keep writing. Obviously, I never did. After getting into soccer I ignored everything school related, and would've found words on a page foolish anyways.

Many years later, I finally followed that advice.

The end result wasn't pretty. I paused a lot, struggled a lot, and almost gave up, a lot. It may have been hideous, but it was mine. A piece birthed from curiosity and memories from the past turned into another attempt. Another attempt morphed into extensive reading, I wanted to observe what was considered worthwhile or meaningless.

Writing rewove the early nights into late night reading, fully immersed in the author's thoughts translated into prose. Reading was the push to giving academics a go. Academics pulled me out of the endless cycle of soccer, there was more to life than training and diet regulation.

Books I can read. Words I can write. Exams I can study for and sports I can practice. Weights I can lift and competitions I can train for.

But to be loved, is so difficult.

It's not like an exam that you can study for and simply memorise the answers to. Or a match that has the security of a referee and reinforced rules. It's not something that can be guaranteed with a mentor.

People treat Isagi to his favourite whenever he has a bad day (he likes kintsuba). People advocate their favourite novels to Yukimiya and Chigiri, even going as far as memorising their preferences to curate their recommendations flawlessly. It must be nice, for someone to invest that sort of effort in you, even if it's simply remembering a hobby.

As my peers savoured the allure of love, estrangement and desolation constantly haunted me; a pest habituating the sleepless nights where I try to escape with a cup of coffee that's long gone cold.

It's lukewarm, praying for another's attention, care and love, to be hungry for one's time. I pathetically plead whoever manipulating my fate to provide me some sort of human connection. I shouldn't be so hopeful of others, yet I find myself dying of curiosity; what would it be like for someone to remember my birthday? Or tell me about the horror movie they adored?

I despise solitude's clinginess. But I hate how it makes me sob endlessly when no one watches.

I have myself. I have my thoughts which I've transcribed to oeuvre. I have the pile of books resting on my bedside table which sleep alongside with me. I have the trophies and awards I've won, I'll always appreciate my own talent and diligence, even if playing soccer brought me so much pain.

I think I'm somewhat pretty. I find my prominent eyelashes special to me, it's something unique to both me and Nii chan. My physique isn't too bad, either. I like the way my legs look, and my shoulders as I dry my hair.

I've always been proud of myself. I've always been enough and I always will be. Just not for others.

That's why I never expected my bond with solitude to be severed so easily. Especially because of y/n out of all people.

I still don't get how it happened. The oblivion to their presence became a peculiar first impression. An odd first meeting turned into abrupt yet regular greetings amidst hallways. Soon, I was sitting with them in every class, passing notes during tedious lessons and discussing our favourite media on the bus ride home.

Before I knew it, passionate rambles about books turned into watching movies together in my room. Whenever they greeted me their friendly wave was replaced with a tight hug, passing notes in class were accompanied with subtle kisses on the cheek.

Our relationship as friends was reimagined to lovers.

Something must've possessed me to blurt out the stupid crush I had on them, and I thank whatever drove me to do that. As awkward as I was it doesn't compare to the skip of my heartbeat when they accepted my feelings.

It's been almost a year since I met them, yet I still feel hot whenever they hold my hand, and flush red at every compliment they whisper. I still find myself stuttering sometimes whenever they're showing me a new outfit they've styled.

I love the way they smile, the creases of joy that adorn the outer corner of their eyes, and how they squint with glee and the sweet, melodious laughter that accompanies it; how breathless they sound whilst laughing. The expression they wear when deep in thought fascinates me, even if it's midway through an exam or them simply observing a video Bachira sent them. I adore their late night thoughts they text me at 3 am, the fatigue itching my eyes seem to evaporate when I notice their name on the notification. I treasure the notes we've scrawled on spare sheets of paper, they're still in between the pages of my books.

Even now, they're sleeping soundly in my bed, arms wrapped around the plush I bought them; I keep getting distracted by the sight of them so relaxed, chest rising up and down with each breath.

I would die for them. Because now I don't need to pretend to be invested on my phone to look less lonely. Now, I don't need to put my bag on the seat next to me to make it look like I sit alone by choice. I don't have to persuade the teacher to let me do group projects alone, or have to observe others with jealousy. Someone defends me from disparaging comments.

Because now, I'm not alone.

7:15 am

THE ENTRY COMES TO AN END, AND EMBARASSMENT DUSTS Rin's face a faint tint of pink. His eyes avoid contact with yours— as he waits for your input his latest piece.

"Well? What do you think?"

You're not sure where to start. You've always known about his strained relationship with his older brother, and how his friendship with his teammates wasn't the same in the beginning. But he never explained it in detail; you wouldn't've guessed that he had some sort of chionophobia, or even cried because he felt so secluded from others. The thought of him concealing his tears and pain from the rest of the world made your eyes prickle and sends your heart racing miserably.

"Doesn't matter—" He reaches for the notebook, closing it and tossing it onto his desk. "Forget it, you didn't see anything." He plops backwards again, head hitting the pillow and groaning as he covers his face with his forearm. "It was shit anyways, I'll rip it out and toss it later."

"It wasn't."

Rin stays silent.

You lie down, mimicking his current position and cup his cheeks with your hand. "You'll never be alone again—, I promise you that." Your voice falters ever so slightly, the thought of his pain makes you feel weak in the knees and sick to the stomach. "You're more than enough, you always have and always will be. You don't need anyone's validation to be beautiful, you never did."

Rin sighs, "I'm only like that because of you." Yet something seems to throb in his heart, the small but overpowering part of him that insists he requires another's approval to be important— someone finally proving that wrong.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is, our classmates still loathe me, so do people who barely see or speak to me." There was no lie in that; but it wasn't Rin's fault. "Yoichi and the others only spend time with me because of you."

"I was only the push for them to speak to you, you know they've always cared, they were just too nervous to speak to you. As competitive as he gets, Yoichi really admires you, to the point he gets so heated and ends up rambling about your skills." That's a secret that was supposed to remain in your private messages, but Yoichi doesn't need to know.

Satisfaction momentarily appears on Rin's face at the thought of his rival's great respect, though it doesn't last very long.

"He's my teammate so it's expected... everyone I speak to at school seems to have something against me, even our English teacher." The mistreatment at school is undeniable, it's not exactly bullying but there's no respect or human decency in how people behave towards him.

"Rin, love, you've done nothing wrong, hate isn't always rational. There will always be people who can't stand seeing others more successful, and that's not your fault."

"Really?" His eyes light up; despite having a sophisticated and cold demeanour all the time, he looks like a child again, hope dances in his wide eyes.

"Really." Your fingers take advantage of the opportunity and pinch his cheeks gently. "Don't listen to all those stupid rumours and assumptions, idiot. I'd fight anyone who tries to hurt you and win every time."

When your fingers let go he immediately kisses you, and it leaves you breathless; the way he pulls you in flexes his well toned biceps and his hand supports your head.

"Thank you." Rin whispers, pulling away a bit. "Thank you for appreciating me. Thank you for everything." It's a rare occurrence for him to sound so frail, same goes for the tremble of his bottom lip.

"Of course, I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." It's escorted by a peck on your nose, and a soft expression sculpted on his face.

Before Rin can throw a blanket over the two of you again, you interrupt.

"You shouldn't throw that entry away." You still haven't forgotten his initial intention with it. "I don't get why you think it's shit."

"It's rushed. And it's just me waffling on about my feelings and the past. There's no proofreading, and it's rushed. It's not even complete either."

"That's the whole point of writing, no? It's the expression of our words and thoughts." You reach towards his desk to pick up the notebook. "Not everything has to be written in one sitting, too."

Rin doesn't bother stopping you from looking through the notebook at this point. "It's still stupid. It's just that I had the urge and motivation to write in the dead of night."

"Well. I like it."

Rin's stoic expression crumbles, revealing the bashful side he keeps concealed from the world. "Then that's good enough for me." The red on his cheeks tell you that you've won the argument.

You turn back to the entry page, impressed with his barely legible yet pretty handwriting. "You should've slept instead."

"I don't get tired anyways." He's quickly betrayed by the yawn clawing out of his throat.

"Liar. Why would you stay up writing so late... your sleep is important you know?"

"Because you are love itself. I won't get a wink of sleep if it means I can think and write about you instead." Rin's pulls you in again, tossing his notebook elsewhere as he leans in. "I promise I'll finish that entry, no— I'll write a book about you one day."

"Writing this, writing that, sleep first dumbass." A smile tugs at your lips as you pull Rin back into the position you were cuddling in a few hours ago. Even though you were the one who slept a lot more, fatigue itched your eyes, and a yawn spilled out too.

In response, Rin tosses a blanket over the two of you, whispering good night as you begin to nod off a bit. He should rest too, he has training tomorrow and has to go to the gym as well.

The Itoshi Rin from before would've slept immediately. In fact, he wouldn't've stayed up in the first place, let alone date someone. But the Itoshi Rin now instead stares at you, admiring each and every feature of yours. You're his savior, the luminescent moon irradiating his world, guiding him away from the grasps of solitude and embracing him with love instead.

Tagging: @yuzurins (yumi you inspired this fic btw lol)

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[switchbrainedholylime]

The Ghost King meets the King of Limes

@hua-cheng-silver-wrath

To be the best, learn from the best. That was something Zomu knew that as a martial artist since working with Master Roshi all those years ago when he was no older than twelve, now he knew it as the supreme kai, aka the ruling god, Universe 7.

So why not pay a visit to Universe 1's supreme kai, Anato, the universe lauded as the highest and mightiest of all, with the most lush diverse ecosystems, vast amounts of species, and most importantly (in Zomu's mind at least) strong martial artists.

The problem? Anato told him to, and this is an exact quote, "Stop wasting my time and screw off to your backwoods, barbaric universe! You're going to sully mine with your dirty hands. Get out, you uncouth lime!" Before the other kai promptly tossing piping hot tea onto Zomu's lap.

Of course, this didn't deter our heroic Saiyan-turned-kai Zomu as he could always go about exploring each planet on his own to find inspiration for new species blueprints to create in his own, much smaller universe.

