#cooking pot faerie

[cherry4reblog]

Assorted Faerie Dolls

Space Faerie Doll

Soup Faerie Doll

Jhuidah Faerie Doll 

Jhudora the Dark Faerie Doll 

Faerie Queen Doll 

Illusen Faerie Doll 

Snow Faerie Doll 

Dark Faerie Doll 

Rainbow Fountain Faerie Doll

[neopetsitem]

Assorted Faerie AIM Icons

Source: https://www.drsloth.com/search/?category=14

[ninebaalart]

Jhudiah and Soup Faerie

a different pot than you're used to working with, eh?

[tigris-types]

Yesterday, @starbiology posted that in cannon Neopets lore, Dr. Sloth arrived to Neopia and started creating experimental lifeforms on the empty planet. These lifeforms started to mutate into the Neopets we know today after magic was introduced, and then faeries were later discovered. Faeries are seen as immortal being and on the Neopian Times, Queen Fyora is often used as a stand-in for god. This means that our timeline is Dr. Sloth experiments - magic arrives - Neopets appear - deities/faeries appear.

I think it's safe to say that's deities are created by belief, and in the world of Neopia, "believing" can affect the weather and magic. So Neopets believing in a persona that controlled a force created the faeries, but where did magic originally come from? For that, we look to the stars.

Aishas are a unique neopet as they are the only one that can be painted alien. In their lore, the alien color was actually the original aisha, but they lost the additional ears when they adapted to life on Neopia. Aishas also have phychic abilities and a tie to the mystic arts; they are magical beings.

I propose that alien aishas brought magic to Neopia and created the faeries. Here's how I imagine it happening:

Alien aishas are explorers of the galaxy who come from a matriarchal society. They pray to their patron of stars and safe space travel Mira to guide them on their journey. They have discovered a planet that can sustain life just on the edges of their explorable range. The aishas send a small crew to check it out, but unbeknownst to them, it's under the watch and protection of Dr.Sloth.

He doesn't want anyone messing with his planet wide experiment! He found the planet first! It's his! So he shoots down the incoming ship. The aishas are able to make it to their escape pods and land on Neopia.

But how could this have happened? Were they too far away from their home planet for Mira to protect them? If they were truly out of range of the deity of space travel, could none of their gods help them now? Did they need to pray to new ones? No! That's blasphemy! Accidents happen, they should send out a rescue signal and wait.

So they do. But they find the planet full of hostile lifeforms, monsters of every shape, size, and color! And every time a rescue party gets near to the planet, it gets shot down in a similar manner. They assume it's something in the atmosphere that is breaking up their ships, and they loose faith in their old gods. Dr. Sloth meanwhile leaves his moon base to go investigate where all these ships are coming from as Mira looses her power as the Neopian aishas loose faith in her.

The colony of aishas are trying so hard to survive the monsters. They don't know the deities of the world they are now inhabiting, but they know how to be respectful to them.

They pray to the Mother of Protection so they can fight the monsters at their doors, and a battle faerie comes to aide them.

They pray to the Mother of Survival when their rations and supplies run out, and so a faerie with a cooking pot appears to teach them what can be combined to create something greater than its parts.

They pray to the Mother of Medicine in the winter when they start to fall ill from the cold. So a faerie of healing and snow appears to help them, and disappears when it's spring.

The faerie of survival tells them about neggs, and when they find a fruit that contains all their nutitrial needs, they praise the Mother of Neggs, and a faerie appears to tend to the negg bushes so the aishas will always have something to eat.

And although they have lost faith in their old gods, some rituals still carry over. Losing a tooth is still considered a great milestone that must be honored. The Mother of Milestone is manifested as the tooth faerie that gives money in exchange for teeth, but these aren't the nerkmids that they use as money. Could their be other civilizations on this planet?

As the aishas start to explore the planet to find other civilizations, they take their beliefs with them. They thank Mother Earth for soft grasses, shady trees, and protective caves. They thank Mother River for fresh water and Mother Ocean for a safe seafaring journey, and they thank both for the bounty of fish. They thank Mother Air for fresh breezes and to keep them upwind from the monsters. They thank Mother Fire for keeping the monsters away, and Mother Light for keeping their spirits bright.

But mothers can also be mean and nasty, and mothers can be cruel. They attribute the monsters and their hardships to Mother Decay, a spectral shadowy faerie that lives in our nightmares and can corrupt our minds until we become the monsters attacking our friends.

The aishas know they need protection from Mother Decay when they go to sleep. They need a force in the darkness to help keep them safe from the nightmares when no other mother can reach them, so they pray to Mother Dark for sweet dreams and sanity. Mother Dark may not always be nice, but she will do what no other mother can and make it so we can brave the night.

As the aishas expands, and new faeries start to appear in their settlements, things been a little hectic. No new civilizations have been found yet, and while their own has been more established, these faeries cause just as much help as harm. Magic is a new force that is altering the landscape, but they need it to make sense! Some have even claimed to find a land made out of jelly for faeries sake!

