#ingredient: mandrake root

[dunmeshi-would-you-eat]

Touden Party's "Hamburg Steak with Changeling Sauce"

[ad-caelestia]

❌ Curse Correspondences ❌

Crystals:

Agate - for use on a target who has entered a space uninvited, i.e. someone breaking into your home or vehicle

Alexandrite - causes obsession and delusions

Amethyst - causes sensitivity and self-destruction

Astrophyllite - causes those who have died at the hands of another to torment the target from the grave

Diamond - causes blindness, confusion, and disorientation

Diopside - lowers inhibitions and causes secrets to be revealed

Emerald - causes greed, selfishness, and isolation

Flint - causes conflicts

Garnet - leeches energy from a target

Kunzite - induces vulnerability 

Kyanite - used to infiltrate a target’s mind

Meteorite - used as a catalyst in baneful magic

Obsidian - used for general aggressive magic

Onyx - causes nightmares and mental torment, and is used to break up relationships

Opal - used to store negative energy, and then to be given to a target

Ruby - used to focus your intent on a target

Colors:

Black - law, justice, manifestation, sorrow

Red - force, energy, confrontation, jealousy, anger

Greenish Yellow - strife, discord, illness, conflict, jealousy, greed

Magenta - catalyst

Botanicals:

Ague Weed - confusion 

Angelica Root - misery, strife, distress, discord

Asafoetida - drives enemies away

Bayberry - depression

Bindweed - binding

Blackberry Root - distress

Black Salt - misery, strife, distress, discord

Bladderwrack - illness

Bloodroot - substitute for blood

Blueberry - confusion, strife

Boneset - distress, confusion

Cayenne Pepper - anxiety

Chicory - discord

Chili Powder - discord, misery, strife

Cinquefoil - discomfort

Clove - stopping gossip

Cramp Bark - pain, illness

Dogbane - deception

Dragon’s Blood - destruction, strife, misery

Hemlock - discord, sadness

Henbane - illness, discord, melancholy

Jezebel Root - wickedness, ending relationships, punishing unfaithful lovers

Knot Weed - binding

Lemon - sourness, bitterness

Lemon Verbena - a boost of power, ending relationships

Lime - sourness, bitterness

Lobelia - discord

Mace - misery, strife

Mandrake - misery, strife

Mistletoe - isolation, confusion

Mullein - spirit work, nightmares

Mustard Seed - strife, discord

Myrrh - a boost of power

Nightshade (Belladonna) - discord, illness

Onion - strife

Patchouli - illness

Poke Root - confusion, discord

Poppy Seed - discord

Rue - misery

Safflower - destruction

Spanish Moss - bad luck

Slippery Elm - ending relationships

Stinging Nettle - jealousy, envy, discomfort

Sumac - bad luck

Tobacco - a substitute for any baneful herb

Tormentil - distress, harm, discord

Vetiver - silence

Wormwood (Absinthe) - misery, strife

Yew - spirit work

Yohimbe Bark - impotency

Planets:

Mars - power, force, energy, war, conflict, jealousy

Saturn - law, justice, chaos, revenge

Neptune - confusion, illusion, chaos

Pluto - death, mystery, crisis

Lunar Phases:

Waning - binding, banishing

Dark - destruction, banishing, justice

Black - power, manifestation

Taglocks:

Drawings

Photos

The target’s name written on paper

The target’s signature

An item that belongs to the target

Other Ingredients:

Cigarette butts

Broken glass

Razorblades 

Vinegar

Lemon/lime juice

Alcohol

Bones

Needles

Nails

Thorns

Shark teeth

Catfish spines

Murex seashells

Flying Devil Oil

Dead insects

Black sand

Charcoal

Disclaimer: I do not condone the unethical practice of collecting or harvesting animal parts, or forcefully obtaining taglocks. This is just a list of theoretical correspondences and I am not responsible for the actions of others.

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰

[a-araiguma-a]

When a Boy Falls in Love

No one in particular, just a boy from Hogwarts.

Summary: When a man pretends to be in love, he tries to be cheerful, gallant, and attentive. But if he is truly in love, he resembles a sheep.

At Hogwarts, among ancient castles, spells, and magical creatures, there was one such boy. He was in his fifth year and had already mastered many complex spells. Yet, no spell could help him in one tricky situation — when he realized he had fallen in love.

He first noticed her during Potions class. Her hair was always slightly tousled, and she often bit her lip when she was deep in thought. With each lesson, he noticed her more and more, until one day, he realized that his heart started beating faster whenever she was near.

At first, he tried to hide his feelings. Whenever she appeared, he tried to seem cheerful and carefree. But soon, it turned into a real comedy of errors. During one Potions class, when the professor asked the students to brew a complex potion, he decided to help her.

"Hi!" he tried to speak calmly, but his voice trembled slightly. "Need help with... um... weighing the ingredients?"

"Thanks," she replied with a smile. "That’s kind of you."

He nodded and began helping, but his hands betrayed him by shaking. As he weighed the powdered mandrake root, his hand slipped, and most of the powder spilled straight into the cauldron.

"Oops!" he exclaimed, trying to fix the situation. But instead, he only stirred the potion more, causing it to hiss and bubble violently.

"Oh no, be careful!" she stepped back, but her voice remained kind.

"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

After that incident, he resolved to be more careful. But every time he was near her, something went wrong. During one meal in the Great Hall, he decided to sit next to her. He spent a long time trying to find the right words to start a conversation, but when he finally gathered his thoughts and opened his mouth, what came out was:

"Do you... do you like... uh... do you like owls?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Owls? Well, yeah, they’re cute," she replied, laughing. "And you?"

He blushed even more and felt embarrassed, wondering how that sentence had slipped out of his mouth.

Sometimes he tried to be gallant, like in the novels he secretly read. Once, when they were heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he decided to open the door for her but awkwardly got stuck in the doorway, and the door almost slammed shut on his fingers.

"Are you okay?" she asked, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, all good," he replied, quickly pulling his hand away and pretending nothing had happened.

This went on for weeks. He stuttered, tripped, dropped his textbooks, and even once knocked over an ornate vase in the corridor while trying to catch a parchment that had accidentally slipped from her hand.

Throughout all of this, she looked at him with warmth and understanding, though she couldn’t help but smile at times. She saw how hard he was trying, and she even found it endearing, though she didn’t show it immediately.

During a Herbology lesson, they were working together in the greenhouse, repotting mandrakes. He decided to take the initiative and help her dig up the plant.

"I’ll help you with this," he said, bending over the pot.

But as soon as he picked up the trowel, his hand shook, and the soil from the pot spilled all over her. Her robe and hair were covered in clumps of earth.

"Oh, sorry!" he rushed to brush the dirt off her shoulders.

At first, she stood there, surprised, but then she burst into laughter. "It’s okay! It’s just dirt."

However, he continued to apologize throughout the lesson, blushing every time their eyes met.

Another time, they decided to prepare for exams together in the library. He wanted to impress her with his knowledge, but instead, everything went awry.

When she asked him about a spell, he started explaining, but he got tangled up in the terminology and accidentally said the wrong spell out loud. As a result, his quill suddenly shot into the air, scattering ink all over the library.

She tried to suppress her laughter as ink splattered onto her nose.

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" he quickly pulled out his wand and tried to fix it. But now, the ink ended up not only on her but also on the nearby books.

One day after class, they decided to take a walk through the Forbidden Forest to get some fresh air. He, gathering his courage, offered to hold her hand so she wouldn’t trip over the tree roots. But instead, he tripped himself and nearly fell, struggling to keep his balance.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he almost toppled onto her.

She caught his hand and, laughing, said, "Looks like you’re the one who needs help, not me."

They both laughed, and she held his hand tighter, now supporting him.

Despite all his mistakes and awkwardness, he gradually realized that she liked his sincerity. She didn’t laugh at him, but with him, supported him in difficult moments, and never scolded him for his mistakes. And every time he did something wrong, her warm smile helped him regain his confidence.

One day, after class, he gathered all his courage and approached her.

Feeling his voice tremble again, he said, "I... I need to tell you something."