After all, one of Universe 7's best planets, Namek, had just gone through another famine. Their fields were already rendered infertile by a certain fungus, and they were now destined to have another poor harvest next year. They needed a more hardy crop if they wanted to survive. And if Universe 1 was so great, they've got to have a fungus-proof crop there, right?

Well, based on the poverty seen in the rural towns...that wasn't the case. Zomu had seen that the people of this world were VERY religious; they had statues of the gods of this planet everywhere. There were those made of gold and filled with flowers, and there were much smaller, more modest temples as well.

Zomu picked through some of the plants in a field near a rundown temple made of wood.

First he assumed the people of this tiny village didn't have the funds for a fancy temple, but there were nicer ones nearby. He paid it no thought, really.

"Let's see...we have this, this is the same kinda plant that went back on Namek...er, this won't do....oh! This is new! I've never seen this kind!" Zomu plucked a unique strain of radish out of the ground. He then took a bite out of it. He happily chomped on it while talking with his mouth full, "It's a little bitter, but I think it'll do--"

Zomu then swallowed his food quickly. He sensed a massive, powerful qi nearby. He dusted himself off and turned around to face whatever the source of it was.

[katydoodles]

Word Vomit Post- Life in the USA and Diasporic Feelings

Coming back from summer holiday in Mexico, to go back to work sucks.

The life style is just so different. I hadn't visited my maternal extended family in 8 years and it has been 12 years since I've seen 3/4ths of my paternal extended family. I have 34 cousins on my paternal side and 47 cousins on my maternal side and I'm on the younger side of both sides. My mom is the 9th child of 12 (who survived infancy) and my dad is 6th child of 10 (who survived infancy). Feeling that sense of familiar belonging and knowing where my family is from is such a fulfilling feeling I never appreciated as a kid. I kinda made it my goal to learn as much as I could about my family before my last grandparent passes. He turned 90 and I felt such immense guilt for not seeing any of my grandparents before they passed.

I told myself I was never going to go back to Mexico after a bad experience/ traumatically public anxiety attack in 2015.

I didn't think I would miss being in Mexico.

The life style there is so much more, in lack of better words, Alive. Towns are colorful, odd shapes, people own/build their homes and expand them, to fit with their surrounding nature. No matter how much people lack in the small rural mountain towns, there is a community and belonging everywhere. In the street corners every evening neighbors sit out and greet each other. Go on walks in the paths, farm, take care of their land, harvest their crops, listen to the rain fall, feel the lightning electrify the air and jump when the thunder cracks the sound barrier. Though my family is from a rural mountain area, modern living did not skip them, and yet I still feel like their life style was not taken over by technology (probably cuz the rural mountain villages have so many power outages in the rainy season).

The only other time felt like I belonged when I was in my childhood home in California's Bay Area, before they gentrified my area and kicked out all the low income families, so that all the tech companies could control everyone's lives. Even living now in the Midwest, I never see anyone walking on the street, life revolves around working and mowing your lawn so that your neighbors don't judge you. I don't see kids riding their bikes or outside, everything is so far apart from each other (2 hours in each direction to get to a city where I can even find a Barn's and Noble, a book store or even to buy Boba milk tea). I have never meet so many people who go to the Walmart parking lot to kill time.

Maybe I'm just older now and don't understand the mid-west lifestyle. Maybe I'm missing the belonging I felt from my paternal side of the family in California. Maybe its my anxiety that makes me feel like I don't belong with my maternal family (tho I've tried to connect, and every time I do I always feel that feeling of failing to connect). Maybe its all just my anxiety and can't be content in finding the little things where I am.

I have never felt that feeling of failing to connect with my paternal and maternal family in Mexico... They all know I'm odd and they have never made me feel judged or like I don't belong.

Though I may not fit in in Mexico, I still feel like I belong there.

[sylvctica]

hello, and goodbye

“...Sylvie.”

Their name, which often rolls off Zhongli’s tongue so naturally, felt heavy—poised hands settling down his tea which he has been taking long, tentative sips from. “May I suggest holding a funeral?”

“A wh—a funeral?” Thick eyebrows knitted in as Sylvie’s own, now empty, teacup came to a rest upon the same table, confusion spilling across their face as a weird and uncomfortable knot seemed to lump within their stomach, like a sudden lurch.

“For Foras … and you,” he continued, straight to the point and leaving no room for doubt on what he meant. “ … forgive my forwardness, but this has been weighing on my mind for quite some time. Since the Rite of Parting, I've deeply pondered if I could offer the same to you.” 

… of course, at a glance, the deceased in question is still very much alive—talking and smiling as one does, telling jokes about ‘hooters’ and ‘boobie’ birds that would get a groan to rise out of him. But for those like the Geo Archon who lived through countless millennia, he knew they were a dead God walking. Very few could recall them as Foras, God of Trees and Lord of Forests who once roamed the lands of Sumeru, whom people worshipped and adorned with garlands of flowers, whom people prayed to for safety, health, and bountiful harvests.

Now, little traces of them remain in the world. They bled into the casualties that were forgotten and buried in war. If people mourned and searched for them, they would not know it.

Sylvie’s tongue nervously darted out to lick at dry lips, mind lost between racing and having absolutely no coherent thought, as if it were frozen—something violently thrashed within their chest for a few moments as a cold seed spreads through their stomach, like icicles; it was only his gentle touch and squeeze to their hands that brought their focus back from the dark haze that edged their mind.

The sincerity in his eyes was nothing short of good intentions. They know that as a consultant—but most importantly, as their partner and an old friend—there was no one better fit for this task than him to offer such a thing. 

So what was that fear that was keeping them from directly saying yes?

Perhaps it was the finality of saying goodbye to 'Foras' that scared them more than holding a funeral for their own death. But they wanted that and have wanted to snip that past identity for a while, so why did it make them want to cry merely thinking about it?

Why did it feel like it was asking to tear themselves in two?

No easy answer came, just waves and waves of emotions that seemed to tear at the seams of their heart, torn between wanting to release, and wanting to hold 'Foras' closer. A sharp inhale followed, deep and filling—before slowly being exhaled through their nose, feeling the pressure of Zhongli’s hands squeezing around theirs patiently—worryingly.

“I … I dunno. Like I …I think it might be worth ... the um ... no, it's a good idea. Yeah." Sylvie’s voice was quiet, meek, lacking any of their usual bravado and confidence. "Please be slow with me, I ... I want to, but the idea scares me. Silly as ... I feel silly for being so scared of ... burying myself. I'm scared, but I trust you. I trust you."

And he would hold their trust close to his chest.

————————

Of course, no ceremony was one that could be done in the mere span of a day, so it gave the Dendro God time to sit and ruminate. Except, they did anything and everything to keep themselves from doing so, throwing themselves into commissions, around crowds, into conversations and hobbies that kept their mind occupied from the looming fog.

Sylvie had already long come to terms with their own ‘death’ three thousand years ago; the only remnants of the effect was the deep scar running through their whole torso—almost bisecting them—and the bitter dislike of the cold from dying in old, frigid Mondstadt in some futile attempt to get shelter elsewhere for their people.

That was whatever.

What they never wanted to revisit, was the aftermath of that upon their reawakening.

————————

There was no one there anymore for Foras.

Morax now donned the mantle of Rex Lapis, the weight of Liyue heavy on his shoulders; he had more than enough on his shoulders, they would not—could not—add to that, when they knew all too well what it meant to be a God.

Guizhong was gone, many were gone, taken away in the war without any goodbye. The rest withdrew—all carrying their own aches and pains they were healing from.

Sumeru was not an option, for even thinking of visiting made them feel shaken with shame for their failure as a God to their people—leaving ████ as a distant thought instead, even though they so, so sorely wished they could talk to her, to listen to her wisdom once more as fingers threaded through their hair to decorate it with flowers.

They were alone. 

No one could answer the anguished calls of their heart, not when their own were still hurting and bleeding.

No one could answer them.

Who were they?

What were they meant to do now that all their people were gone?

And why hadn’t they just stayed dead?

————————

“I hope you don’t mind the request, Director Hu Tao.”

Hu Tao looked up towards her consultant, hands resting on her hips as her expression was thoughtful; it was rare for Zhongli to request much outside of work and clientele, especially in a way where he didn’t wish to divulge the reasoning behind it. “Of course I don’t mind it, seeing you with such a serious face when you ask me that … go, take all the time you need.”

————————

Sylvie quietly observed the green jade within their grasp, turning it in their hands as it glistened underneath the light of the sun; they know the rite should be using Noctilucous jade, blue in its luster and glow … but they know Zhongli picked it because green was representative of them. A deviation from tradition, a gesture of kindness in a way that would not betray the original intention of the ceremony as the jade was carved.

Silk Flower perfume, incense, bell …

“And you dragged the traveller along to get all of these?” they laughed out quietly, turning to look towards him.

“Mm, yes. It was quite an experience, I will say, especially as they had to sing to open up the Glaze Lilies; I’m glad that it was not a requirement this time around, with your hand in recreating the needed ingredients.” His smile mirrored their own, small and subtle. “I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed it had you been around to see the negotiations and hurdles that must’ve been crossed in the process.”

“Ones that had someone else bartering for you because you very conveniently forgot your money? And for three million Mora for incense of all things? And the … ahem, cocogoat you had to hunt down?”

“Everburning Incense. You must be aware and mindful, my jade, I was merely learning at that stage, and anyone could’ve easily mistaken Qiqi’s request.”

“Uh huh, considering even the six thousand-year-old god did. And now you do it on purpose to leave your mora at home and use your big puppy eyes towards me to buy you stuff on occasion.” Their elbow nudged into his side, watching. “How the hell did you even manage to get the incense this time around?”

“Baizhu owed me a favour.” Sylvie could only respond with a raised eyebrow towards him. “Legal loopholes allow him to import some external herbs that within Liyue are often regulated and need months of paperwork processing ahead of time, but were necessary for a critical patient in absorbing and removing miasma without reliance on adeptal arts.”

“Mm, I’d call that a very big favour. Makes sense.”

