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cryptidclaw · 2 years

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Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is!

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place!

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish

Fish

Bass

Bream

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone

Apricot

Barley

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc.

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #?#Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

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midmorninggrey · 21 days

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Happy Friday for DADWC! For a pairing of your choice the prompt: “We’re in this together.” Have fun!

Thanks for the prompt! I veered over to Arden & Celeste Trevelyan for this one.

For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: G

WC: ~700

He follows the echo of slammed doors through Skyhold until he reaches her open window. The spirit boy, Cole, is swaying by the sill.

“She’s scared.”

“Yeah.” Arden spares him a glance before he steps one leg out onto the narrow ledge. “Let me take this one.”

“Are you going to leave again?”

Arden freezes. It’s strange how he recognizes his daughter’s voice coming from beneath the boy’s hat.

The sheen of morning frost melts beneath the lightest footstep, and it's an easy climb to follow her tracks along the stone. He finds her folded up on the edge of the roof, and with a swell of sadness, he knows she is still crying. Her face is both buried against her knees and hidden beneath her folded arms. She has always run away to some hidden spot to cry, and if she can’t run, she tries to hide her tears in her hands. Today she is doing both.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, as if not to startle her, though he knows she has heard his approach. When she makes no protest, Arden sits beside her, hanging his legs down.

“I want to go home,” Celeste says without looking at him. Her voice is raw.

Arden thinks of the threats he’d made in his first meeting at Skyhold. He had tried to take her home then – the world be damned.

Yet he didn’t know where home would be for her. Would home be The Little House by the cherry orchard? In springtime, the blossoms mixed with the smell of wood smoke. Her collection of books had spread out of her room and down the spiral stairs. He’d made empty threats to turn them into stable bedding if she didn’t come down for dinner, and she’d sat at the table, picking halfheartedly at her plate until he released her with a sigh, and then she’d bolted back up to the page he’d made her abandon.

Or would it be The Woods? He had shown her how to start a fire in the rain, when the sticks were sodden and the ground was mush, because if she could do it then any other time would be easy. That had been before her magic showed itself. She had been so proud of the first sparks she made with her flint, and she had cradled the ember until it roared bright with her breath. Afterward, they had walked, silent except to whisper the names of the trees they passed: Hickory, Oak, Maple, Beech.

Or would it be The Old Field? She had learned to ride there on a fat chestnut pony. She had been fearless; she’d held her pony at a halt until he let her off the line. One summer afternoon, a big horsefly bit the pony’s flank, and the pony started running and bucking. She scraped up her arms in the fall, but she got back on before her tears had dried on her little face, gathering up the reins with determination.

Had he pushed her too far?

He wishes he could go back and make the tiny jam sandwiches she liked so much. She could stay upstairs, and he would bring her a plate of them, and she wouldn’t have to stop reading for dinner. When they went for walks, he should have let her run more often, if only for the wondrous joy of running wild. He could make the fire. And in the field, he would go back and let her stay still longer. She could be fearless once she’d known safety.

“Cece, honey, I wish I could take you home.”

Arden’s words sound thin in the chill air. Celeste sniffs. She does not show her face.

“I know you’re strong. You don’t need to prove that.” Arden sighs. “This isn’t fair – Maker - but we’re in this together. I’m right here with you. You put it on me. Whatever you can.”

“Yeah,” Celeste croaks back, hollow. Arden feels he’s crushed whatever hope she was clinging to. He swallows.

“I’m never leaving you again.”

A fresh sob bursts from her. Celeste sounds as if she’s choking on her tears as she flings her arms around his neck, but she isn’t hiding them anymore. Arden catches her easily.

“I got you.” He holds her tight as her shoulders shake. “I got you. We’ll go home.”

#dadwc #my writing #dragon age fic #oc: celeste trevelyan #oc: arden trevelyan #this one hurt a little

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bubblyleaf-42 · 4 months

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Walvion: The promise of Euclapidices.

(a prequel to chapter 6)

Long ago in ancient Greece the mighty god, Zeus, spotted a young woman who lived in a valley of beech trees. One day, when the woman came out to collect the harvest, Zeus disguised himself as the burs of a beech tree. After enjoying a handful of the beech nuts on her break, Zeus impregnated the woman. The coming summer the woman gave birth to a baby boy - Euclapidices - whose skin was the color of polished wood and hair as shiny as a gladiator's abs. A prophet told the woman her son would cause great trouble to his father in the future, any attempts to prevent it from happening would result in a greater destruction. Eventually, after competing with his numerous siblings, Euclapidices was arranged to meet with his father in another realm to overview the start of a new establishment shared by the gods of all religions. . . . . the prequel to chapter 6, this isn't required to read to understand the next chapter, i just thought it would be funny to add to the world.

#walvion #bubblyleaf #fake history #original story #short story

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vegan-happy-clothing9 · 10 months

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Which Is The Best Vegan Clothing Company

Are you fond of shopping for clothes? Nowadays men and women both have a habit of shopping for clothes for various purposes. Winter is already here so you will need some jackets and warm clothes for the season. Your wardrobe may be full of clothes but they may not be vegan. This time you can prefer buying vegan jackets that are cruelty-free. There are two types of clothes mostly; one is vegan and other non-vegan. Vegan products are made from natural or recycled products like linen, organic cotton, bamboo, hemp, wood, beech tree fiber and many more. But non-vegan clothes are made from animal products. Everyday more than thousands of animals are killed for making clothes, which should be stopped as early as possible. It will happen, if buyers choose to buy vegan clothes and not the pure leather, silk or wool.

youtube

Why choose to buy vegan clothes?

The process of making non-vegan clothes where animal products are mainly used increases pollution. The production of animal based clothes is increasing greenhouse gas emission, water pollution and affecting the ecosystem. The only solution to this problem is to stop the production of clothes made from animal products. Vegan fashion is plant based and synthetic material is used so no chance of any pollution. It is high time people should realize the importance of using vegan clothes. Next, they are more durable than the other option. Vegan clothes are sustainable and will last for years. Most importantly they do not cause any skin irritation. Vegan clothes are perfect for those who have sensitive skin. Wearing animal based products, you may suffer from skin rashes, redness or itching but there won’t be any issue using vegan items. Thus look for the most reputed vegan clothing company online.

Shop from a reliable online brand:

Vegan clothes are used by many people so there are numerous online sites selling cruelty-free products. Among the lot, a reliable and well-known vegan clothing company is none other than Vegan Happy Clothing. They are famous for selling optimum quality vegan winter and summer clothes at a reasonable price. In Vegan Happy Clothing you will find a huge collection in men and women both so visit the site and choose your preferred items. Your ordered product will be delivered to your address shortly. In case there is any issue with size, color or anything else, you can replace it.

If you are planning to shop vegan clothes, purchase from the above mentioned online site.

#vegan clothing company #Youtube

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corkcitylibraries · 1 year

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100 Years Ago Today | June 16th 1923

Cork District Sessions

Denis Sexton, Clarence Street (now Gerald Griffin Street), was charged with the larceny of a bag of onions on Patrick’s Quay, the property of the Cork Steam Packet Company. Sergeant Mullen stated that he arrested the accused, who made the following statement, “I went to the Steam Packet, I thought there were six bags and four cases to collect”. “I said to the checker, ‘sign me for this’ and produced an order. When I went up to the quay, I found it was five cases and five bags on the boat and when I found out my mistake I left one at Morcelli’s with no intention of selling it. I was going to take it back again. That is all I have to say”. Sergeant Mullen said he was still making inquiries and hoped to procure enough evidence to connect the accused with the offence. He accordingly applied for remand. Mr. O’Connor, representing the defendant, said he was a respectable young man with ten years in the same employment. Bail was fixed at £10.

South Infirmary Committee

Dr. Donovan stated at the South Infirmary Management Committee meeting that the water supply to the hospital tasted badly and that he forwarded a sample to Professor Moore for analysis. Professor Moore reported that it was quite unfit for drinking or domestic use. Mr. Wallace said this was a very serious matter. Dr. Donovan said the water is filtered before being supplied to the patients. Canon Murphy, committee chairman, said it would be well if the water was boiled before use. It was agreed to bring the attention of the Corporation to Professor Moore’s report and request steps be taken to improve it. One tender was received for painting the institution. It was from Mr. Lingwood, French’s Quay, for £191 10s. and was accepted. Mr. Wallace voiced the committee’s gratitude for the money allocated to the hospital from the Hospitals Sweepstake. Only for the efforts of Mr. Duncan, a fellow committee member, the amount would not have been as satisfactory as it was. Mr. Wallace expressed the committee’s regret at the loss of the services of the Protestant Bishop and the Dean. Canon Murphy agreed that it was the committee’s desire that the distinguished clergymen reconsider their decision and return to the hospital board.

Kiss of Warm Rain

The May-June cold spell of bitter, broken weather has left its mark on tree, shrub and meadow. The satisfying profusion of a leafy June is absent. Ash, beech, oak and elm do not bear their full lusciousness. The flowers are blooming, but in a wistful, half-hearted way. Normally fertile soils are hard, parched and cold and our young spring crops have been hard hit by this bitter, boisterous weather. Delicate potato, grain and orchard plantations are late and crabbed in their growth. A few days of soft, heavy rain from the Atlantic will amend matters. Weekend sport-makers may not love the warm kiss of the misty rain but to one born of the soil no weather conditions in late spring or early summer are more welcome – the fulsome, harvest-growing rain from the sea.

Diamond Jubilee Celebrated

Sister Mary Camillus celebrated the 60th anniversary of her profession as a Sister of Mercy at St. Marie’s of the Isles last Saturday. The Rev. Dr. Cohalan, Bishop of Cork, presided and the occasion was one of great rejoicing among the members of the community. All present availed of it to offer Sister Camillus the tribute of their veneration and affectionate esteem. The only daughter of Dr. John and Mrs. Burke of Bantry, Sister Camillus lost her father in her infancy and came with her mother to reside in Cork. She received her education at Laurel Hill, Limerick and Clapham, London. Still very young, she entered St. Marie’s of the Isles in 1860 and was professed on June 9th 1863. In the House of Mercy Sister laboured for 40 years, during which time hundreds of girls learned from her the truths, duties and beauties of the Catholic faith before going on to struggle for sustenance and position in every land. The greatest tribute to the work of this holy nun is contained in the numerous letters which have come back to her from all over thanking and blessing her.

Blackrock vs. St. Finbarrs

There is no need to go back on the circumstances which led to the falling through of last year’s County Championship between these two sides. Suffice to say a very regrettable hitch led to a walkover for the Blues and intense disappointment to thousands of followers of the national code. Recompense arrived and an enormous attendance witnessed the old rivals meet in the semi-final of the Henebry Cup. Both sides were fully prepared for the test and there was no doubting their determination to put forth their best effort to win. The Blues put up a big fight but it was somewhat short lived. Their opponents came through the ordeal of the first-half some points to the good and, on the resumption of the struggle, there was really but one team standing, the Rockies. Their hurling was marked with unmistakeable rigor and mastery and at the long whistle Blackrock emerged from the arena with a substantial winning score. Though feeling was uncommonly high, both teams, to their credit, fought out the issue in a sporting spirit. There was rather too much partisanship displayed on the sideline which the players, very properly, ignored. I have to say unpleasant things of the gate arrangements. These were decidedly out of joint for a contest in which such widespread interest was evinced. With anything approaching even ordinary arrangements the gate takings would have been acceptable to even the College authorities, which is where the final against Sarsfields will be played.