So the leaders pray to the Mother of Order and the Mother of Faeries. "Please" they say, "Please control your children so we may have order in our lives again" and Mother Faerie appears. It manifests as the Queen of all faeries and all must listen to her. Queen Faerie, no, Queen Fyora, whisks the most unruly faeries away to Faerieland so the Aishas can have peace again.

But with the Mother of Order and Civilization making an appearance, civilization is also brought to the monsters that have plagued Neopia. Everywhere the floating city goes, the monsters turn into the Neopets we know today. They start worshipping the faeries too, and the faeries' power grows. The world turns.

Monsters still exist, as the faeries can't solve every problem, but the aishas have neighbors they can trade with now. Some of the monsters can even be tamed and trained for pets or for jobs!

As Neopian society grows and thoughts and feelings change, new faeries take on the mantles of older ones. Faeries become a species of their own and can form relationships, although no one really knows how new faeries are created. They believe they have always been there, and their belief makes it so. Queen Fyora is thought of as the oldest faerie, and their belief makes that true as well. (Eventhough she is technically the youngest of the ancient faeries, but she is the only ancient one who remains in modern Neopia) (Besides Mira and maybe Kari, but idk)

Other notable faeries and how they came to be:

Library Faerie - Mother of Knowledge

Soup Faerie - Mother of Kindness - the current light faerie took over from a faerie with unquie wings that wasn't meeting the community's needs

Bree - Mother of Quests (when society became more modern, neopets got bored and prayed to be given more involved quests than just simple fetch quests, so Bree spawned and created Key Quest)

Kaia - she spawned as a kid, so idk what she would represent. A daughter of Culture perhaps? She can see into the future, so maybe she is the deity of Time who is in training?

Honestly, Kaia confuses me. But I hoped this made sense of how the faeries came to be! I also went for the mother angle to explain why all of them are female. Please let me know what you all think of this!

Oh yeah - faeries can die if no one believes in them, but if their domain is still needed, then a new faerie takes up that same domain. As a side note, that might be why Kari has an apprentice now. Neggs aren't as obtainable as they used to be and are pretty expensive, but they are still useful. Neopians opinions of Neggs are changing, so there is another faerie to represent the current generation of Neopians' thoughts on Neggs.

Same thing with Delina. Modern Neopians know that dark faeries aren't automatically evil, but they don't know what they can help with that isn't evil magic, so a good crafty dark faerie spawned. All dark faeries are crafty, but Delina is DIY crafty instead of magic crafty.

Thank you for reading! I know this was long but it was fun to write, and please excuse any errors as this was written on my phone. Also, please let me know your thoughts on this! If you agree/disagree or if their is some ancient lore that needs to be incorporated in this!

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

🧚❌ with any fairy or tiny oc! i want to see the most brutal things one can do to someone that can fit in the palm of my hand

Nonhuman Whump Emoji Prompts (darker version)

🧚‍♀️ - fairy or tiny ❌ - extreme torture

Author's Notes: I hope this is brutal enough~

For the device imagine something like this, this, this or this video.

Content Warnings: extreme torture, tiny whumpee, faerie whumpee, "not quite immortal but can withstand more than he should be able to because magic" whumpee, crushed, broken bones, unconsciousness, end could be interpreted as witchcraft or cooking (you'll get it when you get there).

----

"No - NO - N-AAAAHHHHHHHH!"

In he goes. Shae thrashes backward with all his strength, but the heavy metal rollers are stronger. They drag him in.

His tiny toes stand no chance, crushed in the machine's ruthless jaws.

Shae screams. He thrashes backwards but it's too late; he's trapped.

The device slows, struggling against an object slightly too big for it. But that object is Shae's body...his slowly broken little feet, then brittle ankles snapped like twigs. No amount of wailing, sobbing, begging, draws an ounce of sympathy from the shadowy figure who watches.

Shae's legs are next. They barely manage to withstand the strain, but his knees aren't so lucky, cracking violently. Shae's whole body jolts and his face twists with a choked scream.

At his hips, the machine jams but doesn't stop. It tries again and again to continue devouring the faerie. The terrible grinding sounds it makes drown out the snap of his hip fracturing; Shae can hardly breathe, let alone cry out. He begins to hyperventilate.

Past its obstacle, the rollers continue turning, clamping down onto his stomach with bruising pressure, squeezing the last breath from him. This, it turns out, is a mercy. His vision quickly darkens and he passes out just in time to miss the shattering of his ribs.

Moments later the machine deposits the faerie's limp, broken body onto the table.

Shae shudders but does not wake. Not when a shadow looms above and fingers pluck him from the surface. Not when he's dropped into a pot of herbs and oils and tossed about.

Not even for what comes next.

[headfulloflettuce]

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

4. The New Routine

Cosette did not die, but she was shocked that her brain was still working. Somewhat. Well, it worked well enough that she was lucid. Cosette had always craved stimulation. Tasks. Challenges. Without them her brain slowed down and she became a shell of the human she was supposed to be.

Life in the palace had turned into a monotonous routine of work, suffering, more pain, and then maybe sleep. (Which was eerily similar to her normal life back home, but at least back home they had teriyaki chicken). She got up each morning and went to the kitchen where she cleaned and sometimes helped to chop vegetables or cook. It was a good day if she got to cook, however also terrible because that meant that Isabella would most likely scream and yell about how she was mixing the vegetables wrong.