The jade was placed back down upon the table, settled into a quiet room within the funeral parlour that was secluded and private, housing the items that were to make up the Rite of Parting; although nothing like the one held for Rex Lapis. This was just for the two of them, and no one else.

They could not bear to have anyone else see this. “… I suppose that makes all of it,” they murmured quietly, not looking back up towards him.

“Outside needing to carve the jade to its needed shape, yes. It should not be longer than a few more days before we can enact the rite.”

They know this funeral is also for him as well, and is why he is pouring all of himself into doing it; in the tides of war, where grief and vulnerability were not allowed, the weight of their death had not dawned on him until it was far too late. Feelings slowly eroded and washed away like rivers over stones, dulling them down into something they can shelve far, far behind.

Ironic that he’s picked up the mantle of a funeral consultant when he needed it the most.

And though it all rests in the past now, memories flicker for both of them, of the anguish and hurt as he held their torn body within their own cold, dying dreamscape, of the apologizes spilling out amongst sobs they could never imagine leaving him, of the regrets he's had over so many years as he felt Sylvie’s essence slipping between his fingers, of their own words assuring him in their time of peril that it’ll all be okay (oh, he thought, they were always so selfless, down to their last breath) … to him, it still felt very much real when he thought back to it, even if it was merely a dream he walked into.

So, Sylvie thinks, when has he ever had time to mourn? For them? For lost friends and companions? For the people of Liyue who had died for him? It’s why they wanted him to have this opportunity to do so, even if it was only for them, even if they were still here.

It eases up a bit of the dread coiled in their stomach.

————————

It took a few days for the jade carvings to return, and one more day until the actual procession and rite itself. Sylvie occupied themselves during those days, wanting to exhaust their body until they fell asleep and to not leave any moment to think. Of course, they prepared, mentally as much as they could, but it didn’t keep the fear from bubbling in their stomach.

White chrysanthemums and a bowl of fresh fruit decorated the small altar, with a wooden deer-carved figurine topping it; there was no body to mourn, when the body was still breathing, blinking, and moving about, so their own hands carved something symbolic of themselves to place atop the altar. 

The door was closed behind them, finalizing the fact that this was happening, as the two quietly gathered around the altar.

“We are here today to honour and remember Foras, known as the God of Trees, of Harvests, of Fertility, of Health, a god born of Sumeru’s lands, beloved by those who looked up to them. Although many years have passed, one should admire their courage, dedication and love they returned for their people across many years.”

The heavy scent of the incense and the perfume washed over them, the flicker of light blurred in their eyesight as Zhongli’s voice filled their thoughts.

“Thank you, Foras, for all your kind words, and laughter you’ve brought, of all the times you’ve been there. May you have the same in return, in gentle hands that will hold your own and will listen to you. May the earth welcome you back with open arms..”

This was a goodbye that was three millennia in the making.

A goodbye to the laughter of the past, to the small hands of children holding their robes, to smiling faces thanking them for watching over them, to feasts held in their name, to old friends they will not see again, to a Sumeru that’s long been outgrown.

Gods, did it feel like a stab through the insides to say goodbye to that part of themselves, no matter how much it still lived within them, shaped them.

It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

The quietness of the rite and his voice was only interrupted by their sobs, raw and aching as they were unable to hold back the waves of emotions that tore through them—indiscernible in name—that sent their body shuddering with a detached coldness as it shook with their voice.

They didn’t want to say it.

But they needed to.

The God of Trees was dead.

————————

Sylvie could not tell how much time passed, lost in thoughts and emotions that felt like mud. They could vaguely feel the shape of hands smoothing over their shoulders in soothing circles. Their knees ache a bit, realizing they had curled down into a squat at some point—and that Zhongli was beside them, his hand being the one to rest on their back. Green eyes lifted to look towards him, finding his expression bare—worried, concerned, and with a glassy look to his own golden eyes.

Their lips parted for a moment, before closing with a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For doing what would come naturally in a situation like this, you do not need to apologize.” There is a quiet tenderness to his words, vulnerable and open—a funeral for both to find closure, and to both help each other up from. 

His hand moved to reach out towards them, palm splayed open … and they took his offer, stumbling up to their feet and finding their legs numb and asleep. The smell of the incense had faded out a bit, leaving only a taste of Glaze Lilies in the air.

“Thank you, Zhongli.”

Words could not cover their full gratitude, instead wrapping their arms around him in a tight embrace, a heavy sigh sinking their body down into him and face burying against the side of his head, focusing on the scent that was him instead—subtle, of sandalwood and something floral from that shampoo they gifted him. They could feel his arms in return around them, squeezing them with a pressure that grounded them further into the present. Everything still felt raw, like an open wound—but now it could close for them both.

“… could you make me a gravestone, Zhongli, saying Foras was buried there? I—I don’t know if that’s a part of the rite, but I … want one back in Sumeru. Actually, two gravestones, if that’s alright—though with the second being blank.”

Sylvie’s words tumbled a little over the latter half of their statement; something felt wrong about the concept of their gravestone being alone. Something equally felt wrong about not having a gravestone for … for someone who never had a chance to be mourned over. Perhaps just an open invitation for any visitor to see someone they wish to say goodbye to.

It took him a few moments, untangling himself out of their grasp to peer towards them. Fingers cupped their face gently, thumbs moving to press over their cheeks and to wipe the wetness underneath their eyes.

“Of course, Sylvie. I would’ve offered myself, but you thought of it first before I could say. I will; for you.”

————————

It was a simple gravestone, etched with Sylvie’s true, old name. Besides it rested a mirrored one, though lacking any engravings and simple in its nature. Zhongli’s eyes remained downcasted and half-lidded; the bundle of flowers within his arms was placed down in front of the named gravestone, looking over the small additional offerings of fruits, carvings, wheat … things drawn from nature itself that were placed in thanks.

He’s not all too surprised, given that upon the grave was written: “Here lies an old god that once called this place their home. Rest your weary head and leave your weight here, for the forest will listen to you.”

“It’s funny, seeing my grave is kind of a weird relief.” Sylvie’s voice spoke up beside him. “Maybe I’m just weirdly happy there’s some remnant left behind of myself, even if it’s in the form of my death and rebirth.” Zhongli’s eyes lifted to look towards them, patient and quiet … and eventually their own eyes lifted to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Zhongli. I hope it has helped you, too.”

“It has. Thank you, Foras.”

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

The Pains We Endure | Chapter Three

Masterlist | Ao3

Chapter Summary: Aesop learns a secret about Edith. A close encounter brings feelings to the surface. (Aesop Sharp x OC)

Chapter Rating: PG

Chapter Warnings: None!

Word count: 4k

A/N: I've included a fun fact about flowers/bees that is actually a pretty recent discovery, but surely the wizarding world is ahead on these things, right? This chapter is mostly fluff before the drama. 3 of 6.

—

Tuesday evening arrived in the blink of an eye. In the days since she had tended to his hand, Aesop had barely seen Edith. There had been no time between classes to converse, and he felt compelled to change that.

Aesop stared at the handkerchief folded neatly on his desk. The square of white and lavender looked so out of place in the dimness of his office. He had laundered it with care, and all that remained was the simple task of returning it.

Why, then, was he stalling?

He sighed, picking up the handkerchief gingerly, and looked at the basket that sat beside it. It had been weeks since Edith had left it on his desk, filled with herbs she had harvested herself. He was due to return it, and perhaps now was the time.

Another glance at the handkerchief. Aesop brought it to his nose. It still smelled faintly of dittany and violets.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Aesop tucked it into his pocket.

No more stalling.

The kettle was just about to boil when Edith heard the knock at the door. She seldom had visitors, especially after dinner. Perplexed, Edith opened the door and was surprised to find the potions master standing on the other side.

“Oh, good evening, Aesop. Is everything all right?”

“I came to return this.” Aesop held the little basket aloft.

A smirk played at the corners of Edith’s mouth. “So you found a home for those herbs, after all?”

“And I have set some aside in case those doxies return.”

Edith huffed. “Perish the thought.” Her face softened. “How is your hand?”

Aesop presented his palm, free of any blemish or scar. “Like it never happened, thanks to you.”

“Think nothing of it. Oh!” The weight of the basket surprised Edith when she took it from him, almost dropping it. Within, she found a jar bearing the Steeply & Sons label. Her eyes lit up as she pulled it from the basket.

“A small token of my gratitude.” Aesop’s tone remained casual, though he couldn’t help but smile at her reaction.

Edith opened the jar and inhaled, closing her eyes as the scent washed over her. “Heavenly.”

She was already walking over to her teapot, looking over her shoulder to ask, “Join me for a cup?”

“I would love to, Miss Pryce.”

“Please, call me Edith. Your timing is once again perfect; I just heated some water.”

“I noticed your absence at dinner this evening.” Aesop took a seat on the sofa, observing her surroundings again. Nothing had changed since Saturday, though he thought the lamps were dim tonight.

Edith set the tea tray on the table and sat at the other end of the sofa. “Yes, I felt a headache coming on and thought it prudent to lie down. I thought fainting at the dinner table might be a little improper.”

“You suffer these afflictions often?”

“I have always been prone to headaches and fainting spells, though it has been a struggle since-“ Edith paused, holding the lid of the teapot in place as she poured. “Since my accident.”

Aesop raised an eyebrow. “Accident?”

Edith leveled her gaze at him. I shouldn’t have said that.

She considered the man before her. Aesop had been kind to her. Refused to leave her when she was vulnerable. He knew, firsthand, what it was like to suffer the effects of dark wizards; his leg was proof of that. Aesop would understand.

So Edith decided she should tell him the truth.

“I have heard that prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse often produces such side effects. The healers at St. Mungo’s tell me it is irreversible, but I am fortunate to still have my mind.”

She watched a look of understanding cross Aesop’s features. “An unpleasant ordeal, no doubt. How did you come to be in such a situation?”

“I am not cut out for fighting dark wizards, but I have friends who are. I became embroiled in their efforts, and when I refused to give up their location to their enemy, he tried to persuade me.”

Aesop felt his auror instincts lighting up the inquisitive part of his mind. “What was this man’s name?”

“McNair. Jasper McNair.”