#corkcitylibraries #localhistorycork

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centralbiohubgermany · 2 years

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Let's Talk About Grass Pollen Allergy

Grass pollen Allergy

Welcome to the summer! It was a great experience to see nature completely green and shining. Most of us like to spend time outdoors or go on a vacation to enjoy the warm weather and cool breeze in full spirit. At the same time, it is the time for seasonal allergy attacks. Pollen are the tiny, light powders or granules produced by these plants for the purpose of fertilization. During spring and summer, pollens from different grasses, flowers, weeds, and trees are carried and circulated by insects or blowing wind triggering allergic symptoms in some people.

Pollen allergy refers to the condition in which an allergic reaction is triggered by inhalation or topical contact with the pollen allergens. It is also known as hay fever. Nowadays, pollen allergy is one of the major causes of acute asthma exacerbations.

Common Grass Pollen Allergy symptoms

People who are allergic to pollen can develop the following symptoms upon exposure to allergens.

Runny or stuffy nose due to allergic rhinitis

Cough

Sneezing

Breathlessness or wheezing

Itchy, inflamed, and watery eyes

Itching in the roof of the mouth

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Grass allergens: Timothy grass, cultivated rye, cocksfoot, barley, cultivated oats, cultivated wheat, sweet vernal grass, Bahia grass, Bermuda grass, etc.

Weed allergens: Mugwort, plantain, ribwort, common ragweed, dandelion, etc.

Tree allergens: Birch, gray alder, hazel, cottonwood, European beech, oak, Italian or Mediterranean or Funeral cypress, etc.

Don't delay; check out their inventory here to find out more details about the samples are place online orders: https://centralbiohub.de/biospecimens/allergies/grass-pollen

#grass allergy #allergy #grass pollen allergy

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outofangband · 3 years

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Flora and Fauna of Brethil

I had these posted separately but I thought it would be easier to combine them, I’ve also added some more information!

Requested by @echoofthemusic

Flora and fauna of Arda masterlist

Disclaimer: I used both what we can extrapolate is likely indigenous to the region based on descriptions of the landscape and climate as well as my own headcanons and inspirations and reference books on similar habitats as well as books like The Atlas of Middle Earth and The Flora of Middle Earth

I really love working on and researching these! and as always feel free to ask more, even if I’ve already done a place I’d always enjoy going into more detail of tacking a more specific kind of life there

Brethil was a forested country that made up the Northwestern border of Doriath and was home to the people of the House of Haleth. It also borders Dorthonion, the land of pines. It translates to Silver birch in Sindarin.

Brethil translates to Silver Birch in Sindarin and was described as containing forests of beeches. In this world, these can be found throughout Europe. The Ancient and Primeval Beech Forest is made up of 94 parts in 18 countries. For the flora of Brethil I have taken inspiration from a number of them, especially from areas I know were of interest to Tolkien himself.

While the real world locations that make up similar climates or forests are heavily varied in their flora making it difficult to say exactly what could be found here. But needless to say we are talking about temperate broadleaf and mixed forests in a relatively cool climate.

And as the books say, beeches and birches made up the primary species. The only other plant named directly in the text as associated with Brethil are bracken ferns.

Acorns, chestnuts, walnuts, beechnuts, and hazelnuts can be collected from their respective trees.

As we know roots are foraged, chicory, dandelions, burdock root, wild carrot, and wild garlic are possibilities. Other edible plants include yarrow, hazel, thornapple, hogweed, stitchwort, and wild thyme. Both silver birches and beech trees have some edible parts.

Flowers like cornflower, columbine, Wood anemone, ramsoms, daisy, and harebell perhaps grow in less densely forested areas.

Fungi are not plants but many of the forests Tolkien was likely inspired by contain a wide variety of fungi with silverleaf fungus, Echinoderma asperum, and Meripilus giganteus being some of the most recognizable ones.

Lichen and mosses are also likely found, for example carpet moss, Atrichum undulatum and hoary fringe moss

Somewhat related, in The Wanderings of Húrin, we get a beautiful (and heartbreaking) description of how the grave of Morwen and the memorial to her children is honored by the women of Brethil.

"But until the end of Beleriand women of Brethil would come with flowers and spring and berries in autumn and sing for awhile of the Gray lady who sought in vain for her son"

It would be all but impossible to make a guess on what flowers these were but based on the description of the forests and the likely climate, blackberries, currents, elderberries and chokeberries are all possibilities, they grow in late summer and autumn. (note that I am using the looser definition of berry rather than the strict one)

As for the fauna, typical insect life of a deciduous forest; earthworms, beetles, butterflies and moths, etc.

There’s probably a lot of birds; pheasants and quail, thrush and nuthatch, nightingale, nightjars, and owls, kestrels, crows, rooks, etc

I do wonder about the possibility of extinct, even flightless birds though no known species exactly fit this sort of habitat so perhaps on another location someone requests I’ll be able to fit them in

In the spring, vernal pools are home to frogs and salamanders. I imagine that because the main known source of water is the fast moving river, the amphibian life in Brethil is less aquatic species that prefer leaf litter and the undergrowth to permanent ponds. Toads, wood frogs, certain species of salamanders including red back salamanders.

There could possibly be wood turtles too.

Squirrels, rabbits, wood mice, moles and red foxes are possible mammals

I believe it’s mentioned somewhere that the people of Brethil keep pigs though that are not fully domesticated and are closer to wild boars.

There are probably few larger predators but bears are a possibility. Húrin does mention wolves in “The Wanderings of Húrin” but it’s somewhat unclear if this is because he has seen wolves in Brethil or if it’s more hypothetical.

Deer like fallow, roe, and elk are probably found

I like to think there are species that are extinct in the world today, perhaps like the Irish Elk, a rare sighting in Brethil as they prefer colder climates but in the spring and summer they could potentially be spotted in more open clearings and by the river.

#The Silmarillion #the children of húrin #Beleriand #Brethil #musing and meta

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foragingincanadamb · 2 years

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(Don't eat them raw ever even after being dried)

If you see this post please get your own information.Don't want anyone getting sick! or worse!

Inky caps

Find:grows in tight clusters in grass or on wood debris.

Time:summer and fall

Description:cap is up to 8 cm broad, light gray or gray-brown with furrow-lines radiating to the edges.gills are nearly free from the stem and white/grey when young.the flesh and gills of older specimens liquefies into a black inky mass when old.partial veil leaves an inferior, fibrous ring on the white stem.tip collect younger specimens and/or remove blackening areas which have a more bitter taste.tip: cooking with water shortly after collecting helps to prevent the dish from turning into a black inky mess.warning: causes a reaction of hot flushing and nausea if consumed with or followed by alcohol. Do not consume this mushroom unless abstaining from alcohol.

Look alikes: Shaggy Mane and Mica Cap(see below)

Jelly ears

Find:growing on dead deciduous trees almost always elder,but also other hardwoods.

Time:All year, especially autumn

Description:They are brown to almost black and develop on wood decay.Cup-shaped, becoming irregularly lobed and often ear shaped. Up to 7cm diameter, but usually smaller.Jelly ear naturally de- (and re-) hydrates in the wild, often looking like shrivelled, hard dark knobs, a fraction of their hydrated size and easy to miss, in warm dry weather. It can be picked in this state and rehydrated.Anyone on blood pressure medicine or expecting a surgery should not consume the mushrooms!

Look alikes:most similar looking species you are likely to encounter is Tremella foliacea, which is also translucent, medium brown to black, gelatinous and grows in overlapping flaps on decaying wood. Tremella foliacea has a lot more water in it, so its "squishier" , aka much easier to compress.this is an edible but very poor fungus, but being insubstantial it has no culinary value.

King Bolete Cep

Find:under beech, birch, scots pine, spruce; solitary or in clusters.

Time: spring,summer and autumn.

Description:partial veil is absent.firm young ceps are one of the tastiest wild foods, and extremely versatile. Older specimens are best dried, after which their flavour intensifies.Key identification features are the light to chestnut brown smooth cap with a white rim and often a hazy pale ‘bloom’. Ensure the stipe is pale with a slightly raised white net pattern (reticulum) on the top third. As a member of the bolete group of mushrooms, ceps have pores under the cap rather than gills. These start off pale grey, becoming yellow and eventually olive green in past-their-best specimens. Flesh should be unchangingly white throughout apart from a narrow claret-coloured line just under the skin of the cap.Ceps grow quickly and come in a wide and quirky range of shapes and sizes, and are often semi-decomposed before they reach maturity.

Look alikes: not edible Boletus huronensis (“False King Bolete”)Exceptionally dense. Found in hemlock. Pale yellow pores slowly bruise green-blue, resolving toward brown. Often has a “tide mark” on the stem. Netting is rare. Often tastes sweet.Sometimes has a disagreeable garlic or skunky odor.May have an unusual lack of bug holes.This is the only mushroom in North America that can have non-bluing yellow pores and also be a sick-maker.listed in many old books as edible, huronensis has been blamed for some notorious, multi-day, projectile food poisonings.

Lobster Mushroom

Find:conifer forests. They can be found under cedars and Douglas firs, growing from under loose forest floor material.

Time:spring,summer and fall.

Description:not a mushroom, but a parasitic fungus that grows on mushrooms.the fungus turns the host mushroom a bright reddish orange.the fungus deforms the surface of the host mushroom to be coarse, cracked, and dotted with tiny white pimples.the fungus eventually twists the mushroom into an irregular shape, making the host unidentifiable.has a seafood-like flavor that is highly variable.has a firm, dense texture.fresh specimens have a white interior.appears in summer and fall following rainy weather.They" have confirmed that none of the Hypomyces lactifluorum hosts are toxic.

Look alikes:There are no mushrooms that look like lobster mushrooms. As such, there are no poisonous lookalikes for lobster mushrooms.

Meadow Mushroom

Find:grows in grassy areas, meadows and fields, often in a ring.

Time:spring, summer, or fall.

Description:cap is up to 10 cm broad, convex, white to creamy, dry, smooth.older specimens have a nearly flat cap.flesh is white, firm.gills are crowded, free from the stem, progressing from bubble-gum pink to chocolate brown with age.stem is smooth, white.partial veil is smooth, white, and leaves a single, thin ring on the stem.stem does not have a bulbous base.flesh slowly bruises off-white, to dingy brown, NOT staining yellow, orange or red.warning: discard specimens that do not have the bubblegum-pink pink gills or who's flesh stains yellow, orange, or red. these can be poisonous look-alikes.less regular shape of the cap.

Look alikes:Destroying angel there's no antidote and 60-80% of people don't survive.Caps of the Destroying Angel are 5 to 10cm in diameter, pure white, and without any marginal striations. The cap is initially egg-shaped and then campanulate (bell shaped) or occasionally almost flat but with a broad umbo, and is often tilted on the stipe.Although some young caps carry white remains of the universal veil, they soon wash off in wet weather and are rarely seen on mature caps.Amanita virosa gills are white, free and crowded.Stems of Destroying Angels are 9 to 15cm tall, 0.6 to 2cm in diameter, and often slightly curved; pure white and fibrous with an ungrooved, fragile ring high up on the stipe. The large, sack-like volva is usually buried deep in the soil.Mature specimens have a faint sickly and unpleasant odour.Often found at the edge of deciduous or mixed woodland.

Mica Cap

Find:They tend to favour stumps, logs, and buried wood. Most of the time, the mushrooms grow on wood or right next to wood. Sometimes they are at the bases of trees, even when the trees seem healthy.

Time:spring, summer, and fall.