Cosette regretted ever complaining about the new doctor working at her hospital because Isabella took the bill and any remaining receipts for the worst psychopath she had to deal with on a daily basis. Forget Eris, she feared this woman way more than Beron - mostly because she rarely encountered Beron. Wouldn’t make sense for the High Lord himself to show up in the kitchen for a midnight snack. No, he would just threaten someone to get it for him instead.

Perhaps she should consider herself lucky; not only did Eris not bother her as she hadn’t seen him since he bought her, but she got to work with the other humans. When they had lunch she chatted with them, talking about the mundane tasks they still had to do, or how they slept the night before. 

‘The floor still needs cleaning’, ‘I have to clean the cabinets’, and ‘Okay’, were the only socially acceptable answers within these conversations. There was a silent agreement to not talk about their lives before this place, which Cosette was very much happy with. She wasn’t exactly sure how she would explain to the humans around her that she was actually from another world.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. 

Cleaning floors was boring. At least when the floors belonged to me I could put in a little effort, but in this situation…Ugh.

“Fern!”

“Yes ma’am?” Cosette sat up, turning to face the head maid. 

“Prince Eris requested you bring his tea today.”

Cosette blinked.

“Well? Don’t keep him waiting! Get a move on.” 

Cosette walked over to the tea tray with the intricate teapot, empty cup and plate filled with sweets. She glanced at the kettle-wait. Why was it empty? 

Cosette turned to the head maid, “Ma’am there is no tea in here.”

“What?”

“There is no te-”

“I heard you the first time, I am not deaf!” Isabella stomped over, looking at the tray, “Diane really has some guts to leave her work half finished.” she muttered under her breath. “Do you know how to make tea, human?”

“What? Oh, yes I do.”

How stupid do you think I am?

“Great, make it. And fast. Don’t tell His Highness that you were the one who prepared it though.” Isabella smirked, “He’d hurl if he knew human hands touched his food.”

Rude.

Cosette nodded, carefully adding some of the tea to the kettle, but paused, smelling it. Something was missing...she grabbed a different tea, one labeled to include citrus, and added it to the pot. Satisfied with the scent, Cosette picked up the tray and left the kitchen.

Cosette walked down the hallways. She still thought all the twists and turns were unnecessary, although she wasn’t getting lost as much as during her first week. Seriously, this had to be a fire safety hazard. Although, the thought of a bunch of faeries screaming and panicking as fire slowly enveloped them felt rather exhilarating.

Cosette shook her head. No. Not exhilarating. That would be a terrible tragedy. The portraits of past High Lords watched her. Cosette stared up at the portraits. 

Damn, the ginger genes were strong in this family. 

Smack!

Cosette stopped in her tracks. That-

“How dare you? You think you can order them around? On what grounds?”

“High Lord please-” a soft voice spoke, being interrupted by another slap.

“You have no authority to give your sons such orders.”

“You’re working them to the bo-”

Another slap.

“To the what? The bone? They are the children of the Autumn Court’s High Lord, they can handle a small challenge.”

“Beron…they could have died…” the voice wept.

Cosette stood glued to her place. Should she go back? Stay?

Smack!

“You will not talk back to me, woman.”

The soft voice wept.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Father.” Eris’s voice interrupted.

“What?” the High Lord’s voice was cold and suppressing.

“The High Fae nobles arrived for the meeting you called regarding the trade routes going to Winter Court.”

 There was a moment of silence, as even the woman who had been crying quieted.

“Very well then.” Beron’s footsteps echoed through the hallway, slowly fading away. 

“Mother-”

“It’s nothing Eris.”

“Let me take a look at your-” Eris’s voice suddenly froze, his voice dropping, “Give me a minute mother, we have a rat near us.” his footsteps began approaching Cosette’s ‘hiding spot’.

Uh-oh.

Cosette tried to play it off as if she just approached the area, but froze when she saw Eris’s expression.

“Is it a hobby of yours to listen in on conversations you aren’t a part of, human?”

Cosette yelped as he grabbed her

“I am going to-”

“Eris!” a woman with beautiful red hair and elegant features stood around the corner. A bruise had clearly begun forming on her left cheek.

“Mother please stay ou-”

“No, put the girl down.” her voice sounded pained, as if the scene itself was stabbing her through the heart.

“But-”

“Now.”

Cosette felt like a cat who was just un-scruffed.

“You must be the human my son purchased.” the woman approached her, “I am the Lady of the Autumn Court.”

Cosette quickly got on the ground. No way she was dying today because she didn’t bow to royalty, or snooped.

“Oh…dear please, you can stand.”

“No mother, she’s right where she belongs, on the ground.”

The Lady gave her son a disapproving look, “Did you bring tea, little human?”

“Yes.” Cosette choked out, “I was told by the head maid to bring it when…”

“When what? You decided to spy on your masters?” Eris snapped.

“Eris…” the Lady rubbed her temple, shaking her head, “Let’s have tea, okay? Like we were supposed to.” The Lady of the Autumn Court took Eris’s hand, leading him to a lounge room. Cosette quietly followed them, keeping my head down.