“I think I know of him. It was after my time in the ministry, but a former colleague mentioned it to me. He escaped the aurors, didn’t he?”

Edith nodded. “No one knows where he is. I fear he will try to find me.”

“Which is why Matilda helped you gain your position here.” Aesop nodded, finally understanding the secrecy. “To keep you safe.”

“Professor Sharp-“

“Aesop,” he gently corrected.

“Aesop. I am very guarded when it comes to this subject. I don’t take you for a gossip, but I would appreciate it if you did not speak of this to anyone else. Matilda is the only one who knows.”

“Of course.”

An appreciative smile graced her lips as she held up her teacup. “Now, this tea is far too lovely for the discussion of such dark topics. Let us speak of something more pleasant.”

“Then tell me of your plants,��� Aesop suggested. “How did you become such a keen herbologist?”

Ediths lips curved into a truly happy smile as she looked over the plants adorning the room. Her favorite subject. “When I was small, I used to help my mother in her garden. I think I’ve loved plants ever since. Even then I was very good with them, and I could barely hold a trowel.”

Aesop chuckled at the image of a little Edith, dirt smudging her cheek. “I see you grow several plants that are rare or difficult. Why?”

“It’s how I challenge myself, I suppose.” Edith shrugged. “It brings me a sense of accomplishment. And it doesn’t hurt that rare herbs fetch rather nice prices.”

He smirked, seeming to approve of her words. “How enterprising. Yet I see flowers more than anything else.”

“I love all plants, but there is nothing I love so much as flowers.” Edith glanced at her surrounding plants, smiling. “They are beautiful, of course, but they have so many purposes and uses. Did you know some flowers can sense bees? They hear the vibrations of their wings, and in response, their nectar sweetens to be more appealing to the pollinator.”

Edith suddenly fell quiet, her smile fading. “I’m sorry, I must sound frightfully boring.” She hid her face behind a sip of tea.

“Not at all. I’ve never seen you so animated on a topic.”

“I get a little overexcited when I speak about my passions. I seldom have the opportunity.”

Aesop raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

Because no one listens.

“I’m usually a better listener than I am a talker.”

Edith finished the last of her tea and reached for the teapot. “Another cup? Or is it getting too late?”

Aesop held out his cup. “Not at all.”

—

It was proving to be a rather uneventful Sunday in the library. Edith sipped a cup of tea, thumbing through a book on floriography, enjoying the comforting background noise of the few students who were shuffling around the library. Her thoughts drifted to the point where she didn’t realize someone stood in front of her until they cleared their throat.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked up and met Aesop’s dark brown gaze. “Apologies, I was miles away. Did you need something?”

Aesop’s impatient expression softened. “I was planning to do some research in the restricted section.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Edith rummaged in the desk for the key. “Any topics of interest?”

“Just my blasted leg.”

“Oh.” Edith rather wished she hadn’t asked.

Aesop glanced down at the book in front of her. “Floriography?”

“The symbolic language of flowers. I think it’s common among wizards, but it has swept the muggle world by storm. They give bouquets carrying entire messages in carefully selected blooms, and reference it in novels and poems. There are countless books on the subject, but this one has the finest illustrations.”

Edith fell silent, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “You are letting me carry on again.”

“You are not the only one who is good at listening.”

Edith held out the key to the restricted section. “Well, I shan’t keep you any longer.”

Aesop took the key, his fingers brushing against hers.

“Let me know when you’re finished. That Sallow boy keeps trying to sneak in, so I’ve got to keep a close eye on that key.”

“I may be awhile.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Edith’s gaze remained on Aesop’s back until he went round the corner and down the steps, out of sight. She had just turned back to her book when Aesop called out, his tone full of mild concern.

“Edith?”

Edith trotted down the first set of stairs, her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?” She rounded the corner and fell silent.

This area of the restricted section was in utter shambles. Books had been torn from the shelves, laying everywhere but where they belonged. The catalog drawers had been emptied, contents strewn about the floor and shelves, and papers littered every surface.

“Peeves.” Edith released an exasperated sigh. She looked at Aesop. “I hope what you were looking for isn’t in all this mess.”

“Luckily not.”

Edith picked up a few of the stranded books before their spines were damaged. “If the rest of the restricted section is like this… don’t tell me. I shall burst into tears, mourning my evening.”

Aesop chuckled. “I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye out for rogue papers.”

“Much appreciated. Happy knowledge hunting.”

Frowning over her cup of tea going cold upstairs, Edith went to work setting everything right.

The quiet of the library was occasionally broken by Aesop shuffling below, or a bit of humming from Edith. She wasn’t sure how many hours passed as she worked, but the place looked much better.

Edith stretched, surveying her work. As her eyes traveled the shelves, she saw that at least a few tomes had been abandoned on the very tops of the bookcases. Groaning, Edith wheeled the step ladder below one.

She heard Aesop’s footsteps approaching as she stretched to reach the book. “Edith, there seems to be a book missing down here.”

“What? Which one?” Edith called down from the stepladder. Her fingers scrabbled for the book. It was terrible to be short.

Aesop said the title, and Edith’s brow furrowed. “That’s impossible. It was there yesterday morning, and it’s not allowed to be taken out.”

“Well, it isn’t there now.”

“Give me a moment. I’ll be right down.”

Edith finally grasped the book and pulled it forward, along with a thick cloud of dust. She spluttered as she backed down the ladder, stumbling on the last step. Edith wobbled, her balance ruined. Aesop’s hands took hold of her shoulders, keeping her from falling as she rubbed at her eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, stooping to get a look at her face.

“I just got something in my eye.” Edith blinked at the tears forming there.

Aesop’s warm fingers took hold of her chin, tilting her head back to face him. “Let me see.”

Edith let her hand fall away as Aesop’s took its place, helping push the intruder to the corner of her eye. She blinked a few times, and though her eye was still red and watery, the obstruction seemed to be gone.

“Better?” He asked. Aesop plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Edith. She pressed it to her eye, drying the tears from her cheek.

“Thank you.” Edith’s voice was soft as she handed it back. She noted the lavender embroidery, and a little smile pulled at her lips.

Aesop started to put it back in his pocket when he noticed her looking at it. “Unless you wanted it back?”

Edith shook her head. “No. Keep it.”

Aesop brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his eyes still boring into hers. Edith’s gaze darted to his lips, her own parting slightly, and back to his eyes. Aesop’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and he leaned forward.

“Merlin’s beard!”

Aesop and Edith turned when they heard the voice, finding Sebastian Sallow at the top of the stairs, Aesop’s missing book in his hands.

Aesop glared daggers at the boy; Edith cleared her throat, hands going to her hips. “Mr. Sallow, you are not supposed to be in the restricted section, and that book is not meant to be out of it.”

Edith held her hand out expectantly. Sallow sighed. “Yes, Miss Pryce.”

He handed over the book as Aesop strode toward him. The back of Aesop’s hand brushed against Edith’s side as he moved away. “With me, Sallow. We can discuss your detention.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes behind Aesop’s back and Edith watched them both retreat up the stairs.

—

Aesop arrived at the library early the next morning. He had a little time before his first class of the day, and he planned to spend it perusing the book that eluded him yesterday.

A ghost of a smile he hadn’t realized he wore faded as he found Miss Scribner, not Edith, at the desk. “No Miss Pryce today?” He couldn’t resist asking.

“I sent her to Hogsmeade on an errand. Something you need, professor?”

“Just looking to get into the restricted section.”

Aesop picked up Edith’s book on floriography, sitting where he had last seen it, glancing at its pages. He carried it with him to the restricted section, leafing through the colorful illustrations.

It was amazing how quickly Edith had restored order to the chaos Peeves had left behind. With his height, he spotted a few books she had missed, still lying on top of the bookcases. With a flick of his wand, Aesop retrieved them and stacked them on the table, finding himself in the same spot they had stood last night.

Where he had very nearly kissed her.

What was it about Edith Pryce that stirred these feelings - feelings that had been absent for years - within him?

Perhaps the answer was just too simple. She was clever and quick-thinking. Beneath the meek, unassuming librarian she took great care to portray, Edith was a resilient and determined woman.

What would she have done if he had kissed her?

Aesop shook the thought from his mind. There was no use dwelling on a moment that had passed. Especially as he was so short on time.

He left the library half an hour later with some hastily scribbled notes. Passing through Central Hall, a snippet of conversation caught his attention among the myriad voices.

“I thought we had it bad with Rookwood and those goblins stirring up trouble. I never thought something like this would happen in Diagon Alley.”

“At least no one was seriously hurt. What do you think they were looking for?”

“I don’t know, but it cost Flourish and Blotts three shelves of books for nothing.”

Aesop came to a stop beside the students, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. “What are you talking about? What’s happened in London?”

The Ravenclaw held up a copy of the Daily Prophet. “A couple of dark wizards causing trouble, Professor Sharp.”

Aesop took the paper and peered down at the moving photograph on the page. His lips tightened.

“You can keep that, professor, I’m finished with it. Need to get to charms.”

Aesop nodded, still looking over the paper as he made his way to his classroom. Frustration scratched beneath his skin. He should be out there, bringing wizards like these to justice.

He had found a sense of purpose and fulfillment teaching at Hogwarts; Aesop had no regrets about the path he had chosen in the wake of his injury. There were just some days when he wished things were different. He wished he had something more in his life. Heaving a sigh, Aesop tossed the paper to the side.

An auror no longer, whether he liked it or not. Unless he found a way to heal his leg, he would remain the potions master for the foreseeable future. Aesop prepared himself for the day’s lessons - and the lack of adventure they entailed.

Though, for a brief moment, his thoughts strayed to the handkerchief in his pocket.

—

Edith woke to a morning blissfully free of headache and lightheadedness. It was her day off from the library, and she had several ideas on how to spend it.

Naturally, it began with a cup of tea. She thought of Aesop as she measured out the tea he had given her. She thought of how he had almost kissed her in the library the other day. Edith wondered if he would have, had they not been interrupted. What would that have been like?

Edith shook her head from her reverie. It wouldn’t do to dwell on those kinds of thoughts. She had to sit next to the man at meals! She couldn’t go getting all flustered and thinking about kissing.