Description:The Mica Cap is not very picky about the type of wood it decomposes.feature brown caps coated with a distinctive dusting of salt-like or mica-like granules. The unique combination of size, habitat, and salt-like granules makes mica caps instantly recognizable. Caps are reddish-brown to tawny to ochre-brown, becoming grayish particularly near the margin. The surface is covered by listening granules that are soon lost. The cap is radially lined almost to the centre. The mushrooms grow larger than many inky caps, cap size reaches sizes of 2 to 6cm wide.Attached to the stem or free from it; when young, gills are pale, becoming brown, then black; deliquescing (turning to black "ink") but usually not completely. Gills grow close together or crowded.You should collect only specimens that have not yet begun to liquefy. Mica caps must be cooked and eaten almost immediately after collecting as they will begin to deliquesce or dissolve into an inky black spore filled liquid within 1 to 3 hours.

Look alikes:edible Inky cap is up to 8 cm broad, light gray or gray-brown with furrow-lines radiating to the edges.gills are nearly free from the stem and white/grey when young.the flesh and gills of older specimens liquefies into a black inky mass when old.partial veil leaves an inferior, fibrous ring on the white stem.tip: collect younger specimens and/or remove blackening areas which have a more bitter taste.tip: cooking with water shortly after collecting helps to prevent the dish from turning into a black inky mess.warning: causes a reaction of hot flushing and nausea if consumed with or followed by alcohol.Do not consume this mushroom unless abstaining from alcohol.

Shaggy Mane

Find:grow in disturbed grounds, grass, wood chips, or hard-packed soil. They often appear shortly after a good rainfall.

Time:summer and autumn.

Description:they're only edible in their early stages.The shaggy mane has very distinguishing features. Its cap typically measures 5 to 14 cm tall, and is 2.5 to 4.5 cm across. It is columnar, becoming bell-shaped. The surface is dry, white with a brown central disc, breaking into coarse, white and brown recurved scales.Height: The stalks generally reach 15cm tall and are 1 to 2 cm thick. Stems are hollow, with a string-like strand of fibers hanging inside.Gills are white, adnexed to free (close together), free gills that eventually become black and inky.

Look alikes:edible Inky cap is up to 8 cm broad, light gray or gray-brown with furrow-lines radiating to the edges.gills are nearly free from the stem and white/grey when young.the flesh and gills of older specimens liquefies into a black inky mass when old.partial veil leaves an inferior, fibrous ring on the white stem.tip: collect younger specimens and/or remove blackening areas which have a more bitter taste.tip: cooking with water shortly after collecting helps to prevent the dish from turning into a black inky mess.warning: causes a reaction of hot flushing and nausea if consumed with or followed by alcohol. Do not consume this mushroom unless abstaining from alcohol.

#inky caps #jelly ears #king Bolete cep #lobster mushroom #meadow mushroom #mica cap #shaggy Mane #foraging #mushrooms #fungus #fungi #edible #dehydration

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stormxpadme · 4 years

Note

10 for the touch prompts?

touch prompts

10: for luck

************* *************

“You do it!”

“No, you do it! It was your idea!”

“And it’s your second breakfast on the line. I told you not to bet, Pip. If we can’t prove it, you’ll be hungry for the next two days. And you’re insufferable when you’re hungry.”

“I am not ...”

“Now, you two, that’s enough. I told you to keep it down.”

When Aragorn’s warm, calm voice interrupted the excited bickering of two restless hobbits, Legolas quickly closed his eyes, stifling a grin. He could have listened to them for hours on end - their innocent levity was like a much-needed shower in a too-dry summer -, but Aragorn had made it very clear that Mithrandir and Legolas were supposed to use the lunch break for a nap, after almost a week of uninterrupted night watch since their departure. While the wizard was already breathing noisily a few feet below, propped up against the trunk of this very broad beech tree, with his hat deeply drawn into his face, Legolas had far too much on his mind to even try and get some rest. But he knew his old Dúnadan friend well enough to be sure, Aragorn wouldn’t order the Fellowship to carry on before he’d tried at least. Curiosity had always been second nature to him though, and the rest of the group was standing too close to his elevated spot up here to just shut his sharp elvish hearing off. Besides, he was dying to know who would come out of this little argument on top.

“What’s this about anyway? You two have been whispering ever since we left Imladris.”

“Sam doesn’t believe me,” Pippin declared, audibly offended. “But my father used to tell me when I was a kid, and our family knows all about the big folks! I just need proof! Maybe I can just sneak up to the elf while he sleeps ...”

“I would advise strongly against it.” Legolas could hear the amused tone in Aragorn’s words as well as the underlying hint of cynicism - that fight in Mirkwood back then had been one that they both had barely made it out alive. “The last creature I saw trying to do that ended up with a dagger sticking from its throat.”

Pippin grumbled something unintelligible and started pacing the small clearing again, the rain-damp undergrowth rustling and cracking under sturdy Hobbit feet. “There must be some way ...”

“You know, wild idea but you could just ask,” Merry suggested, munching on a last piece of apple from the opulent break meal.

“Ask.” Pippin sounded as if his cousin had suggested he’d just walk up straight to Sauron himself and punch him in the dick. “Have you seen how he looks at us?”

“Our elvish friend comes from a family where emotions are expressed in a very peculiar way, my friend.” Again that slightly cynical drawl in the Dúnadan’s sigh - Legolas’ father and he had never been exactly best friends. But there was also the soft cautiousness of deep compassion sounding through those discreet, brief explanations that Legolas had already come to appreciate Aragorn for shortly after their first disastrous meeting. “You should rather worry if they smile at you in the Elvenking’s Halls. Then you’re either about to be imprisoned or pulled into a really bad trading deal. When you’re important enough to an elf of this family that they start brooding about you, it means there’s no place on Middle-earth you can’t be safer.”

“Anyway.” Pippin didn’t sound really convinced. “If I’m going to ask him if it’s true that touching elvish hair gives good luck, he’ll probably eat me.”

“Don’t worry. I heard Elves are vegetarians,” Gimli threw in from the side, little charming and little helpful as ever.

“Only when Dwarves are around, Master Gimli, I assure you.” Aragorn could hardly hold back the chuckle from his throat. “And that’s enough superstition for one day. Make yourself useful and collect some of those berries over there. And by the way, Pippin, if you really want to learn more about elves, I suggest starting with the basics. I can tell you for a fact, for example, that they usually only sleep with their eyes open.”

Legolas startled and cursed under his breath, ruefully blinking at Aragorn through a half-opened lid, the smallest of smirks tugging on his lips when he saw the hobbits stare at him from afar in embarrassment. He demonstratively turned to his side on the limb that hardly even creaked under his weight, to at least try what he’d been told to do for another ten minutes or so. They could never linger in any place too long, and his strength reserves were far from even being touched. But his heart had not been that heavy in decades, and for the first time since leaving the palace for Elrond’s council, he felt homesick.

“Why is Gandalf so afraid of the mines?” After worrying for hours that they might lose the youngest member of their Company to frostbite, hypothermia, or sickness, it should have been a relief when Pippin finally stirred again in Legolas’ arms, finally breathing a little deeper and more even for the first time since they’d entered the shallow shelter of this little cave, to regather their strength before they could even think about leaving Caradhras behind. Unfortunately, the subject the hobbit chose was the last that Legolas was ready to talk about right now.

He was too glad that his young friend was finally doing better though to refuse him a conversation - as long as Pippin talked, he was awake and as long as he was awake, he would recover. Legolas wrapped Gandalf’s cloak a little tighter around the small, trembling body and pulled Pippin closer to his chest to allow his own, hardly faltering temperature to help stabilize the hobbit’s far too low one while Boromir thrust a big mug of tea into Pippin’s hand. “Those mines are going deep into the ground and much of them are unknown territory, Master hobbit. It’s easy to get lost there.”

Pippin slurped noisily on the acceptably warm drink, holding on to it tightly with his badly shaking hands. “Can’t be worse than here. I bet it’s at least warm there.” He looked back over his shoulder with a confused frown when it was suddenly Legolas, shuddering heavily. “What is it?”

“Not all heat is healthy, Pippin. There are creatures living down there very dangerous to anyone not watching their back.”

“Like what?” You couldn’t even rid a hobbit of their curiosity when they’d just barely escaped death.

Legolas saw from the corner of his eyes how Mithrandir shook his head at him in warning but chose to ignore it for the moment. No one could be sure that those unsettling rumors were true, that was right, but the little ones deserved to have at least an idea of what they were about to face. “Creatures of shadow and flame, bred Ages ago from nothing but hate and violence, and that it all they know.” Leaning back against the rough, uneven rock, suddenly feeling actually tired for the first time since starting on this quest, Legolas closed his eyes, not surprised that the first thing he saw on his mind was a glimpse of fabulous golden hair, a look of deep dismay and worry on a youthful, ethereally beautiful face.

His old close combat trainer had warned him about volunteering for this mission, and it had been these few brief words more than any lecture of Lord Elrond, any doubt from Aragorn and the bad conscience about how very worried his father must be for him right now, that had almost changed Legolas’ mind. For it had been Glorfindel who had not only told him that he might never come home again if he sought to destroy the Ring, never see his father again, but that when he might be brought back in another place far from everything he knew one day, his mother might not wait for him, seeing as she belonged to those who had chosen to stay and watch from the Halls of Mandos. In the end, Legolas had said yes after all - loneliness was something he could deal with, he’d never known anything but in his life -, and death had never been something he was particularly afraid of. What tormented him in the few lonely hours when he was supposed to sleep, was the fear of failing. Of not being able to be there anymore for his friends, his father, his realm. Not being able to save this world anymore. With the prospect of entering a place possibly haunted by an enemy far beyond his battle skills, that fear had suddenly become very real.

“So ... Lord Glorfindel died fighting that thing ... because his hair was loose?” After hearing the tale of the fall of Gondolin, Pippin seemed at least a little more respectful regarding the path they had chosen to take next, and when he reached for the next mug of tea that Mithrandir had heated with a quick blow of fire, he wasn’t shaking that badly anymore. That was all that counted in the end, no matter how much recalling that particular memory of the day before their departure had hurt.

“If you ask Lord Elrond’s librarian, he’d probably huff about how his dumb lover was standing far too close to the edge of that cliff, too. But yes, basically.” Legolas returned Pippin’s quiet laughter and signaled him with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder that he should scoot forward to let Legolas get up, now that he was feeling better. It was about high time to check if any of his arrows had survived this ungodly weather. He was only just busy drying the last shaft under his tunic and sharpening a slightly dull tip when his little hobbit friend sat down behind him, mirroring his gesture from earlier and started to comb through Legolas’ hair with still slightly clammy fingertips, without even asking.

“Better safe than sorry,” Pippin declared firmly, not a hint of his usual mirth in his green eyes when Legolas looked back at him with a frown, and held up a leather hair tie that Mithrandir must have given him.

The lump in Legolas’ throat was too big to answer but he suddenly realized, he hadn’t completely forgotten how to smile in the last three millennia after all.

Aragorn who had watched the whole scene from the side though, spoke up, pointing at Pippin’s surprisingly skilled braiding efforts with his half-lit pipe. “Besides, you know, it’s for luck.”

“I thought you said that was just stupid superstition.” Pippin tilted his head distrustfully.

The same shadow of unease that had Mithrandir brood quietly in his corner darkened Aragorn’s grey eyes, the chuckle died. “Alas, who knows? Your family knows all about the big folk, right? And the Valar know we can use all the luck we can get right now.”

“What are you doing all alone here, Master elf?” Pippin paused a few feet away from Legolas, shying from the hip-high wall protecting the tapered edge of Minas Tirith’s courtyard, understandably intimidated after having to watch the Steward of this land jump to his death here.