She carefully set down the tea, turning to leave.

“Who dismissed you?” Eris glared.

His mother sighed, carefully picking up her cup. Eris chugged his drink.

Can he do anything calmly?

Eris set down the tea cup.

“This tea. Who made it?”

“Miss Diane.”

“Do not lie to me.”

Cosette tensed.

“Do you really think I can’t tell the difference between what I am usually served and what you gave me?”

Oh I am sorry Your Highness, I didn’t know you were a tea connoisseur.

“Now, who made this tea?”

“Eris please, you’re scaring the poor girl.”

“Mother, I am asking her a simple question and she has the audacity to lie.”

The Lady of Autumn sipped her tea, clearly unhappy with her son’s tone.

“Now Fern, who made the tea?”

“I did.” Cosette decided she did not feel like prolonging the lying game.

“You-...you made the tea?”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you lying to me again?”

“No.” 

Bro, I lie, you accuse me. I tell you the truth, you accuse me! What is your problem??

Eris hummed, pouring himself another cup of tea. Drinking slowly this time.

“Inform the head maid that from now on you’re responsible for preparing my tea. You’re dismissed.”

Cosette exhaled the moment the lounge’s door closed, her knees almost giving out. She quickly pulled herself together. She should leave before Beron, or someone else decided to come by here.

But seriously, what was that? How could a man treat their family in such a way? She’s his wife for goodness sake. If she wasn’t safe, no one was. 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Eris confessed at one point that his father tortured him. Bro had a very low chance of turning out mentally stable considering all the abuse.

Despite her hatred towards Eris and the Autumn Court, Cosette thought she could at the very least see beyond Eris’s fake exterior, where his true monstrosity and pain lay hidden. Waiting to lay ruin to all that he held in contempt.

Next: Chapter 5 - Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

Back: Chapter 3 - It Was in Fact Not Fine

Masterlist

[sincerelymissatomicbomb]

With Open Arms

One Shot as a gift for @borntobelime who is so sweet and encourages me to keep writing!

Summary: Arturia takes moments throughout her day to admire her loving husband, who always knows what to say and what to do to make her day easier. Just a little snippet into the day in the life of Diarmuid and Arturia’s marriage.

Word Count: 2,801

~~

“I’m home!” Arturia called as she pushed the heavy wooden door with her hips. She set down a bag of groceries before setting her car keys on the cute faery themed key hook that Diarmuid had insisted they get. Slowly, she slipped out of her black kitten heels and settled into her fluffy lion slippers. She exhaled a sigh of relief, although she could handle walking in heels, she was glad to relax her feet.

Arturia could hear the loud bolero music (Diarmuid had heard it once at a Mexican restaurant and he’d fallen in love with the music genre) that came from the kitchen and just by the smell that permeated her lungs she knew Diarmuid was cooking. Another sigh of satisfaction left her glossy lips. Slowly, she walked past the staircase, sliding her feet across the wooden floor until her growling stomach led her to her kitchen.

A smile stretched her lips as she watched him swaying to the music as he stirred a boiling pot. Whatever he was making smelled divine, and although she’d had a snack he prepared for her just before she left work, she was already starving. Still she watched as he danced around the kitchen. These little moments filled her heart with the warmth of a hundred suns, making her admire everything about their life together. 

Diarmuid turned to grab a knife from the knife stand next to the sink. He jumped as a yelp left his mouth. “Artie! Wh-when did you get home?” He brought a hand to calm his beating heart…

Read on: AO3/FF.net

[witchvvolf]

might hit 20k tomorrow (im wailing over this draft thus far)

text & tags below the cut!

She smelled incense. Frankincense and Myrrh. It reminded her just a little bit of home, when her mother would burn the sticks herself during their bath times.

Maybe her mother thought that if she made a ritual out of lighting the stick and washing her children, the water would be holy enough to wash away any impurities. Or maybe she just liked the smell. Her fingers reach for her hair, which she straightened and braided the night before. It was now in a cascade of black down her back. The ends are silky, it smells like lavender.

Washday was every Sunday after service. They would hear the word of God and go home to be cleansed further, enjoy a meal of pot roast that had been cooking all day in the oven, say prayers before bed. She didn’t realize how much she misses the routine until now. Washday was whenever she felt it should be.

forrest faery tags to @coffeeandcalligraphy and @thewardenofwinter

lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!

[sga-owns-my-soul]

Getting To Know You Tag

i was tagged by @spurious !! thanks!!

Relationship status: lmao single but also technically it's complicated 😂 i guess the most accurate description is a queer platonic relationship? except he's not actually queer so 😅 (at least he doesn't identify as queer) we live together and are spending our lives together so take from that what you will 🤷‍♀️😂

Favourite colour: it's a tie between blue and pink!! deep blues or teals specifically, and any shade of pink bc pink is the Superior Colour and everyone and everything looks good in it

Favourite food: oh man i have no clue 😭 it really depends on my mood, carbs of any sort tho usually!