With a flick of her wand, Edith sent a couple of enchanted lanterns into the air, brightening up the room. Humming a melody without a meaning, she set to work caring for her plants. Pruning, snipping, and harvesting all in turn, pausing occasionally to sip her tea, Edith was focused on her task.

The door was propped open, though Edith was too busy bustling around her leafy children to notice a visitor pause in her doorway.

“You seem cheerful this morning, Edith.”

“Matilda! You startled me.” Edith set the pruning scissors down. “It’s shaping up to be a lovely day, don’t you think? Tea?”

Matilda nodded for Edith to pour her a cup. “What has you in such a good mood? Or should I say, who?”

Edith faltered as she poured the tea. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Matilda gave her a look. “My dear girl. I’ve seen you and Professor Sharp. You spend a lot of time together, always chatting away at meals.”

“We’re just friends, Matilda.”

Matilda raised an eyebrow over her teacup.

“There’s no need to look at me like that.”

Matilda chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve enjoyed seeing the both of you a little less lonely. You could do worse for a suitor.”

Edith’s eyes widened. “Even if that was on the table, and it’s not, I’m not ready for something like that. Poor judgment almost destroyed me once, I won’t let it happen again.”

Matilda laid a comforting hand on Edith’s shoulder. “Surely you wouldn’t suspect Aesop capable of such a thing.”

Edith stared down into her teacup. “I didn’t think Jasper was capable of such things when I met him.”

“That is hardly a comparison worth making.”

“Perhaps not. But then, such thoughts are not driven by the rational mind.”

“Well, I might as well finish spoiling your good mood.” Matilda held out a copy of the Daily Prophet, a few days old now.

The headline was attention grabbing: Dark Wizards Make Ruckus in London!

But Edith’s gaze was fixed on the moving photograph that accompanied it. Two wizards in dark cloaks, disapparating from the scene of chaos in Diagon Alley. The picture wasn’t great, their faces blurry in the moment of their getaway.

Mostly.

“London is no small distance.” The paper shook as Edith handed it back. “Surely they wouldn’t have reason to come here.”

“I didn’t show you this to scare you.” Matilda abandoned the paper on the table. “I just thought you should be aware.”

“I know. I just don’t want to leave, Matilda.”

“Dear girl, who said anything about leaving? There’s no better place for you to be.”

Edith sipped her tea. She wasn’t so sure. “But if he does come here-“

“Then you’ll no longer face him alone.” Matilda laid a hand on Edith’s shoulder. “You can’t run from him forever.”

“I don’t know. I’ve gotten rather good at it.” Of course, she had never found somewhere she wanted to stay before.

“Well, maybe it’s time to better your skills in something else.” Matilda set the cup of tea down on the tray. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Edith.”

Despite her polite word of parting to Matilda, Edith felt that the peace of her day had been ruined. She sat down with a fresh cup of tea and a book, but found that she couldn’t focus on the words on the page. Where had her floriography book gotten to?

When he turned to look for it, her gaze landed on the rumpled Daily Prophet. The moving photograph once again held her interest, and she found herself staring at it while a thousand thoughts swirled in her mind.

Huffing, Edith crumpled up the paper and hurled it into the fireplace. She stared until the parchment, the photo, the face was nothing but cinders.

—

The sun was low in the sky when Edith left the library. She had just closed the door when she turned around to see Aesop standing behind her.

“Good evening, Aesop.” She couldn’t help the soft smile that curved her lips. “Here for another visit to the restricted section? Do excuse me.”

She moved to step out of his way, but Aesop’s voice stopped her. “Actually, I was on my way to see you. Can you spare a moment to speak?”

“Of course. I was just thinking of taking a walk by the lake. Do you feel like joining me?”

Aesop gestured for her to lead the way. He didn’t know how she did it, but Edith was adept at keeping a comfortable pace without making him feel like she was only slowing for the sake of his leg.

“I’m simply desperate for some fresh air,” Edith told him as they reached the doors.

“You must be busy, with exams coming up. I hear the library has been quite popular this week.”

“Indeed. A number of students have told me they are quite nervous about Professor Sharp’s potions exam.”

Aesop chuckled. “I’ve heard he’s intimidating.”

“Perhaps. I think he’s quite reasonable once you get to know him.” Edith watched him from the corner of her eye.

Pink, orange, and gold reflected off the surface of the Black Lake, the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. The colors played on Edith’s pale skin, dancing in her eyes. They shone tonight, and it was nice to see her without one of her headaches. Aesop could lose himself in those dark brown depths.

What am I doing here? I was a fool to think this was a good idea.

“Aesop?”

Edith’s voice mercifully interrupted his internal conversation, and he returned to the present. She was looking at him expectantly.

“Is something on your mind?”

“No. Why?”

“You said earlier that you wanted to speak to me.”

“Right.”

Better to be the fool who asked than the fool who never learned the answer.

The sun sunk lower, a light breeze blowing in off the lake. It ruffled a loose lock of Edith’s hair, and she tucked it behind her ear. Surely, it must have been important for him to seek her out specifically.

“Edith, would you like to join me for dinner at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night?”

She certainly wasn’t expecting that.

Edith’s mind whirled as she stared at him, trying to find the words for her answer.

Aesop must have found her surprise unsavory. Frowning, he started to speak, but Edith cut him off.

“I would like that.”

It was Aesop’s turn to look surprised. “You would?”

Pink crept into Edith’s cheeks. “Very much.”

Such a wide smile was seldom seen on Aesop Sharp’s face. “You honor me.”

As they strolled back to the castle, Edith and Aesop determined the particulars of their meeting. They parted with smiles and softly spoken words of good night.

When Edith extinguished the light by her bed and settled beneath her blanket, the face swimming in her mind was not the one from the newspaper.

[schakira]

if you discovered a new kind of vegetable like one that had never been discovered before science has NEVER seen anything like this vegetable.... what would you do with the vegetable...

well first how many samples do we have? first thing i'd do is plant the vegetable in the best most comfortable and rich soil ever to make sure it grows again and give it moderate amounts of water and sun to ensure it grows some more so i can harvest more of this vegetable.

then i do a poison test! i taste the leaves and the vegetable, touch them and rub a tiny amount on my lips to check if i have any negative side effects. i check for bitter or awful tastes. i wait for 15 minutes, then proceed with another taste with a small bit of the plant, and wait another few hours. i keep testing until i realize that there are no poisonous substances.

i still prepare one sample to send to a lab, but for now i want to do my discoveries on my own. :3

in the meantime, i'll try to note down everything i can about the vegetable. i'll doodle it, get its general shape, write my impressions, my thoughts on it while observing it. then i'll start doing a general more detail illustration of the plant's anatomy from the outside and in cross sections, noting down each region and how they smell, what they feel like, amounts of water, etc etc...

i lack the biological knowledge or vernacular to correctly note down each part of the plant's anatomy so i'll just keep the plant illustration intact and as detailed as i can. then i take a bunch of really detailed pictures and videos of the plant and vegetable from all sides, and watch how it grows.

after that i wanna try a litmus test and check the ph level of the plant... i'd probably get a litmus paper or smth.

now that i've done enough researches on the vegetables, it's time to cook it if it's not poisonous :3

first, after cleaning it thoroughly in water, i'll try tasting it raw no cuts, and see how it pairs with salt and then sugar, separately. after this, i'll dice it and tr to sauté it and taste it as is. based on how it tastes, i'll see if i'd rather pair it with a spicy sauce or a milder sauce. if it's a tiny bit bitter or chewy then i'll go for spicy, but if it has a more earthy flavor then i'll add more spices.

i'll also try to eat it in a soup, and also just cooked raw in the oven. i wanna see the panel of different tastes this plant can offer me. can i also make a tea out of it? out of its leaves and whatnot? i'll get the residual bits of the vegetable i cut off, put them all in the oven and cook them until they are fully dry, then pummel them into a fine powder to make either seasoning spices out of this vegetable, or powder for tea.

of course, i'll be documenting all of my researches on video because this is priceless data and i control all of it hehe.

after this, if i still have enough vegetables to both send to a laboratory, and to make more dishes out of, i'll make a few dishes that i deem are perfect for this vegetable, and serve them to me myself and i because if it's somehow still poisonous or smth im not giving it to my family... though i doubt it because i would have already died by now.

anyways. i take all of the document material i have, put them all together in a 30mn long video documentary. after which, i send a snippet to a lab and tell them i am renting the video for approximately [I Have Bills to Pay]$ dollars. and if they're interested, i can send them my thoroughly documented video and a sample of the plant for more money, because i have bills to pay and also put a lot of effort in this. of course i am all for sharing information publicly.

except not now because i am in dire need of some money. sorry for being a capitalist.... but i would have probably already posted and sent some bits and pieces of my researches either on here or to various friends. not on twitter. i hate twitter. not on insta either. just here or on discord or whatever.

i'd also listen to a bunch of advice from people as well, just in case.

i think that's about everything i would do if i ever discovered a new vegetable. :3c

[alissaming]

Story of Seasons Review

So I decided, since I reviewed Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life, now's a good time to start reviewing the Story of Seasons games. It would be hard to do a top however many when there are only 5 games so far and when it's hard to decide which I like more at this point. I may do a top however many later, after I've had time to sort out my thoughts a bit more. For now, here's a review of the first Story of Seasons game

Story of Seasons is a pretty good one. It's got some stuff I like and some stuff I'm more or less nuetral on. One of the things that's clearest is it's connection to Harvest Moon as well as it's expansion of the lore of both the Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons games. See, as you start, you'll find Witchie, a witch building a house on a lake. It's there you'll later meet Dessie, this game's Harvest Goddess in training. And for those who might be wondering (don't know if anyone is or not) I'm pretty convinced Witchie is actually Witchkins from Sunshine Islands. You know, the frog lover cousin of Witch Princess? Yeah, her. Anyway, Witchie and Dessie actually become pretty good friends.