Legolas, born to a folk one with their environment by nature, couldn’t be scared so easily by height or the sharp wind blowing around his face, coming from the direction where Mordor lay. Besides, this was probably the only place in all of Minas Tirith where one could find some peace right now. But he didn’t have the heart to send his little hobbit friend away. Pippin had seen enough of grief in the last few days, he could use a few encouraging words, even though Legolas didn’t have an idea where to find them himself. “I’m not alone.” He nodded briefly to the very few stars that could be seen in the sky even through the mist of ash and death that was Sauron’s shadow. Then he went back to braid one of the seven thin strands of hair he’d cut from his neck earlier. Seven that should have been eight. “Did Aragorn send you?”

Pippin blushed a little and shrugged, caught. “He says, you should be sleeping. We’ll all need our strength tomorrow.” His voice faltered for a moment, his hand clenching around the thin belt around his hips, the gleam of his sword handle there. The hobbits were just as afraid as everyone, of walking straight up to Mordor tomorrow, but after hours and hours of discussion, they all had had to realize it was useless, trying to talk them out of it.

“Elves never need much sleep, don’t worry. Did Gandalf never tell you that?”

“Gandalf says, you’re full of it,” Pippin answered dryly. “Can’t fool me anymore, Master elf. Why are you never resting?”

Rolling his eyes, Legolas propped up his leg on the wall and shifted his weight to rummage for another leather tie in his breeches, to knot it to the end of the firm braid. When he reached for the next, he saw Pippin’s eyes that were following his movements go wide as his friend realized what it was that Legolas was using to make these special little bracelets. When the hobbit looked at his neck where another strong breeze was revealing a faint red glow of the jewel hidden there, Legolas quickly put up his collar. There were secrets in his life that even the Fellowship had no business knowing. “The night brings many unpleasant thoughts, Pippin. My mind needs to be free of all burdens if I’m not supposed to lose my focus. An archer has nothing but his focus, you know.”

"Tired eyes also lose focus.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as at the beginning of their journey anymore, to send an unwanted hobbit visitor away with a few mysterious words. “Merry and the Rohirrim, they rode through the night to get here, and look how many of them are dead now.”

Legolas couldn’t bring himself to tell Pippin that he didn’t expect any of them to survive the next few days either way and just shook his head with an uncertain smile before going back to work. “Why don’t you go to the Citadel kitchen? They should have some leftovers. Can't have a hungry hobbit going to battle tomorrow.”

Instead, Pippin overcame his fear with a jerk and sat down opposite to him on the wall with his arms crossed. “Aragorn also said I should not let you get rid of me,” he explained with his jaw thrust forward when Legolas looked up in surprise. “And that someone needs to look out for you, at least, seeing as the King has not even sent a message to ask about your fate.”

“We’ve arranged a full stop of communication when I left Mirkwood,” Legolas said defensively, in a reflex ingrained in his genes all his life, to apologize wherever he was going for the last member of his family remaining in these realms. “For the same reason, I’m trying not to let people know who I am. It’s safer for us both and for our people. Sauron has not forgotten Mirkwood.”

“Pigeons usually don’t talk, do they?” The look of anger and lack of understanding on Pippin’s soft features quickly turned to shame about his impudence when Legolas’ back stiffened, his face almost going as blank as at the beginning of their journey, when he had tried to keep his distance from his Ring Companions, afraid of failing his job to protect them when his mind was clouded. ”I’m sorry. None of my business.” Pippin made a move to jump back to the ground and leave.

Legolas suddenly realized, he was sick of it. Whatever the fate of all of them would be, it would hurt either way. He shouldn’t be adding to the darkness weighing down on all their souls by pretending he hadn’t lost his heart to these people the moment they had left Imladris behind. “He doesn’t mean it, you know.” This time, it sounded more honest and less resigned. Legolas had long given up mourning or trying to change his father’s behavior. The only person who might be able to do that, they would only maybe see again one day if their path was to lead them west. Until then, they had to fight on their respective fronts alone, and in a way, it was easier for him than for Thranduil. Legolas was not petrified. He could still make this decision of letting the pain in, the worry, even the loss of saying good-bye to souls that he would not see again until the world would be renewed. Every smile of his companions, every glimmer of hope in their eyes, small as it might be at this point, was worth it. He could choose not to be alone anymore if he only found the courage. “My father has never learned how to handle grief. When my mother died, he shut out the world and forgot how to let it back in. We love each other, but hiding that most of the time is his only shield from his pain.”

“But that’s stupid.” This time, Pippin didn’t care about impertinence, which was a very refreshing change to Aragorn’s usually silent disapproval and Arwen’s and Elrond’s occasional over-protectiveness. “If you love someone, you need to tell them. What if you don’t and then something happens to them? I’m not that naive, Master elf, I know we are probably going to die soon.” A tear or two glistened on a too pale, too thin face in the weak torchlight, but this time, his voice did not break. “I could never leave for Mordor without telling my friends how much they mean to me.”

“You know, I’m sure you’re right, Master hobbit.” Legolas had finally finished the last of the bracelets and slipped most of them in his pocket to keep them safe while looking out of the rest of the people to give them to. At least those who were within reach. Only the one he had finished first, he kept in his palm when he reached out for Pippin’s arm and pulled it close to tie the little gift around his wrists. “Just remember that not everyone in these realms uses the same language.” While his little friend was still staring at him dumbfounded, he slipped down from the wall and pulled the hobbit with him, pretty sure that his Companion would actually manage to topple over and fall if he let him out of sight for even five minutes. A little bit of elvish luck could only get you so far. “So, shall we go see what’s left of dinner?”

The growl of Pippin’s stomach was all the answer he needed.

#inwiste #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #fanfiction #legolas #pippin #aragorn #gimli #stormys fanfics #sometimes stormy gets asked things #uh #this was not meant to be either that long or that feelsy wtf #also yeah #this is technically part of my verse #hence the ring in my boi's hair #but you don't need to know anything about it to read that

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Nano: Revenge

He ate like he thought it would be his last meal, every time. No matter if Rain brought him one meal a day or three, over the next week, he ate like his life depended on it. He pulled back when he was finished, curling into a ball or lying down on his side, half-folded. It was strange, and sad, but far unlike what they had expected. Where was the rushing charge? The violent escape? The victorious comeuppance?

Rain stood by the hatch, watching. Lauritz never quite put all of his attention on the food, always glancing up at them and down again. Something about how they acted, or maybe just his experience so far with two people who hated him, made him constantly wary for the food to be taken away again. Perhaps he wasn’t convinced that they wouldn’t just let him die if he annoyed them too much, or if they got too angry, or if they simply felt like it... Given what they’d done to his nose, they supposed that was fair. Smart of him, even, not to trust them easily.

But they didn’t take the food away. Lauritz got his full meal or three each day, and he showed the signs of someone who had needed it. His colouring improved, less of a pasty paleness to his cheeks. His movements got more steady and less exhausted, and the shadows under his eyes faded a little each day. They had no idea what had been going on before he came here – even he didn’t, of course – but it was both satisfying and dissatisfying to see him recovering at their hand.

Why, why were they the ones who had to do this? Couldn’t he have gone somewhere else, to one of his criminal friends?

There had to be a reason he was here. They couldn’t trust him until they had found out what it was.

Kala had tried interrogating him, and he had the bruises to show for it, but he hadn’t given her anything but desperate pleading. Rain had questioned him too, more sedately, with long, slow pressure increasing like the crank of a medieval rack. Again, he’d had nothing. Apologies in droves, but no useful words came out of him. Nothing but a brief murmur about an orange lunch box, which was unlikely to be anything.

He was frustrating. Rain felt it like a sting.

Kala felt it like an open flame climbing up her spine.

Her face burned. Her arms were liquid pain. The rope around her wrists, tying her to the pillar, chafed the skin until it was raw. Kala hated this, hated every second of it, with a ferocity that only made her helplessness bite worse.

The bastard was in with Rain right now, in the other room, the one where he had the chain looped around the ceiling. They were alone with him. Kala couldn’t do a thing to help.

She would kill him one day, she swore to herself. She would kill him. There was nothing he could do to stop her. She’d get out, get fit, get strong, and learn to fight. She’d track him down, or ask Rain to do it, they were smart like that, and then she’d put a knife through him. Or smash a baseball bat against his skull. Or choke him to death.

The imaginings of what she could one day do for revenge were her anchors, her burning candlelight in a cold and dark-lit room. She would kill him. It sustained her, while he had all the control.

He was scared of her. Good. He should be.

Kala closed the hatch, even knowing that Rain was out on the beach. They might come back early. They probably wouldn’t like her doing this, or at the very least would want to know why. She didn’t feel like explaining.

She had a knife. She'd bought one a while ago, ostensibly a hunting knife. It would have been a hunt. She would have used it on him, gutted him, if she’d had the chance.

Now he was here and she had the knife, and she wasn’t going to kill him because Rain would never forgive her, but she was at least going to make him understand. Years ago he had made her feel like a piece of shit. Like a worthless stain on the world, scum at the surface of the ocean. He’d almost destroyed her, and he didn’t get to pretend that it never happened.

He watched her walk towards him, staying on the ground, arms against his chest. He always sat like that, as though he were trying to protect himself from her, but she didn’t care for his tricks. He couldn’t guilt trip her like that, no. She was going to make him understand. Make him hurt, how he had hurt her, and then maybe...

Maybe she’d feel better.

Kala was wearing a long-sleeved black top with a lace neckline, and black loose trousers. Her lipstick was black as well today, as was the smoke and shadow around her eyes. She felt raw, black and bitter, despair tainted with rage. When she crouched opposite him, he watched with wide eyes, and she pulled up her sleeve and showed him.

He paled. Up and down her arm were short slashes, an erratic pattern that overlapped and repeated enough that she looked like the leaves from a motherfucking pine tree. Like the forest floor in autumn, when all the needles were shed and grown again for winter. Like a fucking carpet.

There was no skin unscarred from wrist to elbow. He’d gone over it again and again, and she’d been lucky he’d picked her left arm and not her right.

“You deserve that and more,” she told him, voice hard. “I’d slit your fucking throat if I could.”

She didn’t pause for him to reply, not wanting him to offer a stupid apology or a protest that he didn’t understand. He was still Lauritz fucking Nielson, no matter what he said. He still deserved this. She would still give it to him.

She pulled him forwards by the shoulder and bent him over his knees, revealing the arms still bound behind him, just as hers had been. The cable was chafing. Good.

With the knife, barely knowing what she was dong, she cut into his forearm, a short horizontal line. Then, she added a vertical line.

Blood welled up surprisingly fast, blurring the marks she had made. She moved further up, away from the wrist which would soon be slick and stinging with blood. She made another slash, diagonal, and a line crossing it, and a line at its end, and another stretching up, and one up, and one up, changing direction each time like she was crossing out invisible words on his skin.

Fucker. Sadist. Criminal. Bastard. Asshole. Monster. Piece of shit.

He deserved this and more.

Lauritz didn’t make a sound as it happened except to quicken his breathing, harsher and faster in his nose. He didn’t pull back, just lowered his head. No fight in him. Pathetic. Even Rain had fought, when it had been their turn, struggled and begged and affirmed that they didn’t deserve it. They had both fought. Lauritz didn’t even do that.

When she ran out of space, and the arm was covered in short slices, she had to stop. She pulled back, letting him go, and he sniffled. He was crying. Jesus fucking Christ, he was crying. That was just pathetic.

“What?” she asked, tone sharp. “What? What are you crying about? You deserve that, you know.”

He nodded slowly. “Just... hurts,” he croaked, in that weird barely-there voice he had sometimes, like he hadn’t spoken in months.