Song stuck in my head: skip the step by brain falduto (wow shocker it's brain falduto 😂) i've been playing it so much recently bc it gives me strong mcshep vibes

Last thing you Googled: christopher judge (don't even remember why but he's great so valid)

Time: 1925 (7:25pm)

Dream trip: ireland 😍😍😍😍 or new zealand, but i wanna move to new zealand so i'm not really counting that as a trip. but god i wanna go to ireland SO badly

Last thing you read: i'm currently rereading O I Think We Should Be Brethren (Live Oak #4) because it's one of my favourite fics and @spurious did an AMAZING job of writing john in it im obsessed

Last book you enjoyed: the last actual physical book i read and enjoyed was probably the ballad of songbirds and snakes by suzanne collins, the prequel to the hunger games trilogy. absolutely incredible 10/10 i loved it

Favourite thing to cook/bake: i hate cooking and baking 😅 i guess a crock pot stew cause i can dump everything in a pot, turn it on low for 8 hours and call it a day 😂

Favourite craft to do in your free time: does writing count as a craft? if it does then writing 😂 if not uhhhh idk i spend most of my free time reading or writing lately

Most niche dislike: this is a good question! corporate pet retail i think honesty. i've been working in the pet industry over 5 years and it's actually super disgusting how common neglect and abuse is. fuck petsmart and petland and any other retail store that sells live animals! adopt don't shop!!!

Opinion on circuses: i've never gone to one but i'm against most things that involve animal captivity so i'm gonna say a vague negative opinion

Do you have any sense of direction: no i have a terrible sense of direction 😂😂 it's better than when i was a kid but still shit

no pressure tags: @the-mushroom-faerie @books-space-things @frostysfrenzy @chaniis-atlantis @hero-in-waiting @stinalotte and anyone else who wants to!!

[miniaturemoonheart]

Litha

Yummy food suggestions for your celebration

Traditional fare includes bread, cheese, edible flowers, citrus fruit, mead, wine, milk, ale and vegetables. More recipes are offered in Pagan Celebration of Midsummer/Litha – the Summer Solstice.

Faerie’s Kiss:

Shake together 2ces each white Crème de Cacao and white Crème de Menthe and 4 ounces cold milk. Pour over ice chips. Garnish with mint leaves and Maraschino cherries.

Non-alcoholic version: Blend 1 cup chocolate milk and 1/2 teaspoon mint extract.

Rock Cornish Game Hen with Tarragon: 1/2 cup margarine in sauce pan. Add 1/2 cup dry white wine and 1-1/2 tablespoon crumbled dried tarragon. Simmer for five minutes. Put 4 ( 1 pound) Rock Cornish Game hens into baking pan. Pour wine sauce over. Roast at 375 degrees for about 1 hour or until done, when juices, when pricked, run clear, basting frequently. Serve with wild rice.

Sautéed Carrots and Pecans: Sl1 pound carrots diagonally and gently boil until crisp. Drain and set aside. Melt 2 tablespoons margarine. Add 1/2 cup chopped pecans, 1 teaspoon sugar and carrots. Mix well. Sauté until carrots are golden.

Penne with Blue Cheese: Cook the 1 popenne until done and drain. Return to pot. Add 6 ounces crumbled bleu cheese, 4 ounces margarine and 1/4 cup sliced Kalamata olives to the penne. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until cheese is melted and ingredients are blended. Serve immediately.

Summer Salad: Toss together 1/2 poundh sliced raw pea pods, thinly sliced raw mushrooms, sliced cucumbers or zucchini, sliced radishes, 1 (16 ounce) can sliced artichoke hearts and 1/4 cup slivered almonds. Dressing: Blend together 1/4 cup olive oil, 2 tablespoons freshly-squeezed lemon juice, 1/2 teaspoon honey mustard and a pinch of coarsely-ground black pepper. Refrigerate dressing overnight.

Citrus/Blueberry Compote: Blend toget1/2 cup water, 2 tablespoons marigold petals, 1/2 cup sugar and 1 teaspoon grated lemon rind. Boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Cool. Combine 1 1/2 cups each orange, lime and tangerine slices and 2 cups blueberries. Pour water mixture over fruit and chill overnight. Serve over lemon angel food cake

Feast of Faeries: Afterglow Celebration

Relax after dining on fine food and drink. Contemplate the personal power within your Higher Self. Reflect on the symbolism of the Sun and the Divine guidance that is given.

Recognize that that the power of Summer is the gift of attaining all that you want to manifest, through the grace of the Divine, is yours to bring into fruition now. Thank the Fae for their gifts. Abundance will be yours.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Gifts Of The Dawn | Smith of Wootton Major

for @polyshipweek

searchingforserendipity

Alf stays, Ned travels, Nell crowns herself; the Queen of Faery sends her regards.

It happened at last that, after many tiresome meetings spread out over the tiresome winter months, it was decided by the wise and influential of the village that the Great Hall of Wootton Major would be repaired, and added to, and honored with the making of a mathom house.

Behind them was a remarkably cold season, with long storms of hail and howling winds sweeping in across the shivering evergreens from the far mountainsides. Several ancient personages of their group had sadly perished, and bequeathed to the village small collections of old tomes and porcelain crockery and cedarwood chests and windows of painted glass, with few or no interested heirs to step forward and claim them.

