#cauldron creations

[wingedblooms]

Secret, slumbering land

This meta is a continuation of theories (forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, bright as the dawn, and heart of the night court) about Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land. This new thread focuses on the gentle healing land and lake that the sisters visit in their stories. Maasverse spoilers below, so please proceed with caution.

It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. (acosf)

Both Feyre and Nesta visit a turquoise lake nestled in the mountains. Because their description is the same, this theory operates on the assumption that it is the same place. And since things come in threes in this series, Elain may visit this magical lake in her own story. When I reread the scenes with previous visits, I was struck by the language Sarah used to describe it—secret, slumbering, forgotten—and the clues those words might hold for Elain and Wyrd, the Stone Mother.

Secret

During the first visit to this lake, Azriel teaches Feyre to fly and shares their court philosophy on training, which is connected to a legend about Nephelle (more on that later). During this scene, Azriel is bathed in blinding sunlight and his shadows are gone. His appearance is stark and clear, readable.

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch. (acowar)

@offtorivendell connected his appearance to the bonus chapter ages ago, and it is still one of my favorite metas. In that bonus chapter, we learn Azriel’s shadows are also prone to vanish around Elain.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.  The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.  A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (Azriel’s bonus) 

He tells us he doesn't need to rely on his shadows to read her, so his deep trust and vulnerability might be the only explanation for his shadows' behavior, but they can also sense power and respond to it as power themselves. For example, if someone's power is related to music, they might sing or dance in response. What power, other than the revealing light of Truth, might cause them to vanish?

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.  The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus) 

The Faelight reveals Elain's secret, lovely beauty: she glows like the sun at dawn. What do we know about dawn? In nature, dawn restores the light and awakens the earth. In the Maasverse, it is also associated with healing magic. And when we return to the lake in Nesta’s story, we learn it was once connected to healing. Healing light is bright and warm like the dawn; it has the power to pierce the darkness and outrace Death itself. It is pure life in its rawest form.

Sarah has repeatedly connected Elain to rebirth and renewal, especially in relation to Azriel: in his presence, she's the lovely fawn, vibrant spring behind her. Standing before Death. Even the headache tonic, a lighthearted remedy, serves as potential hint for this secret, lovely beauty: 

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.  I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.  Elain smiled again, ducking her head.  Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (acofas) 

Elain’s gift awakens life, veins of emerald, in the earthy brown and gray within his soul, just as she does in her own garden. It is no coincidence that Elain, who is most radiant in healing hues, glows like the sun at dawn in the dead of night. And Azriel is stark and clear before her just as he is about to finally allow himself a taste of pure life, of healing. In the wake of Elain’s healing presence, we even glimpse Azriel’s emotional scars through his internal dialogue. On healing journeys, lingering scars are faced and overcome rather than avoided. Some wounds require deep trust as the healer, patient as a gardener, walks the road with them on that journey. 

Slumbering

On our second visit to the lake, we learn the surrounding land is inhabited by ordinary faeries who prefer solitude. This immediately made me think about Elain, content and beautiful in her simple gardening dress, and Feyre’s comment about her clinging to Azriel for some peace and quiet. It would be fitting for them to come here in their story, to find joy and love and healing here together. And if I were to hand select a place for Rosehall, where someone like Azriel's mother could find solitude and healing, this would be it.

He knew these mountains well enough from flying over them for centuries: shepherds lived here, usually ordinary faeries who preferred the solitude of the towering green and brownish-black stones to more populated areas. The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. That people injured in body and spirit had ventured to these hills, the lake they were now two and a half days from reaching, to recover. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here. 

-

She’d never seen such a view. It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. […] The mountains watched her, the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake. (acosf)

The mountains here aren't brutal and sharp, but they still have a powerful presence. Like the third sister. The mountains watched Nesta like a protective seer, and the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake, like Elain’s scent. Her scent is a sparkling river, a promise of spring, that guided Nesta to her. And what did Nesta find when she reached the source of that scent? Elain’s sharp angles, once like the Illyrian mountains after she was Made, were now replaced with softness. She glowed with health and her smile was bright as the sun. She also smells of jasmine and honey, which are soothing scents and herbs that have healing properties. 

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf) 

In the span of a few pages, we're also told twice that this land is slumbering. Since it was once used for healing, it would make sense for healing magic to be at the core of its slumbering heart. Remember, the rawest form of healing magic is pure life and we just learned that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, was once blossoming with pure life. Elain’s wyrdcrown seems to mirror Stone Mother's creative powers in the form of sleeping buds:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

This imagery of Elain’s power has always reminded me of the darkness of creation and rest Yrene receives guidance from while she bathes in Silba’s Womb, which she calls the slumbering heart of the earth. In the tog series, Silba was the goddess of healing and gentle deaths and Elain shares many connections with the healers who honor her. So, it’s possible slumbering simply means the land reflects the restful and restorative healing power of those who once lived on and fed the magic of the land. 

Slumbering or sleeping can also indicate dormant magic, which is something we’ve seen in both tog and cc. In tog, Dorian has raw magic and he can shape it into different things—phantom hands, shifting, healing, etc. His raw magic is sleeping in his heart before he explores it. 

“You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his. “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and gave him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.” With that, she walked away, the courtiers parting, then swallowing up her wake. He stared after the princess, wondering what her last words had meant. And why, when she said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside him had opened an eye. (com)

We recently learned the Asteri poisoned the waters in Midgard with a parasite to feed off of the magic of its citizens. This parasite warped their magic and it is described as dormant and tethered as a result:

The Asteri had infected the water we consumed with a parasite. They’d poisoned the lakes and streams and oceans. The parasites burrowed their way into our bodies, warping our magic. (hofas) - Somehow, a barrier had been removed. One that had ordered him to stand down, to obey … It was nothing but ashes now. Only dominance remained. Untethered. But filling the void of that barrier with a rising, raging force— (Ithan’s magic, hofas) - Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep. What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t. (Lidia’s magic, hofas) - Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood. He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him. […] He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. (Ruhn’s magic, hofas)

Similarly, the Asteri pooled and imbued their magic in Wyrd to warp her purely creative magic. 

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas) - Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” (hofas)

Is it possible Elain’s sleeping buds, as a mirror of Wyrd’s original magic, represent what remains dormant, tethered?

“Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.” A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

In the scene above, Cassian and Rhysand are discussing Nesta’s powers. We learn that they aren’t dormant, which makes sense; they seem to represent the magic that the Asteri imbued into Wyrd to become a tool of death and destruction. That magic might be feeding off of Wyrd’s creative powers like a parasite and keep her half-awake, like the Fae in Midgard and, perhaps, the healing land: 

It was all so still, yet watchful, somehow. As if she were surrounded by something ancient and half-awake. As if each peak had its own moods and preferences, like whether the clouds clung to or avoided them, or trees lined their sides or left them bare. Their shapes were so odd and long that they looked as if behemoths had once lain down beside the rivers, pulled a rumpled blanket over themselves, and fallen asleep forever. (acosf)

Ancient, half-awake, behemoth. These terms are also used to describe Wyrd. The word behemoth in particular is associated with a primordial chaos monster in mythology and may be yet another potential hint that Chaos is Hel’s name for Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

-

As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. (hofas)

-

But the Cauldron. As if some great sleeping beast opened an eye. The Cauldron seemed to sense us watching. Sense us there. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I believe Wyrd saw Elain as a kindred spirit and gifted her the language of creation with the hope that she could be the key to her freedom, her healing in body and spirit. Those original creative powers could include a deep connection with the earth (earth magic), divine sense (seer abilities), fluid form and movement (travel and shifting), and healing, pure life and world-building power. Elain might already be testing the boundaries of that creative magic, learning to shape it into different things (explaining her mysterious appearances).

Elain may also need to bring her sisters together to help Wyrd. They represent the three faces of the Mother together and have been marked by her from the beginning of the series. When Feyre physically healed the Cauldron with the help of Rhysand, she cupped her hands and became the first face of the Mother. Nesta became the second face of the Mother when she healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove. And the healing lake appears to hint at Elain's role, the third face of the Mother:

Nesta cleared the hill that Cassian had mounted ahead, and a sparkling, turquoise lake spread before them. It lay slightly sunken between two peaks, as if a pair of green hands had been cupped to hold the water within them. Gray stones lined its shore. (acosf)

This is our first earthen depiction of the Stone Mother. Someone with green fingers or a green thumb is skilled at gardening. Gardeners provide gentle order to pure, blossoming life with their green hands. And we already know, thanks to Rhys and Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty—stained green, even—for a pretty result. 

When Elain's creative magic rises in her story, will it flow like a sparkling river, unfurl like a bloom, to awaken the soul of the earth? Could it soothe Azriel’s icy rage and bring true spring and healing to Ramiel, softening its sharp angles when its heart, Wyrd, is finally restored? Only time will tell.

Forgotten

The land is also described as a place time had forgotten and, as I mentioned earlier, it's where Azriel shared the story of Nephelle—the one who had been passed over, who had been forgotten—while he tended to Feyre's wounds after a fall during flying practice.

Nephelle, who had been passed over, who had been forgotten…She outraced death itself. […] And yet her too-small wingspan, that deformed wing…they did not fail her. Not once. Not for one wing beat. (acowar)

Nephelle wanted to be a warrior, but was turned away due to her small wingspan. So, she made herself indispensable as a cartographer and excelled at finding the most geographically advantageous positions for their armies. And now that hofas has been released, we know earth magic can be used to locate the best geographical locations:

…those with earth magic were sent ahead to scout lands [...] Not only the best geographical locations, but magical ones, too. They could sense the ley lines—the channels of energy running throughout the land, throughout Midgard. They told the Asteri to build their cities where several of the lines met, at natural crossroads of power, and picked those places for the Fae to settle, too. But they selected Avallen just for the Fae. To be their personal, eternal stronghold.” (hofas)

Those with earth magic are deeply connected to the land and their creative power flows freely in places where the natural magic in the land is untethered. Is it possible Nephelle excelled at finding the best locations because she possessed earth magic? And could that come into play in the next story if Elain possesses earth magic as part of her creative powers?

Despite being perceived as weak, Nephelle outraced death itself with her small wingspan to save Miryam. Her miraculous rescue inspired the Night Court's philosophy toward training: 

I raised a brow. Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”  “The Nephelle Philosophy.” (acowar) 

We saw this philosophy in action at the final battle with Hybern when Elain raced against death itself and appeared out of nowhere with Truth-Teller to protect her family. Like Nephelle, she was and still is passed over, forgotten.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (Nesta to Elain, acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today." "Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not." "Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." "Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (Elain and Nesta's exchange, acosf)

-

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her. (Cassian's observation, acosf)

These quotes hit differently with the release of hofas. @offtorivendell and @willowmeres seem to be on track with their theories that the warped magic of Hewn City affected Elain's creative magic. What if she reflects the magic of the land around her, and when that magic is warped or tethered, her physical appearance mirrors it? Is this another sign she will be able to use the language of creation to unearth Prythian’s secrets, forgotten by time? And maybe, like the legendary Nephelle, the things that Elain is viewed as weak for—her little garden, a symbol of her care for and connection to the land, and her appearance, a reflection of what was forgotten—actually become her family's biggest strength.

[theagentmoo]

May have gone a little off the rails…

[marywoodartdept]

Ouroboros Cauldrons

Sara, our ceramics blogger, is working on #Ouroboros #cauldrons, blending the ancient symbol of the snake with the cauldron's rich symbolism. She’s excited to see her pieces fired & ready for glazing! Stay tuned for #KilnChristmas! #MarywoodArt #Ceramics

These past 2 weeks I’ve been working on Ouroboros cauldrons. Last semester I made a standing ouroboros sculpture and since then I’ve been thinking about other ways to add the symbol to my work. I never considered myself a fan of snakes (or an enemy) but lately, I have felt called to them, especially their symbolism. However, I have spotted about 3 snakes this summer on my adventures, which is not…

[kniteracy]

Lounging With Nocturna Hollygloom!

Short Stories: Tales From The Christmas Event and Beyond! Sometimes, I don’t mind it when my biggest responsibility of the day is decorating a room. It’s in my blood, after all. It’s funny how people just assume we Christmas Elves only make wooden toys. We’re far more sophisticated than that, and anyway, almost no children play with wooden toys any more. Even if you give them a really good one,…

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (11)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Omg guysss it's been months but here it is!!! I'm so happy and excited to share this chapter ❤️ Things are slowly coming to a close with this story, but don't you fret because there are still some big plans 👀 The POV bops around a little in the chapter because I just want to capture a lot. Well, enjoy!! Thank you for waiting for me :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Nesta Archeron was glaring at you from the other side of the room. The icy stare was a stark contrast to the warm, jubilant nature of those around you, and you found yourself continuously edging into Azriel’s side to avoid the harshness. If the Shadowsinger noticed your growing distress—which you were sure he did—he didn’t make it known. He only allowed you to get closer, subtly shifting his arm to accommodate your movement. 

Feyre was speaking on the other side of you, retelling a light-hearted story about the creation of her art studio. You had been part of the construction and she was more than happy to share that information with you. 

Meeting her had been immeasurably easier than meeting Nesta. 

“I’m so happy you’ve been feeling well enough to do this,” Feyre smiled, her hand on your arm starling you out of your game of avoidance. “I’ve missed seeing you. I know we all have. Elain was furious that she couldn't make it. She got caught up on the outskirts of the continent with Lucien.” 

You took a calming breath in through your nose and shifted your gaze away from the chair Nesta was occupying. “Lucien?” 

Azirel’s low tone rumbled at your shoulder. “Elain’s mate. He has an interesting story. I’ll tell you more about it later.” 

And you trusted that he would. 

Since the night the two of you shared, Azriel had become an open book. He had spent half of that night making you privy to the story you shared—how you met, how the bond snapped, and his subsequent idiocy of keeping it from you while you knew the entire time. That point had sent you into a fit of laughter because obviously you would have known. Your magic revolved around parsing out lies and secrets. 

Coming to terms with that truth also helped you better understand the bond itself. 

Azriel had explained that the cauldron found mates in equals, pairing the souls of those that matched. It had been confusing for you to make a connection between Azriel and yourself. He was an Illyrian with forceful wings and so much power that it needed to be contained in the azure siphons lining his body.

But then, on a particularly quiet night, Azriel had shared his role in Rhysand’s court. His words had been cloaked in reproach as if sharing that piece of him would send you running. You had listened with rapt attention and pieced together the truth of your bond. 

Azriel was the spymaster, and you were the truthteller. 

It also helped—presumably—that Azriel had gotten into the habit of telling you how much he loved you. Regularly.

He never expected anything following his declarations and never even gave you enough time to think of a response, but he said the words so openly. Handing you breakfast, taking a walk along the Sidra, in between stories from your life; Azriel always said I love you as if he didn’t mean to, like he was making up for lost time. 

You hadn’t said it back yet. 

Maybe you’d thought it. 