She stopped and looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

"I... I’ve wanted to say this for a while..." He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "I like you. A lot."

She paused for a moment, and then her face lit up with a warm smile.

"I like you too," she said softly.

His heart leaped when she stepped closer and gently kissed him on the cheek. It was a light, almost imperceptible kiss, but to him, it meant the world.

"Maybe we can go to the next Quidditch practice together?" she suggested, smiling.

"Yes, of course!" he replied, his face breaking into a wide grin.

Now, as they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts together, he no longer felt awkward. He no longer stumbled or stuttered. Everything had fallen into place.

[skyrigel]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader ( 1k )

Enemies with benefits, get's smutty later.

It's a misty memory, like swirl of silvery glow when you first saw Mattheo, he was nervous and perhaps that was the first and last time you saw him like that, his shy eyes, his nervous steps, his lips perched in a thin line. He was like any other eleven year old, but then something changed the very next moment.

‘ Slytherin ’ the hat roared, barely even brushing his hair and his lazy mouth curved in a smirk that was forever plastered on his face. His jaw hardened, eyes sharpened, brows arched, everything almost changed except the dark glint of that night and the smile that you had engraved forever in your memory.

People chose soulmates, picked lovers but that night, Mattheo Riddle decided one thing, he's going to hate you so much. You were unaware of his intentions until the next day you found a dead spider in your rucksack. If there were any doubt left, then it became crystal clear when he dropped mandrakes crushed roots in your cauldron, eyes locked with you and by the time you could react, the cauldron bursted into thousand orbs.

All grey became white and black when you spent a month worth in detention with sadist Professor Snape, who made you clean every cauldron with bare hand, made you stock all those sticky vile ingredients in glassy jars.

“ Having fun y/n ? ” Mattheo snarled, Draco on his shoulder and Pancy chewing a gum while she checked you out lazily.

You said nothing, you had no energy to, sweat trickled down your forehead, feeling your hands dirty and uniform ragged, you turned away, hurrying to your dorm.

You decided one thing that night, you were going to hate Mattheo Riddle so much.

_

The potency of Professor's words didn't quite leave you when you stumbled dreamily in the room of requirments, eyes red with insomnia and stomach lurching with only coffee contents you had the luxury of.

“ You look like shit.” Mattheo didn't look up form his textbook, her hands scripting away the ancient text like it was a David Bowie song.

“ Thankyou.” you said, sitting down and opening the potion essay you were due on, Snape was going to kill you.

“ wait—” you jerked you head at his direction, within seconds you shot a hex, flying at him.

He was quick too, like waiting to be noticed by you, ducking the hex away with a swish of his wand.

“ Good morning to you too.” he joked, you were in no mood for jokes. After what his friends and ofcourse him too, did to Hannah.

“ Fuck off. ” you shot another and another, feeling anger boil inside you. He's so selfish, he's so bratty, he's so blemished, he's so—

“ Stupe—”

“ Expelliarmus! ’’ you screamed, beating him and his wand aflew away, a small sound followed with your breath leveling.

It was victory, you had won at last, but then your eyes met with him, he was staring too hard, not blinking, as he was too still, like he was made up of marble.

The stillness broke when he took a step, you blinked and when you opened your eyes again, all the world dropped dead.

Your back hit the wall with thud, your bones crackling with ache, like swindling out of reality, his arms pinning your shoulder back, breath warm on your skin, tingling.

“ wha—”

“ Shhh.” and you were quiet, it was hard not to, his mouth was too close, he was so close and then he looked up, that glint still there, that smile too— before his lips crashed with yours, setting fireworks off.

You have kissed, you knew how it felt, but this wasn't just kiss, it was shearing, it was breaking, it was trembling and all that gone, it was burning, twisting and coiling like snake inside you, this kiss was the one you could fall asleep and wake up to, painful, sinful, sweet and spicy, it was everything at once.

But that's not excuse, you kissed him back, as hungrily as he kissed you, you were pathetic, he kissed you and you what ?! Just gave in !

“ you...you..” you fumbled between words, lip trembling and you dared not look him in the eyes.

“ No.” Mattheo said, he shaked his hand, groaning inside but then his thumb came up, pressing at the corner of your mouth.

And oh, you felt your insides tighten at the sensation, you hated him, you hated yourself.

“ No ? ” you words came shaky and dazed but you didn't care, was it just a dream ? Did you ever thought about kissing Mattheo ? Was it always there in your subconscious mind ? He bullied you all your life and—

All thoughts melted when his mouth connected with yours again, it was better than the last time, like his mouth knew yours all his life. While the first one was like there's no time, this is it, like storm, this was slow and sweet, like pouring rain, like there were lifetimes waiting for you and him.

And then you found yourself fighting his tongue, his hands were hesitant, resting at the either sides of your face, you had yours thrown up, pressed on the wall, knuckles scrapping against the wood.

And Mattheo was loud, who could have tell that for a boy who walked like feather, all graceful swagger and hard jaw. Merlin, he kissed so good. His body was sending heat waves, like a furnace, his warmth radiated inside your body and each sound that he made low in his chest was enough to release the tension building inside you.

He pulled away, breathing hard but that wasn't the hardest thing about him. You tore your gaze away from his trousers, tenting at his middle, his desire in proof.

“ I...” He sighed, covering his face, flushed and red and that would the second time you saw Mattheo like that.

“ Come here tommorow, same time.” he said, not bothering to look back at you, stumbling footsteps that echoed after him, shy eyes and swollen beaming lips, having a smear of your lip gloss.

Everything was grey, again.

[tasteslikefridge]

[mod] better ingredient thumbnails

fed up of hardly visible harvestables in your sim's inventory? don't want your pears in pairs? this mod replaces the autogenerated thumbnails for ingredients with custom ones that more closely match the produce. includes fixes for 29 base game, expansion, and store ingredient thumbnails. DOWNLOAD (SFS) details under the cut:

tiny thumbnails replaced with close-ups

off-centre thumbnails re-aligned

single ingredients (pears, berries, peaches, etc.) no longer show up as multiples

no more clipping/cropping issues with the mandrake, wolfsbane, and carrot

mandrake thumbnail now depicts the harvestable root, not the flower

egg replaced with more egg-shaped sims 4 version

pecan and cocoa thumbnails replaced with more easily identifiable images

INSTALLATION place the file in your packages folder (not overrides).

you don't need to have all the harvestables installed for this mod to work. it shouldn't conflict with any default override plants, though the thumbnail won't match if the look of the harvestable is changed.

[barszcz-czerwony-i-biali]

Episode Two: Dungeon Meshi is it Kosher

So I looked up mandrakes and turns out like the city of Sioux Falls, it's real I just thought TV made it up. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I learned a ton about them so naturally I will info dump everything

In the Tanakh they were seen as a plant that would help increase fertility. In Bereshit 30:14 the gist of it was that Rachel was like hey Leah give me your mandrakes, you can sleep with Yakov.

(This) alludes to this plant's properties in promoting pregnancy, but the passage seems specifically intended rather to point out that pregnancy is a gift of the Lord, for Leah, who handed over the mandrakes, became pregnant and not Rachel, who received them.

Jewish virtual Library

My question is am I getting this right, did Rachel end up sleeping with Yakov too, or did she just think having the plant would get her pregnant?

I was born through IVF so I won't judge.

Another thing I learned was that the method that Marcielle discusses having learned in school was actually recorded down by Josephus.

They are poisonous but there are people such as this person in Israel who makes them into liqueur

Link Jerusalem Post

Dungeon Meshi Wiki Says we can use Parsnips if you are worried about the poisonous part

Anyway

First Dish : Roast Basilisk

I discussed earlier that the basilisk is not kosher but a roast chicken should suffice.

Mandrake and Basilisk Bacon Omelette

Mandrake (1 med. size)

Basilisk bacon (use the fattiest cuts) (50 grams)

Basilisk egg (1)

Salt and pepper (to taste)

Ketchup (to taste)

For the Basilisk Egg we can use a chicken egg and for the bacon there are many things we can use such as any kosher bacon product, shiitake mushrooms are also a good substitute.