The Great Hall it would be; it was Wootton Major's place of pride and common life, and by far the prettiest. Indeed, none thought to dream of a better place to have as a depository of local treasures than those rooms, those painted ceilings and high pillars with their comfortable smells of old resin, burnt sugar and history. On the whole, excepting such unpleasant and rather jealous comments as spoken by one Nokes, regarding the governance of the Great Hall and how it had been done in the days of his paltry rule, this measure was much appreciated by the villagers, many of whom who had longed for a glimpse at the few fine things to be had around their small part of the world.

To that end, it was decided that the constructions would make use of the coming good weather. By March there was much sawing of things and wood-dust every which way, carpenters coming from as far as Wootton-By-The-Water, and of course, it was no place for anyone to stay at in those conditions. None of the many inquiring, overly interested souls of Wootton Major and Wootton Minor and even far Wootton-by-the-Water would have found much wonder at, when the Master Cook moved into the Smiths West-facing guest room for the duration of the great works, and never quite got around returning to the cramped quarters by the Great Halls' Kitchens.

If any of the gossips of the village remembered a time when Alf, called Prentice by some still (though, it had to be said, not by many, time having that curious quality of erasing old names with the old seasons) had not been so often seen outside the Great Hall and among particular friends, that faded from recall with curious swiftness. It had become so common a thing, after the months of the freezing, and the thawing, and the first greening of the land.

Of an evening the smells of his cooking wafted marvelously over the village, from Nell Smith's self-made copper pots; and if anyone had a remark to make it was to comment on how fortunate the Smiths were to have such a kindly lodger, that kept their threshold well-swept unasked for, and liked and was liked by their children so well. Very often one saw Alf the Master Cook carry Mrs. Smith's grocery baskets and pails of ore, or sitting by the forge while Smith worked the hammer and the pliers, and sang his work songs.

Then Alf would join his voice to his, and all those that chanced the path were likely to hover by the great oak-and-iron doors of the smithy, listening as if enthralled to a music that was both familiar and entirely thrilling to the heart, potent enough to call the children from their play, and raise the fine hairs on the back of the sternest matrons' veiled necks.

Spring, too, was the season of Starbrow's travels.

Seldom did Smith meet anyone in his wanderings. But he brought gifts, sometimes: golden brooches left by the side of the desire path up a long slope, as if dropped and forgotten. Rings of garnet and emerald winking slyly near where his head rested for the night while crossing a forest of low, purple ferns - fine, fine chains of gold all threaded and braided together, lined with engraved coins from lands long forgotten, his own land perhaps, brought to him upon the beaks of shimmering dawn-birds.

He held them up to the brightening morning light, or against the the stars clustered around the hem of the sky close enough to cast the last of their warmth over the dew; and he wondered greatly.

There had been tokens of Faery left for him on his way, in some dire times, in the form of heavy boughs of fruits and fruit when his journeys took him through paths lined with many hungry nights. This was not that. Smith knew without needing to be told - for Starbrow he was, and to be the star on one's brow is a right only of the righteous and generous of heart - that the gifts of gold were not to have these things on his own, but burdens to carry as the postmen brought his missives.

He hid and cared for them without greed, folded inside the kerchiefs Nell embroidered for him, and brought them out again only by the light of the fire under the roof of the house he had built.

Nell, who kept the smithy working well while he was away, was no less charmed by the care and craft put into the making of such things than he was. Strange were the irons and golds, lovely almost beyond bearing the refraction of light cast over the walls and their own faces when the jewels were turned to the light this way and that.

For his part, Alf watched them from the wicker chair that had become his own, listening to the conversation of their wonder as if it, too, became his own marvel and disquiet in the listening.

The fire's light and the light of the jewels caught upon the queer eagerness in Alf's eyes, over the angle of bone and sinew, and there settled, and made what was a common guise quite beautiful. No shadow lingered upon the unchanging fairness of his hair.

As ever Smith could not look at him too much without fearing to cause insult or strangeness, though he wished to do it very much. Then he thought to himself that he had not know as much as he had thought he knew, after his years and his travels, if he found only now that it was possible for a person to be very like a jewel, and have many faces, and all with the same changeling light.

But it was him, of course, not so changed after all but only a little revealed. Alf, so often gentle and good-humoured and distant, gleamed with a rare, peculiar brightness when Nell at last laughed and pinned her shawl with the silver brooch, gold coins singing over her ears and shining over her greying hair; and he would not cease the silent and pressing entreaty of his watching, until Smith relented, and allowed him to line princely signets of carved steel and polished jewels over the old burns and marks that littered his large fingers.

"I am only sorry not to bring you letters from the Lady," said Smith, stumbling a little on his tongue.

He was weary from his travels, and a little dazed from all the glittering of gold, grave in his heart with a growing understanding and a growing wonder. For all Nell teased him for being too shy of the things left said and unsaid by their own hearth, some words seemed still too large to be spoken inside the walls of their neat and well-furnished, their simple and homely house.