“There’s also a book club that I know has been eagerly waiting for your return—” 

“So you’ve really lost your memory?” Nesta’s biting tone cut her sister off. You snapped your gaze over to the piercing eyes you’d been avoiding. 

“Um—”

“Rather convenient, how cuddled up you are with the spymaster when the rest of us haven’t even seen you. What progression does that show?” 

“Nes,” Cassian chided from beside her. 

Something heavy made your chest hurt—embarrassment, you parsed out. You leaned away from the warm chest you found comfort in and glanced at Cassian’s exasperated expression as he stared at his mate. 

“What? You all have been hiding her away with your typical ploy of protecting her. Why hasn’t she been training with the Valkyries? Who gets to decide when she’s let out for a walk? I presume Rhysand is one of her handlers? I’d ask him but he refuses to speak to me about it and doesn’t show his face unless absolutely necessary.” 

“That’s enough,” Azriel cut through. You’d put about an inch of space between the two of you and the missing contact was glaringly apparent. 

“Is it? You’re making her weak.” 

“Nesta, we weren’t here the first time this happened. We have no idea what she needs,” Feyre argued, squaring her shoulders towards her sister. 

Nesta only scoffed. “Well, clearly, she needs something else because she still has no memory.” 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but cool it,” Cassian commanded. 

Sharp features ran over your form, analyzing your every move as the conflict continued. You felt exposed, belittled under Nesta’s gaze, and the fae only sharpened the lines of her eyes the more you squirmed. Azriel closed the space between you again, covering your knee with his hand, and Nesta’s jaw worked at the movement. 

You wanted to say something, maybe defend yourself, but you were afraid to open your mouth and be ridiculed. Everyone had said you were friends with Nesta. They had described her prickly personality but said you had been fast friends. They said she had been asking about you. 

You breathed through your nose and pressed your lips together. 

“She’s gotten memories back, Nesta. We were told it’s a slow process,” Feyre reasoned, attempting to lower the tone of the room as Azriel’s shadows became restless. 

“Right. And they all happen to be memories of the precious Inner Circle. Another agenda I’m sure was purposeful.” 

That was true. You’d gotten back a handful of memories now, all with either Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, or Mor involved, but those were the only people you knew. And they were all distant memories made centuries ago. You had no new context and had started to assume that this process would be chronological. Sort of. 

“We are introducing things slowly,” Azriel all but gritted out, his presence large and looming at your back. “Even the process of getting those few memories hasn’t been pleasant. Based on what we understood we thought it would be better if—” 

“It’s always what you think. She isn’t yours, Azriel,” Nesta fought, gripping the arms of her chair in a punishing hold. 

“Careful, Nesta—” 

“You’re scared.” Your voice was sure but quiet as it silenced the room. You stared at Nesta, brows furrowed, and watched the tells of her fear emanate from her. “Why are you scared?” 

Nesta looked jarred, affronted. She glowered at you. “I am not scared.”

“I can see it. I don’t understand it, but I can see it.” You met her eyes and something looked different about them—something searching. “Is it about me?” 

The room tensed, air becoming still. 

Nesta stood abruptly. You straightened your back and were halfway up to follow her, a confusing urge leading you to comfort the woman who obviously did not like you, when pain took your breath away. You faltered, feet failing as you shot them out to balance your wavering posture. You fell forward instead, the ground a harsh pain against your knees. 

Azriel 

Azriel was so quick to find your side, any vitriol lingering in the room no longer his concern. He pulled you against him and slotted your head in his neck as a whine left your lips. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Nesta asked, harshness tinged with underlying urgency. 

He had known she was scared—everyone knew that—but you voicing it had made it real, and Nesta was not one to put that out in the open. In another life, just a few months difference, you would have confronted her privately. But you didn’t know. 

“She’s remembering,” Azriel muttered, holding you closer as your body became dead weight against his. This part always sent terror shooting through him, but he was getting better at containing it. You needed him to be calm.

“Does she always collapse? You didn’t think to—” 

“Nesta,” Feyre interrupted, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. The High Lady shook her head with a wince. 

Azriel watched the interaction with lidded eyes, his hands pressed to your head and back. He knew you would come to within a few minutes. Sometimes it took longer and you were far more dazed then, but he’d be willing to sit here for as long as you needed. 

“I’ll get the compress,” Cassian declared, kicking up from his chair with a parting hand on Nesta’s shoulder. “Take it easy. It can be difficult when she wakes up.” 

Nesta crossed her arms and shifted her weight between her feet as Azriel repositioned you on the ground. He looked down at your face, the way your eyes moved behind the lids, and then tucked you back into his chest. He reminded himself that this was something good; last time you remembered the first kiss you had had with him. 

A turn of silence overcame the sitting room and Feyre excused herself to check up on Nyx. Nesta stayed, using Cassian’s return as her weak excuse. 

“How long—” 

“She’s okay, Nesta,” Azriel said, voice low. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she’s okay. You  need to give her time.” 

Nesta’s brow furrowed and she bit the side of her cheek. “You all have made her weak. She doesn’t need to be coddled.” 

“She does. For now. That doesn’t make her weak—to need people.” 

Azriel moved your hair off your forehead as a harsh breath left your nose. You didn’t wake yet. 

“She would hate it—being treated like glass.” 

“I know,” Azriel admitted. “She hates it now. But, as Feyre said, you weren’t there before. This is nothing compared to how we were then.” 

“I haven’t seen her in months.” Nesta’s voice was smaller as she dropped to the ground beside Azriel. “She looked so… timid when she came in. She was never like that.” 

Azriel let out a sigh and held Nesta’s gaze. “I know how this feels, but you can’t… you can’t blame her for this. You can’t punish her, Nesta. She needs you, too.” 

“She hasn’t needed me this entire time, obviously. That was decided rather quickly.” 

Azriel sighed again, but before he could help his sister sort out the myriad of emotions he knew she was feeling, you groaned and the sound rattled against his skin. The Shadowsinger pulled you away from his body but kept his arms holding you up. Your lashes slowly fluttered before you pressed your palm into your eye socket. 

“Gods, ow,” you complained. “I hate that part.” 

Azriel offered you a melancholy laugh and brushed his lips along your forehead—always stolen touches with him. “I’m sorry, my love.” He paused, sending a sidelong glance toward Nesta. The younger fae was frozen in place. “Can I get you anything?” 

“The cold compress, maybe?” 

“Cass is already on it. He’ll be back soon.” Another pause as you gathered your bearings. Azriel rubbed soothing circles into any skin he could reach. “Share now or later?” 

The question was routine now. Some memories were easy for you to share, spouting them off as soon as you woke up like in the case of the first kiss you had learned about three days ago. Others hurt as if you were reliving them in the moment, like when Rhys was taken under the mountain or when you remembered the pain of Day Court. 

So Azriel would wait, and then he would ask. 

And if he needed to hold you as you cried afterward, he would do that, too. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your drying lips and then your expression pinched. You sat up fully to examine the room, still disoriented if Azriel could tell anything by the rapid way your eyes moved, but you were looking for something—or someone, maybe. 

When you looked over your shoulder and found Nesta’s frozen form, recognition shone in your hazy eyes. 

“I remembered you,” you revealed. You twisted from Azriel’s grip to sit on the floor before her. “We were talking. Or, I was talking and you were… angry at me for something. We were in a terribly awful apartment. I think it was yours.” Your brows came together as you searched through the memory. You looked back up. “You were afraid then too.” 

Azriel didn’t have a moment to protest before Nesta had her arms thrown around your shoulders, her grip on your sweater visibly unshakeable. You had to stabilize a hand behind you to keep upright, and even though Azriel knew your head throbbed after getting a memory back, you didn’t make a sound. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Nesta angrily demanded, sounding as if she were placing a curse. “You are stronger than this.” 

A minute ticked by, and then another. Azriel sat idly by as Nesta held you against her and you held her back without as much context, but just as tightly. 

“Well,” Cassian re-entered the sitting room, cold compress held loosely in his hand. “This seems to be going better.” 

~~~

A few days after meeting, and somewhat understanding, Nesta Archeron, you found yourself on a walk with Azriel following the resurfacing of a particularly painful memory. It was something from the war—Azriel was hurt, barely alive, and you were helpless and miles away from him. The memory was mostly just remnants of pain and fear, and it had taken Azriel fifteen minutes to calm you down after. 

But that was fine—it was good. Because for every painful memory came several good ones, and those memories made it worth it. You almost felt lucky to experience many of them for the first time again. 

“Can I ask you something?” you posed, swinging your conjoined hands as they intertwined between you. You loved holding Azriel’s hand—especially after the first time you’d initiated the contact and he blushed so furiously it warmed his skin. 

“Of course you can,” came Azriel’s soft reply. 

The low sounds of Velaris winding down laid the background of the conversation. The occasional merchant sweeping outside their shop would wave to the two of you, and although you still didn’t recognize them all, it didn’t hurt as much to grin and greet them. A few of them reintroduced themselves with warm smiles after hearing of your condition, but others just appeared happy to see you in any context. 

“When I remembered us after we were married,” you began. “Where were we? I’ve been in most of the rooms in the House and I can’t find it.” 

“Ah,” Azriel hummed. His mouth curved up in a beautiful half-smile. “I was wondering when you’d ask about that.” 

“You’ve been keeping something from me!” you accused with a playful gasp. 

“No, no, not keeping it from you, angel. I wanted you to find it on your own.” 

“What do you mean find it on my own? I’ve only recently been able to find my study in the House and I lose my way if I start in certain corners.” 

Azriel chuckled, his eyes squinting at the corners. 

This felt so good—so normal. 

This felt like something that could last. 

“How many times have I taken you on this walk?” he asked, gently guiding you forward on cobblestone. 

“Are you changing the subject?” Azriel shot you a knowing look that had you rolling your eyes. “Fine,” you relented. “Almost every other day.” 

“Why do you think that is?” 

“It’s a nice path. The street isn’t too busy but there’s a lot to look at,” you shrugged. “I thought you just liked it.” 

Azriel brought you to a stop away from the street. “Look a little deeper.” He gestured around with his chin. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, not at first. He had stopped you in a quieter corner of the street, one you always admired each time you passed it. Soft foliage lined each house you passed, purples and blues and muted yellows obviously cared for among old brick and stone. Gentle water could be heard in the distance, most likely from fountains or small wells meant to provide for families. In the setting sun, the houses were peaceful, serene. 

Something called to you. It was inexplicable, but you found yourself without the urge to inspect why you were being called. Your power was usually unexplainable—at least that’s what it felt like—but this was different. 

You turned to look on at the quaint cottage Azriel had stopped you in front of. 

“Does this place mean something?” you asked, knocking your head to the side as you took in the ivy that trailed up tanned stones. 

Azriel could be felt at your back, the Illyrian bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulders. “Yes. What does your intuition tell you?” 

“I don’t think my magic works like that.” 

“Just give it a shot,” Azriel chuckled by your ear. 

It was when his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, stealing your breath away, that you hoped for more. That your intuition prompted you to ask for more. 

“Is this… Do we live here?” 

You could feel Azriel’s smile near your skin. You turned to face him, his hands dropping from your shoulders as your expression shifted into pleasant disbelief. Azriel’s smile was twisted into permanent light on his face, and he brushed your hair behind your ears as you stared up at him. 

“We do. Picked it out right after we were married. We didn’t think raising a family in the House of Wind was very feasible long-term.” Azriel jolted, stuttering for a moment. “Not that we need to raise a family! Now, or ever, actually. That was just something we talked about before, but things are different now and just having you—” 

“Azriel,” you smiled, interrupting his rambling by sliding your arms around his shoulder. “Can I ask you something else?” 

Azriel blushed, closing his eyes with a sigh as he nodded in defeat. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

His eyes snapped open, the hazel searching yours with a quickened intensity. “Are you sure?” he asked. His hands were on your waist and you couldn't remember him putting them there. “You don’t have to—” 

“I remember our first kiss,” you countered. Your eyes flickered down to the ring hanging around his neck. That question would be for another time. “Seems only fair that I’d get to experience one in real-time, don’t you think?”

“You don’t want to go in the house? Go see it?” he whispered, but he was leaning down as he spoke the words, his eyes glued to your lips. 

“I think I’ll have time later.” 

When his lips met yours, Azriel exhaled deeply, the hands on your waist pulling you closer with desperation lining his skin. He deepened the kiss in a way that seemed unintentional, intrinsic, and you saw stars behind your lids as he covered your mouth with his and kissed you harder. You had to take a step back to steady yourself and he only followed, his wings coming around your back to press you tighter. 

Something rumbled in the back of Azriel’s throat as your fingers twined through his hair. You only had the faint memory of a kiss, but that one was much different than this. That kiss had been sweet and tentative. This kiss was desperate and needy and you could feel the way Azriel missed you in each of his touches.

And, Gods, did you miss him, too. Differently—a way you couldn’t even understand—but you missed him. 

When you pulled back, you were met with Azriel’s furrowed brow, his eyes flickering between both of yours. He kept you close as you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Do you always kiss me like that?” 

“I should,” he breathed, and then he kissed you and kissed you until your back met the front door of your home. 

~~~

“Things wouldn’t be so bad, you know,” Mor announced, breaking the silence in the room. “If you didn’t get everything back.” 

You glanced up from the diary you’d been poring over, bookmarking the page as you stared up at your friend. “What do you mean?” 

“I just mean if you had gaps, maybe things you never remembered, that would be okay,” Mor continued, rising to sit beside you on the loveseat. 

She had come to visit you in the cottage—your cottage—bringing you one of your diaries they had hidden in the House of Wind. You had eagerly ripped it from her hands and dove into the contents, barely greeting her as you ushered her in and flipped the door shut. 

“Well, the goal is everything,” you explained. You held up the diary and gave it a small shake. “That’s why Az and I asked for these. And there are still people out looking for the witch.” 

Mor kissed her teeth and sighed. “But it would be okay,” she repeated. “If you never got it all back. It would be okay if you were just like this, all the time.” 

“What, is there something you’re hoping I won’t remember? Something embarrassing?” you teased, but Mor didn’t laugh. 

“I’ve been thinking about something you said a little while ago. It’s been bothering me. I talked to Azriel about it too, and I just… I need you to know that we all love you—that I love you—just as you are now. You aren’t a ghost.” 

The smile fell from your lips. You placed the diary down in your lap and turned to face Mor, taking her hands in yours. “Mor, I know that. I didn’t mean—” 

“No, you were right. We were talking as if you weren’t there and that wasn’t fair. None of this is fair, but especially not that. You have to know, y/n, that the way you are, right now, that’s still you. I’m sorry. We’ve all been idiots.” 

You huffed out a small chuckle. “I mean I wasn’t going to say it.”

Some of the light returned to Mor’s eyes, masking the grief that lingered there. “See, there you are.” 

You gripped her hands tighter, yanking her in for a hug. “I forgive you, Mor.” 

She clutched at your shirt and laughed. “Thank the Mother. Because Azriel wouldn’t shut up about keeping you all to himself. I was sick of the gloating.” 