So Irl Kakiage is prepared by taking clumps of either a shellfish such as shrimp, dipping it into tempura and frying to create a sort of fritter or pancake.

These are often made vegetarian by substituting the shellfish with ingredients such as carrot, burdock root, and onion.

They look quite similar to latkes made using grated potatoes

[astra-ravana]

Astra's List of Baneful Components

I hope to make this list as comprehensive as possible and will be adding to it whenever I discover something new. If anyone has any suggestions for things that should be added, please let me know. 🖤

Herbs/Plants

• Bloodroot- Substitutes blood

• Jezebel Root- Wickedness, ending relationships, punishing cheaters

• Bindweed- Binding, ensnaring

• Dogbane- Deception

• Rue- Misery

• Saffron- Destruction

• Lemon- Sourness/bitterness, reveals damaging truths

• Lemon Verbena- a boost of power, ending relationships

• Lime- Sourness/bitterness, encourages deceit

• Lobelia- Discord

• Hemlock- Discord, sadness

• Spanish Moss- Bad luck

• Vertiver- Silence

• Mace- Misery, strife

• Slippery Elm- Bad luck, negativity

• Bittersweet- Loss, sadness

• Mandrake- Misery, strife

• Mistletoe- Isolation, confusion

• Wormwood- Delusion, misery, strife, madness

• Sumac- Bad luck, negativity

• Mullein- Spirit work, nightmares

• Patchouli- Illness

• Mustard Seed- Strife, discord

• Hemlock- Destroys sex drive, break ups

• Poke Root- Confusion, upset

• Blackberry Root- Distress

• Myrrh- A boost of power

• Tobacco- Subs any baneful herb

• Belladonna- Discord, conflict, illness, suffering

• Cinquefoil- Discomfort

• Ague Weed- Confusion

• Blueberry- Confusion

• Cloves- Domination, stops gossip

• Stinging Nettle- Jealousy, discomfort

• Cramp Bark- Pain, illness

• Licorice Root- Domination

• Tormentil- Distress, harm

• Asafoetida- Drives enemies away

• Henbane- Emotional instability, melancholy, storms, spirit work

• Hot Peppers- Anger, fighting, discord

• Blackthorn- Illness, bad omens

• Elder- Suffering, spirit work

• Dittany- Mistakes, setbacks, depression

• Garlic- Disgust and repulsion

• Yew- Spirit work, destruction

• Onion- Disconnects relationships, strife

• Poppy Seeds- Intoxication, confusion, discord

• Foxglove- Manipulation, heartbreak, devastation

• Alum- Stops communication and speech, impotence

• Wolfsbain- Madness, loneliness, rage

• Knotweed- Binding, trapping

• Black Pepper- Revealing the truth, binding

• Green Apple- Unrequited love

• Radish- Sexual shame, STDs, infidelity

• Yohimbe Bark- Impotency

• Chicory- Discord

• Agrimony- Return to sender

• Datura- Psychic attack, nightmares, misery

• Bay Berry- Depression

• Angelica Root- Misery, strife, distress, discord

• Dragon's Blood- Destruction, pain, misery

• Chili Powder- Anxiety

• Bladderwrack- Illness, weakness

• Boneset- Distress, confusion

• Black Locust/Hawthorne Thorns- Struggle, agony, injuries, wounds

• Calamus- Control, domination, commanding, compelling

• Cocoa- Bitterness

• Black Mustard Seed- Confusion, discord, non-stop trouble

• Sumac- Discomfort, bad luck, painful lessons

• Willow Bark- A dose of their own medicine

• Stagger Weed- Disabling, trips them up

• Bar Berry- Stops progress

• Black Nightshade- Sickness, depression

• Oleander- Devastation, silence, doom

Crystals

• Opal- Amplifies negative energy (Black Opal works best)

• Ruby- Focuses intent on target

• Malachite- Anxiety, fear, cowardice, nausea

• Peridot- Confusion

• Obsidian- Reveal their darkness

• Petrified Wood- Ruin, abandonment

• Clear Quartz- Amplifier and energy holder

• Black Moonstone- Deceit, distrust, confusion, paranoia

• Onyx- Breakups, loss

• Amethyst- Self destruction, nightmares, paranoia

• Garnet- Siphons target's energy, steal their love/friends

• Diopside- Reveals a target's true colors

• Bloodstone- Sucks the life force from enemies, chaos, frailty

• Carnelian- Pain, anger, rage

• Black Quartz- Darkness

• Sardonyx- Return to sender

• Jet- Cloud their vision/blind them

• Serpentine- Illness, unsteady ground, mishaps

• Jade- Domination, control, manipulation

• Amber- Trapping, cause obstacles and setbacks

• Hematite- Negativity

Misc. Ingredients

• Salt- Painful cleansing, salt in their wounds

• Sulphur- Stops plans, causes harm

• Alcohol- Makes the work last

• Vinegar- Souring, dissolves relationships

• Pins/Needles- Pain and agony

• Thumbtacks- Makes the work stick in them

• Razor Blades- Sadistic actions, sharp words

• Broken Glass- Cut ties, emotional wounds

• Scorpions- Betrayal

• Spiders- Danger, ensnarement

• Wasps- Punishment, non-stop pain

• Grave Dirt- Enlists spirit's help

• Snakeskin- Removes them from your path

• Cigarette Butts- Snuff their will

• Thorns- Annoyance, pain

• Dog/Cat Poop- Rottenness, depression, life stinks

• Sticker Burs- Crippling emotional shock

• Spiderwebs- Crossing, binding

• Coffin Nails- Stay home, withdrawal, binding

• Lead- Weigh them down, make them late

• Black Salt- Misery, strife, banishment

• Dog Hair- Agression, combat

• Cat Hair- Passive-Aggression, conflict

• Bad Water- Stagnation, depression, illness

• Murder Scene Dirt- Crimes, complete ruin, terror, demise

• Nails- Binding, pain

• Thumb Tacks- Pain, discomfort

• Broken Glass- Disaster, accidents, injury, pain

• Blood- Longevity, boosts curse power

• War Water- Chaos, psychic warfare, banishing

• Razor/Barbed Wire- Pain, restriction, loss of freedom

• Fish Bones- Decay, bad reputation, loss of friendships

• Moths- Fragility, tunnel vision A

• Goofer Dust- Crossing, misfortune, illness

• Bone Ash- Instability, weakness, demise

• Storm Water- Destruction, upheaval, chaos

• Potato Eyes- Rot, loss of control, sickness

• Cat Claws- Helps curse cling to target, sudden agony

• Egg Shells- Breaks down barriers and boundaries

• Ants/Ant Hill Dirt- Annoyance, overwhelming, banishing

• Hospital Dirt- Illness and injury

• Bullets- Devastation, destruction, suffering, demise

• Iron- Banishing, destruction

• Super Glue- Permanence, binding, damage

[happilychee]

do u write for acno?????

If so, please feed us with acnologia x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻 headcanons, anything ill take it please the people are starved

I haven't considered acno before; he's not really a character I like to explore thaaat much, but I tried lol

these came out pretty angsty bc I really don't think there's a way to survive a relationship with acnologia given how he ends up :(

acnologia x reader headcanons

cw: mentions of child death and injuries; overall angst

♡ probably the only way to have a feasible relationship with acnologia is if you meet him when he's a human. the fiore of 400 years ago is nothing like modern times. it's wild, lush, vibrant, and dangerous. dragons roam freely, not just present but overpowering, and you're a meager human. still, you know you want to help your people in any way you can. you become a healer, and that's how you meet doctor acnologia.

♡ healing is a difficult job, and you spend many sleepless nights in the infirmary with acno mixing potions and balms and salves. you don't miss the way his eyes widen when your fingers brush against his as he hands you the mandrake root. he doesn't miss your tiny smile as his hand ghosts over your lower back when he passes you to weigh ingredients.

♡ it's a quiet relationship that blooms out of solidarity, a shared passion for healing, and dedication. you're both calm people, and despite the daily threat of dragons, you don't think anything could shake your relationship with the logical, ever-rational man working beside you. and yet.