Your Queen, it should be. Certainly that would not be untrue; but not quite right, either. Alf and the Faery Queen were most particular about precision in word-craft, never more so when it seemed a light thing lightly said.

"The birds tell enough tales, and far too much gossip," said Alf, and shared with Nell a smiling look that spoke of many a twilight spent in shared company, and many a lesson on the language of the doves and the nightingales. "And the gift is very good; as she knew it would be. Beauty is very like a feast, that loses its value for not being seen and eaten by many, and wins it by being shared."

"My Ned," said brave Nell, and it seemed to him that all the grace and wisdom he had known under the crown on her brow in her shone in her eyes, as bright and stalwart a light as ever his star had been to him. "I do not say we must be gracious as hosts are in the receiving of mighty presents, for in friendship there are no such concerns. But is this not the season for the hoarding of treasures? And yet I would gladly say: our Ned, and welcome beauty where it can be found, in your tales of wonders; and in our own small tale as well I daresay."

"You are wise, my Nell," said Smith, slowly and with care. "Still I could not well say to a guest, Be welcome, and play the generous host; when 'tis I that return to joy from joy, and the gifts I carry are too great, and not mine to own."

"More you might yet receive," said Alf, the King of Faery with no shadow upon him. "If you wished it. Starbrow, how far you have gone! And how well it is that you are returned. So do I know the joy of the Road, and the joy of the return besides. By these gifts I know I can say so in truth, and that Nell may have all her gladness; for the Lady too would have you own joy as I do, in full measure altogether."

Smith did not say more, only stepped forward. Many embraces had he had from friends and family, and the dearest one from his wife. But he had had not this one welcome, as dearly longed for in the secret quiet of his heart.

There under the roof of the house by the smithy Master Cook kissed him his cheeks, and his beringed hands, and upon the mouth; and smiling that gleaming smile stroked the weariness from his brow. And Ned of Wootton Major, who was after all a righteous traveler, most beloved of all travelers that ventured into Faery before or since, kissed them both in reply; until the fire in the hearth was long gone to embers, and all the messages from the Queen that dances in the meadows were all properly delivered and perused at leisure.

[cruelprincae]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

Black eyes rimmed in gold linger upon the silver, steaming spoon, filled to the brim with a liquid in the shade of tinted wine ― though, if one were to ask Cardan, chances are that his fiance is not actually cooking wine. Alas, the weather outside has worn out of its summer breeze, instead giving way to stormy clouds and a chilly atmosphere and a spoonful of a steaming concoction is more than ideal ― particularly since it has been more than a handful of hours since the Prince has had anything occupying his stomach, and even though the Folk can go days at an end without the necessity to eat, leading a mortal life with his mortal soon-to-be husband has put the Fae in a plethora of mortal habits.

Long and slender arms wrap around the small of the writer's waist and his tail comes to coil around one of his thighs as Cardan leans forward and engulfs the spoon with his mouth, scooping up the concoction and swallowing it down his throat in mere seconds. By the time he releases the spoon, his breath travels in a mist of cloud ― warm, even in the balanced temperature of the room ― and his throat has a burning, sweet feeling as the spoonful travels down his oesophagus. It tastes perfect, is the first thought in the Prince's mind, alas, he expects nothing less from the writer, for everything he does tends to reach perfection ― from his cooking to the way he treats his family.

❛ It is splendid, ❜ Hums the Prince with an approving nod of his head before moving his chin to rest upon the wild shoulder of the human, finding comfort in the warmth of his body pressed against his own. Moving to plant a tender kiss upon the crook of his throat, Cardan's gaze shifts to the pot that is currently brewing atop of the stove, radiating an aroma as lovely as the finest delicacies found in a Faerie revel. ❛ What are you preparing, my love ? It tasted far too fine for me not to inquire further about it. ❜

[ninebaalart]

Jhuidah Y2K

had to give the cooking pot faerie some 2000s era drip and holographic stickers since illusen and taelia got some

[magpie-trinkets]

The scent of homey broth floats about in a quaint little kitchen. The light of the early morn filters through the pink, tartan curtains. The pot of soup gurgles calmly, and it's all in all a pretty idyllic scenario for the professor to find himself in.

You would think that the professor, who we'll be calling Prof for anonymity's sake, would be looking forward to consuming this soup he himself prepared at an ungodly hour of the dawn. And you would also ask yourself who, in their right mind, would forego sleep to cook soup. After all, if you knew Prof, you'd knew he liked a coffee with toast for breakfast, not a hearty meal that would upset his stomach later. That was just his personal preference. It isn't likely you knew this, but it is important to keep in mind.

To answer your very valid questions, we must first partake in the literary trope of flashback-

Ding-dong!, the doorbell chimes.

Prof rolls his eyes, leaves the ladle inside the pot and checks that his apron is well put. He marches towards his entrance door with the resignation of a man that is familiar with this particular turn of events.

When Prof opens the door he finds himself face to face with a being that, while no human language could ever hope to describe, could be called angelic in nature. The being, as to not torture a man who hasn't had his coffee yet, assumes a more humanoid form.

"Sorry about that." The being says. "I was in a hurry, my boss kept me longer than is usual."