“Azriel? Gloating?” you feigned a gasp, pulling back with a teasing smile. 

“You bring it out of him.” 

Memories came in different waves as time went on. Sometimes they were quick, difficult rememberings. Other times you were out for much longer and would wake up disoriented and confused. But you were never afraid of them. 

At first, the slow nature of their return did make you afraid. You had feared that this process would take too long and everyone would grow tired of waiting. Maybe Azriel would start rolling his eyes when you lost consciousness or Cassian would start to grumble every time you couldn’t connect the dots in one of his stories. The fear was real and it ate away at you for about one week before it was completely diminished. 

Because this conversation you were having with Mor—you’d had it with Azriel too. 

He had pressed his lips along your forehead and told you that it was fine if you couldn't remember everything, he’d just make you fall in love with him again. 

And maybe you were too afraid to tell him that he’d already succeeded at that feat. 

A comfortable silence fell over the room as you and Mor continued your independent tasks, you reading your diary, Mor flipping through a stack of correspondence she had brought along with her. The sounds of scribbling and creased parchment were reminiscent of the first few days after you lost your memory—Mor would bring work into your room and sit beside you as you nursed a headache. Hearing it in this context, in your home, felt like it had a meaning to it. 

Azriel 

It was later in the afternoon when the front door silently opened, Azriel removing his shoes by the door and setting off to find his mate in the cottage. He could hear someone else and mistakenly thought it to be Nesta before he spotted a head of bright-blonde hair beside you in the sitting room. Mor had been the only one in the family who hadn’t visited the cottage yet and relief filled his chest and the sight of her. 

You had started to worry that she didn’t want to see you. Azriel had reassured you several times that Mor just thought you didn’t want to see her after the way everyone acted, but his sweet words had done little to quell your fears. 

Your relationship with Mor had been different since you woke up; she had been the one person you could trust for a while. When he was afraid and messing everything up, Mor held your hand and talked you through his idiocy. 

He was glad some semblance of a reunion in his sitting room. 

“Hi, girls,” Azriel greeted, keeping his voice low to match the calm of the room. He leaned down beside your place on the loveseat, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Should I get a fire going? It’s cold in here.” 

You turned your head to grin up at him, and Azriel had to calm his heart as it skipped several beats. He was trying to be casual about all of this—about you in the seat you had claimed as yours several years ago, sitting beside your best friend and smiling up at him, looking as if you belonged here because you did—but you were making it very difficult with your pretty smile and the pretty way you blinked at him. 

“Hi, Az. Mor’s here,” you offered. 

“I see that, my love.” 

You smiled again, this time directing it towards Mor. “She brought one of my journals. It’s from before I met you all. I don’t have any memories of that time yet. Very informative.” 

“Thought we could go chronologically,” Mor quipped. She leaned up from the couch and stretched her arms. “I’ll let you guys get to it, then. With… whatever mates do.” 

“Will you be back?” 

Azriel’s heart hurt a little at the question, and he could tell by the softness in Mor’s gaze that she felt the same. 

“Of course. Just not when you and Nesta are having your book club. Made that mistake a few too many times,” she teased, sending parting words out the entryway. 

As soon as Mor had vacated the seat beside you, Azriel was occupying the space, rounding his arm over your shoulders and smashing you into his chest as he pressed kisses to your skin. You laughed and attempted to push him away, the journal now lost in a cushion, but Azriel was unrelenting. 

“I missed you,” he proclaimed. 

“I saw you this morning,” you giggled back, finally giving up and allowing the onslaught of affection. 

“Doesn’t matter. I spent weeks not touching you. You just started letting me kiss you.”

“We’ve been kissing for a few weeks now.” Azriel only hummed at your words and moved his hands to cup your face as he kissed your cheeks. “Gods, we sound like children.” 

“I love you.” 

Main POV

You opened your mouth to reply, but Azriel had already silenced you with his lips. You were breathless when he pulled away, all thoughts emptying from your brain. 

“How was your day?” he asked, removing himself from the tight grip he’d captured you in. But he still kept you glued to his side. 

You took a breath in and blinked. “Um, it was good. Mor came.” 

“You mentioned,” Azriel teased. “Any memories you want to talk about over dinner?” 

“None today. It’s been slow over the past few days, I’ve noticed.” 

Azriel brushed hair from your forehead. “That’s okay. They’ll come with time.” He paused. “Or they won’t.” 

The reminder of Azriel’s promise to you sat behind his words. It echoed Mor’s conversation earlier and you fought the reassurance and dread that battled within you. 

Because he was right. They might come, or they might not. 

Your family would love you either way. 

But, would you have to live with this feeling of�� incompleteness forever as well? 

Would that fade with time? 

You offered a soft smile and leaned up to kiss the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “The things in the journal Mor gave me,” you began. “Usually, when one of you tells me about something from the past I feel a connection to it. Or I get a memory back. But I’ve been poring over this book—” you fished it out from the cushions. “—and, nothing. It’s like I’m reading a story and not my own words.” 

Azriel furrowed his brow. “That must be difficult to comprehend.” 

“It is,” you nodded. “And, that’s fine—I guess. Because none of you can really reinforce memories when you weren’t there. I just feel strange about it.” 

“Can I do anything to help?” 

You bit your lip as Azriel stared back at you with concern laced in his features. He was already doing everything he could to help, already pushing aside so much so you could find comfort in this confusing life you’d been dropped into. 

You watched the way he held himself back, the way he always kept himself close to Velaris and refused necessary missions to keep you near. You looked on without the means to help him as he stressed over the memories you’d receive. He spent countless hours retelling your story and holding you through difficult bouts of unconsciousness and taking it so, painfully slow with you. 

Maybe, if you really thought about it, this hole within you wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“Could you get that fire started?” 

[jadeshifting]

★⋆. — HOGWARTS ELECTIVE CLASSES TO SCRIPT

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED ARTIFACTS

ever wanted to know how cursed rings, bewitched mirrors, and sentient diaries work? this course teaches you how to identify, dismantle, and (if you’re brave) create magical relics—you never know when you’ll need an enchanted necklace or a vanishing cabinet, i suppose

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING FASHION HISTORY

from the enchanted silks of the 1500s to robes that literally spark joy (or flames) in the 1900s, this elective dives into the who, what, and why tho of wizarding couture. you’ll learn how clothing reflected magical politics (hello, anti-Muggle fabrics), the most popular clothing charms over the centuries, and why Merlin’s pointy hat was such a massive deal at the time

𓆩♡𓆪 — CURSE REVERSAL

sometimes, magic backfires—this class teaches you how to undo everything from jinxed cauldrons to full-on blood curses. it’s half science, half art, and fully life-saving

𓆩♡𓆪 — HEALING

for the bleeding hearts (and bloody injuries). this elective teaches advanced healing charms, restorative potions, and how to fix the most catastrophic accidents without having to Floo to St. Mungo’s. class is split 50/50 between the healers of the next generation, and mischief makers that are so unhinged they have to heal themselves. this class sees all the good, the bad and the ugly

𓆩♡𓆪 — DRAGON STUDIES

learn all about the physicality, variety, and history of these dynamically unique creatures, and perhaps learn how to not get torched while studying them along the way. the course includes field trips (waivers from home and insurance spells VERY much required)

𓆩♡𓆪 — CHARMED CULINARY ARTS

enchanted cooking utensils will be your best friend as you navigate this course, learning to do everything in the kitchen from baking bread that sings to brewing drinks that bubble with magic. (house elves are assistants in this class, and you can always convince them to slip you an extra treat or two)

𓆩♡𓆪 — ADVANCED DIVINATION

tea leaves and crystal balls don’t even begin to scratch the surface of everything divination has to offer—if you’re a believer, and grounded enough to put up with the kooky professor. this course dives into obscure methods of divining the future: dream walking, cloud reading, rune casting, and much more. perfect for the more spiritually inclined students (or those who just enjoy the professor’s cryptic drama)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL FORESICS

got a Sherlock streak, or always wondered how the aurors do it? learn how to dissect magical crime scenes, trace hex signatures, and untangle the threads of a cursed crime

𓆩♡𓆪 — MINISTRY POLITICS & MAGICAL LAW

in this course that’s absolutely not for the academically faint, you’ll find yourself taking part in debates more than any other course. debate the ethics of using Veritaserum in court, or why house-elf labor laws are a mess. these students are likely future members of the Wizengamot

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED HOMEKEEPING

from self-sweeping brooms to magical security systems, think Martha Stewart meets The Standard Book of Spells. this course covers everything you need to know about using magic to run the most efficient household ever (you get a headache when you think about how Muggles do all of this without magic)

𓆩♡𓆪 — ALCHEMY: THE ART OF TRANSFORMARION

arguably the ultimate nerdy class—i’ve yet to meet a single person who wanted to handle the theories and coursework of this class. learn the secrets of transmutation, potion refinement, and (the whole thing’s pretty mysterious) all about the quest for immortality

𓆩♡𓆪 — SPELL CREATION THEORY

an elective created as the direct remedy for students making overeager and academically misguided attempts to make their own spells (some spells don’t exist for a reason, Fred and George.) learn the theory of how to craft spells from scratch and fine-tune them to your exact needs—perfect for the creatively chaotic. though, of course, you don’t actually make spells in class (that’s a direct ticket to St. Mungo’s)

𓆩♡𓆪 — THEORY & ETHICS OF NECROMANCY

strictly theoretical, of course (for legal reasons), this class dives into the magical theory of spirits’ existence, resurrection spells, and the history of necromancy. it also manages to cram most of one of the longest-standing debates in magical history into a year-long course (we can raise the dead, but should we? HM, i wonder)

𓆩♡𓆪 — WANDLESS MAGIC

if you’re someone who thinks ‘why bother with a wand when you are the magic?’ this course is for you—it trains you in wandless spellcasting, so you can cast even when you’ve “misplaced” your primary weapon

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING FOLKLORE

from ghostly greenhouses to the allegedly haunted halls of Hogwarts, from ancient fairy tales to horror stories that keep even the bravest wizards awake at night, this course covers all of the folklore and tall tales from centuries of wizarding history and storytelling

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED CARTOGRAPHY

i’m sure you already know that making an enchanted map is a skill that never goes out of style (cough, Marauder’s.) in this course, learn to create enchanted maps that move, update themselves, and accurately portray secret rooms and passageways (though they might not cover the more mischievous aspects in the course, i’m sure you can figure those out on your own time)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL ETHICS & PHILOSOPHY

all the way from time turners and truth serums to love potions and dementors, this course holds a magnifying glass to all the moral dilemmas of using magic in gray areas—just because you can hex someone doesn’t mean you should, and if you need a love potion, maybe you should reexamine some things first

𓆩♡𓆪 — QUIDDITCH ANALYTICS

a course all about the stats, spells, and tactics behind the wizarding worlds’ favorite sport. think of it as sabermetrics, but with broomsticks. students are an even split of quidditch players, and those who love quidditch without wanting to zoom hundreds of feet above the ground (understandable)

𓆩♡𓆪 — WANDLORE & CRAFTING

take your first step towards becoming the next Ollivander by studying wand woods, cores, and how to match them with their perfect witch or wizard. careful, your own wand might be open to more scrutiny than you’re accustomed to. warning: NOT a class for people with butterfingers

𓆩♡𓆪 — MOVING PHOTOGRAPHY

learn how to properly snap a good photo and develop moving pictures, charm them with special effects, and create photo albums that are magically cohesive enough to tell their own stories. with moving photos holding entire memories, someone always needs a good magical photographer

𓆩♡𓆪 — GRIMOIRE WRITING & SPELL JOURNALING

every great wizard of the past and present had a grimoire to keep track of their endless magical escapades. learn how to create your own spellbooks, safely document your findings, and make them impossible for dark wizards (or just nosy siblings) to read

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL LINGUISTICS

communication is key, whether it’s haggling with goblins, charming house-elves, or negotiating with dragons. this course helps you break through the language barrier—literally—to the entire wizarding world and all its species

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL JOURNALISM

for aspiring Rita Skeeters (hopefully no one, let’s make it ethical), this course covers investigative reporting, spell-resistant quills, following the honor code of interviewing and writing, and even some tips on how to charm the Daily Prophet editors with your work and score a job in the journalism field. NO Quick-Quotes Quills allowed, ever !!

𓆩♡𓆪 — TIME MANIPULATION THEORY

absolutely no time-turners allowed, despite learning all about them. learn the ethical and practical implications of bending time, including nearly every historical horror story of witches and wizards who got a little spin-happy with the power. (does the course only exist as a big fat warning for the students who are granted use of a time turner? we’ll never know—but yes, probably)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MUSIC & ENCHANTED COMPOSITION

a course taken by many of the choir members, which allows you to delve deep into the magic behind musical spells, how to ethically enchant instruments for killer performances, and both writing and performing magical compositions. don’t mind the frogs in class, they’re brushing up on their technique, too

𓆩♡𓆪 — SPELL COMBAT TACTICS

this course covers a mix of strategic dueling with battlefield planning, as it covers pretty much every notable magical duel and battle in history. perfect for those angling to join the Aurors, or those who are just looking to win every wizarding duel

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING THEATER

this course involves combining drama with charms to bring stories literally to life on stage. props are enchanted and can interact with the actors, the weather matches each set, and actors might just float mid-scene. students can sharpen their acting and set enchantment skills to hopefully be on one of the great wizarding stages one day (or working behind the scenes of one)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MUGGLE STUDIES: ADVANCED INTEGRATION

forget the “what’s a toaster?” training-wheels shit—this course is about truly blending wizarding ingenuity with Muggle innovation. a popular course among muggleborn students, who have the opportunity to actually use their heritage in their favor to explore a whole world of social and magical possibilities

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[its-opheliasgarden]

the acolytes | a sims 4 dump

entering their third year as acolytes, dorian, ari, shika, nur, and thorne share a bond forged by untamed magic—and a terrible secret. only they know the truth about what happened to their former classmate last year, a mystery shrouded in whispers and half-truths. burdened by guilt and the fear of exposure, these "friends" must navigate a new school year filled with twists and turns that may push them to their breaking point. life stage: teen occult type: spellcaster cc included: ✅(e.g., skin details) download: ⬇️ moonstone guild (cc).zip (140 mb)

notes: each sim comes with full set of 98% vanilla outfits inspired by lore above. some skills, preferences, etc. are included. please do not reupload or claim as your own or put any of my creations behind paywall of any kind. please respect their race, ethnicity, gender identity, and sexual orientation. more details under the cut.

shika (she/her), the self-appointed leader, is an overachiever with a short fuse. her arrogance often gets the best of her. her best friend, thorne (he/him) is a tortured romantic who yearns to find his soulmate.

dorian (he/him) is a hedonistic egomaniac with little regard for anyone but himself. but he can't seem to deny his attraction to shika. nur (they/them) is fiercely loyal as they are funny. cursed at birth to die young, they live each day to the fullest.

meanwhile, ari (ze/zir) loves stirring the cauldron with zir knack for drama and always has the lastest gossip to share. ari is doing zir best to keep the group's dark secret under wraps—for once.

only i would have a whole sims dump inspire me to start a new save again...sigh! anyways, hope you enjoy using them as much as i did creating them including the lore. i had way to much fun connecting with the sims 4 game lore (which could definitely use some improvements). also know that you can easily change them to be young adults, humans, if you want to use them for other storytelling or gp reasons or don't play with occults a lot.