Your character takes over half a farm next to an elderly lady who will teach you the ropes. You'll learn about selling via your cart, rather than your shipping box, you'll learn about renting fields. So the ony fields you really need are the mushroom/honey field and the rice paddies. Every thing else, while nice, is just extra space. See, with enough room to dedicate to the farm, you can grow anything on the farm. Trees, flowers, tea bushes, root crops, spices, etc. And generally those rentals have more space than needed. But unlike later games, you'll never get the ability to get rice paddies for your farm or make mushroom logs or bee hutches. So you need those if at all possible. The way you get them, except the first one which is root crops, is to try to get them from others. If you do this right, you'll actually be able to completely take over the rentals and not let anyone else use it. Basically if you renew your rent before it expires (or the day it expires, rather) instead of waiting a day or two after it expires, you'll never be challenged. It's just yours. Honestly, the areas have more space than you'll actually need, as there's like 4 spice crops (I think) and the tree fields are the most useful as it has plenty of space for all the trees. If you manage to get challenged for a field you own and lose, you will have to get all your crops out for whoever won it off you. Go for whatever challenge you think you can manage best. Some have to do with the number of collected items (that aren't the same), others with the amount of money you make in a certain amount of time.

You can also swim for some resources, such as fish, glass, some ores, etc. Eventually, you'll be able to get to a natural area where there's a place to get other kinds of ores you'll need.

I'm mixed about the rental system. It makes sense where room for crops and such is a limited resource, but some of the challenges are impossible, and they get harder the more people are involved. It's better to just renew your lease the day it ends and avoid any challenges once the field has expired (if it expires on a festival day, you have the next day to renew instead, as the place where you can rent the fields is not open on a festival)

I actually find most of the characters interesting, and the marriage candidates are neat. Also, you have twins, one girl and one boy, with your chosen spouse. But eventually the game got a bit glitchy. I guess it didn't like that I'd married, had a kid, and had all the fields in my command.

All in all, a pretty solid start from the creators of Harvest Moon. Not the best of their games by far, but a pretty solid 3/5, I think. Not perfect, not even great, but pretty good.

[raconteur-multiverse]

🌌 Jade Leech Bloom Birthday Story

‘If you use a broom, you can fly anywhere. Where do you want to go?’

"So? If that condition is met then I.... I want to go to Meihou. Simply put, it's a famous and beautiful mountain.for example, maybe looking at a steep cliff that normally doesn't allow people to enter from above. or fully enjoy the view of the whole mountain There is nothing blocking my eyes.These are things if you don't ride in a helicopter or use a drone. There was usually no way to see it. But if you practice more flying skills, you will be able to see all the beautiful mountains without having to rely on machines.Which, with my skill right now, it's going to be difficult to fly high or deal with the strong winds around the mountain peaks.

But when I think that if one day I might have the opportunity, I'm really excited. Plus, if you don't have to take into account the amount of magic power.You'll be able to see the scenery that changes with the time and weather conditions all day until you're full."

'What's your favorite subject?'

"What's your specialty... The subject that received a particularly good score would probably be Magic Potion Alchemy. Only one will get a wound.And it's not something that needs to be seen that much. Alchemy is just that I have a personal interest and that's why I get good grades. If you're really interested, it's probably the first time you drank the Transfiguration Pill. A mermaid can transform into a human with just one pill.I can't forget the impression of that moment. And I also thought that if I studied Alchemy, I might be able to do something more interesting.During the 1-2 digit years, I still learned about basic medicine that uses less ingredients.

But he saw that once he was promoted to a higher level, he would be able to concoct more complex pills. I'm really looking forward to that day. Someday I want to try to concoct a potion that is said to be made by a sea mage. like a magic pill that prevents all kinds of tongue and throat ailments. Unfortunately, there is no detailed information left. I've only heard that jellyfish is used as an ingredient. But concocting a magic pill that has never been done before was quite challenging."

'Tell me, What do you do on vacation?'

"The last holiday was.... Oh, I blend (mix) tea leaves. have specified the planting location, harvest time, Or how much is the level of tea leaves? Because I think trying adventure is the key to success. But if there's anything weird. I sometimes wear peaches that I picked up from events. Even if it 's a weed, it can be used as a raw material through the process of drying or roasting. Plus, the same grass taste also changes according to the growing environment. Having fun with these small changes is the real thrill of preparing your own ingredients."

Notes:

The Tea Weed that Jade's mention is Cannabis Tea. A Herbal Tea made with cannabutter, cannabis oil, cannabis sugar, cannabis honey.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

that tea post made me wanna talk about honey so now I'm gonna talk about honey because honey is a very cool and much more interesting than people give it credit for

this is my current honey collection, these are all locally sourced, I generally avoid mass produced name brand honeys because of their generic flavour and the occasional cheeky watering down with sugar syrup (those ones always irritate my throat)

the big boy on the end is wildflower honey, one of the more generic flavours, closest in taste to the name brand stuff, it's a perfectly fine and functional honey but I find it somewhat boring, I only own this tub because I bought it during lockdown when my options were limited, it's also gotten somewhat crystallised, so I haven't been using it much

the second jar is a similar flavour, but a nicer consistency, it's sourced from my own neighbourhood! again it's pretty generic but I like the consistency and it feels cool to know that the bees who made it might have visited my own garden at some point

the third jar is another one from close by, specifically it was harvested by my friend's mum from her own beehive! I've been told her bees really like this one orange tree in their yard, I've never had a citrus based honey before but I can say I've never seen a honey this striking a colour and it has a very mild but interesting tang to it

the first jar in the lineup has been an experience

it's actually from out of state, it's called Salvation Jane and I have never seen a honey like it

I can't really tell you the flavour because I can barely get any out of the jar, it is completely hardened and crystallised, almost totally solid and surprisingly heavy, I've tried sitting it in the sun all day, I've tried submerging the jar in hot water, it got me absolutely nowhere, I haven't bought this type of honey before so I have no idea what it's normally supposed to be like when it isn't hard as rocks

the only use I've ever gotten out of it was by prying some out really slowly with a knife and mixing it with boiling water to put in some muffins, it took ages and I had to water it down a lot more than I would have liked, I have no idea what else to do with it, I may have to actually resort to microwaving it ugh

the little tub in the front is some honeycomb my mum picked up for me from a market, you can just scoop out a piece and put it straight in your mouth, it is the most satisfying thing you'll ever bite into, but only for the first couple bites, then you're just chewing lumpy wax, less satisfying, you generally spit it out at that point (you can swallow it if you want to though it's harmless to ingest, I just prefer not to)

my favourite thing is to add a big scoop of honeycomb to my tea, because it only partially melts and by the last mouthful you get this wonderful soft piece of super sweet tea steeped goodness, it only lasts a couple seconds but they are glorious seconds, and then you just have wax in your mouth again

I don't currently own my favoured types of honey since I just don't have the room on my shelf for more until I finish at least one of these, but one that I really like is iron bark, it's only sometimes available at my local grocer but I always try to snap them up (they sometimes come in big tubs like the wildflower honey)

iron bark honey has a really mild flavour and a more runny consistency, I really like it on toast (though it is very messy), and it's great in tea if you're sick, you can add extra to soothe a sore throat without it overpowering the flavour of the tea (one time I was coughing my guts up all night so I just got up, ate a couple spoonfuls of iron bark and then went back to bed, it stopped the coughing long enough that I could get to sleep)

stringy bark is the most commonly available to me next to wildflower, and I really like it because I find it the most versatile, it's strong enough that I can use it when baking muffins, it's a little thicker than iron bark but with a similar flavour so it's a bit less messy on toast and just as yummy, and it goes great in tea

the darkest, thickest, most treacly honey I've ever had was blackbutt honey, I bought it on holiday once and it had such a strong flavour that I only ever used it in baking, it was a completely effective sugar substitute and despite the flavour turning out really subtle, it gave the muffins an incredibly strong honey smell, which I really enjoyed

I've used other honeys as a sugar substitute and some of them work fine but never quite as effectively as the blackbutt honey, I haven't seen another jar of it since but I'd love to get my hands on it again, it was an incredible colour, almost totally black

if you're a honey buff, tell me what kind of honey is common in your local area and which one is your favourite?

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship, swearing, past drug use, alcohol

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes:

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

Your injury, and consequential recovery time, couldn’t have come at a better time. The harvest was done and the apples had to rest before being pressed, which meant Frankie was now free to start working on your home. The work didn’t often require more than two hands so the days found you doing menial tasks being his gopher.

“You know,” Frankie had had to explain to you, “Go’fer this, go’fer that.”

This mainly consisted of you passing him tools while he was swearing under his breath in the attic, or groaning after rapping his knuckles under the sink, or white-faced and clinging to the weathervane on the roof. 

You had discovered Frankie’s sweet tooth on the first day of renovations, not noticing until after he’d left for the day that more than half the cookies you’d baked that morning were already gone. Making sure he was kept happy, you had a new treat ready for when he walked in the door. 

He was a coffee drinker though, and while you owned a coffee press you had never actually used it yourself, preferring tea leaves for your dose of caffeine. You’d tried, the first morning, to make a cup for him. You even googled How to Make a Cup of Coffee? to make sure you didn’t fuck it up. 

You could laugh about it now, but the look on Frankie’s face after he’d taken his first sip made you worry you had poisoned him. He had spat the black sludge out and handed you back the mug with a look of bewildered disgust. Apparently, you needed to grind the beans first, who knew?

An efficient, if not quite comfortable, rhythm had been forged between the two of you over the past week and a half. Frankie would arrive at nine in the morning, scarf down half a dozen treats while discussing the day’s projects. You would run to town in his truck (yours was still at the autobody shop awaiting parts) and buy any supplies that would be needed while he set up the worksites and organized the tools that would be required.

You had added popping into the local café for a large coffee for Frankie and a red rooibos latte with almond milk for yourself. The first couple of days you had bought him a brownie too but stopped after he’d only half-finished the first one and mumbled through the crumbs in his mouth that yours were better. It only took you three days before the owner had your order ready for you before you even walked in the door, five days before you noticed the sidelong glances the little old ladies were giving each other as you walked out.

Small towns, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes, had the unique benefit and downfall of everyone knowing everyone else’s business. They’d quit with the hardly-concealed smirks if they knew how awkward working with Frankie was becoming.