"No need to explain yourself." Prof says as he massages his temples. Witnessing that which shouldn't be seen by mortal eyes leaves something of a headache.

"Still, my apologies." The being insists. "Although I am not familiar with it, my sense of smells is picking up a most delicious scent." They continue, trying and failing to smother their hopeful tone.

"Yeah, yeah, it's almost done."

They both move to Prof's kitchen. After a few minutes, Prof serves the angelic being a bowl of homemade soup, and watches as they all but gulp the broth, burning temperature be damned. Going off their expression, it was a delicious meal.

"Okay, now for my end of the deal." The being starts. "My boss has a most scandalous collection of human music posters."

This heavenly secret is promptly absorbed and deemed 'irrelevant' by Prof.

"Neat, I guess." He says. "What music does your boss enjoy?"

The being strokes their chin in thought. "I think you humans call it 'Myne Alchemic Amours'?"

"Ah. Well, thank you for revealing that secret. I'm expecting a faerie next, if you don't mind...?" Prof says. He doesn't understand why some supernatural entities are early risers. One day he'll ask.

"Oh, right! Sorry for keeping you. I do have a question, though. When is the demonic part of your contract supposed to arrive?" The being asks.

"Nope, not telling you so that you can smite them. It's against the contract." Prof explains for the nth time. "They made that modification themselves. You should've made one yourself when you had the chance."

"Well," the angel starts, "it's not everyday a human bungles up a contract so stupendously, that he not only manages to escape eternal punishment but is benefitted by multiple and even opposing parties!"

Prof groans. "I think having to prepare soup at 6 in the morning is punishment enough for me."

Thanks to a typo in the contract, the professor gained complete mastery of all the knowledge in the heavens and the earth, in exchange for his soup.

[grobleen]

crosspaint paint brush, when?

[taking-thyme]

✨Aesthetics✨ For different Types of Witches

Weather Witch

☔ Accidentally summons weather with their feelings

☔ You or your Storm Deities summon weather at almost every major event 

☔ *Dramatically looks up at the sky* A storm in coming

☔ Has a million different jars on the windowsill for rain water

☔ Saying Hi to your storm deities whenever you hear thunder

☔ Dresses in weather-related motifs for the fun of it

☔ Genuinely annoyed when it’s too hot

☔ Has almost single handedly been keeping their hometown out of drought with all the rain they summon

☔Gets very worried when it snows later in the season

☔ Probably talk too loud

☔ Very protective 

☔ Not afraid to curse people

Stitch Witch

🧵 Sews magic into everything they make (literally)

🧵 Constantly enchanting their clothes and jewelry

🧵 Probably makes the coziest quilts ever

🧵 Will sew a quilt for nightmare free sleep

🧵 Always trying new crochet and sewing projects

🧵 A natural caretaker who loves helping people

🧵 Knows color symbolism like the back of their hand

🧵 Is always looking for meaning prints on fabrics 

🧵 Has correspondences and meaning for every type or fabric they use

🧵 Puts intent into every stitch

🧵 Talking to your clothes to set intentions for them

🧵 Probably has a really lovely, aesthetically-pleasing home

Kitchen/Hearth Witch

🍳 Their Book of Shadows is basically a cookbook

🍳 Thinks cooking is a love language (it is)

🍳 Hates the idea of cleaning but loves it once they actually start

🍳 Probably an incredibly forgetful witch

🍳 Talks to your home and spirits inside

🍳 Always baking

🍳 Stirring intention into your cooking

🍳 Knows what direction to stir to bring things or dispel them

🍳 Saving egg shells and drying orange peels

🍳 Drying and pressing herbs

🍳 Very impressive herb collection

🍳 Owns a mortar and pestle

Fairy Witch

🍄 Stumbled ass-backwards into a faerie contract

🍄 Things constantly go missing around the house

🍄 Has a garden but rarely needs to maintain it (that’s the fairy’s garden)

🍄 Their plants and garden flourish effortlessly 

🍄 Researching plants that fae like

🍄 Has a million different names and aliases for safety

🍄 Definitely liked Fairies as a kid and now it’s come full circle as an adult

🍄 Researching the different types of fae in their area

🍄 Weird dreams

🍄 So many bees, butterflies, birds and insects around their house

🍄 Never harms spiders

🍄 Lowkey scared of the fae

🍄 I feel like they’d enjoy trying out fun hairstyles

🍄 Suddenly smelling floral scents with no explanation

Death Witch

🪦 Always asks spirits before collecting graveyard dirt

🪦 Possibly Chronically Ill

🪦 Wears the same outfit every single day

🪦 Saves the dirt from dead plant pots

🪦 Always looks forward to when Pomegranates are in season

🪦 Knows the deceased will be well cared for by their deities, which brings them comfort

🪦 Really into taxidermy (it’s like goth stuffed animals)

🪦 Not put off by Vulture Culture or roadkill

🪦 Loves making playlists

🪦 Loves oddities and strange happenings 

🪦 Knows all the local graveyards

🪦 Probably has a favorite grave

🪦 Has already designed their headstone

🪦 Doesn’t fear old age as much as everyone else

🪦 Loves their ancestors and keeps in touch with them even after death