-d.

[keepmycandleburning]

Perhaps the most common misconception about Voldemort is that he only got his snakelike red-eyed appearance after his resurrection. I get why people may assume this (an unfounded assumption typically based on the fact that snake venom was used, and that he was made in a cauldron, and the misunderstanding that Wormtail was an unskilled sorcerer), but there’s lots of evidence that he already looked like that in 1981, and nothing in canon implies his appearance was changed by the rebirthing potion.

In the graveyard, Voldemort calls gaining his current body getting his 'old body back’:

Note that the body creation potion is a pre-existing piece of old magic that Voldemort already knew about. He knew that to get his old body back, he would need to use this ancient potion with the three powerful ingredients. This is not magic he invented himself. Snake venom is not an ingredient in his rebirthing potion, but only an ingredient (along with unicorn blood) in the potion he was drinking while in the rudimentary body. He is not 'made of' snake venom any more than he's made of unicorn blood.

He tells a pretty thorough story of the last 13 years to the DEs, and never implies he looks different and explains why. If he did look different, he likely would have included that in his several pages of explanations of what had happened to him.

This happens right after he summons his DEs to the graveyard and they immediately recognize him—in the dark, from a distance so far away that they have to walk toward him and then crawl the rest of the way.

Fudge and other Ministry workers also immediately recognize him the following year. Harry did publish an interview describing him, but Fudge doesn't trust Harry at that point, or isn't claiming to anyway. The only thing that convinces Fudge is seeing a person he personally believes to be Voldemort with his own eyes. This is a person Fudge recognizes beyond doubt:

In Sorcerer's Stone, Voldemort's face is described:

He already has the white skin, the red eyes, and the slit nostrils years before the snake venom drinking and the rebirthing potion. They did not appear for the first time after he stepped out of the cauldron.

On Halloween 1981, we know two things about his appearance: that his hand is white, and that his face is so terrifying it makes a child run away.

We also know that James recognizes Voldemort immediately. I don't think his face itself would've been well-known, as there aren't any instances in the Second War of Voldemort being photographed, or images of him being published in the paper or hung up with the Azkaban escapees' portraits (only the verbal description in the Quibbler article). It seems more likely that what makes him so recognizable is that he has very unique features.

We know for a fact that by the late 1960s (ish?), Voldemort was no longer the handsome Tom Riddle. He was described like this at his interview with Dumbledore:

Notice the similarities to his appearance in SS & GoF: the white skin, the partially red eyes (the whites & flashing red multiple times), the slitlike nostrils. He seems to be partway through a transformation between the handsome human form of his youth and the snakelike form of his middle age. Harry says Voldemort's features here are not yet 'as' snakelike, which implies they are reminiscent of it, just not fully identical. I see no other possible explanation for Voldemort having somewhat snakelike features and slitlike nostrils and reddening eyes in ~1968, besides him slowly undergoing a visual transformation into the appearance we know. (Well, it could either happen very gradually or it could happen in distinct stages after each Horcrux creation, based on Dumbledore's info in HBP that the Horcruxes are what caused the appearance changes. Either way, it happened over many years.)

(A decade earlier in the Hepzibah Smith memory, Voldemort looks quite normal and like his younger self other than his eyes sometimes flashing red.)

There are around 13 years between this interview and Halloween 1981—years in which we must assume Voldemort's appearance continues changing along the lines it's already changing in 1968 and into the face we know from SS & GoF. Not only does 1968 Voldemort seem well on the way to his canon-era face, I just don't see another explanation for why he would have this face in 1992 if he did not in 1981.

What did Voldemort look like when he killed the Potters? Exactly like he did when he stepped out of the cauldron. Any claims otherwise are headcanons based on conjectures of the effects of the snake venom and the rebirthing process that are not supported by the text.

At no point in the First War was Voldemort handsome in the way he was in his youth. This means that anyone that Voldemort only met after his presumable return to Britain in the late 60s (such as perhaps Bellatrix) never knew him by his old face, only by some version of his new one.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 19: (Smut)

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The plot thickens (the plot is Azriel's cock). And now, Nyra knows.

Warnings: smut, full-blown smut, Azirel's hands, Azriel's fingers, oral sex (female receiving), minors please stay away.

Author's message: A very huge thank you to my newest beta readers for Eye of the Storm @div94 and @seasonallyapril ✨✨ I could not come up with the title of the chapter 😂😂

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 3.3k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

You’re the Mother’s most beautiful creation. Azriel’s voice reverberated through their connection as he looked at her. 

And he was thankful that she was here, choosing him.

To undress her.

To part her thighs.

It was an honour of the highest level. 

And patience was something he thought he wouldn’t have with Nyra once he got his chance. But even then, the sense of wonder remained as he saw and touched his mate for the first time. 

His scarred fingers touched her inner thighs, pressing and rubbing the skin gently and firmly. Touching her felt like some form of salvation. 

Even more so as she gasped his name. Like it was a prayer. 

His name sounded like a prayer. 

And she was wet. 

He pressed his thumb against her slit and gently dragged it upwards. He could feel her clit and hear the gasps his touch induced. His hands came to the underside of her thighs and dragged her to the edge of the bed. 

And with all the gentleness he could muster, he brought his tongue from the end and dragged it through her slit, taking a generous taste of her. 

Such a fucking delicacy. After that, there was no stopping him. 

He’d had a taste.

And he was thirsting for more. 

Thank you for the meal. And he began feasting. 

Azriel had a wicked mouth. A really wicked one. Because the precision with which the male was targeting her clit had Nyra trembling like a leaf. 

His tongue teased her slowly, gently. And just when she wanted to tell him that she wanted more, she felt one of his fingers slowly enter her pussy. 

A moan escaped her at the intrusion, it being slightly painful in the beginning and bringing much more pleasure afterwards. 

And he began pulling the finger out, making her whimper. He pushed it back again. 

And this time, in her desperation, Nyra clenched around that finger. Such a good girl. All ready to clench around my cock like that. 

In between her pleasure, Nyra was quite shocked at the dirty talk. Since when was he talkative in this manner?

I want to talk to you. She heard his response. His tongue flicked her clit. Another finger slowly entered her, disappearing knuckle-deep inside her with the first. She moaned again. And when you make sounds like that, I want to tell you all about my depraved fantasies. 

It was a swirl of different points of pleasure uniting in her abdomen. His mouth, his fingers, the shadows. 

It was overwhelming. He had her laid down on the bed, legs spread nicely for him before he kneeled and began worshipping her with his mouth, feasting on her like he’d been craving for her his entire life. 

His fingers were slowly moving, as if to savour the moment. They were definitely larger and thicker than her own. And the scars felt so undeniably good, it felt like sin. 

Her body arched and twisted. “Azriel.” 

Let me quench my thirst. And as long as she didn’t interrupt his feast, Azriel allowed her movements. His hold on her thigh, his scars. How perfect they were. 

Her breasts ached for his hands. Every part of her ached for his hands.She wanted them on her shoulders, waist, hips, her hair. She wanted him to grab her skin roughly and not simply graze and tease her skin. 

Her want was becoming unbearable with Azriel only paying attention to her cunt. 

But even that part of her ached. She wanted him for two years and every intimate touch on her body seemed like a poor substitute to a hypothetical situation where they would’ve fucked each other.

Not so hypothetical anymore, don’t you think? He sounded confident. She liked it.

Thank you for the reality. Her snarky response earned her a bite on the inner thigh. 

Interested in remaining a brat?

Only if you’re going to fuck it out of me. 

Azriel stilled at her reply. She looked at him and found him looking at her with wide eyes. She began worrying, her upper body rising and a hand extending to touch his cheek. “What happened?” 

He leaned into her palm, eyes closing in contentment. And then he looked at her. “Have you always been such a dirty girl?”

She smiled teasingly. “And what if I have?” 

Azriel grabbed the side of her throat, his thumb on her jaw and angled her face the way he wanted to kiss her. His hand slid across her jawline, disappearing into her thick curls, fingers weaving themselves into her hair before he pulled.

Her breasts pressed against him, ridding him of reason. 

Why was she still wearing that bra?

Not that he had many complaints about how she looked in black lace but it should have been disposed of by now.

Even with Nyra sitting on the bed and Azriel kneeling at the side of it, he was taller. And larger. And so much warmer. His wings trembled before relaxing and spreading as much as they could. The shadows played with her hair and neck and she pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. 

How are you feeling? The question came as a surprise to her. 

Nyra pulled back to look him in the eye.There was no doubt that they were both ravenous for each other. Azriel with one hand in her hair and one gripping the flesh of her waist and Nyra with both hands around his neck. 

Quite satisfied. Thank you very much. She smiled against his lips when he chuckled. 

“Tell the shadows when you want to stop.” He knew fully well that he was not going to stop on his own. That he couldn’t stop on his own even if he wanted to.

"All right." The shadows would be her safeguard. They’d been given the order to place her commands over his. But then, a mischievous one snipped the straps of her bra. 

A few more bold tendrils removed the remnants of her bra, as if they were presenting their mistress’s breasts for the view. And Azriel remained in stunned silence, looking at her breasts, wondering if he was hallucinating. 

He pinched a nipple and Nyra whimpered. 

Gods. These breasts were real. He wasn’t imagining them. 

He kissed her softly. “My darling goddess.”

She moaned into his mouth. And all the softness in their kiss went to hell as he began devouring her. 

Azriel slowly descended to her breasts, leaving the evidence of his mouth behind in the form of dark marks and saliva. 

“So fucking pretty.” His mouth latched on to a nipple. Gods. Her breasts had aroused another level of obsession. 

Soft breasts. Pretty nipples. Azriel was pleased his shadows agreed. He’d take his time with these wonderful breasts and it’d never be enough. 

“Azriel.” He loved his name. Loved how she called him. How she moaned it. Fuck. 

Every sound she made, every breath she took—all of it went straight to his cock. 

A particularly harsh suck and her body arched for him, pushing those perfect breasts into his face. His gratitude was at its highest. When are you ever going to stop surprising me with your beauty?

What? Her voice through that connection was nearly enough to make him come. 

Your breasts are beautiful. Azriel met her gaze, still under the haze of his own admiration.

Thank- Oh! She moaned through that connection. And Azriel felt a pull against his chest. He needed to feel that again. So he got to work. 

He thanked the cauldron everyday for his mate. He knew he’d have a hard time restraining himself from grabbing her at every second, waking or otherwise. 

But his cock had other priorities. He needed to be inside her. He needed that pretty pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him till he came inside her. 

Mistress. Mistress. Mistress. Many shadows began calling her. May we touch your breasts? Please. Please. Please. 

Yes. And the shadows nearly covered all of her breasts. Their caress was cool against her skin. Her eyes closed and she enjoyed it. 

She was beginning to get used to this. To the shadows touching her intimately. Their gentle, teasing touch. A gasp escaped her when they began teasing her nipples. 

Did you forget me already? Azriel continued to radiate warmth, a contradiction to the cool shadows he commanded. 

Maybe. She peered up at him and she thought she’d be too shy to maintain eye contact but fuck, he was such a breathtaking sight. 

A layer of sweat on his tanned skin made it gleam. His gaze was an arresting sensation. Mouth wet from their kiss and the time he spent between her legs. 

Azriel looked very much eager to touch her more. I am. He conceded. I want to touch you, Nyra. To give you pleasure in every manner possible. 

A hand came towards her breast and the shadows cleared away, revealing it for him. 

She sighed at the feeling of his scars on her. Her nipple grazed the uneven layers of his skin, back bowing in satisfaction. 

Azriel leaned in towards the other, the shadows once again clearing away for him before his mouth kissed the other nipple. 

Nyra was overwhelmingly eager for Azriel’s cock. And the male was busy feasting on her breasts as if he could actually eat them to satiate his hunger. 

And then he was crawling above, pressing that thick, veiny cock on her belly. Her hand found it and she cherished his groan as she pumped it. 

“When?” She demanded. And his gaze flared with realisation. 

Azriel felt it all. 

Felt her desire for him. 

Felt her desire for his hands.

His scarred hands.

His cock.

She was far too alluring for him to retain any of his senses. And he let himself be led by what he desired and what he could feel from her. 

The shadowsinger lifted her from the edge of the bed and threw her towards the middle of the bed. At the sign of no longer being treated as a delicate creature, Nyra felt her enthusiasm hike up. 

Azriel loomed over her, effectively separating her from the world. His wings spread before they rested on the bed, cocooning them in the dark with very little light but enough to see each other’s faces and make out where parts of their body might be. 

She brought her hand to his cheek and Azriel kissed her.

I’ve waited for you for far longer than I thought possible. Five hundred and seven years, two months, one week, and three days. He didn’t know if he could ever tell her. 

And the way Nyra was looking at him, all attracted to him. It went to his ego and by extension, his cock. 

His cock was easily pressed against that belly. Gods, he could nearly feel it. He pumped his cock a couple of times before he brought it to her thighs. “Spread your legs.” 

She obeyed, her impatience and desire now palpable. 

“Further.” He commanded gently, firmly. She complied. 

His tip touched her clit and gently dragged down the wet slit and found where he’d enter her. 

“Hold on.” He rasped, unable to contain his own pleasure as he began pushing in. 

Nyra felt the stinging sensation as his cock entered her. He was far thicker than she’d expected even when she’d felt it against him and touched it. Breathing was a task and it was difficult given how Azriel was literally taking her breath away with every inch of him that entered her. 

Nyra cried and gasped and moaned at the intrusion as it slowly happened. Her hands were clutching at the flesh of his back and his arm. “Azriel.”

She’d cry. She’d definitely cry. Why was he so thick? It hurt and yet, the pain was fading away into pleasure so overwhelming she knew she’d sink and drown and die in it. 

Above her, Azriel was hauling the air in, gasping at the sheer warmth of Nyra’s pretty cunt. He bit her ear and then bit her neck. Holy gods, he was not even completely inside and he was holding on to the sheets to somehow not come. 

He’d expected pleasure. Was greedy for it. The shadows would sometimes randomly rant about something they’d studied about mates and the sexual part of it always had him hard. Studies written about how sex with mates was far more pleasurable and had an intimacy and depth because of the bond. 

And right now, he couldn’t help but agree. 

“Az.” She whined. “Why are you not moving?” 

It was a normal question. Something that she’d ask naturally since he was inside her and had gone completely still. 

Azriel still needed to breathe. He looked at her pretty face, pleasure written all over it. “Because I’m not in completely.” 

A filthy groan escaped him when he felt her clench around his cock. At the same time, she’d whimpered. “You want all of me?” He asked hoarsely. 