♡ it's a day like any other. except a mother runs in wailing, her child dead in her arms. there's nothing you could have done, not with your healing prowess or with acnologia's medical expertise, because the child was killed by a dragon. you can't stop yourself from cringing at the mangled flesh, the smell of charred skin. acnologia is quiet, and neither of you can say anything to console the woman sobbing on your infirmary floor.

♡ things are different after that. acno doesn't engage you in witty banter or philosophical conversation. he eats less and less. he disappears at night. the work has always been split evenly between the two of you, but now you find yourself measuring ingredients and keeping the books. those were always acno's jobs.

♡ acnologia comes home covered in blood. it's not his. you can tell because it's black. the black blood of a fucking dragon, and suddenly you're dragging him into the back room, tears streaming down your face as you try to get answers from him. his voice is monotone as he confesses. you feel the world spin as the words dragon slayer magic, dragon festival, and dragon king run through your head. still, you patch him up.

♡ the days get longer and the nights shorter. acnologia seems calmer but... more distant. you notice the blood under his fingernails (not his. never his.) and the bags under his eyes, but damn is he good at distracting you. you know you should leave. you know dragon slayer magic is corruptive. you know what acnologia will turn into, but you relish every night that you can hold him close and press kisses to his crown.

♡ you rub salve into the scales that spread across acno's arms and cheeks. he brings you shiny stones and pretty glass. calls them courting gifts. it never fails to make you laugh. you eat more meat for dinner. you don't ask where it's from. you run the front end of the infirmary completely by yourself now, while acno stays in the back and prepares you potions. he doesn’t want to scare the kids that come to see you, and you take it as a sign of his persevering humanity. you start to think that maybe the idyllic life you've built together can go on forever.

♡ all you can think about is how green your village was, before it was consumed by dragon fire. the smoke makes your eyes burn, but you can't move from under the rubble. you can feel the dragon more than see it, its footsteps reverberating in your chest. you shut your eyes, tears streaming down your face, and accept death. but it doesn't come.

♡ your sweet, dear acnologia is unrecognizable. a blur of black and blue that makes the dragon screech in pain. it's quick, it's lethal, and it's terrifying. the dragon is dead, and you're sobbing for all that's changed in the past few years. the way acnologia pulls you out of the rubble isn't human, but it isn't dragon either. he clings to you, caresses your face, his worried words coming out in growls and roars. all you can do is reach up, brush your thumb across his cheek, and smile. it's still him, still your dear acnologia.

♡ you wake up on the outskirts of a town, bandaged roughly. you don't see acnologia for a long, long time after that fateful night. you set up a new infirmary, you treat new patients, you never forget the little boy with a constant sniffle that died in the dragon attack. and you never forget acnologia. in the dead of night, you let yourself imagine him coming home.

♡ it's so similar, you're getting deja vu. the town is burning, and you can barely breathe. you can move this time, though, and you run because you know he's not coming to save you. you make it to the edge of the forest, so close to safety. but a dragon blocks your path. scales dark as night, electric blue markings, and eyes that pierce your very soul.

♡ you fall to your knees and sob. you could never, never run from acnologia, even if it meant the end for you. you only wish that this won't hurt him. you look straight into your beloved's eyes, and you smile. tears streaming down your face, ash covering your cheeks, arms burned and angry red. you've never looked more beautiful. you close your eyes and wait for death. it doesn't come.

[wasabidottie]

There was once a schlatt x witch!reader that was never finished. Like in medieval times. I don't want you to continue it but I'd like to see your take on the idea. (Also, really happy you're back!!)

Must Be the Season of the Witch | Schlatt

a/n: im not familiar with the fic you're talking about so i really hope im not stepping on anyones toes here, but here this is!!! I don't really know much about magic that jazz, but i tried my best. I hope you enjoy my dear lovely anon :))) this is perf for october

The moon hung heavy and pale over the sprawling kingdom, casting a silver glow on the darkened forest. Whispers of the wind stirred the ancient oaks, leaves fluttering like secrets long forgotten. Deep within the heart of the woods, where even the bravest feared to tread, a small cottage nestled between twisted roots and moss-covered stones. Smoke coiled from the chimney, carrying with it the scent of herbs and something faintly sweet—a sure sign that magic lingered here.

Inside, you stood over a worn wooden table, a scattering of dried lavender, mandrake root, and starry-eyed forget-me-nots before you. Your hands moved swiftly, grinding the ingredients into a fine powder with the mortar and pestle, murmuring incantations under your breath. The flicker of candlelight illuminated your focused expression, the shadows dancing across your features.

Tonight was no ordinary night. Word had spread that a man—a loud, brash, and infamous one—was searching for the witch of the woods. You had heard of him. Schlatt, they called him. A brute with a sharp tongue, a quick temper, and a face hidden beneath a wild mess of brown hair and an ever-present smirk. He was trouble. The kind that sauntered into town, drank too much ale, and left a string of broken promises in his wake.

Why he sought you out, you weren’t sure. But the forest, with all its whispered warnings and twisting paths, wouldn’t keep him at bay forever.

A knock—a heavy, impatient knock—shook the door of your cottage. You stilled, your heart skipping a beat. No one dared come this far into the woods at night, not unless they were desperate or foolish. You wiped your hands on your apron, took a steadying breath, and moved toward the door.

When you opened it, there he stood: Schlatt, in all his rough, arrogant glory. His broad frame filled the doorway, his clothes worn but expensive, and his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and frustration. His expression, however, faltered slightly as he took in the sight of you—a witch, but not the haggard, ancient crone he’d likely expected.

“Well, well,” Schlatt drawled, arms crossed over his chest. His voice was as rough as the stories said, but there was a charm to it. “The infamous witch of the woods. Gotta say, you’re not what I had in mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, unphased. “And yet, here you are. At my doorstep. Why?”

He leaned against the doorframe, the smirk growing wider. “I’ve got a bit of a… situation. Thought you could help, considering all the rumors about your powers. Or are those just fairy tales?”

Your gaze narrowed, but curiosity tugged at you. “What kind of situation?”

“Let’s just say,” he said, lowering his voice, “there’s a bit of a curse involved. One I might’ve… earned. And unless you help me break it, things are about to get a lot worse.”

You studied him for a moment. The wind outside seemed to pick up, rustling the trees as if urging you to be cautious. But there was something about this man, something you couldn’t quite place. His cocky exterior didn’t hide the flicker of worry behind his eyes.

“Come inside,” you said finally, stepping aside to let him in. “But know this—whatever curse you’ve earned, breaking it won’t come easy. Or cheap.”

Schlatt shrugged, stepping across the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting it to. But I’m not leaving here cursed, sweetheart. So, what do we start with? Some potions? A little eye of newt?”

You rolled your eyes at his mocking tone. “Sit down and keep that mouth of yours busy with something other than talking. If you want my help, you’ll have to learn patience.”

He sat, the chair creaking under his weight, but the smirk never left his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, patience isn’t exactly my strong suit. But for you, I’ll try.”

The flickering light of the candles cast long shadows, and you could feel the pull of magic in the air, thick and potent. This was no ordinary request. No ordinary curse. And Schlatt, for all his bravado, was no ordinary man.

As you turned back to your herbs, the crackle of magic hummed beneath your fingertips. The room seemed to shrink as Schlatt sat at the table, his heavy presence filling the space with a strange energy. You moved around your cottage, gathering ingredients, casting occasional glances at him. Despite the cocky smile still playing on his lips, there was something beneath it—tension, maybe even unease. You could feel it in the air, hanging thickly between the two of you. Whatever curse had found him was no trivial thing.

“So, what kind of curse are we talking about?” you asked, busying yourself with a jar of blackthorn berries. “You didn’t strike me as the type to dabble in dark magic.”

“Wasn’t exactly my choice,” Schlatt muttered, his hand resting on the table as his fingers drummed against the wood. He hesitated, glancing at you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I might’ve pissed off the wrong kind of people.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to face him fully. “Go on.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how it is. I’ve made some deals—some good, some not so good. This one… well, I didn’t exactly read the fine print. Some old sorcerer—I thought the guy was a fraud—said he could guarantee my success. Didn’t think it’d come with a catch.”