You had been sure, in the immediate aftermath of waking up in Frankie’s arms while his truck sat in your driveway, that he was never going to speak to you again. The two of you and hopped out and began explaining away whatever conclusions Jacquie and Mark had made. Then Frankie, without even looking in your general direction, told Jacquie to get you inside and have your wrist looked at. 

To his credit, he had taken care of everything regarding your truck for you. The tow truck came and hauled it to the yard, Frankie had commandeered the inspection report and, after calling them out on trying to swindle you into buying unnecessary parts, had ordered what was needed and paid. 

You had, naturally, argued against this but you both knew you weren’t in a position to afford it. Frankie shut down your arguments gracefully, and broke his apparent vow of silence, with a gruff “I’m just doing it so I can drive my damn truck without you changing the radio station.” The absolute charmer.

It was your damn house, though, so you decided you'd talk as much as you wanted and it would be up to him to interact. Either that or you had music blaring from the radio, never playing his favourite country station purely out of spite. 

Never quite sure if he was listening or not, you rambled on about anything and everything. You explained your vision for the house and the plans you had for a greenhouse in the yard. Memories from your childhood were described in great detail, as were embarrassing stories from your year in college. Baking tips, waxing poetic about your love for sunflowers, interesting animal facts, you'd even downloaded a Word of the Day App and made a game of fitting the words into your daily uninterrupted monologues.

It took three days for Frankie to break.

You had been reminiscing about your trip to Disneyland as a child when he abruptly cut in, voice muffled due to the nails being held between his lips.

"You never talk about it."

You assumed he was referring to the little all-day nap you’d shared in his truck, as it had yet to be spoken of, but were taken aback by the slight accusatory tone.

"Talk about what?"

He took so long to reply, you started to think that he had interrupted purely to shut you up. The silence demanded an explanation though, so you kept your mouth shut and waited.

Clambering down from the attic, where he had been strengthening the trusses throughout the sagging section of roof, Frankie pinned you with his gaze and softly repeated himself.

"You never talk about it. The time in your life when you were married." He must have seen your hackles rise because he quickly set down the hammer and held his hands up in a placating wave.

"You still haven't answered my question about being in the army," was your quick response, finished with an ever-so-mature, "so there."

With a resigned sigh, Frankie twisted his hat around backward and scrubbed his hands across his face. "Come on" -waving you towards the patio doors- "these kinds of conversations require fresh air and a drink."

Reluctantly you followed him outside but rather than sinking down onto the porch swing you opted to lean against the post facing it. Opening two ciders, which you now had free access to, you handed one to Frankie and watched him over the top of the bottle.

Half of your drink was gone and your mind had wandered to greenhouse and flower garden placement before Frankie spoke again. His voice low and quiet catching you by surprise.

"Yeah," he broke the silence with another ragged sigh, "I, uh, I served. Started in the Air Force, worked my way up to Special Tactics Squadron. Made enough noise there to get recruited to Delta Force."

"Oh, fuck," your exclamation was soft with shock "you've seen some shit then." Blast your runaway mouth and its inability to wait for your brain to catch up before blurting out your inner thoughts. "I'm sorry!-"

"No, it's okay" Frankie interrupted, trying to reassure you and remove the horrified look that had come across your face. 

"No, no, that was totally uncalled for. Brad, my um, my husband, he was a Marine. He hated talking about it, said no one liked talking about it. I should have known."

"It's not that," Frankie reassured you again, "You were the first person to ever ask me about it, in all the time I've lived here. Just took me by surprise."

Leaning over in the swing, Frankie pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed you a photo from inside it. Five men beamed up at you. You could recognize them from a few of the photos that had rested on Frankie's mantle, they looked older in this one.

"Tell me about them?" you asked, knowing that most of the request was due to curiosity but a small part of you hoped that if you kept him talking you could avoid the subject of your marriage.

The sun was beginning to set and you'd long moved inside to eat dinner by the time Frankie was done sharing. It must have been cathartic, you mused, for him to bare this much about himself. He had never looked more relaxed in all the time you'd known him, which wasn't saying much and it could just as easily been due to the amount of alcohol thrumming through his system.

The room fell into a companionable silence, each of you digesting the information that had been revealed. You were in awe of the fact that, despite the life of violence he had witnessed, Frankie still maintained his humanity. Even after a messy divorce and lost custody battle, Frankie continued to choose the path of healing. He was clean, was fighting for shared custody of his daughter again, running his own business, and still had found time to endear himself into the town's hearts.

Frankie was, for all his sharp edges and gruff words, a sweetheart.

It put into stark comparison how Brad had reacted to the lemons life had served him. Born into an upper-middle-class home, the only son, doted on by his parents, Brad had been raised into a life where every door was open to him. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he had grown hateful of those weaker than him. He was controlling but had just the right amount of charm to pass it off as caring.

"I've met men like that," 

You nearly jumped out of your skin from surprise. Looking at Frankie with wide-eyed shock you wondered again what the hell was in the cider. This was the second time you'd poured your heart out to a virtual stranger, but this time you hadn't even realized you'd started speaking your thoughts aloud. 

Squaring your shoulders and holding Frankie's gaze you continued, almost challenging him to find someone worse than Brad had been.

"He made me quit college because he said he wanted to start a family. Then berated me and acted like it was all my fault every time the pregnancy test came back negative. You know what that asshole did?" Tears were threatening to fall but you held on to Frankie's gaze, "He had gotten a vasectomy months earlier. I didn't find out about it until after he died; going through paperwork that had been stored in his desk."

Frankie was up on his feet now, pacing around the kitchen island, too distraught to keep still. How could anyone be so cruel? Let alone be so cruel to someone as sweet and pure as you. He hated seeing you cry but knowing you weren't receptive to people being in your personal space, wasn't sure how to comfort you. 

Acting on pure instinct he grabbed the kettle and started preparing you some tea, not allowing himself to ruminate how he knew which flavour you preferred. Setting your favourite pottery mug in front of you, along with the little honey pot, he also decided to grab the fluffy throw blanket off your couch. 

"I get it now," he thought to himself offhandedly, "why women have so many fuckin' blankets and pillows in every room."

Placing the throw around your shoulders he was preparing to say goodnight and let you have some peace but was stilled by your hand reaching up and covering his.

"Please. Stay."

Part SIX

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[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[marshmallowprotection]

Hello, if it isn't a bother, could I maybe request a match-up? I'm 5'5", I have long brown hair, greenish eyes and am usually seen with my glasses on. I like to wear some light make-up, often wear pearl earrings and enjoy vintage inspired clothes. A favourite of mine is my dark red velvet dress!

I'm currently studying elementary school education with a focus on art. I liked drawing all my life and can't imagine it without it! I also enjoy playing video games, mostly from Nintendo; I love Pokémon and grew up on it, love Ace Attorney and of course Mystic Messenger, although I have been really into Mr. Love this past year! I quite like relaxed games; puzzle games like Professor Layton, farming sims such as Stardew Valley or Harvest Moon, or games like the Sims or Animal Crossing. One of my favourites is probably Breath of the Wild, though! I am currently reading Howls Moving Castle. I love Ghibli movies and fantasy related stuff in general, which inspired me to read it; my favourite book of all time is The Little Prince, though. I like listening to older music a lot, my favourite playlist consists of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Edith Piaf and similar artists. I also really enjoy collecting merch and plushies! My room is full of stuffed animals, fairy lights and fake plants; I have little light in my room, but I'm trying to grow a small mint plant in a frog planter right now! :)

I'm an INFP-T and was honestly always bad at describing myself, haha. I have always been quite shy and reserved and take some time to open up to people - I usually love talking to people once I feel close to them though, especially about my interests; I'm pretty bad at small talk. I love to have deeper and more meaningful conversations as well when I'm close to the person. I'm a big day dreamer; I'm often stuck in my own head imagining stories or thinking about things, sometimes to the point of overthinking. I love dreaming of things though, day or night; sometimes I go back to sleep because I want to know how my dreams end! I mostly seek comfort and peace; i like staying close to the people I love and often prefer to stick to things I know I'm comfortable with. Even with things such as food; I often end up ordering the things I've always ordered, lol. My favourite food is probably sushi and I definetely have a sweet tooth; I probably don't go a day without drinking a cup of coffee either, although I also really like chamomile tea and cocoa! I can be pretty nervous and insecure; I never really liked myself a lot and am trying to work on that currently; maybe that's why I always struggle to describe myself. I've also always been a big procrastinator and can be bit forgetful, haha.

Well, that was everything I was able to think of right now - I'd be very interested to see who you'd match me up with! I wish you all the best and hope you have an amazing day! :)

I match you with...

Saeran!

You're the kind of person that is very particular about your aesthetic. You know what you like and not a lot of people can say that they are really invested in their interest like that. You got a very specific aesthetic and you stick to it. You'll love being able to help other people and you can love being able to talk to someone at length about your experiences but you often feel bad before you do it. It's because people probably have spoken over you in the past and you gave up on trying to express yourself. At the end of the day, you're looking for someone that can help you feel like your voice is being heard. That's why Saeran it's the one for you.

Because he spent so long not having a voice, he understands what it's like to be in that place. You never let him go unheard and he wants to extend that same thing to you. He wants to be able to give you what you gave him. The feeling of finally being recognized for the person that you are. He likes to hear about you because you have shown him a world that he may not have been able to see otherwise. You've given his life color and he doesn't want to let go of that color. You both live in your own garden and that's the best that the both of you can do. That's right where you want to be. He could listen to you talk talk for hours and still be happy. That's just his happy place.

It's a very quiet romance but there's nothing wrong with that. He helps you balance yourself out because he can make a system and you can follow it. For some reason it just works.

[atiny-piratequeen]

Character Analysis: Jeong Yunho, ‘Father Earth’

Name: Jeong Yunho

Languages: English, Korean, Gaeilge (Irish), Spanish, French, Dutch, Egyptian (Post Transformation), Arabic (Modern Day), Japanese (Modern Day), Mandarin (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Surgeon/Doctor

Powers: Terrakinesis/Earth (Inherited from Egyptian God, Geb)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: North Eastern Facing, located on his left hip, Green Zircon

Eye Color: Honey Brown (Natural)/ Ice Blue (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Brunette (Natural)/ Blonde, Dark Roots (Demonic Form)

Tattoos: A Robin, Cerasee, the Rod of Asclepius, an Amaryllis Blossom, and a Cup of Tea, all across his upper back/shoulder area. 