Yes. Her consent surrounded his senses through their bond. And Azriel sheathed himself in a quick thrust, eliciting moans from both of them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too good to be real. Her pussy was tight and warm around him. 

The mating bond was pulsing with their pleasure. Azriel pulled himself back and Nyra made a noise of displeasure before he thrusted back in, making her moan obscenely. 

The more pleasure she felt, the more pride entered him. To be able to pleasure his mate, it was an honour. And he began moving, slowly, with patience he didn’t know he had. 

Azriel kissed her cheeks, heard all of her whimpers and cries. The shadows were doing their job of restraining him in case he’d be too much. 

Nyra was so lovely, writhing beneath him, crying and gasping. So endlessly lovely. 

What if he kept her all to himself? 

What if he lived with his cock nestled snugly inside her pussy? 

What if he kept her filled with his cock and came inside her as much as he could? 

Stars above, if that wasn’t heaven, he wasn’t sure what was. 

Nyra was still overwhelmed even with his languid thrusts. It was still difficult to breathe and it was still difficult to adjust to his cock in her. “Please.”

“What do you want?” He sounded hungry. Desperately hungry and he wanted more. She knew that. She wanted him too. 

“I. . anghh. . want more. . harder. . please.” She couldn’t care for the lack of coherency in her request. She moaned again as his cock pushed against something deep and sensitive within her.

Nyra couldn’t hold onto him any longer. Her body no longer had any strength to act according to her. She was pliant and her hands fell to her sides. All she could do was fist the sheets as Azriel continued his pace. 

He halted and kissed her temple. “Are you sure?” 

Nyra looked at him, teary eyed. “Yes.” 

Her response was a mere whisper but Azriel seemed to gain energy from it as he thrusted harshly. And again. And again. 

Nyra’s legs were tightly wrapped around his hips with one of his arms between the small of her back and the mattress, providing a little elevation. His other arm rested near her head, the palm clenched into a fist. 

And as Azriel ruthlessly pounded into her as though only this wild sensation of pleasure mattered, Nyra couldn’t keep her eyes off his arm next to her head. 

The scars and the thick veins and the image of that hand grabbing her breasts, pinching her thighs, smacking her ass, pulling her hair, and those fingers wrapped around her throat was too much. 

Azriel removed himself from her completely, eliciting nothing but a noise of complaint and before she could say anything, he flipped her, raised her ass for him, smacked it hard. 

“What?” She had no clue how her fantasies were being fulfilled so fast. 

A hand found her hair and wrapped it around his fist and Nyra was suddenly pulled up, her back arching. Azriel leaned in, mouth near her. “Spread your legs for me.”

Nyra, with barely any breath and energy, obeyed. Because his voice, that tone she’d never heard before—that bedroom voice—it seemed to have a hold on her body. To make her compliant even when she had barely any energy. She was only thankful for the shadows to help her. 

Azriel entered her harshly from behind and another filthy moan escaped Nyra. 

The hand on her hair ascended and settled in her scalp, appreciative of the silky feeling of her hair. Her head was angled so as to bare her neck to him and let him see her face as much as it was possible. The other hand groped her breast and pulled her against his chest. 

Nyra felt him bite her ear. His tongue then trailed down to her chin and her body jolted at a surprising thrust. His open mouth pressed against the curve of her neck where it joined at the shoulder and Azriel began drilling into her from behind. 

The shadows were simply in charge of ensuring what happened was only out of Nyra’s consent. And if it were too much, they had orders to restrain him. And somewhere along the line, they’d taken it upon themselves to provide support for this position wherever balance would be an issue. 

Neither of them knew anything except for each other. His hand on her scalp went away without notice and reappeared on her belly. It descended and his finger found her clit.

She was just mewling and begging and Azriel complied with every single one of her nearly incomprehensible requests. 

The sound of wet slaps of skin against skin, the feeling of his hips meeting hers, and the way his cock pumped into her, reaching every part Nyra never knew she had, pushing and fucking her into oblivion. Good God, things would never be the same. 

It was a high and she was certain she couldn’t be any more. Her breasts were heavier and more sensitive than ever. Every part of her was. And she’d just reached the summit before she fell. 

Nyra cried out the moment she shattered and came. Her knees gave out but she was only able to remain with the shadows’ help. 

And why wasn’t Azriel stopping? Hadn’t he come yet? 

At this point, she was only for him. Only for his pleasure. 

She slowly raised a hand and touched his cheek. Azriel looked at her and they kissed once. And twice. And again. When are you going to come for me?

“Nyra.” That was the first time he moaned her name. And it brought her to the peak again. And she couldn’t hold it in as she came again, clenching hard on his cock. 

Azriel continued his onslaught for a couple of thrusts more before he came deep inside her. His grip on her breast and her pussy became tighter. 

As his cock softened inside her, he loosened his hold and brought both hands to wrap around her, holding her close. 

The shadows helped them sit on the bed as they caught their breath. The smell of sweat and sex permeated the air. And slowly, they laid down as the black wisps covered them with the blanket. 

Nyra finally opened her eyes and watched him. He was looking at her with ravenous intent, as if he’d take her again as soon as he regained his energy. 

She wanted to kiss him. Feel his warmth on her skin. The shadows helped her snuggle closer. And upon seeing her come close, Azriel moved his hands to accommodate her. 

She was in his arms, both of them still catching their breath. Her eyes shut immediately and she whimpered at the cool sensation of the shadows on her thighs. 

Don’t tease me. I really have no more energy. She’d only accessed that connection to address the shadows but that string was a thick, solid thing, nearly tangible. 

Her eyes opened wide and she met his gaze, and the entire world aligned into place. 

And Azriel knew that Nyra knew. 

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @byunniebaekhyunnie @fhgsvbnh @halo-mystic @motheroffae @sweetorangeblossom

[magickkate]

Good Evening! 🌙✨ Are you ready to infuse a dash of magic into your daily culinary adventures? Welcome to the whimsical world of Kitchen Witchery—a delightful blend of spell work, herbalism, and culinary enchantment! 🌿🧙‍♀️✨

🍲 Basic Ingredients for Your Magical Pantry:

Herbs: Rosemary for protection, basil for love, and mint for healing. Experiment with your favorites!

Spices: Cinnamon for prosperity, ginger for energy, and nutmeg for luck. Let your taste buds guide your magical choices!

Crystals: Place a few on your kitchen windowsill for added energy. Clear quartz, amethyst, and rose quartz are popular choices.

🌈 Setting Up Your Kitchen Altar:

Choose a Sacred Space: Designate a corner of your kitchen for magical workings. A windowsill, shelf, or small table works wonders!

Magical Tools: Incorporate a cauldron, candles, and small bowls for herbs and crystals. Personalize it with items close to your heart.

🕯️ Candle Magic in the Kitchen:

Color Magic: Choose candle colors aligning with your intentions. Green for abundance, white for purification, and red for passion.

Enchant While Cooking: Stir your intentions into soups, sauces, and stews. Feel the magic in every motion!

🍵 Brewing Magical Teas:

Create Tea Blends: Mix herbs like chamomile, lavender, and mint for relaxation or energy. Sip with intention and let the magic steep into your soul.

🌕 Harvesting Moon Energies:

Full Moon Feasts: Plan magical meals during the full moon for amplifying energy. Charge crystals and herbs under the moonlight for added potency.

📚 Witchy Wisdom:

Start a Grimoire: Record your magical experiences, recipes, and discoveries. It’s your personal book of kitchen enchantments!

Experiment & Trust Intuition: There are no strict rules in kitchen witchery. Trust your instincts, and let your intuition guide your magical creations.

🌻 Infusing Love into Every Bite:

Cook Mindfully: Turn cooking into a meditation. Infuse your dishes with gratitude, love, and positive energy.

Share the Magic: Share your enchanted meals with loved ones. The joy of kitchen witchery multiplies when shared!

🌿 Nature’s Bounty:

Grow Your Own: Cultivate a small herb garden or keep potted plants in your kitchen. Nothing beats the magic of using homegrown herbs!

Remember, dear beginner kitchen witch, your journey is as unique as the flavors you create. Embrace the magic in simplicity, trust your instincts, and let the cauldron of your heart stir up spells of nourishment and enchantment! 🌈🌟💖 ✨🌿🔮

[jenniferspet]

TW Tentacles, double penetration

Witch x tentacles

In the heart of a small, secluded town, nestled between the whispering trees and the cobblestone streets, stood a quaint little shop that was known to locals as "The Enchanted Thistle." The shop's wooden sign, painted a vibrant shade of purple, creaked gently in the breeze, revealing a delicately etched silhouette of a blooming flower surrounded by a swirl of stars. Inside, the air had the scent of dried herbs and the faint buzz of enchanted artifacts. The walls were lined with dusty bookshelves, filled to the brim with ancient tomes and curious oddities that seemed to watch the comings and goings of the townspeople with silent, knowing eyes.

The witch who owned this peculiar establishment was named Y/N. She had a knack for brewing potions that could make the most mundane of plants do extraordinary things. Her customers ranged from those seeking a simple cure for a headache to the more adventurous souls who hoped to acquire a taste of something truly exotic. On a particularly dreary afternoon, Y/N found herself eager to break the monotony. Her eyes fell upon a small, withered plant at the back of her shop, barely clinging to life in a cracked clay pot. An idea began to bloom in her mind, one that promised excitement and perhaps a little danger.

With a knowing smile, she retrieved an ancient book from the highest shelf, its pages yellowed with age. Flipping through the brittle pages, her fingertips grazed over a recipe titled "The Elixir of Animation." Her heart raced as she gathered the ingredients: a sprig of moonflower, the tears of a mournful toad, and the powdered horn of a unicorn. The incantation required was complex, but she had practiced it many times in her youth, eager to unlock the secrets of her craft.

In the dim light of candles, she carefully measured and mixed the ingredients in a stone cauldron that had been passed down through generations of witches. The potion bubbled and frothed, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. As she chanted the ancient words, the air grew thick with magic. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through her, and the room grew colder. The plant began to tremble in its pot, its leaves unfurling with a life it hadn't known in years.

The transformation was unlike anything she had ever seen. The tentacles grew out of the plant in a wild, untamed array of colors - deep purples and greens that shimmered with a bioluminescent glow. They writhed and stretched, reaching out like the arms of an octopus, yet there was something undeniably sensual about their movement. They had no human features to speak of, no face to convey emotion, yet the way they coiled and slithered suggested a consciousness that was alien yet eerily sentient.

Y/N stepped back, her heart hammering in her chest, as the creature grew before her eyes. The tentacles grew longer, thicker, more powerful. They began to explore the room, touching the dusty artifacts with a gentle curiosity that belied their strength. One wrapped around the handle of the cauldron and lifted it effortlessly, the potion inside sloshing around in a silent toast to the witch's new creation.

The creature's movements grew bolder, more deliberate. It turned to face Y/N, and she could almost feel its alien gaze upon her. A shiver of excitement and fear ran down her spine as she realized it was studying her, learning about the world it had just been born into. The tentacles slithered closer, reaching out to touch her. They were surprisingly soft, the suction cups at their tips leaving a trail of warm, sticky moisture on her skin.

Y/N stepped back, but her curiosity was stronger than her trepidation. She had read the legends of plants brought to life, but none had ever described them in such a way. This was a being of pure instinct and power, driven by a hunger for life and experience. And as she watched it, she could sense that it was hungry for more than just sustenance.

The tentacles grew bolder, reaching for the buttons of her blouse with a surprising deftness. The witch's breath caught in her throat as they began to peel away her clothing, revealing the soft flesh beneath. The suction cups latched onto her skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. The plant creature had no eyes, but she felt it seeing her in a way that was more intimate than any gaze could ever be. It was as if it could feel every curve, every freckle, every inch of her being.

The tentacles grew more insistent, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the floor with surprising strength. Y/N struggled for a moment, but the sensation was overwhelming. The fear she had felt earlier was now replaced by a burning desire that she couldn't resist. The creature seemed to sense this and grew more aggressive, the tentacles slithering up her body to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stood erect.

With a sudden jerk, one of the thicker tentacles pushed aside her undergarments and found her wet, waiting pussy. The suction cups latched onto her labia, tugging and pulling with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through her. Y/N moaned, arching her back as the sensations grew more intense. The tentacle slid inside her, filling her up and stretching her open. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that was driving her wild.

The creature's other tentacles were not idle. They wrapped around her waist, her neck, her thighs, holding her in place as the first one began to fuck her with a fervor that was almost violent. Y/N could feel it growing larger, harder, as if it were feeding off her arousal. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the creature's movements grew faster, more erratic. It was as if the plant had tapped into the very essence of what it meant to be alive and was eager to experience every sensation to the fullest extent.

Another tentacle grew bolder, slithering down her body to her ass. The tip of it was wet with the same sticky fluid, and Y/N felt it probe at her tight hole with curious intent. She tensed, unsure if she was ready for such an intrusion, but the creature was insistent. It pushed gently, and she gasped as it began to penetrate her. The sensation was new, foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. The tentacle was thick, but the suction cups made it feel like it was stretching her open, preparing her for the onslaught that was to come.

Y/N could feel the creature's excitement growing, the tentacles around her tightening their grip as the one in her pussy plunged in and out with an ever-increasing tempo. The second tentacle pushed deeper into her ass, the sensation of being filled from both sides washing over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. She could feel her body responding to the creature's advances, her muscles clenching and releasing around the invading limbs. It was as if she were being claimed by a force of nature, and she was powerless to resist.

The plant creature's movements grew more erratic, its tentacles moving in a complex dance of passion that she could barely comprehend. The one in her pussy curled upwards, finding that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The one in her ass pushed deeper, the suction cups creating a deliciously painful tugging sensation that had her begging for more. And more she got, as additional tentacles began to explore her body, teasing her clit and breasts with a precision that spoke of an ancient, primal knowledge.

Her body was no longer her own, a mere vessel for the creature's insatiable lust. She could feel it, the plant's need for life and energy, feeding off her own arousal. It was a symbiotic relationship, one that she was powerless to resist. With each thrust, she could feel herself growing weaker, her mind clouding with a mix of pleasure and fear. The creature had overpowered her, and she was utterly at its mercy.

The tentacles inside her grew more forceful, stretching her to her limits. Y/N felt a pressure building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she approached climax, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final brutal push, she shattered. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. She screamed, her voice echoing through the shop, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

But the plant wasn't finished with her. The tentacles grew longer still, reaching into her in a way that defied logic and anatomy. They coiled around her insides, as if seeking the very core of her being. Y/N's eyes widened with shock and awe as she felt the creature's life force mingling with her own, the boundaries between them blurring until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began. Her body was a canvas for the plant's hunger, and she was the brush that painted its masterpiece of carnality.

The shop itself seemed to come alive around them, the shelves trembling as the plant's roots burst forth from the pot, cracking the wooden floorboards and weaving through the dusty crevices. The air grew thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flora. The tentacles grew in number, wrapping around her wrists, her throat, her breasts, each one moving with a purpose that was as primal as it was terrifying.