“And what’s the catch?” you pressed, leaning against the table. Your curiosity was piqued now, and the layers of mystery around him seemed to deepen with each word.

Schlatt’s jaw clenched, his smirk fading for the first time since he walked in. “Let’s just say, every time I get close to something—someone important, something I want—it slips away. Starts simple, then gets worse. The curse makes sure I lose it all.” His voice grew quieter, tinged with frustration. “And it’s starting to spread.”

“Spread?” You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head.

He extended his hand, palm up, revealing dark, swirling marks etched into his skin, curling like black vines from his wrist up toward his forearm. They pulsed faintly, as if alive. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the ancient symbols. Curses like this didn’t come from mere sorcerers. This was something older. Something much more dangerous.

“That’s why I’m here,” Schlatt said, eyes meeting yours, for once completely serious. “If I don’t break this soon, it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse.”

You stared at his hand for a moment, feeling the weight of what he’d just revealed. This wasn’t just some reckless deal gone wrong—this was a curse designed to consume everything. A curse meant to ruin him.

“This isn’t some light hex, Schlatt. You’ve been marked by a binding curse—an old one. Whoever cast this knew what they were doing.” You stepped closer, inspecting the dark marks as they seemed to shift and writhe under your gaze. Your hand reaches out, fingers tracing the dark lines under his skin. “It’s already started to take root.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he muttered, pulling his hand back with a frustrated look. “So, can you break it or not?”

You bit your lip, considering. Breaking a curse like this would take more than herbs and potions. It would require an intricate spell, one that carried significant risk for both of you. Not to mention, the magic involved was deeply dangerous—ancient magic always came at a price.

“It won’t be easy,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Or quick. Whoever bound you did so with purpose, and unraveling that kind of magic is delicate work.”

Schlatt leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest again, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I figured as much. But I didn’t come all this way for nothing. You’re the best witch around, right?”

You smirked. “Flattery won’t make this easier.”

“Wasn’t trying to flatter you, sweetheart. Just stating facts.” His grin returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

You turned, grabbing a vial of moonstone dust and a length of silver thread. “If we’re going to start, I’ll need something from you. A piece of your essence to anchor the spell.”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow. “My essence? That sounds ominous.”

“Just a drop of blood,” you replied, holding up a small knife. “Nothing too dramatic.”

He shrugged, rolling up his sleeve and offering his hand. “Alright, if that’s what it takes.”

You pricked his finger, watching a single bead of blood well up. You carefully let it fall into a small bowl before sprinkling the moonstone dust over it. The mixture shimmered, catching the light like stars trapped in water. You muttered a few words, feeling the air grow heavy with magic as the curse’s energy began to stir.

Schlatt watched you closely, his usual bravado giving way to something quieter. “So, how long do you think this is going to take?”

“It depends,” you answered, focusing on the spell. “Curses like this are tied to emotions—loss, regret, fear. The more you resist, the harder it will be to break.”

He was silent for a moment, watching the swirling marks on his arm. “I don’t exactly do regret, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him, catching the fleeting vulnerability in his expression before he masked it again with that cocky smirk. But you knew better now. There was more to Schlatt than he let on—more to this curse, too.

“Everyone has regrets,” you said softly, holding his gaze. “Even you.”

The silence between you was thick with unspoken words, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Schlatt’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, and you could feel the weight of whatever it was he carried. But before either of you could say more, the symbols on his arm flared, glowing with a dark, sinister light.

He winced, gritting his teeth as the curse fought back. You reached out instinctively, placing your hand over the marks, feeling the pulse of dark magic beneath your palm.

“Stay still,” you whispered, your voice low and firm. “I’ve got this.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Schlatt didn’t argue. He stayed silent, watching you work as the room filled with the hum of ancient magic. The dark energy pulsed beneath your palm, fighting against the light of your magic. The swirling marks on Schlatt's arm throbbed, the curse pushing back harder than you anticipated. It wasn’t just trying to remain—this curse was alive in a way that most magic wasn’t. It had intent, and it didn’t want to be broken.

Sweat dotted your brow as you murmured a final incantation, pulling your hand back quickly as a shock of energy ran through your fingertips. The light in the room dimmed, and the symbols on his arm faded back to their inky black, though they still shifted restlessly beneath the surface of his skin.

You took a step back, breathing hard, your eyes wide as you stared at Schlatt. This wasn’t just a binding curse. It was so much worse.

Schlatt looked at you, clearly feeling the change in your demeanor, his brow furrowing. “What’s the matter? You gonna tell me I’m screwed now?”

For a moment, you didn’t respond. Your mind raced, putting together the pieces of what you’d just experienced. This curse was far more complex than any you’d ever encountered. It was crafted by someone powerful—someone who didn’t just want to punish Schlatt. No, this was deeper. Whoever cast this wanted to destroy him, piece by piece, from the inside out.

“This…” you finally began, your voice low, “isn’t something I’ve seen before. It’s not just a curse. It’s a soul-bind.”

Schlatt’s smirk faltered. “A what now?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “A soul-bind is… well, it’s one of the most dangerous curses in existence. It latches onto your very essence—your soul. Every loss, every failure, everything that falls apart in your life feeds it. And the more it feeds, the deeper it gets. Eventually… there’s nothing left.”

Schlatt blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Well, damn. That’s dramatic, even for me.”

You glared at him, your frustration mounting. “This isn’t a joke, Schlatt! Whoever did this to you isn’t playing games. They want you to suffer—completely. And unless I can figure out a way to reverse it, you’re on a very short clock.”

He sat up straighter, the smirk gone entirely now. “How short are we talking?”

You didn’t answer immediately. The truth was, you didn’t know how much time he had. The curse was already advanced—the marks had spread halfway up his arm, and if it kept growing…

“You’re not making this easy,” you muttered, turning away to grab more ingredients from your shelves. Part of you wanted to help him—there was a challenge here, something deeply intriguing about the complexity of the curse. But the other part of you, the cautious part, wasn’t so sure.

Why should you help him? Schlatt was an ass. Arrogant, reckless, and brash. He clearly had enemies, powerful ones, and getting involved with someone like him might only bring danger to your doorstep.

“You look like you’re thinking of running off,” Schlatt said, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna back out now, sweetheart.”

You whirled on him, irritation flaring. “Maybe I should. You think this is all about you? That I want to risk my life to save yours? I don’t even know you, and from what I can tell, you’ve made your share of mistakes.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on yours. ���You don’t know the half of it.”

There was something in his tone, something darker and deeper than his usual arrogance. You hesitated, studying him. This man, for all his bravado, was carrying more weight than he let on.

Before you could respond, something strange happened. As you held his gaze, a sudden, sharp jolt of magic crackled through the air. It was as if the curse itself had decided to reveal something—whether to you or to Schlatt, you weren’t sure. But in that moment, you were pulled into something else, like stepping into a memory that wasn’t yours.

The world around you shifted, and for a brief moment, you saw through Schlatt’s eyes.

A crowded tavern, the sound of raucous laughter filling the air. Schlatt was younger, his hair slightly shorter, his face a little less hardened by the world. He was sitting at a table, a mug of ale in his hand, his grin wide as he joked with a group of people around him—friends, maybe. But the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. There was something hollow behind the humor, something darker lingering beneath the surface.

Then the scene shifted again. A different place—this time, a dark alley. Schlatt stood over someone, his expression cold, unrecognizable. The man on the ground was pleading, his voice shaking. Schlatt didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched, his eyes hard and distant, as if whatever was happening didn’t affect him at all.

Another shift, and you saw him standing alone in a lavish room, a drink in his hand. He was staring out a window, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. The room was grand, filled with expensive things, but it felt… empty. The loneliness in his eyes was unmistakable.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the visions ended. You were back in your cottage, the crackling fire and the scent of herbs grounding you once more. Schlatt was still sitting in front of you, watching, though his expression had darkened.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked, his voice low.

You swallowed, shaken by what you’d seen. “The curse… it’s tied to your past. It’s feeding off your guilt, your regrets.”