“Well now you fucking know how I feel,” Kala said, and groaned. “They’re only surface scratches, you’ll be fine.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the floor. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Her stomach turned. “Don’t fucking say that. You deserve it, just take it.”

“...Okay.”

God, he was the worst. He took the satisfaction even out of this. Kala got up, sighing, and left him to it. He would have to figure out how to stop the bleeding himself.

When Rain came home, they could tell something had happened. Kala was grumpy and quiet, and the ladder was down but the hatch was closed. Something had happened with Lauritz.

Making a cup of tea to warm themself up from the sea breeze, they noticed her knife on the beech counter beside the sink.

That answered that question.

“You should go bandage him,” they said, passing Kala in the hall. “I don’t fancy renting a boat to ditch his body in the ocean.”

Kala half-turned, frowning, mouth opening to object, but Rain was already heading up the stairs, tea balanced without spilling a drop. Her mouth closed again and she made a grumbling noise. Rain smiled privately as they entered their bedroom and put the tea down on their desk. After a moment’s pause, they reached into their pocket and withdrew the latest piece of sea glass they had picked up, a pale blue like the summer sky. With a clink, they placed it into the bowl that held their collection. They would clean it later.

Kala went up the ladder a few minutes later. Rain had left their door open, and Kala left the hatch open, so they could hear her moving around. Lauritz didn’t speak while she was there, it seemed, except to occasionally apologise as she cleaned him up. There must be a lot of blood for her to do that much scrubbing.

Then the sound of bandages being snipped. “This’ll hurt like a motherfucker,” Kala muttered. “You’ll forget it’s more than one. Serves you fucking right.”

Ah. Rain’s stomach flipped. Suddenly, they knew exactly what Kala had done to him.

She still couldn’t feel much on that skin. She complained of it itching on dry days, sore when she stretched or showered. But it had scarred so much because it had gone untreated, gotten infected in that dingy abandoned house. With Lauritz bandaged, he wouldn’t suffer so greatly.

Rain looked down at the white and blue sea glass in their china bowl. Somehow, it felt wrong for Lauritz to be harmed less than Kala by the same thing. He had caused all of Kala’s pain. Now, he was only experiencing a small portion of it himself.

But what was the alternative? Doing exactly what he’d done?

Would they be just as bad as him?

No, it was different. They weren’t holding him captive.

But they were. He was tied up in the attic.

But they weren’t torturing him.

But they were. Kala had.

They weren’t sadists...

Were they?

Hadn’t Rain pushed at his broken bone just for the feeling of power over someone who had hurt them before?

What, exactly, was different about how they were treating him?

#nanowrimo extract #my fic #whump #revenge whump #whumping a whumper #amnesiac whumpee #knives #cutting #angry whumper #kala #rain #lauritz

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rabbitcruiser · 4 years

Photo

Møn, Denmark (No. 3)

Because of the special nature of the chalky soil, there are many rare plants in the area, particularly several varieties of orchid which are at their best in early summer. In particular, the tall lady orchid (Orchis purpurea) grows under the staircases leading down to the beach. The chalk also provides a distinctive light green tint to the beech trees along the top of the cliffs, maintaining their spring hues throughout the summer season. In the hilly park which stretches a couple of kilometers inland, there are a number of ponds and marshes, many populated by trees. Several signposted circuits provide opportunities for walkers, riders and cyclists to discover the surroundings.

In recent years, the peregrine falcon, the fastest of all birds as it swoops down to its prey at 350 km/h, has been observed breeding on Møns Klint. And the extremely rare large blue butterfly (Maculinea arion) can also be found in the area.

Liselund Park, at the northern end of the cliffs, is an attractive combination of small houses, ponds and rolling lawns built by Antoine de la Calmette for his wife Elisabeth or Lise at the end of the 18th century.

Klintholm Estate, Danish: Klintholm Gods, to the west of the wooded area along the cliffs, is a collection of old farm buildings dating back to 1780 and a large park. The manor house which used to form part of the estate was demolished in 2000 as a result of dry rot.

The GeoCenter Møns Klint is a geological museum close to the top of the chalk cliffs. The museum explains the geology of the chalk cliffs and has exhibitions on the fossils found in the chalk. Near the museum start several walks to the cliffs, including two spectacular stairways from the top of the cliff to the beach.

Møns Klint can be reached by road either directly from Stege or from Klintholm Havn. In the summer, there is a regular bus service. Accommodation is available within the cliff area itself or in hotels and pensions in the vicinity. There is a camping site close to the main entrance to the park and a youth hostel nearby.

Source: Wikipedia

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stargazerlillian · 4 years

Text

“A Matter of Wonder” (for Yoel)

Thelios Pyrell would normally be excited on days preceding grand seasonal celebrations. In wonder, even. Today is not one of those days.

Thelios Pyrell and Arboreah belong to @yoel-o-fellow

——————–

June 20th, 1426

It was the last day of a youthful spring beneath the skies of a younger Romania.

The trees’ leaves fluttered in waves as the playful breeze weaved through their branches. Golden beams erupted through every opening in the forest’s canopy they could find, spotting the grass below with flickering patches of the sun’s light as the blades rippled back and forth to the rhythm of the wind’s conducting.

The forest was alive with the sounds of many natural wonders, from the rippling waves of the nearby pond to the chirps of birdsong. And if one were to close their eyes and listen at the right moment, they could also hear the mellifluous hums of a boy barely in his eleventh spring. It was a song with no name and no words, yet was always held close to his heart, accompanying him almost every day as he gamboled beneath the dancing patches of light and shade.

But today was not one of those days.

Thelios Pyrell dragged his booted feet along the forest’s dirty pathway as he trudged his way home, squinting his eyes in the midday sun’s light. Tightly grasped in his hands was a woven basket overflowing with daisies, roses, lilies, carnations, oak leaves, and beech leaves collected from all parts of the forest.

At dawn tomorrow, Litha would begin. He had been sent out earlier by his guardian to gather ingredients for the special potion that would be used to bless the bonfire they would be lighting the next day to celebrate the start of summer.

Usually, on days leading up to a major seasonal festival, Thelios would ravenously take in as much of the changing sights as he could, even if very little had changed since he last looked. After all, as many wise people in the past have said, “Nature is new every morning.”

But on that particular day, Thelios’s eyes didn’t focus attentively on anything. They merely stared off into the distance, with only enough alertness for him to not stray off his course.

He never once looked for any new flowers that had bloomed or listened for any new songs from the birds.

All he saw was the passing green blur of the usually detailed and vibrant forest he called home.

All he heard was the ridiculing echo of fifteen certain words haunting his mind.

“If you’re not careful, someone will make an easy fool out of you one day,” they taunted.

Over and over the words repeated, until Thelios finally found himself back at the front door of his abode.

He stood completely frozen.

He stared down at his basket, gripping the handle almost tight enough for the fibers to leave indents in his palms. He did not want to step back inside. He almost felt… unworthy coming back here. His young mind raced with different questions than usual - questions that he was almost too afraid to answer.

If he really was a fool, then did he truly belong here?

If he didn’t belong here, where would he go?

What would his guardian think about being related to a fool?

Would she be upset with him?

Would she reject him?

Would she… stop loving him?

His heart pounded violently against his sternum. As much as he wanted to, there was no turning back. With his knees quivering and his breath shaky, he nudged the door open.

Inside was his grandmother, Arboreah Pyrell, carefully setting a cauldron of water over the fire as she hummed her own wordless song.

“I-I’m home, mamaie,” Thelios called. “I’ve gathered all the ingredients you need for the potion.”

Arboreah turned and smiled brightly. “Oh, splendid, nepot! Just set them over there on the table for now. I’ve got to get this water to a boil first before I place anything in.” Thelios nodded in acknowledgement and placed his full basket on the table.

Arboreah watched intently at the water as it began to simmer. In a while, she’d have the perfect potion for tomorrow’s bonfire. Her smile only grew wider as she pictured all the fun she and her beloved grandson would have. Music, dancing, crafting flower wreathes, cooking food over the bonfire – and of course, the enjoyment of each other’s company.

To Arboreah, this was the perfect recipe for a Litha celebration. And the best ingredient for that recipe was the sight of Thelios’s joyful and beautiful smile. Arboreah always swore to herself - and to others - that the red-haired child’s beaming smile had more than enough power to light up a room. If Thelios was smiling, then she was smiling.

However, when she turned back to face him, he wasn’t smiling at all. Rather, he was staring at the floor and wringing his wrists.

Her own smile disappeared.

“Is something the matter, Thelios?”

Thelios peered up at her awkwardly. “Um… n-no, mamaie.”

Arboreah raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain? You look like something’s troubling you, nepot.”

Thelios shifted his eyes. “W-what makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, you’re not usually this quiet on days like this. And for another, you always wring your wrists when you’re upset.” Thelios flushed and immediately hid his hands behind his back in shame.

Concerned, Arboreah made his way over to him. “Come now, nepot. Tell me – what’s bothering you?”

“Um… well… mamaie, there’s… something I’ve been wondering for a little while.”

Arboreah’s other eyebrow raised. “And what is that?”

The boy swallowed dryly as he struggled to find the strength to speak his inquiry. “Do you think I’m… too wide-eyed?”

“Well, no nepot, of course not,” she replied, shaking her head. “What makes you ask that?”

“B-because… um… someone said that to me yesterday. H-he thinks that it’s… childish that I’m still so… ‘wide-eyed’ about everything. He says that someone will make an easy fool out of me one day because of that.”

Arboreah’s eyes shot wide open for the first time in years at the mention of those words. She grabbed her grandson’s shoulders, her face now contorted into one of pure worry. “Now who told you that?”

Thelios’s face flooded with even more heat and shame as he drew out his answer. “U-um… a friend.”

“Which friend?” Arboreah stressed, gripping his shoulders tighter. The boy swallowed again as another pause grew between them.

“It was… i-it was N-Notoriah, mamaie.”

Arboreah exhaled sharply through her nose as she shook her head. She turned away briefly to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should have known,” she thought.

Notoriah had always been a target of suspicion for Arboreah, what with the “unpleasant aura” he always gave off, and all the mischief he got Thelios involved in on a recurrent basis. She still allowed them to see each other despite this, but she never did understand why her grandson was so fond of Notoriah’s company, especially if he said such… denigrating things to him.

“I-it’s alright, mamaie… h-he meant well… really,” Thelios stuttered, tightly holding his trembling clasped hands to his chest.

Arboreah turned back towards him with a deep frown, her fists now on her hips. “No nepot, it’s not alright.”

“B-but, mamaie, I –” Arboreah grabbed his shoulders again, silencing the boy instantly. His eyes misted over in an instant as he prepared for the worst.

“Thelios,” Arboreah sternly began. “Look at me. What Notoriah said to you… is wrong. If anything, he’s the fool.”

Thelios blinked twice in surprise. Was he hearing those words correctly? Did his grandmother literally refer to Notoriah as the fool? What was happening?

“W-why is he the fool, mamaie?”

Arboreah exhaled harshly again. “It’s because Notoriah believes that having a sense of wonder is a fool’s trait, when in reality, it’s the people without wonder that are the true fools. He wouldn’t even know what being ‘wide-eyed’ truly meant if it came and bit him on the leg.”

Thelios didn’t understand. Wonder? What did that have to do with being “wide-eyed?’

Arboreah continued. “To be ‘wide-eyed’ is not to be foolish - but to be innocent. To be ‘wide-eyed’ is to see things no one else sees, or things that others choose not to see, out of cynicism, fear, or ignorance. To be ‘wide-eyed’ is to be full of wonder. And from the sound of things, it seems Notoriah’s eyes are quite narrow. It’s almost a shame,” she scoffed.