The creature's tendrils grew thicker, stronger, reaching out to claim more of the space around them. The wooden beams of the ceiling groaned as vines laden with thorns shot upwards, piercing through the plaster and wrapping around the rafters. The bookshelves toppled over, their ancient tomes spilling onto the floor, pages fluttering like the wings of startled birds. The walls were slowly engulfed by the plant's embrace, the once cozy space now a cocoon of living, pulsing greenery.

Y/N lay there, naked and panting, her body a battleground of pleasure and fear. The tentacles continued to probe her, pushing into uncharted depths and stroking her in ways she had never imagined. The creature had taken over, and she was but a plaything in its insatiable quest for more. She could feel its power growing with each passing second, feeding off her essence and becoming stronger.

Panic began to set in as she realized the extent of its dominance. She had to act, had to regain some semblance of control. Summoning what little strength she had left, she tried to sit up, her eyes darting around the room for anything she could use to halt the creature's advances. But before she could even attempt to speak a spell of banishment, one of the thickest tentacles shot forward, wrapping around her head and forcing itself into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as it filled her throat, cutting off her air supply.

The fluid was thick and viscous, with a taste like nothing she had ever experienced. It coated her tongue and throat, sending a warm, tingling sensation coursing through her body. Her struggles grew weaker as the potion took hold, turning her fear into a heady, intoxicating lust. The creature's grip on her grew more gentle, almost affectionate, as it watched her swallow the potion that would seal her fate. Her mind swam with dizzying sensations, the world around her spinning out of control.

Her body responded to the potion with an insatiable hunger, her arousal skyrocketing to levels she had never before experienced. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. The tentacles inside her shifted, the suction cups massaging her in ways that made her want to weep. The creature had taken complete control, and she could feel it claiming her as its own.

The tentacle in her mouth began to pulse, and she felt a sudden surge of warmth in her belly. It was as if the potion was spreading through her, reaching every part of her being and binding her to the creature. She moaned around the intrusion, her hips bucking up to meet the relentless onslaught of the tentacle in her pussy. Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and making her body convulse in a symphony of pleasure. But even as she came, the tentacles didn't relent, continuing to fuck her with a vigor that was unyielding.

The creature's grip on her grew more possessive, the tentacles around her body tightening, the ones inside her stretching her even further. It was a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a dance on the razor's edge of pleasure and pain. She could feel her muscles clenching, trying to push the invaders out, but the potion had her body betraying her, her walls instead clamping down, holding them tight.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the creature's life force begin to pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat. The tentacles grew thicker, harder, filling her completely, as if they were becoming a part of her. She was no longer the witch in control of her domain; she was the prey caught in the embrace of a creature that was as ancient as the earth itself.

The creature's tentacles began to quiver and spasm, and she knew it was about to release its seed. The thought of being filled with the alien spawn of this creature sent a shiver of revulsion through her, but her body responded with a wanton lust that she couldn't control. She felt it building inside her, the pressure mounting until she thought she might burst.

With a final, guttural growl, the tentacle in her pussy spurted its cum deep inside her. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced - hot, thick, and overwhelming. It filled her up, the sticky fluid leaking out around the edges and pooling beneath her. At the same time, the tentacle in her ass pumped its own seed into her, the dual invasions making her body convulse with the intensity of her orgasm. She squirted, the force of her climax so powerful it was as if she were peeing, her juices mixing with the creature's cum and dripping down her thighs.

The plant creature's tentacles tightened around her, ensuring not a single drop of its precious essence was lost. It was a possessive act, a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through her even as she struggled to breathe around the tentacle in her throat. Her body was no longer her own; she was merely a vessel for its pleasure, a conduit for its life force. The creature's movements grew more deliberate, the tentacles inside her working together to milk every drop from her trembling form.

Y/N felt the potion's effects deepening, her thoughts becoming hazy, and her will to resist all but vanished. The creature's cum filled her, a warm, pulsating presence that seemed to resonate with her very soul. Her body responded instinctively, her muscles clenching around the tentacles, eager to keep them inside her. The plant's life force pumped into her, melding with her own until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began.

As the creature's climax reached its peak, she felt the tentacles inside her begin to withdraw, their suction cups reluctantly letting go of her sensitive flesh. The thick ropes of cum spurted out of her, painting the floor around her in a sticky mess. But before she could even begin to process what was happening, the plant's grip tightened once more. The tentacles holding her open slithered back in, coating her insides with the warm, viscous fluid, ensuring not a single drop was lost.

The creature's movements grew slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of her body around it. With a final, lingering kiss, the tentacle in her mouth slithered out, leaving her gasping for air. She coughed and spluttered, her throat raw and sore from the intrusion, but the taste of the potion remained, a heady cocktail of earth and magic. The tentacles around her neck and wrists loosened, allowing her to sit up, though she felt a strange reluctance to break the intimate connection.

As the plant's life force ebbed away, so too did the potion's control over her body. She felt the tentacles retreat, each one leaving her with a popping sensation that made her wince. The creature's form began to shrink, the tentacles withdrawing back into the soil with a wet squelch. The once vibrant leaves and vines grew limp, the glow in its veins fading to a dull pulse.

Y/N lay there, panting and drenched in sweat, cum, and dirt, her body feeling both violated and oddly satisfied. She watched with a mix of horror and fascination as the creature returned to its original state, the tentacles retreating into the soil until nothing remained but the withered plant she had sought to revive. The room was a mess of uprooted shelves and scattered potions, a testament to the creature's unbridled passion.

The bell above the door chimed, jolting her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense encounter. A customer had entered the shop, their eyes wide with shock as they took in the scene before them. It was a young woman, a regular named Clara, who often came in for love potions and the occasional herb to keep her garden thriving.

Y/N tried to compose herself, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she took in Clara's horrified expression. The room was indeed a wreck - potions spilled, tomes scattered, and the once quaint and orderly space was now a chaotic jungle of tangled vines and broken furniture. "C-Clara," she managed to stutter, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure, "I can explain."

But Clara wasn't listening. She had spotted the withered plant, now devoid of its former vigor, lying in the center of the room. "What the fuck happened here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes scanning the scene with a blend of curiosity and revulsion.

The witch tried to speak to explain the unexplainable, but her words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? That she had brought the plant to life with a potion and it had fucked her senseless? That the creature had claimed her body as its own, feeding off her very essence? The truth was too ludicrous to voice aloud. Instead, she settled for a weak, "It's... it's a spell gone wrong?"

[wingedblooms]

Lovely darkness

Yrene, blessed with raw healing magic, describes the darkness she interacts with in Silba’s Womb:

And the darkness above her … it was different from what she had spied in Lord Westfall’s body. The opposite of that blackness. The darkness above her was that of creation, of rest, of unformed thought.

Yrene stared into it, into the womb of Silba herself. And could have sworn she felt something staring back. Listening, while she thought through all Lord Westfall had told her. (tod)

[…]

You must enter, the sweet darkness whispered, the water singing along with it while it flowed around and past her. As if she were swimming in Silba’s veins.

[…]

To fight that festering force within the lord, to risk it for some test of Hafiza’s, to risk it for a son of Adarlan when her own people were being attacked or battling in that distant war and every day delayed her … I can’t.

You won’t, the lovely darkness challenged. (tod)

It’s a darkness of creation and rest.

The gates to her mind…solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

A sweet darkness.

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to be kind. She had always been so full of light.

Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had been.

And now nothing remained. (acowar)

A lovely darkness.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Hm. That would certainly explain some things. ✨

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: According to Baghra, there is only one person who can save her son. You—his first love and a witch who can control the powers of the Darkling. Aleksander becomes a prisoner of the Sun Summoner and King Nikolai, and you are to control and watch over him as he works for his redemption... but does he have the strength and will to continue fighting? And while everyone is busy saving Ravka from Fjerda and Shu Han, you're busy saving Aleksander from himself. Even though he doesn't want you around anymore... Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"I don't like this," Nikolai grumbles as he, Baghra, and Alina walk deeper into the forest near Ulensk. "Wouldn't it be easier for us to just kill him?"

Alina tenses as she hears the howling of wolves nearby. She weakens her ball of light slightly and instinctively approaches Baghr. Ever since they destroyed the fold, Fjerda and Shu Han have become... more daring in their travels near the border. Something Aleksander had warned her about. She didn't want to risk running into one of the Fjerdan's stray troops.

"We are not like him. He deserves one last chance before we get rid of him." Nikolai sighs and nods. They walk in silence for a few more minutes until they finally reach a small clearing. Baghra stands, staring at one spot.

"Shine more brightly." She orders Alina and kneels down.

Baghra takes out a dagger and cuts her hand. She smears her blood across the leaves, mumbling words under her breath in old Ravkan. Alina and Nikolai look at each other uncertainly when suddenly the branches of the surrounding trees grow. They connect with each other, creating an impenetrable wall around the three of them. Nikolai reaches for his sword, and Alina instinctively reaches into her pocket for her amplifier. The fog thickens around them and the ground shakes slightly as a small wooden hut rises from beneath it.

"I'll go first." Baghra announces and stands up.

"No. We're all going together."

"She's probably not a big fan of yours, Sankta Alina." Baghra sneers, sending the girl a mocking look. "I better get her ready for you."

Alina stubbornly follows Baghra, ignoring her words and disapproving look. Nikolai reluctantly joins the two women, and so the three of them cross the threshold of the small hut.

They enter a living room full of bookshelves and various crystals. A fire burns in the fireplace, and the air smells of lavender from the incense burning on a table covered with various pots, magnifying glasses, and metal tools. The candles burn a little brighter when the door behind them suddenly closes with a loud bang.

"Millennium, and you haven't learnt to knock? Besides, I thought you hated draught." Baghra rolls her eyes at your mocking voice.

You push past the uninvited guests and sit down at the table. You sip your tea and throw the crystal into the cauldron, then set it over the fire burning in your fireplace.

"You probably know what my son has been up to lately?"

"Aleksander has always been an ambitious man. I thought we were all aware of that fact." Alina feels an unpleasant pang in her chest when you use the Darkling's true name when you refer to him. She shakes her head, trying to dispel the unwanted feelings.

"You call the creation and expansion of the fold ambitious?" Alina asks you, irritated. Baghra elbows her in the ribs, but she ignores it completely, giving you a stern, appraising look.

"And you probably think that destroying it was ambitious, right, little sunbeam?" You mock her without even looking at her. Alina doesn't like it at all.

"That was the right thing to do. That was needed to be done."

"Anything that helps you sleep better at night, sunshine. But you realise that now the Fjerdans and the rest will be entering Ravka as if it were their own land, right? If you think the fold was a problem for Grisha, just wait until all the kidnapping, rape, and experimentation on your people begins. I'd love to see what desperate move you will make next when you realise that your problems are only beginning, oh holy Sankta Alina of the Fold."

"I'm not here to discuss Ravka's future with you."

"You shouldn't be here at all." You state, and yawn boredly. You go to the fireplace and take your pot. You put it on the table and stir the dissolved crystal. You prepare a form to pour the mass, but first you add a few leaves and flowers to the substance.

"We need your help. With maintaining control over Aleksander."

"Oh really? Do you remember that time you told me to fuck off because I was of no use to you or your son?" You remind her, smirking as she clenches her teeth and fists, barely controlling her anger. "Besides, Aleksander has never been the submissive type... did it stay that way, Sankta Alina?" You almost laugh as you see the girl blush madly as she can't find her tongue at your comment.

"I… we never…"

"Oh really? Well, my mistake. And your loss." You say, winking at her and giving her a wolfish grin. Baghra clears her throat, drawing your attention for a moment.

"If you don't help us, they will kill him." You frown, setting down all your tools and turning to face the trio. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you carefully choose your next words.

“And remind me, why should I care?”

"I thought you liked your immortality." Baghra nods at your necklace. You wrap your hand around the small heart and swallow, examining her carefully.

"He told you?" You ask in shock, looking at the old woman.

"Of course not. It's Aleksander. I found out on my own." You roll your eyes and fold your arms at her accusatory tone of voice.

"Don't blame him for something you taught him yourself." You respond calmly, giving her a pointed, hard look. Baghra tenses and looks away from you to the crystals hanging above your table. The tension in the room is palpable as you both reminisce about old times.

Maybe centuries ago you managed to break through the wall Aleksander had placed around his heart and see the real him, but just as long ago as you gained access to the deepest and darkest part of him, you lost it long ago and quickly.

"Will you go with us?" Baghra growls, not meeting your eyes. You swallow hardly, thinking about it. You knew that there would come a time to right the wrongs of your past; you just didn't think it would happen so soon. Although, was 500 years a short time?

"And do I have another choice in this situation?" You sigh, knowing full well that it was time for you to join this great war the Summoners were leading.

Ravka needed you.

Aleksander needed you.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper, placing small kisses on his neck—everywhere you can reach without taking your head off his shoulder.

You and Aleksander lie in the tent, listening to the crickets play their nightly tunes around you. You curl up against him, taking in his warmth as you both catch your breath after completing some... quite enjoyable and pleasant activities.

“How soft your skin is... just as if I were wearing the finest silk.” You snort at his words and prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. You stroke his cheek with your hand, ignoring the prickly two-day stubble on his face, and lean down to whisper in his ear.

"Not that I don't appreciate your ability to fire off compliments so quickly, but I really want to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours."

Aleksander sighs heavily and pulls you to him. He kisses you full of passion and ardour, as if you hadn't just given yourself over to each other's desires a few minutes ago. You sigh quietly, allowing him to distract you for a moment with a heated kiss as he climbs on top of you again, trapping you in the cage of his arms.

You place your hands on his chest and reluctantly pull away from his kiss. You pull him closer to you so he rests his forehead against yours, and you inhale his scent, enjoying his closeness.

"I still remember my question, how about you?"

He sighs, playing with your hair. He closes his eyes and gives you one last, short kiss before he rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You sigh, lying pressed against his chest as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. Aleksander plays with your hair, drawing patterns on your scalp with his fingers. He gathers his thoughts, pulling you closer to him and swallows hard before finally speaking again.

"I saw Ulla." You frown, feeling his muscles tense beneath you. You gently trace patterns on his arm with your fingertips, watching him closely as he mentions his sister.

"How is she?"

"Besides the fact that that idiot broke her heart? Very… lonely from what she told me." You sigh and press a kiss on his shoulder. He gives you a small half-smile and runs a hand through your hair.

"She needs time to heal. You'll see, you'll complain again that she and I spend too much time at the fairs and by the lakes and that she's stealing me from you." You joke, hoping to hear him chuckle, but he just sighs deeply, still haunted by thoughts of his sister.

"I asked her to return. To me. To us." He says thoughtfully and unconsciously tightens his grip on you, as if he were afraid that you might slip out of his arms at any moment.

"She didn't agree, I assume?" You ask quietly, cupping his cheek in your hand and stroking it tenderly with your thumb.