Likes: Animals, Making Fruit Teas, Tending to Gardens, Reading, Capoeira, Cuddling 

Dislikes: Greedy Doctors, Bitter Food, Neglectful Authority Figures

*The above artist rendition of Geb used courtesy of the game, Smite

Jeong Yunho.

A kind child from a loving family of four guardians. The son of Lloyd, Robin, Valeria, and Mei, Yunho spent his childhood learning how to make tea, gardens, and medicinal salves from plants, all while learning about the human body and the illnesses that plague it. 

His smiling face is a treat for the people in town when he and his parents travel to gather supplies. His kind demeanor and the calm, earthy mixture of floral and fruit scents that cling to him often lead to him being inviting enough to all animals. He can befriend any animal effortlessly, something his mother Valeria often teases lightly about. 

Surgeon Jeong Yunho

Having sought out the man that helped save his loved one, Yunho has dedicated himself to both Captain Hongjoong and the entire Utopia crew. He provides emotional and medical support to everyone in their time of need and his office is often an escape from the hardships that come with being out at sea, all with his serpentine friend Atlas usually wrapped around his neck. 

Yunho may be one of the few men who are fully in touch with their…’other’ selves, and as such, he’s been looking into the true nature of their powers and where they come from. Perhaps the gentlemanly voice in his head can provide some answers…

-Mythology-

Geb, also known as Seb or Keb, is the Egyptian God of the Earth. He is the son of Shu and Tefnut, and his wife is sister Nut, the Goddess of the Sky. Geb and Nut bore four children; Osiris, Isis, Set (Or Seth), and Nephthys. (Though some myths will credit Geb with being the father to the god Horus, as well)

Though his name apparently translates to “weak one”, Geb is highly respected and often seen as one of Egypt’s mightiest gods. A protector and a guide, Geb has had many instances in his lore where he is often the support to an allied god through their own journey. 

Despite being the God of the Earth, Geb also aided the deceased to the afterlife, and would provide them with food along to ease their long journey into the afterlife. Geb’s name is a powerful one, said to be spoken to heal the sick if their affliction was caused by a natural cause such as a cold or a poisonous sting from a scorpion. 

Geb’s laugh is also powerful, said that the sound of his laugh alone can cause earthquakes. The god can have his moments (as most others do), where he will seemingly cause strife for his followers, just because it is within his power to do so. From droughts without warning, to being the reason there is a huge, near uninhabitable desert isolating Egypt from the ancient world, Geb was no stranger to flexing his power and causing hardships. 

Despite this, he had his kinder moments, such as the fertile lands surrounding the Nile River. Just as he would cause a drought without warning, Geb would also bless followers with bountiful harvests, with a surplus to keep their livestock alive and healthy for day to day life. 

In ancient depictions of the two, Geb and his wife, Nut are depicted with him lying below her as she stands above him in the shape of an arc, covering him, but never touching him. Geb is reclining, often with his knee pulled upwards, as a show to represent the intimacy between the earth and sky. His limbs are often metaphors for the valleys, mountains, or hills. 

The most common depiction of Geb himself is that of a dark skinned man with a crown. Sometimes his skin is green. This is to represent the fertile soils of The Nile and growth of crops in the area. He is also often depicted with a goose on his head, as it is his sacred animal. He was also said to be able to transform into other birds, leading to the name “The Great Cackler” (which, given his earthquake laughs, watch out with that one-).

He is also associated with snakes, and less common depictions will have him as part man, part snake. In the Book of the Dead, Geb was credited with giving birth to the serpent Nehebkau.

-Power Applications/ Demon Transformation-

When Yunho unleashes his full power, his dark brunette hair will become mostly blonde. His eyes will go from their honey brown color, to an icy, nearly whitish blue color. A discolored triangle appears over his right eye and his smile is elongated, with earthy, root-like veins appearing around his lips and the edges of the triangular mark. He can see better out of his right eye, as his ‘Demon Self’ can see fully from it and assist during combat. 

With the uniqueness of still being able to communicate with his ‘other’ self, Yunho is attuned to the Earth and uses his full body for combat. He mixes Hapkido learned from mother Mei and Capoirea learned from his father Robin with his plant powers to attack with every part of himself, using his powers for extra attacks, or to keep himself steady as he goes on the offensive. 

Alongside his strong offensive capabilities, Yunho uses his powers for defense, raising thick trees and slabs of earth to block attacks or keep enemies at bay. He also can wrap vines around enemies to crush them, much like a constrictor would do to prey. 

When not in combat, Yunho’s plants have a number of other applications, with the most notable being the ability to grow medicinal and essential plants on the ship for his salves and other medical needs. He can also grow a number of flora for his teas or for Yeosang’s food. 

Plants also have a natural bioluminescence, and the kind doctor often uses his powers to  brighten the normally undetectable light to a degree where they can be used to illuminate his room without the need for lanterns. His plants also have a strong scent, and are used for aromatherapy, thus turning his quarters into a calm room for the crew to freely enter to destress at any time.

Ideally, Yunho fares the best with his powers in an area that is heavily wooded or has little to no man-made structures to keep the destruction levels low. If the area is too dry, on fire, or cold, he has difficulty summoning plants, as they will often be brittle or too weak for attacks, but he can use his more defensive stone-type fighting, or hand to hand to compensate for the potential loss. 

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Yunho’s character song is Voices In My Head by San Holo. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.

Unlike some of the other boys’ breakdowns, Yunho’s is rather simple. The song was picked as a hint to the fact that Yunho is the first of the boys to interact with his ‘demon’ self in a manner that wasn’t self-destructive. 

Impressed by his nature and lack of strong negativity within him, his demon self grants him full control of their powers and as a result of their mutual understanding, he’s actually stuck around instead of being ‘overcome’ by Yunho taking control. As a result, he is one of the only boys that has the ability to still hear the previous embodiment of his powers. Ever since he realized his transformation and relationship with his ‘demon’ self were different from the others, he’s been trying to dissect why exactly he was different from the others and provide aid to the other boys.  

He can hear the voice in his head. Get it? 

-I've got voices in my head

What to say when all is said?

I'm still try to understand

Sometimes words don't just make sense

-You've got voices in your head

What to say when all is said?

When you try to understand

But my words just don't make sense

-I say, "Don't make my heart ache

Don't make my heart ache now"

I say, "Don't make my heart ache

We'll find a way somehow"

-Character Blurb-

“Breathe.”

“I am, Yunho-”

“No. You’re not. Look at me.” 

Yeosang held his head and shook as Yunho lifted his chin, frowning at the tears running down the smaller pirate’s face. He was headed to the galley when he found him crying, curled up on the floor, in the middle of a panic attack. He wiped his cheeks and picked him up, barely flinching as Yeosang clung to his form, biting his lip hard. 

The walk to his room was quiet as Yeosang cried. Yunho set him down in his lap, thumbing away more of his tears before he looked him in the eyes. 

“Tell me what happened.”

“I had a dream about her and...and…” 

“Say no more. Come here.” He pulled Yeosang against his chest and hummed a low tune, rocking Yeosang as he shook. As he hummed, he raised a few plants to his bedside, the vines embracing the wood of his ceiling, drooping down to bathe the two in a gentle glow as the now-neon blooms let out a collection of scents that made Yeosang’s shoulders relax. 

The gentle scent soothed him and after another half an hour he smiled and wiped his eyes, kissing the underside of Yunho’s jaw. 

“Thanks, puppy.”

Yunho grinned and pulled him back against his chest, moving to lay down with Yeosang still by his side. 

“No worries. I’ll protect you, okay? Rest easy, she can’t hurt you.” 

Yunho wrapped his long limbs around the smaller pirate, nuzzling his soft hair as he exhaled gently, the earthy scent of the room relaxing both of them.

-M.List-

[elminx]

I'm completely fascinated by this as a thought exercise. Where I am at is - how far from the original source material (let's say mint for the example above of gum) can one get before it stops being what it is and you can't enspell it or put your intention into it? I certainly believe that I can make mint tea and put my intention into brewing it and then drink it as a low-key "spell". But then, I was touching the mint leaves, pouring the hot water, stirring it, and doing all of these things which are giving it some of my energy beyond the sometimes nebulous concept of "intention". I do personally believe that this works even better if it is mint that I have grown, harvested, and dried myself.

I have never considered chewing gum with intention. And I'm inclined to think no, that's not "magic" but I'm a bit of a purist - I like to use as close to the original source materials as possible. (As stated above, I prefer to use materials that I have grown or at least harvested myself - so I have a huge bias here) BUT - and it's a big but here - isn't a huge part of magic and raising energy raising often repetition. And couldn't one, if one focused hard enough, use the act of chewing as a means of raising energy through repetitive motion. What if one was to repeat a mantra in one's head as they chewed, for example?

And so I am now thinking - mint is highly purifying. So I feel like if a person was in the right headspace, and repeated the right words as they chewed, it could be used as a purification rite in which you drew something out of yourself and then spit it out into the trash along with the gum?

I've never tried this so this is highly speculative but I suspect that it could work. And could be done in any situation which does have some merits for sure. Of course, this raises some questions for me. Is there actually mint in that gum? I personally do not believe that synthetic mint would have the purifying properties that mint has but somebody who believes that magic comes more strictly from your own mind (see also the placebo and nocebo effects, for example) might even argue that thinking it would work would be enough. (I mean no offense to the OP here, this just really piqued my interest)

Alright, I officially can't tell if some of these "everyday witchcraft" posts are a joke anymore. I don't really subscribe to the "intent = magic" school of thought, which might be the issue. Intent is important for directing magic, but not the source of it, in my opinion, so chewing bubblegum with intent isn't really witchcraft in my book.

On the other hand, visiting the crows and vibing with my houseplants totally counts, so what the hell do I know?