So being “wide-eyed” is the same thing as being full of wonder. But what did that mean for him? What about his eyes? Thelios didn’t even take a full breath before both of those question was answered.

“Your eyes, on the other hand, Thelios – the eyes you were given – are very wide. They are the eyes of a man of wonder.”

Thelios’s eyes glinted in intrigue. “You… you truly think so?”

Arboreah gave a mild, motherly smile. “Of course I do, Thelios. You’ve had wonder in your eyes from the moment you first opened them. And it only became more apparent to me as you grew. Not long after you first learned to walk, I took you out into the forest to help you stretch your legs. And your eyes lit up at every new little sight of interest that came your way. Every rock, flower, and small creature was examined with such attentiveness and – well, wonder.”

Arboreah chuckled as she shook her head. “I still remember the little laugh you made when a butterfly landed on your nose that day,” she continued. “You had fallen flat on your back, yet there you were, smiling and laughing at a tiny creature you had never seen before.” Thelios blushed slightly and scratched his head as he attempted to recall such a memory.

“And when you learned to talk, you started asking questions. Questions such as ‘why is the sky blue?’ ‘Why is the grass green?’ ‘Why do the leaves change?’ ‘Why can’t the day or night last forever?’ You asked questions like those, and then some.”

“Huh,” Thelios muttered quizzically.

“In any case, it was clear to me even then that you were a truly wonder-filled child. You had the kind of eyes that could see lights in the night… magic in the air… dreams in the stars… perhaps even… visions of the great spirits that protect this forest.”

Thelios gasped. Spirits? As in mystical beings that came from other realms? Perhaps his eyes really WERE capable of great things. "Wow, I-I never knew that!”

“Mm-hm. And that is only a small part of the power in being ‘wide-eyed,’ dear child. Wonder is one of our most essential emotions. Without wonder, we wouldn’t ask questions about anything, explore the possibilities of anything, or have answers to anything. We wouldn’t even appreciate the beauty and the mystery that surrounded us if we didn’t have wonder. It’s something we all have in one form or another.”

Thelios swallowed at a lump in his thought as he fiddled with his fingers. “So, d-does that mean you were ‘wide-eyed’ too, mamaie?”

Arboreah’s eyelids fluttered in excitement. “Oh yes, Thelios! When I was your age, I was as wide-eyed as wide-eyed could be. I took in all the sights this forest offered every day. I would ask myself every potential question, from why the trees grew so tall, to why clouds formed, to why birds flew and fish swam. Even nowadays, I still try to carry an inkling of wonder wherever I go, because even in my old age, the world is still changing, and I want to be able to witness it.”

Thelios blinked twice thoughtfully. “So, why are your eyes shut almost all the time now, mamaie?”

Arboreah warmly smiled at the boy as she tenderly held his freckled face in her hands. “Because either the world has too much wonder for me to handle in my old age, or my eyes are filled with so much wonder that looking into them would be too much for others to handle. Either way, it’s for someone’s safety.”

Thelios uttered a tiny snicker. He could accept that.

“So you see, Thelios, having ‘wide eyes’ is not the same as being a fool. It is having your soul’s windows wide open and willing to take in as much of the world’s beauty as one could ever desire. Wonder is not a childish emotion – it is an essential emotion that separates us from the other creatures of the land, and allows us a sense of inquisition, reflection, and comprehension. Without it, all of the knowledge people have gained about the land around us would cease to exist. It is more powerful than any magic spell or potion.”

More powerful than any spell or potion? Perhaps wonder really is a force to be reckoned with.

“With that, I say go on - continue to see the world around you with ‘wide eyes’ if you so wish. Just because someone you know lost his sense of wonder earlier in life than you does not mean he has the right to try and take your sense of wonder away. It is not your fault you see things and ask questions the way you do. It was never your fault. You are not a fool, Thelios. You are you. And that is all you can be.”

Thelios’s eyes grew misty at the mention of those last several words, but for a different reason than before. He let out a tiny sniffle. “So… y-you’re not upset with me, mamaie?”

Arboreah snugly wrapped her arms around the redheaded boy in a tender embrace. “Of course not, Thelios. I could never be upset with you. I just don’t want you to lose your way so soon in life… or at any point in life for that matter. You have so much to learn and so much to gain the way you are at this moment.”

“And if you are anything like me,” she added, “Those eyes won’t work perfectly forever. So, my wish for you this Litha is to use them for as long as you can. Keep your sense of wonder close to your heart and spirit for all your years, because with it, you’ll never ever be disenchanted for as long as you live. Can you do that?”

Thelios nodded tearfully. His heart was hammering against his sternum again – but it was not out of fear this time. What was coming over him?

“Very good. I’m proud of you, Thelios,” she murmured. “You are a truly remarkable and wonderful child. Don’t concern yourself over what others think, especially those who have lost their wonder. Don’t let yesterday barricade you from feeling happiness tomorrow. I want to see that beautiful smile on your face again, and I’d love for it to last the whole day. It suits you far more than any flower wreath ever could. You know?”

Thelios nodded once more. And with that nod came the return of that beautiful smile his grandmother so dearly loved. Her heart grew warm instantly. She gently cupped his face in her aged hands, bringing his face forward to touch foreheads with her. “Of course you do. You’ve always been such an intelligent boy.”

Thelios sniffled as he tenderly placed his hands over hers. “W-well, I try to be, mamaie.”

“You don’t even have to try, Thelios,” Arboreah whispered feelingly. “You just are.”

A pause. Thelios’ breath became shaky once more.

“Thank you, mamaie,” he rasped. A pair of hot tears finally flowed down his face, releasing with them all the despondency he had been keeping in since the day before.

Arboreah stroked the top of Thelios’s head as she wiped his tears away. “There, now, nepot - I know, I know. I had a feeling this would happen sooner or later. But I understand - sometimes a person’s spirit just needs the time to wash out its sorrows. It feels nice to let them out, doesn’t it?”

Another nod from Thelios.

She kissed his forehead. “I’m glad,” she whispered. She then wrapped her arms back around him, gently rocking back and forth on her heels.

For what felt like the longest time, the two heard no sound besides deep breaths, sniffles, and opposing heartbeats. Then, Arboreah broke the silence by humming the tune to her wordless song.

Once his breathing began to return to normal, Thelios began to hum as well, joining his melody in harmony with hers.

Together, the two formed an all new song that was unlike any that had ever been made. It wasn’t just either’s wordless song now. It was their wordless song.

The two never really thought about the what the subject of their wordless songs were before that day. But it only took that moment in time for them to decide - it would be an ode to the human sense of wonder.

Anytime they hummed their melodies from this point forward, they would be hummed as an ode to the wonder they feel for the land they live on. An ode to eternal curiosity - to nature’s beauty - to the spark of innocence within.

And nobody could take that away from them.

Once they finished, the atmosphere went back to silence, and the two continued to embrace and caress one another. No words were needed. Only them, and the comfort of each other’s touch.

Suddenly, a harsh bubbling sound began to emit from the cauldron. Their heads rapidly spun back to face the stove.

“Ah, the water is finally boiling,” Arboreah stated. “Now then, how about we start mixing that potion? If we start now, we can have it ready by nightfall, so we can go outside and wait for the dawn of Litha together. How is that, nepot?” Thelios silently agreed in the form of yet another head nod as he wiped away the last of his tears with his sleeve.

“Alright, then. Kindly bring that basket over here, please.” Thelios lifted the heavy basket with a labored huff, and carried it back with all of his strength in tow, as well as his signature smile back on his face.

“Here it is, mamaie,” he chirped with a leftover sniffle as he set the basket on the floor close to the cauldron.

“Very good, Thelios. Now, listen carefully for which ingredients to hand to me. This potion, like every other, requires attention to detail.”

Thelios watched and listened intently, now with an understanding that none of what he knew or learned would be present if it weren’t for the ‘wide-eyed’ folk who lived before him. After all, if there’s anything he knew for sure, it was that a world without wonder was a world without knowledge.

——————–

Notes:

1. “Mamaie” is the informal, colloquial Romanian term for “grandma.” “Nepot” is the Romanian term for grandson.

2. Litha, AKA Midsummer is the name for the celebration hailing the beginning of summer on the Pagan seasonal calendar. It takes place every year on a day in late June (). According to resources, Litha is considered the peak of the Solar year and is when the Sun is at the height of its life-giving power.

3. Many of the Litha rituals mentioned here are true (the bonfire, music and dancing, the crafting of flower wreathes, etc.). Only one is made up - the usage of a special potion made from various summer plants and herbs to bless the bonfire site. I honestly didn’t know what else to do there, so I apologize if this confounds anyone.

4. All the herbal items Thelios collected at the start correspond with/represent Litha.

#My writing #Fanfiction #The Ruggaboors #Other's OCs #Thelios Pyrell #Arboreah Pyrell #Gifts for others #YoelOFellow

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

Text

Male tiefling x male reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here, for your delight and delectation, is Killygren the tiefling, another character from Starfall Springs! See this dashing rogue’s character art and bio info here in case you missed it.

His story has been up on Patreon for a little while, and now it’s time to put it up on here. There’s another Starfall Springs story that’s been up on there too, but you’ll have to wait for that one, featuring an orc.

Halfway through one of the hottest summers on record, you bought a bus ticket and rode it to the end of the line.

Unconventional, unpredictable, and possibly unwise though the decision may have been, you simply snapped and needed a break.

The city was stifling, the traffic overwhelming, and you needed green fields, perhaps some cool, breezy woodland, or the soft caress of an ocean breeze. Starfall Springs, you knew from an advertisement you’d seen on the Underground, had all three. And a huge number of non-human residents as well, which, you had to admit, made you curious.

Your travelling companion on the bus was a very elderly harpy lady who saw that you were travelling alone and proceeded to talk your ear off about the local area as you drew near to the town. In fact you didn’t mind because she was actually quite interesting and very sweet.

“That’s Jaime’s farm,” she said, nodding out of the dusty window at an old farmhouse in the distance, surrounded by open pasture. There was a round-pen for training horses, and a number of horses were standing in the shade of some huge beech trees beside a field of sheep and goats and another with a small herd of russet red cows. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said, but you had begun to tune the rest of it out by then. The lilting movements of the bus, and the warmth in the air, made you feel slightly sleepy, and it was hard to focus on her voice.

Eventually, you helped her off the bus and inhaled deeply. Already the air was different here; fresher, sharper despite the haze of pollen in the air. She thanked you for being “Such a polite young man,” and made her way off along the banks of the fast-flowing river which carved through the centre of the old collection of buildings.

Alone once again, you decided to head off towards the wide, paved market square in front of you. Stall holders yelled and called jovially, selling everything from fresh fish and meat to summer produce, cakes, handmade goods, knives, and even little witchy charms. You caught sight of a palomino centaur selling cider and apple juice, apple jelly, apple compote, and even dried apple crisps, and beside her was an orc wearing an apron which bore the logo of a local dairy. His stall had the most amazing array of different cheeses, and you paused long enough to be offered a free sample.

“Visitor?” he asked jovially.

You nodded. “Yeah, just thought I’d make an escape from the city for the day. Maybe even for the weekend…”

“Well, if you need a place to stay, Killy’s inn - the Inglenook over there - is great,” he said, pointing towards an old timber-framed building on the far side of the market square.

“Thanks,” you grinned.

The orc smiled back at you, and you marvelled at how open and friendly everyone seemed here, unlike the city where the majority of inhabitants were human, and they seemed singularly morose and unfriendly.