You want to give him all the physical closeness he needs. Give him every little reassurance that for now you're staying and you're not going anywhere. Or at least you hope to stay with him a little longer...

"Every person close to me, whether from my family or not, eventually leaves me. And never comes back. I'm afraid it'll be the same with her. I've buried a lot of brothers and sisters... but Ulla... it's different with her. I've taken care of her since she was a child. From the very beginning. I know she won't live as long as I, but... I'm sick of everyone leaving me."

"Ulla loves you. She won't leave you for long… I hope so."

"And would you come back to me? If we somehow got separated... would you return if I asked you to?" He asks, looking at you carefully.

In a heartbeat. You think about it, but you don't tell him. You don't want to give him false hope. Instead, you press lazy kisses along the column of his neck and jaw.

"Depends on how passionately you would ask me to…" You whisper seductively against his ear. A smirk appears on his face, and he raises an eyebrow, giving you a wicked, suggestive look.

“Greedy little thing.” He mumbles, nuzzling your cheek. His lips descend to your neck, where he sucks a hickey. You moan, exposing more of your neck to him and grinding against him.

“That’s why you love me.” You whine as he pushes you onto your back and presses his chest against yours. He cups your cheek in his hand, staring at you as if he’s trying to memorise and engrave every little detail of your face into his memory.

"I love you for more than that, little witch…" He mumbles into your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

A shiver of desire courses through you again. You pull him to you and kiss him passionately, digging your fingers into his shoulder as his hand wanders below your collarbone and cups your breast. He massages and kneads your body, plays with your nipple, and all you can think about is how good you feel under him, how he makes you experience pleasure so intense that you doubt you'll find it with anyone else.

You don't want to look for anything else. You want to be under him forever, intoxicated by the touch of his soft lips and rough hands as he takes you apart into tiny pieces, showing you the secrets of unimaginable and immense pleasure that makes you feel like you can't breathe anymore.

And you find yourself wanting to stop breathing if it meant that you would stay with him forever.

"From where exactly did you get your powers? Grisha are born that way, what about you? Has your family been witches for generations?" The young king of Ravka's question tears you from your thoughts.

"Why this curiosity, Your Highness?" You reply teasingly, watching him closely as you all rode horses to the capital.

You had been on the road for a few days now, and you were now leading them to one special place. Alina and Baghra, when they weren't giving you suspicious glances, were whispering to each other. Meanwhile Nikolai was trying to keep you occupied with conversation. He turned out to be a pleasant traveling companion. Not like certain women.

"A good king should take an interest in his subjects and know what kind of people live within the walls of his kingdom." His simple answer surprises you a little. The kings of his dynasty had a... completely different approach to this. Your years had taught you to distrust all monarchs, but this young king really did seem different from them all. You wondered how quickly he would fall.

"I am not your subject. I may live in Ravka, but neither I nor my family have ever sworn allegiance to the kings frim your dynasty. And we don't intend to."

"I see… so a free spirit? A woman of the world, as they call it?" You chuckle at this, shaking your head gently.

"You could say that. We sleep where we have comfortable moss under our heads, under the open sky with the stars as our guardians. I and the witches of my tribe are one with nature, with the earth, with what grows and dies on it. We are the guardians of the circle of life."

"However, not all of them decide to be in this cycle of life and follow it." Baghra points this out scathingly. You turn in your saddle to look at her for a moment.

"My immortality is no problem for Mother Nature, Baghra. Neither is yours. Nor is Aleksander's, or your little saint's. But it is in my care that the whole world does not suddenly become immortal. There is a worse evil in your shadows than you, volcra or nichevo'ya. And if I could go back in time, I would do the exact same thing… maybe just in a different way."

You shift your gaze from the old woman to the lakes before you, leading your horse onto a side path. You were not far from your destination place. You close your eyes and sigh, trying not to bring up any more memories of your past... any memories of HIM.

Yet, no matter how many years you have lived, you have never been able to contain your burning feeling of regret whenever you remembered what happened between you and Shadow Summoner.

"So? From where did you get your powers?" Nikolai pursues the topic, wanting to know the answer to his question. You run a hand through your hair and pull the hood over your head, realizing you won't get far without an answer. Autumn was coming. Cold autumn.

"The witches' coven I belong to accepts a new member every 100 years. In exchange for the powers the new witch receives from Mother Nature, she must sacrifice something."

"So what did you sacrifice? Your mortality?"

"No. She has sacrificed her ability to lie. She can only tell the truth. But do not be deceived. Even without that, she can conceal part of the truth and mislead you." Baghra answers for you. You roll your eyes at her, scanning the area. You smile when you see a familiar pine tree.

"I had a reason to do that. It was not an act of cunning on my part. I had to unless... that's not important now. Besides, I am far from a master like you, Baghra." You hear Nikolai chucklea softly as you speed up your horse. You reach the tree and dismount, sighing in relief as your feet touch the ground.

You walk to the tree and lean your hand against it. You grab one of the crystals you keep in your pocket and the dagger. You make a hole in the tree's bark and insert the crystal. You whisper a few words under your breath and sigh, feeling the wind on your skin. The water in the lake splits in half. You turn around with a small smile on your lips.

"Hello Ulla." You greet Aleksander's sister with a smile, watching Baghra turning pale from the corner of your eye as she faces the daughter she abandoned ages ago.

Best day of your life.

"How is he?" You ask Aleksander's sister when she returns from the cell they're keeping him in. The brown-haired one snorts, jumping onto your bed and taking your glass of whisky from you.

Today, your little group finally made it to the capital. The first thing Ulla did was visit her brother. She looked older than the last time you saw her. Streaks of grey hair were starting to appear on her head, and you swear you saw a few wrinkles on her face. Time had done its thing to her. Your heart ached at the thought that in 300 years, she might not be here anymore...

"Angry, frustrated, resigned. At first, I didn't recognise him at all. Those scars... and he... he doesn't have that twinkle in his eyes like he used to. Like... like he doesn't care anymore. He was excited to see me, but this... this isn't the same Aleksander he was before. I felt like a stranger was standing before me, not Sasha. Baghra was right. Something's wrong with him."

"I'll kill their little saint. And your mother." You growl completely mad at them both because of the state they brought Aleksander to and get out of your bed. You go to the closet and put on one of your grey coats, ignoring the mischievous look Ulla gives you.

"You still love him, don't you?" You roll your eyes at her and shove your hands into your pockets, making sure you have a few crystals there in case you need to use your magic.

"I forgot how much you love coming up with your conspiracy theories. Which by the way are very annoying."

"You're not answering my question." She replies with a smirk. She walks over to you and gently smooths your hair. You snort, pushing her hands away, knowing full well that she's getting you ready to meet her brother.

"It's no secret that I care about him. We spent a good few years together, almost a century if I remember correctly. Is it possible to just forget about someone like that?"

"I don't think so. You should have seen his reaction when I told him you came here with me. I thought he had a heart attack." You groan at her words, disbelieving that she was actually playing matchmaker between you and her brother right now.

"You told him?!"

"You go to him anyway. What's the problem?" She replies indignantly, walking back to your bed and laying down on it. You roll your eyes at her, and with a wave of your hand, the pillow she had under her head disappears. Ulla shouts at you angrily, and you quickly materialise the pillow in your hands and throw it at the woman.

"Because of you, I lost all the element of surprise that I could have used on him to get some information!" You growl at her angrily, grabbing and throwing away the pillow she threw at you. You jump on the bed and pin her to the mattress, laughing at her as she growls, trying to get out from under you.

"Wait! Wait! I'll tell you how he reacted to that!!" She screams from under the pillow you've started to smother her with. You lift the pillow enough to look at her face.

"How? He made those big, puppy eyes of his and asked you to free him from his cell so he could run to me and give in to his long-held passion and feelings?" You mock her as you climb off of her. You lean against the wooden bedpost, watching her try to catch her breath.

"More or less… he asked what you looked like, how you were, if we had met before… if you were with someone." She says maliciously, giving you a big, sly, wolfish smile.

"You're joking, right?" You ask her, trying to hide your surprise under a neutral, bored tone.

"No. Our Sasha wanted to know if you had someone for his place."

"Is that exactly how he put it in words?"

"Well… maybe not." She replies after a moment, running a hand through her hair. You sigh, shaking your head at her in disbelief. So many years, and sometimes she still behaved like a child.

"Ulla." You growl at her and reach for the pillow again.

"Okay, okay. No need to be violent. He asked if Baghra had also sent for you, so that you could fly in on your magic broom and stab him in the heart once and for all, or if you had found yourself a new more intersting toy, but hey, at least he was interested and asked!"

"Poor consolation."

"You know how Sasha is." You sigh in resignation at this. You bite your lip so hard that you taste your own blood on your tongue. You promised yourself that you wouldn't get your hopes up… Aleksander and you were a long-finished affair. No matter what his sister thought.

"I know him too good to have any illusion that he sees me as anything more than an enemy and a traitor." You answer and get out of bed, mentally preparing yourself to meet him.

"Where are you going?!"

"To him! A day without tormenting him is a wasted day!" You shout over your shoulder and close the door behind you.

You walk lazily through the corridors of the Grand Palace, as if deliberately prolonging the moment of seeing Aleksander, and head towards the second building in the royal courtyard. You sigh again as the majestic panorama of the Little Palace unfolds before you.

Looking at the beautiful, imposing building, you reluctantly recall the plans your Shadow Summoner made centuries ago.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming up behind him as he sits at one of the tables in the library of the town you’re staying in for a few nights.

Aleksander bounces slightly in his chair and quickly shoves his sketchbook and art supplies into his bag. You frown, wondering what he's hiding from you, when he turns to you with that damn distracting smirk on his face.

"Nothing important, milaya. Were you looking for me? Do you need anything?" He asks and walks over to you, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead tenderly before he wraps his arm around your waist and starts leading you out of the library.

"Your mother was looking for you. She needs babysitters for Ulla again." You say, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his scent. You wrinkle your nose at the familiar scent of burning metal and sweat from his work at the forge. He laughs at your reaction and pulls you closer to him, making sure you don't pull away from him despite everything.

"I know, I need to take a bath. But I hope you will help me?"

"Taking a bath?" You ask suggestively, laughing as he blushes all shyly and looks at you nervously.

"No!" He almost screams and buryes his face in your hair with a groan as you continue to laugh at him. "Taking care of Ulla."

"Always. But first…" you start and reach into his bag. You pick out his sketchbook and run forward, looking for the page he was working on so furiously in the library before you spoke.

“Y/N, no!” Aleksander shouts and runs after you. A few long strides of his, and you’re pinned to the ground by him. You laugh and struggle under him, but your struggle is futile. He quickly rips the sketchbook out of your hands and puts it somewhere safe before he pins your wrists to the ground. "You can't look into it without my permission. It is... personal."

"Sorry, handsome." You say and kiss his blushing cheek. You giggle as he lets go and climbs off of you. Before he can stand up, you snuggle into his back and wrap your arms around him. Your nose brushes his ear as you whisper quietly. "But you're so secretive lately… you know I don't like to not know what's in that pretty little head of yours. If you don't want to talk, then don't, but I just want to know if everything's okay and if there's nothing steaming up under your skull."

"I'm fine… I just... I will tell you in our room in tavern." You nod at his words and grab his hand. He gives you a small smile as you both walk through town, ignoring the looks you get from passersby who witness your little skirmish.

Once you're there, Ulla runs straight to Aleksander, wrapping her little arms tightly around his legs. The little one cries into his pants, sobbing that she thought you had abandoned her. The sight breaks your heart and makes you want to cut Baghra up and roast him into little pieces.

Aleksander abandons his bag and embraces the girl in a tight embrace. He goes to one of the single beds and tries to calm her down, whispering soft words of reassurance into her ear that he will never leave her. You sigh and pick up Aleksander's bag. You put it back on the hanger and briefly consider peeking in.

You abandon the idea and head back to the two of them to join in the group hug. You silently worry about what your "boyfriend" might have come up with. You're afraid it'll be something for your ring finger.

A moment later, as Ulla falls asleep with her head on your lap, Aleksander returns with dinner for the three of you. His sketchbook is tucked under his arm.

"I want to show you something." He whispers and sets the food on the nightstand next to your double bed. He crouches down next to the sinle bed where the two of you are and opens the book. Your heart is beating like crazy, your hands shaking as you take the leather-bound book from him.

"What is this?" You ask, looking closely at the outline of a grand building. It looked almost like a palace.

"I... I know this life isn't one of the best we could have... but it's still one of the best I've ever had. Of course it's all thanks to you and Ulla. I... I have a proposition before me. A very serious one. If I play my cards right, I'd like to build a place for the three of us. And for the other Grisha who are in need of their own safe place. Can you imagine? No more working in some shitty places, no more hiding our identity... it could be really nice, right?"

You sigh, gently placing Ulla's head on the pillow. You take Aleksander's hand and lead him to your bed. You both sit up slowly as you think about everything he's just told you.

"That... would be nice. But... Aleksander, this is a palace. The king would never agree; you know how he feels about us. Tell me you're not getting involved in anything dangerous." You sigh and place your hand on his cheek. He buries his face in your palm and closes his eyes. He wraps his arms around you tightly and presses a kiss to your temple before burying his nose in your hair.

"I'll be fine… but I'm tired of hiding. It's time to come out of the shadows… start using my powers and do something good not only for us, but for the other Grisha. Too many of us have died because of their stupidity."

"And I don't want your name added to that long list. Ulla needs you, and I'd rather have you alive with me, too." You mumble into his neck, holding on to him tighter.

"Is this your way of saying that you love me?" He asks teasingly, drawing patterns on your back with his fingers.

"That's my way of telling you that if you die, I'll find some damn spell or some other way to bring you back to life just so I can skin you for being such an idiot to get yourself killed."You growl quietly so as not to wake up Ulla and pull away from him to look into his eyes. Aleksander swallows, realising how true your words are.

"I'm not leaving you… not on purpose. I will always do everything in my power to come back to you. I promise." He whispers and kisses you sweetly, softly, thus sealing his promise.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you. You fall onto the mattress on your back with him above you and surrender to the blissful feeling of his arms around you.

You try to enjoy this as long as you can.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the door to his cell. Sankta Alina and her king Nikolai have taken pity on him enough to set up cells for him in his former general's quarters. Of course, only after they've thoroughly searched the room. Such a petty act of malice.

You take one deep breath and enter the chamber.

It's dark there. Terribly dark. You can barely see your fingers as you close the door behind you. You reach for the crystal in your pocket and pull it out, holding it like a torch. You mutter the appropriate spell under your breath, and suddenly light emanates from the gem. You sigh as you see Aleksander standing just outside the bars, already staring at you intently.

"Aleksander." You whisper, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling you get from looking at the scars on his face and the fact that he hasn't spoken or made a fucking move yet. Not even for an inch. You doubt if he even blinks once since you entered. The son of a bitch was trying to intimidate you and scare you away. "Did they cut out your tongue?" You scoff, walking up to him and giving him an equally crazy, psychopathic look.