He scoffed, though the sound lacked its usual confidence. “I told you; I don’t do regrets.”

You met his gaze, not backing down. “Then why did I just see all of that?”

His eyes flickered, the cocky mask slipping for just a moment before he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is, can you fix this?”

You hesitated. Could you? The curse was ancient, powerful, and dangerous. And now that you’d seen part of Schlatt’s past, you weren’t sure how far you were willing to go to help him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “This curse is far worse than I expected. Breaking it could take more than just magic.”

Schlatt’s eyes hardened. “What, then? You gonna leave me to rot?”

You stared at him, torn. There was something about him—something broken and lost beneath all that arrogance. But was it enough to risk everything?

“I’ll help you,” you finally said, though your voice held uncertainty. “But you need to understand—this curse is tied to who you are. If we’re going to break it, you’ll have to face some things. Things you’ve clearly been avoiding for a long time.”

Schlatt was silent for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping back onto his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, “looks like you’re stuck with me.”

[shishibro]

The smell of something delicious stirs you from an uneasy slumber, and you discover that this dwarf found you unconscious on a lower level of the dungeon and nursed you back to health. When you ask him what ingredients he’s using, he plainly states that it’s an omelet made from basilisk egg, meat, and mandrake root. He tells you he’s been cooking with monster parts for years now, and insists that you give it a try. Do you accept his offer? Or do you spot something tastier on display?

Senshi is easily one of the GOATs of anime men, and as soon as I learned how much fan service he gets in the anime and manga, I just had to draw him. This probably won’t be the last time I do, that’s for sure.

You can find the alts (including spicier ones ;3) on my Patreon~ patreon.com/Shishibro

[magickkate]

Today, let's delve into an important aspect of ethical and responsible witchcraft—understanding and avoiding the use of toxic plants and oils in our magical practices. While the natural world offers a vast array of botanical allies for spellcraft and healing, not all plants are safe for human, animal, or environmental health. Join me as we explore the importance of ethical considerations when choosing botanical ingredients and oils for our magical work.

Understanding Toxicity: Ethical and Practical Considerations

Health Hazards:

Human Safety: Some plants contain toxic compounds that can cause skin irritation, allergic reactions, or serious health issues if ingested or absorbed through the skin. It's crucial to prioritize safety when selecting botanical ingredients for spells or rituals.

Environmental Impact:

Ecological Responsibility: Using plants that are endangered or harvested unsustainably contributes to environmental degradation and threatens biodiversity. Responsible witches strive to protect and preserve natural habitats and species.

Plants and Oils to Avoid

Poisonous Plants:

Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade): Known for its toxic berries, belladonna can cause severe poisoning and even death if ingested. Mandrake: While mythologically potent, mandrake roots contain toxic alkaloids that pose risks if mishandled or ingested. Foxglove: Recognized for its beautiful flowers, foxglove contains cardiac glycosides that are poisonous to humans and animals.

Allergenic Oils:

Cinnamon Oil: Highly concentrated cinnamon oil can cause skin irritation or allergic reactions in sensitive individuals. Nutmeg Oil: Ingesting large amounts of nutmeg oil can lead to nausea, dizziness, and other health complications.

Ethical Guidelines for Responsible Witchcraft

Research and Education:

Botanical Knowledge: Educate yourself about the properties and potential risks of plants and oils before incorporating them into your magical practice. Alternative Options: Explore safe, ethical alternatives that align with your intentions and respect the well-being of all living beings.

Sustainable Practices:

Harvesting Practices: If gathering plants from nature, do so responsibly and ethically, ensuring you're not depleting wild populations or disrupting ecosystems. Cultivation: Consider cultivating your own herbs and plants in a sustainable manner, promoting biodiversity and ecological balance.

Choosing Ethical and Safe Alternatives

Herbal Allies:

Lavender: Calming and protective, lavender is safe for various magical uses and promotes relaxation. Rosemary: Known for purification and clarity, rosemary is versatile and safe when used appropriately. Chamomile: Soothing and gentle, chamomile is ideal for spells involving peace, sleep, and healing.

Essential Oils:

Lemon: Uplifting and cleansing, lemon essential oil is safe for aromatherapy and spiritual purification rituals. Frankincense: Sacred and grounding, frankincense essential oil is valued for meditation and spiritual connection.

Final Thoughts:

As practitioners of witchcraft, we have a responsibility to honor the Earth, protect its inhabitants, and practice magic with integrity and mindfulness. By avoiding toxic plants and oils, we uphold ethical principles and promote a harmonious relationship with nature and the spiritual realms.

[dunmeshi-would-you-eat]

Senshi's "Basilik Egg and Mandrake Root Omelet"

[satureja13]

In the evening, after Kiyoshi and Jack finished purifying the Sanctum, Vlad and Jack cared for the animals, Jeb and Kiyoshi cooked... (well, Jeb cooked - and worried about Kiyoshi. He seems to drift away again after Ms Coombes had prohibited any contact between Kiyoshi and Jack. Kiyoshi and Jeb's familiars, Al'ar and Errol, are up to all kind of nonsense, despite the subdued mood. They are letting the cookbook float out of reach (not that Jeb needed it) and swipe the tastiest bits of the ingredients ^^')

... the Boys, Noxee and Barfolomew met outside the Screaming Mandrake for dinner. It hadn't rained all day and they have such a nice evening after all that stress ö.Ö'

Noxee told Saiwa she's going to wake Ji Ho tonight and - if it all goes well, he's supposed to join them for classes tomorrow morning! Noxee: "He'll still be sore, so I suggest to distract him, keep him busy. And try to not adress his feelings or stuff that could upset him. For a while, at least. And when he cries, just let him. It's a lot he has to deal with."

Noxee handed Sai a potion for Ji Ho, to dull his feelings, should it get too overwhelming for him and told them to continue with their yoga/meditation and tantra practise. Saiwa was near to tears: "Oh Noxee - thank you. I shouldn't have delayed seeking help for so long. It's all my fault." Noxee: "Don't be so hard to yourself. Nothing bad happened. The Therapy Game was a success for all of you and Ji Ho will be fine - even more than fine! He has his feelings back! The good ones too. The love!"

They spent the rest of the evening apart from each other. Neither Jack nor Kiyoshi had eaten... Kiyoshi was doing so well yesterday. No matter what Ms Coombes said - Jeb is still sure that Jack does help Kiyoshi to get rooted in their realm and that his quirky demeanor somehow ignites enough interest/attraction in Kiyoshi to drag him out of his demonic/divine spheres - to the here and now. He'll have to talk to the others about this and they need to find a solution. Kiyoshi is of no help for anyone in a state like this. And Jeb is also sure that Kiyoshi isn't happy. And that's what counts for Jeb.

Jack, Saiwa and Vlad went to the Common Room again. Like in the Otherworld, they have no internet here beyond the Veil. Even worse - no electricity either... Jack fell asleep as soon as he touched the sofa and Vlad was playing absent minded the organ. Means: no one there to play games with Sai. He started to read since there was nothing else to do for him. I've never seen Sai read any books, he's always too busy with his fashion and computer stuff. But the Common Room has a great collection of gay romance books. Saiwa is still a virgin and he was hooked immediately ^^'

(TMI: I have kindle unlimited and I've also been surprised how many great gay romance books of all genres are out there. If you like the gay romance aspect of our story, you might want to take a look. The good thing about kindle unlimited is, if you don't like a book, you can give it back and try the next one, since you pay a monthly fee and not for every single book.)

It was hard to concentrate on the book, though. Saiwa's head was still spinning around Jack and Ji Ho - and Skully was happily (and out of tune) singing along with whatever song Vlad was playing...

And in the top of the tower, Ji Ho eventually woke up. Noxee: "Hey - how are you?" Ji Ho: "Huh - surprisingly fine? I expected worse. How long have I been out?" Noxee: "Four days. It will still be hard for a while. Just let it happen, hm? It comes and it will go again. You are going to get used to feel through all these emotions and memories of yours. And you will learn to cope with them - like the others did too. But you are the most sensitive, so don't try to push it. Cry when you need to cry. Your friends will understand and help you where they can."