You wandered through the market for a while, your rucksack bashing uncomfortably against your back, until you came to the far side of the open plaza. Down the length of the main road out of the small town of Starfall Springs, you glimpsed the rolling countryside beyond. Gods, but it was idyllic.

The hills in the furthest distance were raked with lines of grapevines, the terracotta roofs of the vineyard buildings glowing in the heat of the summer sunshine, and a few miles away there looked to be a vast fruit orchard. Heat haze marred any real details, so you turned away and made your way back into the town, winding your way down cool, narrow, ancient streets where any number of little shops were tucked away, from antique stores to craft shops, some with pottery and ceramics made locally, to small greengrocers.

You emerged at the other end of town near the duck pond and you paused a moment in the cool shade of the poplar trees and gazed into the murky depths. A bubbling near the far edge drew your attention, and you stared, astonished, as a horse’s head surfaced from the murky water. The horse heaved itself out of the water at the opposite edge of the pond, duckweed and little water flowers clinging to its greenish-black coat and studding its flowing black mane. It shook itself and you continued to stare openly as it trotted off towards the temple which stood not far away from this end of town, in the middle of an open meadow.

“What the…?” you breathed, realising it must be some kind of water spirit, probably a kelpie. That just wasn’t the kind of thing you saw everyday in the city though; there were very few places left which were pure and unpolluted enough for creatures like that to survive. As if to drive home the point, a tiny, glowing fairy zipped past your face, laughing and trailing a wake of sparkling dust behind them that made you sneeze and take a step back. Wherever the dust hit, the plants turned a violent pink for a few seconds before fading and returning to their usual hues.

As enchanting as the whole place was, eventually your stomach started to rumble, and you looked about for somewhere to eat. Perhaps you might even get a cheeky lunchtime pint while you were at it. It was a weekend after all.

Back in the central marketplace, you saw the old, traditional pub sign of the Inglenook swinging slightly as a breeze sighed around the square. The orc’s recommendation from earlier floated back into your mind, and you decided that you’d pop in and see what it looked like at least. You didn’t have to commit yourself to staying there if you didn’t want to.

The inside was tastefully decorated, with both traditional and modern features, though the bar at the far end was a very old fashioned, high pub bar, with a huge number of beers and ales on tap, and a vast array of spirits displayed on the wall behind.

Tables dotted the bar area, and the place was packed. You sighed, thinking it’d take ages for you to be served, and were on the verge of turning round and finding a quiet cafe somewhere else when the shattering of a glass made you halt.

You glanced around, drawn by the noise, and saw a beautiful tiefling standing beside the bar, as if he’d been about to come around the end of it and go to a table with a drink. At his dark blue, cloven hooves lay the scattered remnants of a glass tankard, foam and beer spreading in a wide pool around him. And, improbably, his eyes were locked on you.

Well, one eye was locked on you. The other was covered by an elegant sash of cloth. His long hair was a very dark blue-black, tied back in a low ponytail, and his skin - flawless save for a pale scar that bisected his mouth from upper lip to chin - was a dusty, cornflower blue. There was no white sclera to the visible eye, and the iris was an intense, fiery gold, with a slit, catlike pupil, while his left eye was covered by a sash of Tyrian purple silk with gold thread here and there, as if to accentuate the colour of his right eye.

After a second or two of staring dumbly at you as if you were some long-lost friend, the tall, slender tiefling shook his horned head, and seemed to come to his senses. A faun appeared from behind the bar with a cloth and a dustpan and brush and told him to step back while they swept up the mess.

You turned to go, not wanting to linger, despite feeling there was something going on that you’d missed. A few patrons were looking from the tiefling to you and back again, but most had either ignored the incident or returned to their lunchtime chatter.

You’d barely made it to the door before you felt a soft tap on your bicep and you glanced around to see that the tiefling had come over to you. This close up, you took in the beautiful horns that curled first backwards over his thin, tapering ears and then up towards his forehead again. The left horn ended in a gold tip and you saw tiny gold hoops flashing at his earlobes too. He was a bit taller than you, and you swallowed nervously. He was stunningly handsome, and apart from the fact that you’d never been with a non-human before, he was exactly your type.

He smiled, showing sharp, white canines and a warm smile with little dimples in his chiselled cheeks. “Hi,” he said in a warm baritone. “I’m sorry about all that just now,” he went on, waving a hand and you caught the sparkle of silver on his fingers too. “Listen, to make up for being such an ass, how about I let you have some lunch and a drink on the house?” He had an airy, lyrical, lilting accent that reminded you, for absolutely no reason at all, of summer evenings and mayflies dancing over still water.

“Really, you don’t have to do that,” you said, perplexed. “I mean…”

He smiled again and stretched out his hand in a more formal greeting. His were those beautiful kind of hands with everything in the right proportion, the dusky blue skin flecked with intriguing scars here and there, and the sight of it suddenly, strangely, made you ache to feel his touch. Things had become a bit lonely in the city, and you raised your own hand and shook his.

The skin of his palm was smooth and callused, but warm, and he held you firmly for a moment and then grinned, “My name’s Killy. Well, Killygren, no one except my mother calls me that, and I’d thank you not to use it…” he chuckled. “It’s hot out there today - let’s get you a drink at the very least…”

“I don’t understand,” you murmured.

He laughed again, a free, musical sound, and winked. “I was so struck by the sight of you, I dropped that one and made a fool of myself. We don’t get a lot of humans passing through Starfall Springs you know, and I know all of the regulars.” He jutted his sharp chin at a distant corner where an orc and a young woman were deep in conversation, their hands linked. “She was the last one to arrive. Inherited a run-down old farm not too far from town.”

“The way you speak makes it seem like the humans who do come tend to stay…”

He winked again and turned back towards the bar. He had a tail, you noted, and it hung elegantly behind him like a panther’s as he walked, hips swaying slightly, hooves clonking lightly on the wooden floorboards of the old pub. It was only then that you remembered the name that the orc had said, and realised that this must be his pub.

Emboldened, you followed him to the bar and set your rucksack down at the foot of one of the worn old bar-stools, and clambered up onto it.

“Will you let me guess your favourite?” he grinned from behind the bar.

You frowned slightly, but then allowed a slow smile to creep across your lips. “Alright.”

The faun, who had finished clearing up the shattered glass, looked up and giggled. He had a nest of golden curls and the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, his cheekbones smattered with a myriad freckles. “Don’t encourage him,” he said, shaking his head and making his wavy hair toss this way and that. “He’s incorrigible, and he rarely gets it wrong… Must be that tiefling magic…”

Killy did not look away from your face for a while, and you thought you saw a faintly glowing light through the fabric of the sash covering his eye, but it was gone in a heartbeat, and you chalked it up to mild heat-stroke or dehydration or something.

As if he’d read your mind, Killy said, “Well, first things first, a pint of water for the gentleman, but after that…” he made a show of stroking his chin with his long fingers.

“Like you don’t already know,” the faun snickered. “Just serve it to him and stop flirting.”

Your cheeks heated slightly, but the reaction was welcome enough, as was the attention.

Killy clutched his heart and shook his head. “I’m hurt, Dizzy. I’m hurt.”

The faun, presumably named ‘Dizzy’, thwapped him round the backside with a damp tea towel and retreated to take another customer’s order.

When Killy turned his attention back to you a few moments later, with, yes, what just so happened to be your favourite drink in his hand, he was still laughing softly. “I'm sorry about him,” he said, sliding your glass across the bar. “So, how’d I do?”

“The hype is well-founded, it seems.”

He fist-pumped playfully and turned back to the faun, sticking his tongue out at him - it was dark blue, you were surprised to see - and then turning back to you. “So, what brings you to Starfall Springs?”

“You can’t work that out as well?” you asked, somewhat acerbically, sipping the drink and trying not to show just how much you liked it.

He made a slightly odd expression, somewhere between strained and embarrassed, and said, “I could, I’m sure, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

You snorted, but soon found yourself telling the tiefling everything. You felt stuck in your job, your social and sex life was stagnating, you’d not had a decent boyfriend in years, and that morning you’d felt like a change of scene would be a good thing. “So I bought a bus ticket, and here I am.”

“And here you are,” he murmured softly. Killy listened to the whole thing. He’d sunk quietly onto a stool on his side of the bar, leaned his elbows on the counter top, and had listened; really listened. You’d not had anyone do this for you since… well… not even your brief stint at the therapist had been this cathartic. You found your hand resting on the ancient, beer-stained wood of the bar, tracing idle circles with your fingertip, and you noticed how close his fingers were to yours.

“Tell me something?” you asked bluntly after your third or fourth drink.

“Anything for you, handsome,” he grinned back. Coming from anyone else, that line would have been nauseating, but the way he said it, with that flippant, light-heartedness just made it seem somehow astonishingly sincere.

“How’d you know this was my favourite?” you said. “And how’d you get so good at listening?”

“I know things,” he said with melodrama in his one visible eye.

“No,” you countered, “No, that’s not…”

He chuckled and gripped your hand. The touch was so sudden, so unexpected that you let out a little moan that was way more sexual than you’d intended.

Killy only smiled and reached both hands up to undo the sash around his face. His long, blue-black hair was tied back off his stupidly handsome face in a low ponytail, and as he dislodged it to untie the covering, you felt the urge to touch it and run your hands through it, maybe even grip it and tug it. Your fingers twitched, but you remained still as he revealed the other half of his face.

“I don’t show just anyone this,” he said conspiratorially. “This eye was a special gift from someone who shall remain nameless at the moment, but it lets me see all sorts of things.”

You snorted, but then you looked at him anew.

He just laughed and you stared openly at his now-revealed left eye. A perfect, black pentagram hung in the middle of a glowing, ice blue iris, ringed with two black outer circles. It was unusual to say the least.

You leaned closer, fascinated. “That’s… kind of…”

“Gross?” he said. “Unnerving?”

“I was just gonna go with ‘cool’…” you finished rather lamely. “Why do you keep it covered?”

He shrugged and wrapped it up again. “I don’t always want to be poking into people’s business, you know? That way it helps reduce the ‘unexpected visions’ factor. Though when you walked in, I got an eyeful - quite literally - of you and me.”

“Wait… like…” you gestured vaguely and he laughed.

Killy leaned across the bar and whispered right in your ear, his breath tingling, “I mean, I can give you specifics.”

“Go on then,” you said, feeling oddly bold.

Without preamble, he murmured, “I saw me with my mouth around your cock…”

“Holy shit…”

He shrugged and drew back. “I’ve never had that with anyone, by the way. Must be something special about you.”

“You sure you don’t say that to all the boys?” you sneered.

Something softened in his face and he leaned back. “It’s not set in stone, you know? You can still say no. But something must be keeping you here. You’ve been here all afternoon. It’s getting late, and the last bus back to the city leaves in half an hour.”

“Shit.”

“You can still catch it if you leave now.”

The moment hung heavily between you, but one look at the way his sharp Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed got you thinking about him swallowing your release, and you felt heat pool between your legs. “What the hell,” you said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with open bitterness in his voice, turning away from the bar. “You’ll have to wait til I��m done working though.”

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” you hastened to add. “Look, you know my whole life’s story now. You know this was a spur of the moment trip - something I’d never normally have done. It feels… I don’t know… right?”

The corner of Killy’s mouth, near the vertical scar, twitched, and he smiled. “Drink some water. I’ll be done in an hour.”

You watched him work from a quiet corner of the bar, and you definitely sobered up a fair bit in that time. Not that you’d been necessarily drunk, but something about the atmosphere had gone a long way to helping you release your inhibitions. With the water in your system, you started to note the way Killy behaved a bit more closely. He was attentive with his customers, quiet and patient, and you couldn’t help noticing from your new vantage point that he rested one hock slightly against the other whenever he paused to hear someone speak. His eyes constantly darted around, and he had a nervous habit of playing with his right earring when someone lingered too long or got too close.