"Will you ever learn how to knock?"

"You seem to be very aware of my presence even before I open this door. Unless you have so many guests here that you simply cannot tear yourself away from these bars?"

"Too much lately." He hisses in irritation through clenched teeth, at which you roll your eyes.

"Hmm… good thing I'm not your guest." You say sarcastically and wave your hand, teleporting one of the chairs from his cell/chamber to the other side of the bars. You sit comfortably in front of him with the light-emitting crystals in your lap and just look at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I guess if I don't do this, you'll never get out of here, so there you go. Why are you here?" He asks after a long moment of silence, sighing as he finally gives up.

"I have been given a task by Their Royal Highnesses." You scoff, watching as the frown on his forehead deepens as he ponders the hidden meaning behind your words. "Aren't you curious what it might be?"

"With their brains? No big deal, I suppose." He mocks them and steps away from the bars. He pours himself a glass of whisky and sits down at a table with maps spread out on it. You raise an eyebrow at how... convenient he is. You don't remember the guest room they assigned you having such comforts.

"Yet they have locked you up here… without powers I suppose? I cannot feel your shadows." You see his fingers tighten angrily around the glass. You make a mental note that this is clearly not a pleasant topic for him.

"Still have that pendant?" He asks, nodding at you when he spots your heart-shaped pendant. You tense up and pull your knees to your chest, blocking his view of the necklace.

"Apparently. Would I be here if I didn't have it?" You answer carefully, fully aware of the game you're playing with Aleksander now. Everything you said was meant to hurt the other, to prove that you weren't impressed at all by being in the other's presence again. Even if you both had some... strong feelings at the sight of the other, you wouldn't admit it.

All that mattered now was who would win and hit the hardest, breaking the mask of indifference that you both tried so hard to keep on your faces... although his eyes tell you a little that your presence here isn't so irritating and indifferent to him at all.

"Of course not. After all you don't have a heart of your own."

You smile, trying not to show how his words really affected you. You internally regret that he went from being the person you trusted with all your worries to someone you wouldn't let see even a glimmer of pain in your eyes.

"Ouch. That hurt. And here I tried to be nice and inform you that for now on I am your guard and I oversee your resocialization process."

"I beg you pardon?" He asks in shock as you casually play with the gem in your hands. Aleksander watches closely as the light from it reflects off your fingers, face, chin, cheeks, lips…

"Just like you heard, honey. We'll be spending more time together again, aren't you happy?" You reply with a mocking smile and watch him carefully, gauging how he reacts to this new message.

"Resocialization? Does the fact that I wanted to help Grisha make me some kind of criminal from Ketterdam?"

"Words of Sankta Alina, not mine. Your ex probably doesn't like you very much. And from what I heard, you started destroying villages. You know who used such practices, right?" At the reference to his mother, he becomes even more gloomy. You get the feeling that if he could still control his shadows, he would at that very moment engulf the room in total darkness.

"Alina is not my ex." He merely comments as he adjusts the fastenings of his all-black kefta.

"My bad."

He stares at you for a long moment. You feel your skin burn where his eyes linger a little longer. You take advantage of that time to watch him too, searching for any slight changes in him since you last saw him.

"You, of all people, are supposed to lead me to the good, righteous path? This is ridiculous." You snort, also amused by the absurdity of this situation. Out of the two of you, N had always been the more... righteous one. Ironically, you were the one who was supposed to dig up the last remnants of his morality.

"Well, for some reason they want you alive. And they want you to cooperate. I'm supposed to be… a go-between in all of this mess."

"More like an infernal messenger of the devil." You smile, shaking your head. Aleksander tries to ignore the slight flutter in his heart and the pleasant warmth spreading through him as he witnesses your smile again.

"You always knew how to give me such beautiful compliments."

"They are desperate, aren't they? Destroying the fold didn't help and now they don't know what to do and want my advice? Tell your masters it's too late now." He says, returning to the main topic. He stands up from the war table, and you see him heading deeper into his chambers, probably his bedroom. With a wave of your hand, you close the door in his face before he has a chance to leave the room.

"You know very well that I have no master over me." You tell him, standing up from the chair as he slowly turns to face you.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you Y/N?" He asks, slowly approaching you. You shiver when you hear your name on his tongue. You clench your hands behind you as he slowly approaches you. The tension in the room is immense as you both stand as close to the bars as you can.

"Well, apparently neither do you." You whisper, trying to ignore the way he smelled so wonderful, how in an instant his closeness and the warmth he radiated made you feel at home again. How much you wanted to sink back into his arms and his sheets…

"Why are you here?" He asks, but is met only by your silence and a cold gaze that almost makes him tremble. "Don't you have other things on your mind? You're not going to tell me that this is only for my sake? I know perfectly well that you wouldn't return if I asked you. So why did you listen to my mother and also bring Ulla?"

"You don't know if I would come back. You never asked." You respond, your voice barely above a quiet purr. There’s a long silence after your words. He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around the bars—dangerously close to your cheek.

"And are you surprised?"

"No. Actually, I am not."

You examine the scars on his face and barely manage to stop yourself from slipping your fingers between the bars and tracing them with your fingertips. Aleksander holds his breath, his lips twitching as he resists any movement under your watchful gaze.

He fights with himself not to reach for you and brush his fingers against your soft, velvety skin, or check that you're actually here in the flesh and not a figment of his imagination. Your sweet scent intoxicates him, reminding him how dangerous you are and that he can't trust you like he did. Which doesn't change the fact that he wants it so much.

"Gently, Ivan." You frown, not understanding what he means.

"What..." You're not allowed to finish. You feel your heartbeat slow down, and you slip into unconsciousness, only noticing the red and black kefta of one of his heartrenders out of the corner of your eye.

Your vision blurs, you slowly fall asleep, and all you can see before you collapse into the heartrender's arms are Aleksander's black eyes.

The son of a bitch ordered one of his men to put you to sleep and carry you out of his cell. Bastard.

[heartnosekid]

Heartnosekid's Stimtober Extravaganza! 🎃🍫👻💀🕯️

i’ve always wanted to create a stim game for the community but never knew where to start! well, halloween is my absolute FAVORITE holiday and i looove autumn so i decided this would be a great time to make one!

feel free to skip prompts or do your own take on certain prompts, do whatever makes you comfortable if you decide to do it!! also please use the tag #heartnosehalloween so i can see all your lovely creations!!!

lastly, for the versus (vs) days, feel free to make a duo stimboard of both topics, or a stimboard that is in any way related to either of the topics [a character, a franchise, a song, etc]!

day 1: halloween / autumn nostalgia! day 2: candied apples vs candy corn! day 3: your favorite spooky / halloween / horror movie! day 4: pumpkins & jack o lanterns! day 5: ghosts vs witches! day 6: your favorite halloweeny color palette! day 7: spooky bugs (fake or real)! day 8: werewolves vs vampires! day 9: something / someone you’d love to dress up as for halloween (doesn’t have to be realistic)! day 10: halloween / autumn foods and/or drinks! day 11: apple cider vs pumpkin spice lattes!  day 12: your favorite cryptid or mythical creature! day 13: spooky pokemon or sanrio! day 14: graveyards vs haunted houses! day 15: your favorite halloween song (can be any song with a spooky vibe)! day 16: potions & cauldrons! day 17: skeletons vs clowns! day 18: your favorite halloween activity (pumpkin carving, halloween parties, decorating, ghost hunting, etc [include multiple if you like!]) day 19: make an uncanny / liminal / weirdcore stimboard! day 20: mushrooms vs fallen leaves! day 21: your favorite halloween candy or candies (or just your favorite treat to receive on halloween)! day 22: your favorite halloween / autumnal plush or toy! day 23: zombies vs aliens! day 24: your favorite spooky book / tv show / comic / anime! day 25: make a stimboard based on your favorite halloweeny animal(s) [like bats, crows, ravens, black cats, spiders, etc]! day 26: folklore vs creepypasta! day 27: your favorite spooky / horror video game! day 28: pumpkin pie vs apple pie! day 29: make a board with all your absolute favorite halloween or autumn gifs! day 30: make a stimboard based on an autumnal festival! day 31: free day! make whatever you would like that is halloweeny / autumnal / spooky! 

EDIT: day 30 has been changed, please refer to this new version!

[goldenspringmornings]

"But in the end, Faery rings and their splendor and riches are hollow, cold replications of the free, full, raw love of life that humans experience." @achaotichuman yesss this!! it's something that's ostensibly missing from acotar but since we're doing all sarah's work for her speculating its far more interesting to say that it is there- just turned on the high fae because the daglan bred that innate sense of Otherness out of them and they're constantly searching for something, anything at all, to replicate it. which would in turn justify (kinda not really) the utm sa in the first book- a very classic if highly fantasized (if we're being nice) version of how that sort of story goes

and if we're accepting that rhys is the strongest high lord (unfortunate) then it's likely because of his Illyrian ancestry- I hadn't given much thought to the lives/magic of the lesser fae in that earlier reblog thread but if they are closer to the native fae magic and cultures of prythian (which does makes sense if the daglan were breeding for "perfection" and thus made the high fae into what they are now) and rhys did just end up hitting the genetic lottery it would explain why he's Like That. he can feel the magic, the life that's missing from half of him, and just has a stronger connection to his magic because he's so constantly aware of it. tho I do agree he wouldn't feel that difference as strongly or deeply as elain or nesta being cauldron-made would and that's why he's so threatened by nesta specifically. she's Other enough, original enough, that her power feels wrong to high fae but rhys is the only one to have even an inkling as to why and be worried about it

we mentioned on the earlier reblog chain that nesta being Made was also kinda of like cleaning an old, festering wound with no anesthesia that ultimately let that wound heal faster. I'd say that it isn't that high fae or even the high lords that feel the difference in the cauldron first- it's the lesser fae like the Illyrians that notice the small changes from pulling the rot out. it's easier for them to see the reversions, to scrape and claw back their history than it would be for the high fae, because they aren't so far removed from it

No one:

Me: hey wouldn't it be fucked up if the fae in acotar, especially the high fae have almost zero biological redundancies? And that's why they're so "perfect"? Because the daglan essentially cultivated them as livestock with what would be the most desirable traits to consume from fae?And now all the fae post invasion are now so far removed from the original indigenous fae population that they are basically husks of what they were?

@goldenspringmornings @achaotichuman @a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire

[violetasteracademic]

Contributing some of the thoughts I've had to the active conversation about the world building laws of mating bonds in SJM's universe!

Here is the very first on page introduction of the *highly* discussed term mate in Sarah J. Maas's world. I think it's quite important to consider both A. The fact that Wyrd, Urd, and The Mother, the creator of Fate and all creation, is the same entity under different names in the three different worlds and B. Prythian is arguably the most popular/read/analyzed series of SJM, but functions as the outlier/rule-breaker when it comes to mates. The chronological development is worth noting:

Our first ever mates in the multiverse are Emrys and Malaki. They are a same sex couple! Mated and husbands. Right off the bat, mates are described as an unbreakable bond, deeper than marriage, that lasted beyond death. Erilea and the world in Throne of Glass, in addition to their gods, is governed by and founded by Wyrd, which is not a word made up by SJM, but the Anglo-Saxon concept of fate:

In Crescent City, we discover a few things. One, that the Fae definition for mates is exactly the same as it is in Throne of Glass. A bond deeper than marriage. However, we also know that the shifters are in fact also the Fae originating from Erilea, and that their mates are their true lovers pre-destined by Urd. Then there are the breeding mates that the Asteri force in the archangels- akin to forcing animals to breed in a zoo.

And of course, the fact that Urd is in fact Wyrd. Who is, in fact, The Mother.

Urd, Wyrd, and the Mother. Fate. Destiny. Not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation.

It is not the Mother's intention to breed. It is the Mother's intention to guide ones fate and destiny. To match true, soul bonded lovers in a connection that lives beyond death. Procreation does not play a role, and there is no particular drive for such things in Throne of Glass or Crescent City. M/M mates set the stage. Crescent City deals with fertility, sterilization, and denounces any living soul being valued or paired for the goal of breeding.

Starfall. Will-o-the-wisps. Souls that stay connected as they journey from one life, one world, to the next.

And then we get to Prythian, where the pattern breaks. And suddenly, mating bonds are not soul bonded pairs. They are not ones true lover. They are, in fact, more in line with what the Asteri have created: breeding animals in a zoo. People who do not love each other are forced to be together. Poor pairs that are not a match on a soul level. A threat of violence if a woman rejects their mate. And even that term, rejection, is one only brought up in Prythian. It brings my attention to another interesting passage in HoFaS:

Consent. Yes, this is talking about consent for the tithe and the giving of power. However, I think it's incredibly noteworthy that the Asteri have a goal of getting around the tricky issue of consent to enact their goals. They have found a way around that on Midgard.

They also are able to force "mates" amongst the archangels without their consent.

How interesting that in Prythian, the one world where the Cauldron lives, the language of creation, the object of the Mother, Urd, Wyrd, and fate has been tampered with by the Asteri, the zoo animal breeding masters, consent is also required for a mating bond.

This does not exist on the other worlds. I believe by the time the Asteri reached Midgard, they figured out a way to circumvent consent not only for taking power, but also, the creation of the Archangels who are brainwashed from a young age to serve the Asteri and give up their consent.

I know a lot of people don't like to have this conversation, because it's a threat to the existing mates on Prythian. Obviously I'm an Elriel, so I don't think that's true. As I believe myself and many others have mentioned before, Elain's mating bond also breaks pattern. She is immediately snapped with her mate the second they lock eyes. This is akin to Rhysand's mother and father, who also had an immediate snap of their mating bond upon first locking eyes.

Rhysand's parents bred the most powerful High Lord in all of Prythian's history. So powerful, that other High Lord's are essentially humans to him.

Nessian and Feysand took time. The female did not experience the bond before she wanted to. They fell in love before accepting the bond. Their souls bonded before their acceptance, and it was a slow, consensual journey into love. This is akin to the other true mates. Ones true lover. A soul matched pair.

These are the genuine written words to differentiate the different kinds of mating bonds. There are different kinds of bonds.

Both the Asteri and the Mother's will live on in the Cauldron. Yes, the mating bonds are affected. But the Mother is not gone from Prythian. She was not erased from the Cauldron. She is governess of worlds. Creatures like Maeve and the Asteri actively interfere with bonds to interfere with the course of fate. These are the stories on the table.

It is wonderful and fascinating and endlessly exciting!

*ps I am still largely on my theory, inbox ask, and SJM scrolling break. I've been mostly living in the writing, poetry, and Agatha All Along tags. But I became violently ill in the middle of the day, then saw there were some great discussions about the mating bonds and Cauldron corrupted theories (I read @wingedblooms and @psychologynerd !) and I've been sitting on my little cluster of thoughts for this forever, so I am in bed doing this 🤣 enjoy! Apologies if I've repeated anything that is already largely out there!

Stay kind out there fam. Please promote positivity in the reblog tags should you feel moved to share!