Ji Ho: "My friends ... Vlad. Gods, I caused him so much pain! What if my grandfather really put a spell on us? I'm so afraid to loose him. Now that I can finally feel it." Then he cried and cried... And Noxee let him cry. (TMI: Have I ever told you that a friend of mine went to therapy and she barely talked with her therapist, she just sat there and cried. For many, many sessions. But she said she felt so much better afterwards. And that's what counts in the end. Don't worry what the therapist might think of you. They won't. It's their job - and they learned how to do it.)

It wasn't that Ji Ho didn't feel anything in all those years. Like Noxee said, he's the most sensitive of them all. But it had all been dulled down. And it was more a sensing than a feeling. Just scratching the surface. And he was never able to feel love - except when the Bond let him love Luci, the remnants of Vlad he left behind after he died.

They heard Vlad playing from below:

'Some day, yeah We'll put it together and we'll get it undone Some day When your head is much lighter Some day, yeah We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun Some day When the world is much brighter

Ooh child Things are gonna be easier Ooh child Things'll be brighter'

The 5 Stairsteps - O-o-h Child from the Guardians of the Galaxy OST (This movie is already 10 years old? Omg! One of my favourite movies of all time, nonetheless :3 )

Outtakes

These familiars cause problems. Kiyoshi and Jeb got stuck so often today -.- Not even resetting helped *sigh*

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[draconosaurus]

REBLOG FOR SAMPLE SIZE GUYS

[veritas-scribblings]

potion - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 660

Barty sits on the bench watching enthralled as Regulus leans over and reviews the notes he’s taken on how to brew the Draught of Peace. He doesn’t need to do this, Barty knows, because Regulus is incredibly bright and remarkably apt at potions. But Regulus has always been fussy and somewhat of a perfectionist. And Barty has always loved him for this.

Regulus catches Barty staring and blushes. A wonderful pink that colours Regulus’s cheeks and creeps down his neck. He’s holding a quill between his long, slender fingers, which are decorated with an array of silver rings. Familiar silver rings that Barty remembers the feel of, cold on his flushed skin, on hands that are so very, wickedly precise and so very, wonderfully skilled.

The heat of the memory punches Barty in the gut, damned near winding him, and he’s suddenly assaulted by intensity of it and the realisation that he needs to do something about his thoughts before they become obvious to the rest of the class.

And to Slughorn, who is yelling at him to get off the bench and get to work.

‘Do you mind making yourself useful?’ Regulus says as he spreads out the potions ingredients in front of him and organises them into groups, because the boy is worryingly anal retentive. He’s eyeing Barty like he knows exactly what Barty is thinking about, and…well, he probably does.

‘Sure, sure,’ Barty says. He peers over at the line up of ingredients. ‘Use valerian instead of mandrake. Less likely to make the drinker hallucinate. Mandrake is a psychoactive. I mean, unless that’s the effect you’re going for?’

Regulus frowns sceptically. ‘The textbook—and Slughorn—said to use mandrake.’

‘The textbook—and Slughorn—are idiots. Trust me. Valerian root. Grated.’ Barty leans over as Regulus rearranges his potions lineup, clearly conflicted about whether to listen to Barty or whether to proceed with the instructions he’s been given by Slughorn. ‘So,’ Barty says quieter. While he’ll admit he is a bit of an exhibitionist, some things are just meant for him and Regulus. ‘So, Evan told me about this thing we need to try. It’s…a sex thing.’

For a moment, Regulus looks startled, glances around to check if anyone is listening, then when he decides it’s safe to do so. The son of a whore almost laughs and Barty curses the unique talent that Regulus has for making him feel embarrassed in spite of himself. 

Before Barty can make overtures to quickly cover the temporary affliction of that thing called humiliation, Slughorn strides over and barks, ‘Crouch, I told you to get off the bench and get to work!’

‘I’m working with Reg.’

‘It’s an independent assignment.’

Barty groans. Rolls his eyes. ‘What a drag.’ And then slides off the bench all loose-like, flowing like water. When Slughorn is gone, Barty sidles up behind Regulus and whispers, ‘Evan says it’s a sure thing.’

Regulus flushes again. Barty is really not doing himself any favours, especially given that he is a fixed point on Slughorn’s radar, but making Regulus blush in the middle of potions class is really turning him on. And Regulus blushes really pretty.

‘A sure thing for what?’ Regulus says, quiet and low, as he begins grinding the moonstone in slow, measured movements.

‘For making you come so hard you see stars,’ Barty whispers, so close by Regulus’s ear that he can smell the sweet coconut and spicy lemongrass of his shampoo. ‘Teeth-rattling, back-breaking orgasms. Many of them.’

Regulus ducks his head, his hair falling into his eyes, and Barty wants to reach around and brush the locks aside. He’s hiding his face, Barty knows, putting his entire weight into crushing the moonstone. The rings on his fingers clink against the pestle. 

‘Fine,’ he says. His tone is flat, like he’s trying to restrain himself. He shoves Barty backwards, away from him. ‘Tell me about it later. Now go away, brew your potion or something.’

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Twenty-seven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, hurt-comfort

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Their return to Rome was made in colder weather and was a bit more weighed down with gifts and souvenirs and books they joked they ‘rescued’ from the French. They looked upon returning to work with a measure of dread although Tom enjoyed a certain nervous energy at the prospect of using the Polyjuice potion. He hadn’t used one since he needed to sneak into the Headmaster’s office in fifth year. She was sniffling a bit and coughing on the train but they put that down to how early they had to wake up that morning, running on no breakfast too. They bought a few things from a shop near the station, loading their already bursting luggage with cheese and sausages and a whole box of sweets. The croissants they saved for eating on the train and shared between them a baguette with butter.

It was Friday when they returned to Rome and there was nothing left for them to do but return to their own flats.

Tom wouldn’t get to see her again until Monday… It was strange after so many days spent with one person to be alone again, in a silence that felt hollow rather than peaceful, in a bed that remained cold all night. He didn’t miss her though… That couldn’t be. Although it did make him ask himself the uncomfortable question of how he’d feel once all of this was over and he went back to England all alone.

II

He saw her sooner than he thought he would. Something compelled him to pick up the phone and call her on Saturday afternoon when he was sure she’d had her fill of sleep. The voice that answered was, however, not her own.

“Hello?” Raspy, frayed, almost choked up and sore to even hear.

“Is that you?” Tom asked.

“Tom? Hi!”

He frowned, trying to imagine why she’d sound so different. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” she answered, a shifting sound making its way to him as she plopped down onto the armchair.

“You sound awful.”

“I am.”

He sighed and moved the receiver to his other ear. “What happened?”

“I might have caught a cold while travelling… How do you feel?”

“Good enough, I suppose.”

“That’s good,” she smiled.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Oh yes, plenty of food, some aspirin… I’ll be alright in a few —” And there she cut off, moving away from the phone to cough into her elbow, but Tom heard it anyway. “— a few days.”

“Really?”

“I was overdue a cold, really. Haven’t had one in years.”

Tom hummed, displeased with everything that he was hearing. An urge itched beneath his skin, his feet and hands suddenly restless.

“I’ll come to you.”

“No! You might — might catch it too,” she said, her voice strained with the suppressed urge to cough again.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Tom, I m-mean it,” she said with a sniffle and a sigh. “If I’m not good on Monday, you’ll have to hold the fort.”

“Which is exactly why I want you to get better soon,” he said with a wry smile. “Now go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He hung up before she could protest anymore and started packing a few things to take to her. He was sorry now that he hadn’t brought along a Pepperup Potion or bought one while they were in Paris. Tom rarely got sick himself so it hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Damn it, there’s nowhere to buy the ingredients from either… Maybe Mandrake root, but that’s hardly enough. Damn muggles,” he cursed as he rifled through his pantry.

It took a little while from when he knocked on her door until she answered. When he saw her he could tell why. Her sheepish smile, her tired eyes, her messy hair, and the fact that she was in her pyjamas told him she had been wallowing in bed.