His trousers were loose linen, cuffed tight around his elegant, almost cervine ankles, and but from what you could see, his legs were hairless. He was not built like a faun, despite having the hooves.

Eventually he washed his hands and swapped shifts with a huge minotaur who came in and high-fived him as he left. Killy glanced around the bar and then spotted where you had parked yourself, and he smiled.

“You’re still here,” he said when he had drawn level with your table.

Your mouth was still dry from watching the way he had dropped his shoulders in relief and the elegant way in which he had walked over to you, hips swaying softly as though he wore heels. You croaked. “Yeah.”

“Look, just because I saw one future possibility… I really mean it. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No strings attached, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ok.”

“Just like that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve had a couple of pints of water and an hour to think it over. Why can’t I have something that’s still meaningful with a complete stranger?”

His lips twitched again. “Right. C’mon.”

He led you upstairs, his hooves clunking softly on the bare wooden tread of the staircase, and into a very humble bedroom at the top of the old pub. A double bed occupied one wall but the sloping ceiling took out practically half of the other side of the room. A little free-standing wardrobe stood against the far end, and a pair of low bookcases stood on either side of the bed, doubling as beside tables with little lamps. It was surprisingly spartan for such an apparently flashy tiefling.

As you dumped your bag in the corner, you looked at him in surprise and he smiled softly, standing so close you could smell the soft scent of jasmine on his long hair. He had a freckle on his cheekbone. Your eyes drifted to the scars on his lip, and you wondered where he’d got them from. Before you could ask, he was kissing you. He began slowly, hesitantly, but something about the way he treated you made you ache for more.

Blood pooled in your groin and you felt your cock stir as his hands took hold of your jaw and he groaned. He had a slight shadow along his own jaw and you relished the rasp of it against your skin. He pressed his body close, his hips rearing against yours, and you grunted softly as you felt the hardening line of his cock against your hips.

Killy backed you against the closed door and as the air left your lungs with another softly articulated grunt, his fingers found their way to your waistband. He glanced at you and saw the acceptance in your face before continuing. He let your jeans fall to the floor and he freed your cock, stroking it slowly, apparently enjoying the feeling of wrapping his hand around it, getting to know the way you felt in his hand.

He stroked you, working you slowly, luxuriantly, while your knees felt like they were going to turn to water. “Killy,” you hissed, and he caught your meaning.

You stepped out of your jeans and abandoned them, allowing him to pull you over towards the bed and push you down onto it. The tent in his own soft trousers was obvious now, and you reached your hand for it, intending to palm him briefly and tease him, but he grabbed your wrist and placed it back on the bed as he tipped you expertly down onto your back.

He took your shirt off and let his palms play over your torso. As much as you may have been underwhelmed by your own body, he seemed to relish the chance to touch it. He lingered on your collarbones and on your nipples, even lowering his lips to them and kissing you over and over while his hands painted slow circles over your lower torso and hips, down towards your thighs.

“Fuck, Killy… please!” you grunted as your cock pulsed again, printing pre-come onto your skin. You felt like your skin was a size too small all over as he trailed a fingertip down the line between thigh and hips, dangerously close to your sensitive balls. “Fuck! Stop teasing me!”

He laughed and took you by surprise by lapping the tip of his dark tongue against the head of your cock, tasting you. His one visible eye rolled closed at the taste of you, and in one swift motion he licked his lips and took you all the way to the back of his throat.

As your tip hit the silky soft flesh of his throat, you gasped and cursed.

He closed his fingers around the base of your cock as he withdrew, keeping his cheeks hollowed, and he began to suck. The heat and slide of his mouth over your hard cock was incredible, and he clearly enjoyed the feeling too.

He was as clever with his hands as he was with his lips and tongue. Killy worked your cock with his mouth, alternating between long, regular strokes and teasing sucks and licks around the head of your cock, just sliding you in and out of his lips before dipping his head and letting you hit the back of his throat again. Time slid by, but all too soon you were shuddering on the edge of release.

“Killy…” you hissed. “I’m…”

White heat built rapidly and you knew you were very close.

He sucked just a little harder, his fingertips tracing just behind your balls, and you came hard into his mouth. He swallowed you down without breaking eye contact with you.

The intensity of your release had taken you somewhat by surprise.

Sure, it had been a while since someone had blown you, but still, the way he’d lavished attention on you had been something else. He stayed there while your cock throbbed and leaked the last drops of your release onto his tongue, only drawing back and licking his lips when you had completely finished.

“Did the vision live up to reality?” you finally rasped as you lay back, slightly dazed.

He smiled. “You don’t want to know what else I just saw…”

“Something tells me I might enjoy it?” you hedged. “Just… gimme a minute…”

Killy lay down on his back, still fully clothed, and smiled, glancing sideways at you. “I’m yours for the night.”

************************************

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dewitty1 · 5 years

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Of Wands and Trees

Omi_Ohmy

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Trees, Wands, Wandmaking (Harry Potter), Tree Magic, Summer, Swimming, tree hugging, Old Wounds, Injury, Injury Recovery, Drinking, Rustic Living, Rimming, Switching, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, Angst with a Happy Ending, Outdoor Sex, Massage, Sunburn, POV Draco Malfoy Summary:

All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

Excerpt:

"Can we sit for a while? This is one of my favourite spots."

Draco nodded.

All around them beech trees spread their branches wide, and the canopy was aquiver with their leaves. Light moved in patches on the forest floor, carpeted with old leaves, and in the shade of the trees the day was comfortingly warm rather than overly hot.

They sat in silence, watching the trees. Draco was aware of Potter beside him, of his tatty t-shirt over brown skin, of the hair that curled at his neck, of the broad hands that knew how to speak to trees.

"I don’t have a wand," Potter said, very quietly after a while. "I don’t know if you’ve noticed."

Draco turned to him. Potter being so quiet, and so still, made this seem important. He nodded. "Wandless magic. Are you… are you really that powerful? Is what they say about you true?"

"No," said Potter, sounding pained. "It’s not that at all. I barely use magic now, only for important things like containing my fires," He glanced at Draco’s leg, "Or setting broken bones." He paused, and took a deep breath. "Do you remember when we used to talk, in eighth year?"

"Yes," said Draco. "For a time, you were the only person who did speak to me."

"I’m sorry." Potter’s voice even more small and tight. "I want to be able to say I didn’t realise how alone you were, but… I did know. And I still ran away."

Draco thought about it. "It must have been bad, whatever it was, for you to run away."

"It was," Potter said. His hands were moving, wrapping over themselves in his lap. "I started to use magic to hide what I was feeling."

"A spell to dampen feelings down?" Draco hadn’t heard of such a thing before. A part of him yearned for it though, was immediately drawn to the idea that he could simply wave his wand and make all the difficult feelings recede.

"No," Potter whispered. "Worse. I used magic. Powerful magic that I could feel coursing through my body. It… for a while I didn’t feel like me."

This Draco had heard of, but he would never have imagined… never Potter. Some witches and wizards became almost addicted to powerful magic. Ultimately, it could destroy them as they sought out darker and darker magic.

"What happened?"

"Ron and Hermione worked it out. I thought they were too wrapped up in each other to notice, but I was wrong."

"So you came here."

"I needed to get away. I left my wand behind."

"That’s why they were so worried when you left!" It made sense now, of the way it had been splashed so much across the headlines. It had felt like too much, even for the Chosen One. If the Ministry had known Potter had left his wand behind, they would have assumed the worst.

"And then something happened when I got here. The trees… they saved me."

Draco stayed silent. It didn’t seem the time for comments or questions.

"I didn’t know where I was going, or what I was doing. Like you, I arrived in Marseille first – I took a random Portkey from the collection I’d put in my bag – and then I simply walked. I followed a stream, I ate the bread I had carried with me. I bought more food from the villages I passed. And then one day, when I’d barely slept and my whole body felt as though it was vibrating with pent-up magic and grief, I stood beside a tree and put my hand to the trunk."

"And you felt that… that…"

"That peace. That strength. It was as though a switch had been flicked, deep inside me. When I touched the tree the shaking in my body stopped, and I felt only stillness and the slow flow of sap through wood."

If Draco hadn’t felt it for himself, he never would have believed Potter.

"And then when I let go," Potter continued, "all the terrible feelings came back. I slept that night wrapped half around the tree, just to get to some peace."

"And you decided to stay."

Potter pointed at a large beech tree, the nearest to where they sat. "It was that tree."

Draco stared at the tree that had saved Potter. It rose, tall, calm, majestic. Oblivious. "It happened here?"

"I still like to sleep wrapped around it."

Suddenly everything shifted, and the world looked different to Draco. It was as though blue had become green, or the sky changed place with the Earth. He’d thought Potter eccentric, maybe a bit potty, but instead now he saw that Potter still lived with all that pain and grief, exactly as he had done when he’d run away ten years before.

"I learned that I didn’t need a wand to do magic, not in the woods. I use the trees; I channel magic through them, and somehow it… softens the magic. Gentles it, and me," he added.

"And then I turn up and all I talk about are wands."

"It’s been… it’s been OK. Maybe if you’d been a master wandmaker it would have been different."

"But instead I was a failure and couldn’t feel the trees at all."

"But you can now."

Draco was aware, all of a sudden, of how close they were sitting. The air between them seemed clearer than normal, a crystal clear silence. The beech leaves above them moved, and sunlight rippled in patches around them, and yet everything seemed still. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the skin on Potter’s cheek, touched the stubble there and ran his finger down the side of Potter’s jaw. A vein pulsed beneath the skin on Potter’s neck.

Potter’s lips parted with a shaky inhalation.

"I…"

"I get it," Draco said, his own voice shaky. "I get the pain of it all. The way it never really leaves you. The way it’s easier to shut everything else out than feel it."

"And then sometimes," Potter said, "Sometimes something happens and it feels," he licked his lips, "wonderful."

Potter wasn’t talking about trees, Draco knew that. He moved his face closer to Potter’s face, saw the way his eyes widened. He felt the ground beneath his body, the layers of leaf and dirt, the tangle of roots and worms. Rooted in the earth, rising from it like a tree, he leaned forward and touched Potter’s mouth with his lips. The response he got was immediate: warm and hungry, Potter’s mouth fitted to his own. A groan rose from deep within Draco, and he grabbed Potter’s t-shirt to pull him closer.

He wanted to devour Potter. Consume him. Touch him like a tree, and feel his energy from the inside.

As they kissed, all the jittery feelings became keener, and grew an edge. Draco pulled back when he felt as though his skin might break apart.

"Is this…" His breath was coming in shuddering shakes, and he didn’t know how to feel. Part of his heart was still full of sadness, another wanted to climb into Potter.

This time Potter took hold of Draco, pulled him close again. "It’s OK," he whispered. "Fine, even."

Draco gave a little shaky laugh. Potter’s breath was against his skin, warm and close. Potter kissed his neck, softly, gently, and a different sensation bloomed across his skin: one of warmth.

"Breathe," Potter said, and he sat back. His hand found Draco’s, and he squeezed it. "Let yourself breathe."

Draco took a deep breath, and then another. "Sorry," he said. "It’s all a lot, all of a sudden."

Potter stroked Draco’s hand. "I think you’re amazing."

#Of Wands and Trees #author: omi_ohmy #Drarry #Drarry Fanfiction #drarry fic rec #fic rec #Drarry Squad #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Wandmaker Draco #Recluse Harry #Long post #Carey"s bookmark fic recs #carey's personal bookmarks

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