“Hello,” she said with a strained voice.

Tom greeted her by bringing the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I know that,” she mumbled and walked back inside.

Tom closed the door behind them and started taking his coat off. He moved on to the kitchen and put a kettle on with a low fire. His feet sounded up and down the creaky floorboards while he set everything up. She stood against the wall and watched him, her arms in a tight hug around herself, coughs bursting now and then unbidden and muffled by her elbow. She winced with every motion and although she tried to hide it even her back was bent as if it was a struggle to stand up.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, frowning at her.

“It’s nice to see you too. What are you doing?”

He turned again and started chopping something up, his eyebrow cocked at her stubbornness and curiosity. “I’m making tea,” he said evasively. “Now, go back to bed. Are you wearing socks, at least?”

“Yes, mother,” she grumbled.

He shot her a cold look over his shoulder and that finally sent her away.

“I have wine in the cupboard,” she shouted from bed, her voice breaking at the edges of each word. “Help yourself.”

“I think we’ve had enough wine in France, don’t you?”

She grumbled something that wasn’t quite a word but Tom looked for the wine anyway. It at least gave him some ideas…

None of what he had to work with was magic but it would have to do. The properties of plants that muggles had access to were not quite easy to extract without the proper spells or incantations while they grew and so their power was diminished. Still, there were a lot of things that he could do even with what she had lying around the house and what he’d bought at the little shop around the corner. He walked into the bedroom a while later, a full plate on his hands. She lay in bed curled up and reading, more sapless than he had seen her even after the most gruelling day of work.

“What’s that?” she asked as soon as she saw him, raising herself to a sitting position against the pillows.

“Have you eaten?” Tom asked instead of an answer.

She tried to speak but coughed instead, covering half her face with her sleeve and groaning all the while. From her frown, he could tell it hurt her.

“Muscle pains?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Erm, I had an apple this morning. And two cups of tea.”

“Pathetic,” he mumbled, setting the plate down on her bedside table. “I’ve brought you buttered toast and in that mug is chicken soup with garlic and hot peppers. And here,” he continued, picking up another mug carefully by the handle and giving it to her, “is something that should help with that nasty cough. Breathe it in while it’s hot, then drink it.”

“What is it?”

“Careful, it’s scalding.”

She pulled her sleeves over her hands and took it. When she brought it to her face to give it a smell she immediately recoiled.

“It’s just something the nurses used to give us when we caught a cold during the war, at the orphanage,” said Tom as he turned around to stir the soup. “Rationing was pretty tough in England back then. Still is. People learned to make do with what they had.”

She seemed to believe him, watching him with wide eyes in silence. Beside the bed in an improvised bin made out of an old shoebox, he saw a pile of used tissues, and now that he paid attention her nose seemed a little red as well. He frowned, upset with her for being so fragile, and yet not feeling the burn of anger much at all.

“I found a way to slip into it a few special ingredients,” he said with a faint smile. “How is it?”

She breathed it in again and winced, tears beading at the corners of her eyes. “It feels like it goes right through me…”

“It’s hot wine with cloves, red pepper, ginger, and a bit of nutmeg.”

“Smells awful… Makes me dizzy.”

“Yes, well, I wager it’s better than a stuffy nose. You sound like a duck.”

He got up to go rifle through her drawers and came back with a towel. Without asking, he covered her head with it like a veil and pulled it over the mug as well, forcing her to breathe in its sharp fumes. She sighed but obeyed, inhaling the foul concoction that, in truth, had more ingredients than he admitted. He wasn’t sure she’d go through with drinking it if she knew, or at least she’d think him crazy, but he cared more about seeing her back on her feet and by his side. His hand went down to her back and he rubbed her gently, feeling her breathe in and out as he muttered the only soothing spell he knew.

He turned on the radio to fill the silence between them, knowing that she needed some distraction. He stopped searching when he heard an opera — The Magic Flute. Outside the sun was already setting, fading earlier each day. Tom looked out the window while she struggled with his brew, his gaze of cold disgust falling on the overflowing trash bins, the shits of stray animals drying on street corners, the vagrants ambling off toward the bar…

“Never thought I’d miss Paris,” he sneered.

She laughed from underneath the towel and in between coughing she rasped, “Want to go back?”

“Not until you’re better.”

He couldn’t criticise her much for her poor choices. He had much the same view on Knockturn Alley although there the streets were dark enough that he couldn’t see most of the horrors. Only smell them if he opened the window.

She drank as much of the hot wine as she could, complaining the whole time. Some of the ingredients got stuck between her teeth and she spent a good while picking them out and placing them beside the soggy toast. She got maybe halfway through it before it cooled too much to be effective. Tom sighed and yanked it from her, handing her the chicken soup that he was quick to heat again with a nonverbal spell.

“You can go home, you know,” she said in between coughs. “I don’t want you catching something.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

She eyed him suspiciously, disbelieving what he said, but Tom knew a common cold was not enough to take him down. Alas, he couldn’t explain that to her, just like he couldn’t explain why that concoction was so strong or why it was already working to clear her stuffy nose. A large part of his life would forever have to be closed shut to her and he could never even say so or be able to explain why.

“Sit down at least,” she said. “Eat something.”

So he sat beside her on the bed, legs hanging off the side and swinging unconsciously to the tune of the music on the radio.

“What will you do if I’m not well by — achoo — by Monday?” she asked. “You’ll have to inform Berit, you know? That I’m not there. My pay will have to be — cough — deducted.”

“I’ll work mostly upstairs,” Tom shrugged, chewing on a piece of toast. “I’ll phone the Baron’s office too. Don’t worry about them.”

“Ugh, the new university year just started. We get a lot of students around this time, mostly from the History department. Looking for old maps and such. You can expect a busy week.”

“We’ll have to be downstairs more often than not, though.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot. That wretched auction…”

Tom opened his mouth to speak but another round of coughing caught her. She clutched her stomach again when she was done, her eyes closed shut in pain.

“You need sugar,” he said, “something sweet. It will help with the muscle soreness.”

“I have you, don’t I?” she smiled “You’re sweet enough.”

Tom scoffed. “Don’t count on it. And stop talking about work for once. I swear, it’s like you’re intent on making yourself sick.”

He shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. It wasn’t even seeing her so sick that made him feel strange, it was that he seemed to care more about her health than she did. She was silent for a moment, then frowned at him quite fiercely. Without even a word she handed him the soup back and turned over on her side.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Don’t get petulant now.”

“You’re so pushy and mean. I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t need your charity.”

“I only want to see you get better.”

“Oh, just take your mumbo jumbo and your medieval potions and go away, Tom.”

That hurt him more than he expected. To have his help rejected was one thing, but after all the trouble he’d gone through to find even those few ingredients, to put them together for her — which in truth was not much trouble, but it was more than he’d done for anybody else — all to have it thrown in his face as a “medieval potion”… Well, he shouldn’t have expected more from a mere muggle.

“Fine then. Be sick and on your own. I don’t care.”

She peeked over her shoulder at him as he got up from the bed. He could tell her eyes were red but he pretended to see none of it as he prepared to leave. He could hear her coughing, whining, and weakly call his name as he picked up everything he’d brought and left her flat.

III

Tom’s anger enveloped him like a shroud, trailing after him all the way home. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to care for a sick person… Wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to care at all or had any better bedside manners other than what he’d seen at Wool’s. Forcing someone to drink some mysterious medicine was the normal way to deal with these things, wasn’t it? Still, she could have been a bit more grateful, a bit more… open-minded.

In truth, he realised, as he reached his dingy flat and could finally shut away the world outside, that her reaction — however justified by aches or fever — brought back his worst fears about her: that she could never accept him as a wizard, that she would be horrified, recoil, just as his father did when he learned his mother was a witch. That deep wound which started festering in his second year when he found out the truth was scraped back open by her words and now he could not close it. He hated her for a full day, distracting himself with measly research he cared too little about. On Sunday, he almost phoned her but found enough reasons not to — maybe she was still sick and stuck in bed, maybe she was mad at him, maybe he would just make things worse.

He wouldn’t see her again until Monday.